The Swordsman's Oath (Einarinn 2) (16 page)

“No thanks.”

There was a cry from the field as one of the locals threw a punch and a shout went up for Nyle. His broad nostrils flared briefly in ill-disguised irritation.

“I’ll see you later.” He tried for an affable smile but his eyes were still hard; clearly a man not about to take a refusal as final.

He vaulted over the rail and was drawn into the game, leaving me to ponder this odd conversation. A great roar went up and I saw Nyle had the staff and was running with it. He was surprisingly agile for such a big man and when some luckless turnip-herder tried to grab the wood he threw the man off with a twist of the staff that sent him spinning into the gathering crowd.

“Nicely done! That’s a Gidestan move; no wonder they haven’t seen it around here before.” Halice pushed her way through the increasingly dense crowd and leaned heavily on the rail beside me.

I wondered what Nyle had been doing in Gidesta; he didn’t look like a miner, a trapper or a logger, which is pretty much all there is to do in the northern mountains. His accent wasn’t Gidestan either. I shook it off as irrelevant.

“Where’s Livak?”

“Taking bets.” Halice pointed across the paddock and I saw Livak’s coppery head in the middle of an eager cluster of people waving purses.

“What’s she giving them?”

“Two wins five for the mule train, three wins seven for the locals,” said Halice, watching the game thoughtfully. “Better if they win by more than five heads.”

“Heads?” I was puzzled.

Halice pointed to one of the bladders swaying a little in the breeze.

“The Mountain Men are supposed to have used heads taken in battle when they invented the game. Sorgren says it’s the way they used to keep their fighting skills sharp. He swears his grandfather could remember seeing it played with the heads of some miners who’d pushed too far into the mountains, and I’ve seen pig’s heads used in western Gidesta.”

There was a suspicion of relish in Halice’s voice as she glanced sideways to see how I would react to this.

I laughed with a grimace. “Messy!”

A group of the farmers seemed to have got themselves in step at last and managed to bring the game down to our end of the paddock. Five of them concentrated on flattening any muleteer who came within grabbing range and so their man managed to send the staff curling through the air to split the bladder clean in half.

“Have you found anyone who’s come across the Elietimm on the road?”

Halice didn’t hear me so I had to nudge her in the ribs and repeat myself, trying not to speak too loudly despite the cover offered by the noise of the crowd all around.

“What? Oh, yes. Well, a couple of them said they’d seen a small group of men camping out where the Linneyway goes off from the River Road. I think that must have been them— the wagoneer said they were all white-blond, that’s why they caught his eye, all of them being so fair.”

I frowned. “What were they wearing?”

Halice caught her breath and looked annoyed with herself. “He didn’t say and I didn’t think to ask. Just ordinary clothes, I suppose; he’d have mentioned any livery, wouldn’t he?”

“Can you try and find out?”

A shout went up and I saw someone waving a large sandglass to indicate a break was due. It took a few moments to attract everyone’s attention and then there was something of a lull, the noise muted by tankards of ale downed all round.

“By the way, that guard, Nyle, was asking me about your sword,” said Halice. “He does a bit of weapons trading on the side, it seems.”

“He came to ask me himself. I’m still wondering what to make of it.”

The teams sorted themselves out and a few men evidently decided they’d had enough, limping off, cradling bruised hands or nursing bloodied noses and mouths.

“What’s he offering?” Halice cocked an inquiring eyebrow at me.

“Doesn’t matter.” I shook my head. “Messire got it from Planir and gave it to me as a Solstice gift by way of recompense for that little excursion to the Ice Islands with Livak and Shiv.”

I shivered abruptly and I heard a distant echo of my own screams at the hands of the Elietimm leader. That memory was going to fade about as fast as a pirate’s tattoos.

“Caught the draft from Poldrion’s cloak?” Halice joked, but her eyes were thoughtful nonetheless.

“Something like that,” I said shortly, looking back to the field where the fresh men were forcing the pace on as the game recommenced.

“Your Messire thinks well of you, then?” inquired Halice.

“I try to give him reason to.” That sounded a little more pompous than I had intended but Halice seemed unperturbed.

