evening. Have you known Maldynado long?”
“Yes.”
“Is he as good as he claims?”
“He has a lot of talent, but he doesn’t train enough. Everything’s a game to him.”
As opposed to Sicarius, who had probably never played a game in his life. I think I made a mistake. She nibbled on a fingernail.
Maldynado assumed a ready position, elbow bent, weapon raised, side facing his opponent. Sicarius stood casually, sword lowered. Wind gusted through the columns and stirred his short blond hair.
“Ready?” the judge asked the combatants.
Maldynado bounced on his toes. “Ready!”
Sicarius gave a single nod.
The judge clapped his hands. “Begin!”
Sicarius charged like a locomotive, crossing the ring in less than a heartbeat. Maldynado side-stepped and stuck out his sword so his attacker would run into it. Sicarius anticipated the move and blurred past the weapon. He darted to the outside, coming up behind Maldynado. Sicarius grabbed Maldynado’s far shoulder, snaked his foot between the bigger man’s legs, and thrust up with his hips even as he pulled down with his hand.
Maldynado toppled backward, accelerating to the ground. When he hit, his breath whooshed out, and his helmet spun into the air.
Sicarius went down with Maldynado, albeit in a more controlled manner. Sicarius pinned his opponent and jammed the blunt blade against Maldynado’s throat.
Both combatants froze in tableau. Maldynado’s helmet hit the ground, clattering as it bounced several feet.
Blunt weapon or not, Sicarius could have killed his opponent easily. Amaranthe read the fear in Maldynado’s eyes, a reflection of what she had felt in nearly the same position.
The judge choked out a series of protests. “Warning for illegal use of the feet, body, hands. Out of bounds. No point!”
Sicarius rose lithely and returned to his side of the ring. The judge launched into a lecture on the rules while Maldynado groped for his helmet with a shaking hand. Sicarius listened without expression.
Amaranthe rubbed her face. What was he doing?
Maldynado pushed himself to his feet. He plopped the helmet back on his head. It obscured his features, but Amaranthe could read the reluctance in his sagging posture as he stepped back into the ring.
Perhaps sensing more than a practice bout, other men drifted over. Amaranthe resumed nibbling on her fingernail and watched the crowd. This was far too public. She should not have let Maldynado choose the meeting area.
Two of the onlookers whispered and pointed at Sicarius. Making bets or discussing the number of wanted posters they had seen him on?
“Point,” the judge called.
Amaranthe started. She had missed the resumption of the match. She glanced at the judge in time to see him stab a finger at Sicarius.
“Begin,” the judge said after the two fighters returned to their sides.
This time Amaranthe watched. Sicarius charged across the ring again. Maldynado skittered aside, but not before Sicarius tapped him on the ribs with his saber. Maldynado’s attempt to parry came too late.
He was rattled. Sicarius’s opening strategy became clear. What man could concentrate on a game when he was afraid his opponent would kill him?
Maldynado charged the next time. That did not keep Sicarius from doing the same. They met in the middle. Maldynado feinted and lunged only to find Sicarius’s blade pressed against his chest, his own uselessly wide.
“Three to zero,” the judge said.
Shaking his head, Maldynado returned to his side. The onlookers nodded their admiration for Sicarius’s speed and accuracy.
“Watch his footwork,” someone said.
“It’s amazing.”
On the next round, Sicarius feinted to the head before gliding under Maldynado’s raised guard to prod him in the side. Unlike Maldynado, Sicarius never seemed to lunge. He was just there. Amaranthe had seen men with lightning-fast hands before. She had never seen anyone’s feet move so quickly. The last point came when Sicarius side-stepped Maldynado’s vain charge and jabbed him in the kidney.
Maldynado, blade drooping, stared at Sicarius’s feet as he walked away. Maldynado saw it too. But too late to figure out a way to compensate. If he could.
“Match over,” the judge said. “Winner.” He pointed to Sicarius, though he grumbled to himself.
“Not a typical bout?” Amaranthe asked.
“It got off to an appalling beginning. Your comrade has poor sportsmanship.”
“Yes, I don’t think he’s really into sports.”
“Maldynado should have recovered better though. He wasn’t fighting his best.”
One hand braced against his back, Maldynado hobbled to the wall and removed his gear. He waited-at some distance-while Sicarius returned his blade. Maldynado’s gaze never left Sicarius. To his credit, it was not a glower of hatred, but one of wariness. At least he did not seem to be entertaining notions of vengeance. Amaranthe knew many men would be if they perceived their pride damaged.
“My…comrade rattles everyone,” she said to the judge. “It’s not Maldynado’s fault.”
“I wish I could have awarded Maldynado a few points, at least,” the judge said. “He has superior style and technique.”
“If he hadn’t been shaken in the beginning, do you think he would have won?”
“No, your man is too fast. It might have been a more interesting match, but…” The judge massaged his bald pate. “Technically speaking, Maldynado is the better fencer. Your man is the better killer.”
Amaranthe nodded. The accolade certainly did not surprise.
Maldynado approached her as the judge departed. Sweat dampened the strands of curly brown hair that hung in his eyes. Sicarius came, too, and Maldynado sidled away, giving him more wary glances.
Amaranthe waved Sicarius back. “Can you give us a moment, please?”
Sicarius went outside with spectators moving far aside to let him pass.
“Two weeks starting tomorrow at dawn.” Amaranthe gave Maldynado the address to the icehouse. “Agreed?”
He sighed. “I’ll be there. Will he be there?”
“Yes, but he won’t bother you if you don’t bother him. We’re all working toward the same goal.”
Maldynado rubbed the back of his head. “I’m going to be reliving those opening two seconds over and over for a long time, trying to figure out what I should have done there.” He met her eyes. “I don’t want you to think I’m…I mean, I know how to fight. I’ve been in real brawls, not just dueling matches. He…caught me by surprise.”
“I know. He did the same thing to me. Had me within a half-inch of breaking my neck before we reached an agreement.”
“Huh. And you trust him now?” Maldynado asked.
“As long as we’re angling toward the same ends and can benefit from each others’ skills, I believe we can work together.”
“So, the answer is no.”
Amaranthe smiled faintly and shrugged.
“What happens after you two don’t have a common goal anymore? He whacks you and moves on? Some trust.”
“It’s enough for now,” Amaranthe said. “Just as I trust you to show up tomorrow and work for me for two weeks.”
Maldynado blinked. “You do? Why?”
“I believe you’re an honorable man.”
Another blink. Several actually. Amaranthe only meant it to inspire him to come in the morning, but he straightened and nodded, as if the comment meant something.
