“Dark Tones,” he spat.
Ust lounged in truth against the corner, not the fake pose he’d maintained to try to look less conspicuous. A blue rag was tied about his upper arm, pinching tight the sleeve of the stained tunic he wore. A chill rippled over Ōbhin’s skin as he straightened. His hand drifted down to the pommel of his resonance blade.
A smile spread on Ust’s lips.
Ōbhin marched forward, the darkness singing in his soul. Boots rang on the cobblestones as Ust maintained his lounge, though his posture shifted. His left hand moved down to his waist and out of sight. For a dagger?
Not that he worried about Ust alone.
“I thought I smelled your unwashed stink,” Ōbhin said as he stopped two paces away.
Ust lifted his right arm, sniffed. Then he shrugged. His bearded face had healed from the bruises Ōbhin had delivered. The bandit spat to the ground, phlegm a deep brown. He chewed Tethyrian weed, the slight glaze to his eyes apparent. It left his teeth stained as brackish as a mire.
“Ruvine was complaining about that just the other day.”
“How much do you pay her to put up with it?”
Ust laughed. “Oh, Ruvine never charges me a glimmer. She gets to ride my stallion, after all.”
“Lucky her.” Ruvine was Ust’s favorite whore. “So, sending children to harass my new employer? Never knew you were that pathetic. Too scared to trespass yourself?”
“Oh?” Ust said with too casual an ease. “Got problems with thieves?” He shook his head. “Things are tense. I’m a good king man, you know.” He raised his little finger, the tip tattooed gray. Ōbhin had never noticed the little detail before. It was faded. Old. Ust snorted, “Right, right, you’re not from here.” He nodded to the Pillar rising over the city to the northwest then touched the blue cloth tied about his arm. “Before the blue, you put ash on your finger to show support for the king. It inspired some of my friends in my youth. Why, how could the king hang us if we tattooed our fingers?” He laughed, a wicked sound. “‘Course, didn’t stop the king’s justice. Still, I’m a loyal man so it pains me that so many have grown so discontent. The guard is having a hard time with petty crime. Good thing Dualayn has you.”
“So you were just happening to gossip where thieves could hear.”
“Why not.” Ust shrugged. “That big gem Dualayn found, well, ain’t never seen its like. Just tellin’ stories while relaxing. Can’t help what some idiot boys do. Though, I hear you promised to skin the next ones.” He flashed muddy teeth as he grinned.
“Cuts down on thieves,” Ōbhin said. “Why are you lurking here?”
“I told you, loyal to the king. Some of us have to show our support.”
Ōbhin snorted. He took a step closer. “What did you do with Carstin’s body?”
“Nothing.” His eyes narrowed. “Why, did you lose it? How tragic.”
“Tell me!” Ōbhin growled, his hand tightening on his hilt.
“Why would I do anything with his body?” His grin spread. “So he died after all? All for naught, eh?”
“Do I need to add more bruises to your face to remind you to keep away from those I’m protecting?” The darkness sang louder. He had to find a way to silence it. He’d failed Taim, his prince. He wouldn’t again.
“Is that your solution to everything?” Ust asked. “Violence?”
“It’s direct. I know how much you love it.”
The bandit chief burst into deep laughter. “Oh, that I do. It’s why I believe you’ll do it. We’re the same, me and you.”
Ōbhin snarled, baring his teeth as the offense stung his soul.
“Oh, I admit you’re more . . . elegant than me. Not as rough, even if you did throw yourself into the pigsty with us. You’re a man who thrusts his blade into the heart of things.” A smile played on Ust’s lips.
A weight settled in Ōbhin’s stomach. This wasn’t like Ust. No bravado. No shouting and bluster. He didn’t try to dominate. Is it because we’re alone? Has his ego healed this much that it no longer pains him that I trounced him with ease?
“When that slut you loved cuckolded you back home, you dealt with her lover.” Ust’s grin grew vicious. “Plunged a knife right into the heart of the crown prince of Qoth.”
The pit yawned into an abyss. “How do you know about that?”
“I hear things.” Ust glanced to the south. “Like how she’s spread her legs for half of Guirreu’s rich.”
“That’s her business,” Ōbhin said, embracing the chill calm. Humiliation and shame twisted hot through him, wanting to fuel a harmony of rage.
“What about Avena?” Ust asked. “Saucy one. The way she stood beside you. Fire like that can keep a man wa—”
Ōbhin drew the sword without thought and swung at Ust.
Chapter Fifteen
The woman’s gasp halted Ōbhin’s blade a finger’s width from Ust’s chest. The bandit leader cursed and stumbled back into the building’s stone wall. A cold shiver raced through Ōbhin as he stared at the sword. It trembled in his hand, sunlight glinting on the edge.
“Come along,” a man said, rushing away from the woman who’d screamed. “City watch shouldn’t let dirt-stained Tethyrians wander around this neighborhood.”
Ust whistled as he gathered himself. “Yeah, can’t just cut me down here, huh? Witnesses.”
Ōbhin swallowed. It shocked him how easy the sword draw had come. No thought, just reaction. A flare of twisting fear turning into hot rage. He shoved the blade back into his scabbard with a steely slither. His leather glove creaked as he released the handle.
“Maybe we can meet atop the blackberry hill,” Ōbhin said, shame spurring on a strange bravado. He shouldn’t have tried to kill Ust. Taking