“So how did you come to swear to him? Is it a family thing? Are you following your father?”

“No,” I smiled at that. “My father’s a stonemason, and with my two oldest brothers picking up the chisels he let my next brother and myself choose our own paths.”

And in the year after the dappled fever had taken Kitria, the three of them had cut more stone and faced more buildings than any other masons in the city. My mother had spent half of each waking day either in tears or Halcarion’s shrine and Mistal had fled the city entirely. I had sought every sensation I could in a vain effort to stop myself feeling her loss.

“How long since you gave your oath?”

“Twelve years, this summer.” I didn’t have to think about that; twelve years since I’d spent an entire Solstice drunk on raw spirits and dazed with thassin in the arms of a succession of cheap whores. I’d woken up to bleeding gums, a splitting head, a dose of the itch. More immediately I’d realized that I had to do something different, and quickly, or Poldrion would soon be ferrying me back and forth in the Shades between the worlds until I could come up with some explanation to give Saedrin for the waste of that particular life.

“Livak’s told me about what happened to you out there, on the Ice Islands.” Halice turned away from the game abruptly.

“Then you know all you need to.” Halice might be unbending a little toward me, but I wasn’t about to start discussing those experiences with her.

“I know more than Livak thought she was telling me.”

That struck me as an odd remark and I turned away from the field myself.

“What do you mean?”

“She told me about the Ice-man and the way he got inside your minds.” Halice’s eyes were dark and unfathomable. “But she didn’t say a lot about you and that makes me think you got inside her head, if nowhere else.”

I stared down at her with no little challenge but her gaze didn’t waver.

“Livak’s a smart girl and no one’s fool, but every so often a man’ll come along and she drops the runes completely,” Halice went on in a conversational tone. “I try to make sure I’m there to help her gather the set, settle any scores, just so you know. I’m sure you don’t want to make her sorry she met you, do you?”

A roar from the crowd drowned the rest of her words and everyone turned to see some unfortunate clutching his ribs being carried off the field. When I turned back to Halice she had slipped away.

I rubbed a hand over my face and wondered what to make of that particular conversation. I’ve been asked my intentions a couple of times by stilted fathers, several times by kindly aunts with speculative eyes and once, in that heedless period of my youth, I was warned off by three angry brothers with axe-helves in a back alley due to a miscalculation born of thassin-inspired overconfidence.

I decided this came somewhere between an inquiry and a threat and couldn’t decide whether to be indignant or pleased that Livak had a friend who looked out for her interests. At least Halice hadn’t waited for an answer; that was a relief. I didn’t know where I might be going with Livak, not beyond the closest bed if I had the chance, that was. I wondered what Halice might have been saying to Livak. Dastennin curse the woman for an interfering wharf bird, I muttered under my breath; I didn’t even know what Livak’s own feelings were and, until I did, I could do without Halice scratching up the dust between us.

A shout came from the field. “We need three more to make up the numbers or we forfeit to Nyle’s men!”

On an impulse I didn’t stop to examine, I decided the game looked like an excellent way to work off some of the building frustrations of this journey. A handful of men climbed the paddock rails with me and I was chosen for the locals over a lad from South Vans who looked as if he was being fattened up for slaughter. The sand-glass was turned and the next run began. I found myself in the thick of the action, being tall enough to stand out for anyone looking to throw the staff and save himself a pounding. Luckily I have sure hands and I found the footwork I’ve spent years learning for swordwork meant I was agile enough to evade most of the tackles. I dodged and weaved and found myself yelling with the exhilaration of it all as I outstripped the pack and ran for the throwing line at the far end of the field.

One burly muleteer managed to grasp one end of the wood, but strangely no one had ever told him a staff is a two-ended weapon. He drew his hands close into his body with a snarl of triumph so I got my hip behind my end and just kept it going forward. He went down like a sack of wheat when he caught my full weight on the staff hammering into his short ribs. I went straight over him, and when I saw him later I could recognize the print of my boot on his chest. I thought I was going to be flattened like a mudfish when a heavy-set carter swung around toward me, fists clenched, but someone appeared at my elbow out of nowhere and dropped the man with a heavy shoulder straight in the stones that suggested a personal interest.

