Oh, no
He saw it in the other man s eyes an instant before the knife came out. He came clumsily up off the bed, threw himself aside as the man lunged at him.
For the blood of clan Ashant!
It was a triumphant shout and far too early. The knife missed Egar s shoulder by inches, buried itself in the mattress. Egar twisted out from under and punched the man savagely in the kidney. He fell to the floor, injured leg trailing, caught under his attacker s sprawled weight. Saw the second assassin at the door, the downed body of the jailer laid out on the flagstones beyond.
Two of you, he spat. Well, that figures.
He yanked his foot free, scrabbled backward across the cell on his hands. The second killer came at him, but got tangled up as his comrade tried to get up off the bed at the same time. It gave Egar the split second he needed to get back on his feet. He yelled in their faces, high, steppe nomad shriek, grabbed the desk chair, swung it up and into the air, brought it smashing across both men. It was heavy, he didn t get anything like the swing he wanted, but it hit with bruising force, upward against arms and faces. He saw the first of his attackers go to his knees again.
The second man just shook himself, growled, and backed up. The way he held the knife, he looked to be Egar s major problem. Not a shit death! Not a shit death!
Like a chant, like a pulse through his head. It came up through the soles of his feet and he seized it like a new weapon. Dropped into a crouch, feinted with his empty right hand grabbing. The assassin smiled grimly, floated back unfazed. He knew what he was doing, he had the only knife. Had the time and would make it work for him. He waited for his companion to get up.
Come on then, Egar snarled at them. Want to see what a Majak soul costs? Fucking pussies!
He went for the chair again, but the smarter assassin read the move and leapt in to block it. A tangled moment Egar lashed out with his injured leg, grunted as he felt stitches tear and the wound reopen. The man danced clear, Eg punched at him, got a burly shoulder and no real effect, felt the hot lick of the knife blade across his ribs in trade. He recoiled sideways. For a brief moment, he thought he might make the open cell door, but the other killer Eg saw now he was younger, barely out of his teens scrambled shakily to block it.
That s it, lad. The older one grinned tightly. Keep him penned.
The three of them stood panting for a moment. The more experienced assassin raised his blade at Egar, almost like a toast.
Kadral told me to make this last, he said, mastering his breathing. Fatal but slow, he s asked for. You got pain coming, steppe scum.
You, Egar grabbed breath of his own, talk too much for a killer.
Have to get to the boy.
He saw how it might be done.
Two on one, with knives. He spat on the floor.
And you ve brought a fucking child with you.
The boy surged forward, flushed with fury.
My clan is Ashant! he cried. Bright is the name! For my cous Egar darted in, bent-kneed. He scooped the doll from the floor in his left hand, grabbed at the boy s knife. The boy misread it, thought he was going for the wrist. Egar s fist closed over rag doll and blade alike, and snapped tight.
Not a shit death!
The steel was keen he felt it go deep into his palm, even through the rags. He roared in the boy s face, gripped harder, wrenched. The boy recoiled, the knife slipped free. Stuck deep in the flesh of his clenched fist, no time to use it. He hooked the boy in the face with an elbow, spun about, grinning at the pain.
Not a
The senior assassin was there. He snagged Egar s unharmed right arm, twisted it away. He stepped in, his blade slugged home. They stood close as lovers.
For Saril Ashant, the man hissed in his face.
Bright is the name!
Egar tottered backward, suddenly stupid. The killer let him go. He looked down at his wound, tried to let go of the knife in his left hand, but his fingers refused to open. He pressed with his right hand at the sudden spike of fire in his belly. Turned his palm up and saw the blood. Looked at the man who d done the damage.
Oh, that s not fatal, the assassin assured him. He raised the knife. That s for pain. When I promise slow, slow is what you get.
Egar summoned strength. Fell backward onto the bed instead. The back of his head thumped the wall and he bit his tongue.
Oddly, it hurt worse than the wound in his belly.
Yeah, you have a seat. This is going to take a little while.
The killer advanced on him slowly, grinning. Egar floundered, could not get off the bed.
Better come and watch this, Jadge, the assassin told the boy. Get your knife back as well. We won t talk about how you fucked that one up, eh?
The boy made an unhealthy, strangled noise in his throat. The killer rolled his eyes.
Oh, come on. Don t get sick on me now. This is your fucking jo
This is treason, boys.
Egar s head snapped up at the voice. The assassin whirled away from him, turning to the door. Staggered backward with a weird, high scream, pawing at something in his eye.
Egar stared, trying to make sense.
Archeth at the open cell door still holding up the boy for cover, while his slashed throat bled out over the left forearm she had hugged across his chest. Her face was cuddled up close to his, her right arm was still out from the throw. There was another knife held, blade sideways, in her left hand.
Her eyes were wide in the lamplight, glittering with krinzanz fire. Egar thought vaguely that he d never seen a more beautiful woman in his life.
She let go of the boy, and he crumpled bonelessly.
She stepped across his body, knelt and cut the other assassin s throat just to be certain, though from the way he lay twitching on the stone floor, it looked to be unnecessary. She retrieved her knife from his eye socket and glanced up at the Dragonbane.
I heard painful, not fatal?
Egar grimaced and moved a little, testing. Yeah, he got that much right. Motherfucker. You want to get this out of my hand?
She stared at his clenched left fist, the bloodied rags and the protruding knife.
How the? She shook her head. Never mind. Come here. She cupped his hand with her own, applied pressure, took hold of the knife s hilt and pulled the blade out of his flesh. Egar gritted his teeth and yelped. She threw the weapon away, across the room, to where its crumpled owner lay. It skittered off the stone floor, slid and landed in front of the boy s empty, staring eyes.
Right, we d better get you fixed up. Can you walk?
Out that door? Just fucking watch me. He tried to rise, just about managed it by propping himself against the wall with one arm. He grimaced as fresh pain spiked through his belly. So where d you come from all of sudden?
Sheer dumb superstitious luck, Archeth said grimly, cleaning her knives one by one on the dead man s breeches. Blame my mother s blood. I was out trying to score, last-minute thing, you know. Everywhere s closed. Got some mystic old fuck with a beard down by the river. Tells me to go check on my friends, while I still can. For some reason, I did. Go figure.
Egar swayed a little on his feet. Nice of him.
Yeah, well he charged me enough for the krin. Archeth stowed her knives and stood up. Took a look around at the mess. You know Jhiral is going to have a fucking fit when he hears about this. I really wouldn t want to be part of clan Ashant right now.
Right. Egar got his swaying under control, let his throbbing left hand hang and pressed his right to the hole in his belly. And Gil?
