Oath of Swords

Bahzell was offering to leave. Yet they were arguing with him, the both of them, and they actually sounded as if they meant it.

“Well, then,” he said finally, his deep voice soft, “if you’re daft enough to mean that, there’s naught for me to do but thank you once again.”

***

The City Guard wasn’t happy when it finally arrived, for Angcar was an orderly place. The city fathers frowned on battles in a public inn at the best of times, and sixteen dead was a dismaying body count, even when the Guard didn’t find two hradani in the midst of the carnage.

By the time it arrived in the person of one Captain Deskhan, however, the patrons who hadn’t taken to their heels had reemerged from under the tables. The musician who’d caught up Brandark’s balalaika had returned it, and he and the Bloody Sword sat in a corner, with the Angcaran keeping time on a small hand drum while the hradani plucked out a melody. Alwith had ordered ale all round on the house, and the witnesses were prepared to wax vehement in the hradani’s defense. In fact, four or five of them illustrated every gory moment of the encounter in graphic pantomime, and the baffled Deskhan had no choice but to accept that whatever had happened, the hradani hadn’t started it.

He departed at last with a wagonload of dead assassins and a grudging verdict of self-defense, and Talamar stood in the inn door and waved farewell with a cheeriness that astonished Bahzell.

“I’m thinking that’s an unhappy man yonder. How likely is it he’ll be after making trouble for you out of this?”

“Oh, not very.” Talamar shrugged. “He doesn’t like it, but he’ll cool off once you folk leave. Besides, he’s as little liking for dog brothers as the next man, and he can use this tale to astonish people for years.”

The Angcaran cocked his head and grinned. “For that matter, so can Alwith and I. We’ll have more custom than we can handle for days-maybe weeks-once word of this gets around!”

“And welcome to it,” Bahzell rumbled. “But, d’you know, I’m still wondering how you spotted them at the start like that?”

“I didn’t.” Talamar closed the door and headed back to the taproom beside him. “To be honest, I was keeping an eye on you .” He shrugged with another grin. “The two of you seemed like peaceable fellows, but if someone got drunk enough, he might have taken it into his head to pick a quarrel with you. As for the dog brothers,” his grin became a frown, “they came in in ones and twos, so gradually I never noticed, and I should have, since they were all strangers. But there was something odd about the way that first fellow held his hand when he headed over your way, and I’ve seen those little blowguns before.”

“D’you think he really believed he could kill me with such as that and not be found out?”

“Bahzell, if he’d hit you with that dart, you’d never have known a thing about it,” Talamar said grimly. “Didn’t you see it?”

“Not clear,” the hradani rumbled, “and your Guard captain was after taking it with him when he left.”

“It was tipped with mindanwe sap. A scratch of that, and you’re gone in seconds. All anyone would think would be that your heart had burst-which it would have-and once you were down, he’d’ve bent over you to ‘help’ and picked the dart back out while he pretended to ‘examine’ you.”

A shiver rippled up Bahzell’s spine. Poison. The most loathsome weapon of a coward, but an effective one.

“Begging your pardon, and don’t take this wrongly, but it sounds as if you’ve experience of such,” he murmured.

“I do. Alwith and I served in a troop of freeswords up in Ferenmoss some years back. That civil war is a nightmare, but at least it offers steady work for mercenaries. Only our troop must have been a bit too good, because someone on the other side set the dog brothers on us. We lost half our officers in less than two weeks, and Alwith and I caught the bastard who killed our captain with one of those damned blowguns. He was a good man, Captain Vakhan, and any time I can get sword into the same kind of scum who murdered him-”

Talamar broke off with yet another shrug, almost an apologetic one, and Bahzell touched his shoulder.

“I’m sorry for your captain, but grateful you saw this coming.”

“I suppose some good comes of almost anything,” the Angcaran sighed, then gave himself a brisk shake. “In the meantime, I’ve put out the word, and a dozen mercs will be dropping by shortly. They’re good men-most of them were with us in Ferenmoss-and they’ve settled in to pass the winter here. When they hear about dog brothers in Angcar, they’ll be only too happy to spend a night or two drinking our ale, so you and your people get what sleep you can.”

“Aye, we’ll be doing that,” Bahzell agreed, and beckoned to Brandark to follow as he started up the stairs.

***

They did get some sleep, but not immediately. Zarantha was still up-not surprisingly-and insisted on rechecking the work she’d done on their wounds. And then, of course, Bahzell had to tell her what had happened and as much as they’d been able to guess about why. He did not mention any nocturnal visits by goddesses, but that was hardly relevant anyway.

Zarantha heard him out with remarkable calm, but her dark eyes were haunted when he finished. Rekah sat quietly beside Tothas’ bed, her oval face white, yet she said nothing, and Bahzell touched Zarantha’s knee gently.

“Lass,” he said, abandoning the “My Ladies” he usually remembered to use, “you’ve bought into more trouble with us than we’d any notion, either of us. I’m knowing you’ve need of help to get home, but it’s in my mind you might best be considering whether it’s our help you need.”

“Because of the dog brothers?”

“Of course because of the dog brothers! I’ve told you why Harnak wants me dead-aye, and his father, too-and a pair of hradani aren’t after being the hardest targets to spot. We’re like to bring them down on you again, and-” He paused, then sighed. “Lass, d’you think Brandark and I don’t know you’ve troubles of your own? We’re not wishful to make them worse.”

“After the way I trapped you into this?” Zarantha blinked damply, and Bahzell shrugged.

“As for that, I’ve no one to blame but myself for mixing in your troubles in the first place, and it was you kept me out of jail and away from ni’Tarth’s daggers. Aye, and so far as that goes, the dog brothers would’ve been more than pleased to have me penned up in a cell like a sheep on slaughtering day!”

“No one to blame but yourself,” Zarantha murmured. She swiped a hand across her eyes and smiled at him. “You’re not nearly so hard a man as you’d have people think, are you, Bahzell Bahnakson? First that girl in Navahk, then me. And do you think I haven’t seen the way you watch after Tothas?”

He looked away uncomfortably, and it was her turn to pat his knee.

“Tell me this, Bahzell. If I were able to find someone else to see us the rest of the way home, what would you and Brandark do?”

“Well, we couldn’t be staying here, for if one thing’s sure it’s that the dog brothers know our whereabouts.”

“So you’d be moving on anyway?”

“Aye, that we would.”

“In that case, if you’re still willing, I’d rather move on with you. As you say, I’ve troubles of my own, and-”

She broke off, almost against her will, and shook her head. The Horse Stealer looked closely at her, recognizing her temptation to tell him whatever she’d so far concealed, but he recognized her decision not to, as well. He felt disappointed, yet not truly resentful. Whatever it was, he’d already accepted its seriousness, and her willingness to continue in company with two hradani marked for death by the Assassins Guild only reinforced his sense of her desperation.

“All right, then,” he sighed. “If that’s the way of it, then we’ll be staying with you, and I’m only hoping it’s not a choice we’ll both regret.”