A couple of local lads who must have built their muscles wrestling bullocks proved that big men can put on a burst of speed if they need to and drew level with me. I saw Nyle and another wagoneer heading for me and I whipped my head rapidly from side to side to check where the cow handlers were. One gave me a brilliant smile, nodded to his brother, and I dug my heels into the turf to let them surge past me. They hit Nyle and another wagoneer like a rock-slide and the field ahead was clear. I heard the thunder of hammering feet behind me and knew I only had a moment. Forgetting everything I’ve ever been taught about spear throwing, I sent the length of wood spiraling through the air and saw it smack the bladder high up over the frame before I caught what felt like half a cohort in the small of my back.

When I saw daylight again I spat out a mouthful of grass and some bits of a dried clod I didn’t want to examine too closely, but my sense of elation was uncrushed.

“Good throw!” Livak’s voice cut through the roars of the crowd and I saw her bright hair and lively face close at hand, by the rail.

I waved and blew an extravagant kiss in her direction before scrambling up to avoid getting trampled into the clay. As the game continued I managed another score and took out wagoneers with some vital tackles to help make three more. We finally gave it up after nine runs when everyone was just too tired and no more replacements came forward. I wasn’t sorry; if we’d gone on, I reckoned there was a danger of it degenerating into a brawl, which is one reason it’s a game frowned on in Formalin. The final score was agreed as fifteen heads for the wagon train losing to my team’s twenty-one and the mood suggested no one was disgraced by that. Once we’d scraped off the worst of the mud, everyone moved onto the tap-room where the serious drinking began. I looked around hopefully for Livak, keen to know how much she’d made on the betting.

“Over here!” Shiv stood up from a corner table and I pushed my way through the throng, trying to evade delays for congratulations from my erstwhile team-mates.

Halice poured me an ale and I downed it in one before taking a second a little slower; I didn’t want to drink too much, too fast, not on top of all that exercise.

“I think dinner may be a little slower this evening.” Livak appeared from the direction of the kitchen and pulled up a stool next to me.

“Had a profitable afternoon?” I grinned at her.

“Very!” She flashed a smile at me and patted the billow of her shirt which clinked discreetly.

“Anyway, have either of you heard anything about our friends from the east?” Shiv was suddenly all business, voice low, although I don’t know why he was bothering given the amount of noise all around us.

“I got a good lead on a group in black about a day and a half south of here, but Halice got just as clear a nod on some blond travelers away over near the Linneyway.” I reached for my drink and tried to drag my mind back to our chase.

“When I was taking bets I made out I was asking after a bad debt and was told both tales,” said Livak.

“Where’s that map of yours? Could it be two sightings of the same group?” Halice sounded unconvinced and I didn’t blame her.

“Could they have split up?” I asked.

Shiv shook his head. “I doubt it; Viltred’s been scrying and he’s sure that everything that was taken is still together.”

“I checked and the group I heard about are definitely in local clothes, not any kind of livery,” added Halice. “I’d say we have got the thieves and another pack to worry about now.”

“But are they after us, after Viltred or after the other lot in black?” Livak frowned.

“Or going about some entirely unrelated business?” I took another drink. “It’s always possible.”

“I’ll go and talk to Viltred. He might be able to scry for this other troop if he knows the area himself.” Shiv shot a regretful glance toward the cart-girl Larrel, who was doing the rounds with a tray of bread and cut meats to placate the hungry customers.

Livak caught his arm as he moved. “Not so fast. That guard captain, Nyle, seems very keen to buy Ryshad’s sword. Did you know about that?”

Shiv shrugged. “That’s hardly surprising, is it? It’s an Old Empire sword; those blades are always in demand.”

“Don’t come the festival virgin with me, Shiv, I know you too well.” She shook her head at him. “There isn’t anyone like Darni working the area, is there? Tempting people to sell off the family heirlooms so Planir can investigate them, letting idiots like me involve themselves in your daft schemes? You don’t think I’m going to forget being caught like that, do you?” Her tone was distinctly waspish.