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haste." He pushedhimself away from the pillar and attempted to walk past.
The man moved like a fox. Steel sang from his scabbards. Blades flashed blue
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in the sunlight and fenced the boy on thestair. "Isaid, are you a thief?"
White, angry, and desperate, Jaric stared at the weapons angled at his chest.
"I haven't stolen anything! Ask the clerk, and then let me pass."
The points remained so steady they might have been nailed in place. "You
aren't very convincing, ship-monkey. The clerkcould be your accomplice."
Jaric gasped, shocked. He jerked a glance at his antagonist,and saw him
smile, teeth glinting through his mustache; butthe eyes above were cold blue,
and the brows questioning, asif the exchange were deliberately meant to
provoke.
"Why insult me?" said Jaric. "I've neither sword nor dag-ger, and wish no
quarrel with you."
The stranger laughed. "No sword and no dagger? Then certainly I'll skewer you
where you stand."
"Oh no," a voice broke in from behind. "You won't bloodythis stairway with
fighting."
Jaric whirled, just as a robed figure emerged from the hall-way. Clutched
awkwardly in his arms were two familiar
weaponsbundled in a salt-stained green cloak. With a grimaceof distaste, the
clerk unloaded his burden next to Jaric. Themetal on the scabbard guards
grated, dissonant as a knife on awhetstone, as the cloth settled against the
stair.
"Take your dueling elsewhere." The clerk set his hand onthe chased brass
doorkknob and gave a mighty pull. "That'san order from the master in
residence." He ended with a smirkas the panel began to swing.
The door crashed closed. Jaric swallowed and spun to face his tormentor. "Be
reasonable. There's no purpose in fightingover accidental clumsiness on my
part."
"Except, dearboy, that I want to." Scarred from years ofsparring, the man's
hands stirred impatiently. "Carry on."
Jaric straightened, ash-pale."I won't."
"Ah," said the man. "But I think you will." Again hemoved, so fast his blades
sparked like fire in the sun.
Jaric felt air whicker past his knuckles.The letter in hishand parted, sliced
cleanly in two. The severed portiondrifted, turning over and over, and settled
across the cloak with Taen's name and his own signature slashed cruelly
inhalf. For a stunned second, Jaric forgot to breathe. Then hebent and
recovered his steel. In anger he drew and attacked.
Blade met blade with a furious clang of sound. From thefirst moment Jaric had
no doubt he faced a master swordsman.The stranger's parry met him, lightly,
easily, and the riposte followed in a smoky blaze of light. Jaric caught the
stroke onhis cross guard. The force rattled his teeth. Too furious to care, he
beat, feinted, lunged, and gained two steps on thestair.
"Oh, very nice."The man smiled, foxlike, through acrossed barrier of blades.
He disengaged and struck.
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Jaric's foot slapped the edge of the step. Forced to parryhigh, he twisted.
His opponent's dagger darted out of no-where, cleanly eluding his guard. The
boy felt a tug. A breathof cold kissed his sweating skin. He lifted his arm to
coverand saw his sleeve was slit. But the touch might as easily have gone home
to maim muscle and sinew.
Forced back a pace, Jaric riposted. "You're toying withme." His blade struck
a guard implacable as stone.
"Perhaps."The man in russet caught his sword in a bindand twisted. "But it's
a game you must win, yes?"
Tendons tightened in Jaric's wrist. Feeling his fingers shifton the sword
grip, he responded as Corley had taught, and
escapedgetting disarmed. His heel bashed hard against a riser.Belatedly he
discovered he had lost a step.
"Tell me," drawled the man. "Is the note for a lady?"
Busy defending himself, Jaric said nothing. Cut, parry, ri-poste, the steel
whistled and clashed until his ears rang withsound. The continuous jar of
impact stung his hands. At somepoint, unnoticed, he received a nick on his
thumb. Bloodlaced his wrist, and sweat ran stinging under the bandage fromhis
morning's mishap.
Then, with the rail pressed to his side, and the breath burn-ing in his
throat, Jaric saw an opening. His sword thrust shotunder defending block, and
opened a line of red on the stranger's collarbone.
The man collected himself instantly. He leaped backward.His feet landed
lightly on the cobbles at the foot of the stair, yet he cast down his weapons.
Steel chimed deafeningly on stone. Poised to follow through, Jaric checked his
rush. Hairslicked damp to his forehead, he waited, panting, while theman
pulled a cloth from his sleeve and delicately dabbed hiscut.
"What, no shout of victory?" The man's hands stilled andhe looked up.
Jaric did not voice the obvious, that anytime previously thestranger could
have sliced him to ribbons. In a few breathless minutes, the boy had perceived
how pitifully inadequate were his skills; a fortnight of Corley's training had
barely sketched the rudiments of technique. But this time the man refused
tobreak the silence. Jaric shivered, set his sword point againstthe stone, and
asked the only question that mattered. "Whyattack me?"
The man kicked his dagger aside and mounted the steps. "For devilment, I
suppose." His breath betrayed no sign ofexertion.
Jaric gritted his teeth. "Then devil and demons take you. Icouldn't spare the
time!"
He turned on his heel, retrieved his buckler and cloak. Theslashed letter
fluttered under his feet as he sheathed hisweapons with short, angry jerks. A
hand touched his elbow. Jaric recovered his torn note and whirled, his face a
mask offury.
But the stranger laughed no longer. His brows knitted withcontrition and he
said, "I'll make it up to you."
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"I doubt it." Jaric pushed past. "You've no idea whatyou've done."
"No." The man shrugged and fell into step beside him. "But you're not without
talent, you know. I could instructyou, as compensation. The next time someone
sought to delayyou, your lady need not be kept waiting."
Jaric stopped. A bitter laugh escaped his throat. He re-garded the swordsman,
who held his bloody handkerchiefpressed beneath his collar, and whose light
eyes remainedshrewdly intent. The boy's features twisted, assumed a lookwholly
Ivain's. "That won't mend it," he said.
But by his tone, the swordsman understood that Corley'sprotégé saw the sense
in accepting. Not without friendlinesshe offered, "My name is Brith. If you
come to the practiceyard by the city guard's quarters, we can start tomorrow."
"I'll consider it." Jaric was curt. 'Nowlet me go!"
Sunset silhouetted the humped profile of Little Dagley Isletand the waters of
Landfast harbor deepened slowly to indigo. Loud in the evening quiet, the last
wagons rumbled away fromthe dockside. Brith crouched in the dooryard of a
spice shopand watched the boy, Jaric, who lingered alone by the wharf.Sea wind
tossed the hair from his face, revealing a glint ofunshed tears; while, beyond
the beacon towers of the inlet, abrigantine flying Cliffhaven's colors shook
out her stunsails and scudded south for the Isle of the Vaere.
Brith swore softly. He tossed his stained handkerchief inthe gutter, and
wondered again why the Kielmark's foremostcaptain should concern himself with
a boy who hated fighting. The swordmaster shrugged and, feeling the laces of
his collarfret against his cut, cursed again. The pay was generous, butthe
idea he might spend the night skulking like a dog in an alley had never [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]