Uncertainty danced in Kellich’s blue eyes. His gaze went past Vandien, found Willow. Ki saw a spark of life and hope come to Willow’s face. ‘It’s true, Kellich!’ she cried out desperately. ‘All of it’s true. I love only you, and if you would listen, I could make you understand what happened.’ Her voice grew suddenly stronger. ‘In only one thing is he wrong. You have to kill Goat. Not for me or what he has done to us. But for … for a greater good, one we both hold dear.’ Her voice faltered, as if fearing she spoke too much. Kellich’s face changed. Ki could not tell if he would heed her earlier plea, to listen to her. But she knew he would fulfill Willow’s other request. He would kill Goat. Unless Vandien stopped him.
All knew it. Goat pressed himself against the wall behind the table, whimpering. The circle of folk shifted, tightened. ‘I’m sending for the guard right now, Kellich!’ the landlord threatened, but Kellich did not hear. Like a witch’s water stick seeking moisture, his blade lifted, wavered, pointed accusingly at Goat. ‘Will you be killed like a rat in a corner?’ he asked Goat. ‘Come out at least, to meet your death.’
‘Kill him, Vandien! Kill him!’ Goat shrieked, already skewered with terror.
Metal whispered against leather as Vandien’s rapier came clear of its worn sheath. Ki saw him change, this drawing of weapon doing something to his body. Quicker and more lithe he became, inspired by snakes and cats and all things that live by quick wits and sinuosity. Her blood quickened. This was a different Vandien, one she had seen but once or twice before. This was not the man who drew his blade and led her through the exercises of fencing, who had endlessly and patiently corrected her until she had become a foil fit for him to practice his skills against. No. This was someone different. ‘By all that is green and growing,’ Ki prayed, but her voice would not come past her lips. She could only watch, stay out of his way, and protect his back. Her mouth was dry.
Vandien’s rapier leapt out, not to pierce, but to tap Kellich twice on the shoulder in quick succession. ‘Turn, man,’ Vandien told him softly. ‘Face me.’
And Kellich turned, his blade leaping up to meet Vandien’s in a screaming steel kiss that held them both.
‘Let’s not do this,’ Vandien proposed in a soft voice. ‘We’ve no quarrel, you and I. Let me take the boy and go. I promise I shall take him far from here. I’ve no more love for him than you have, but his blood would shame your blade.’
There was no compromise in Kellich’s face. ‘Just go away,’ Kellich suggested. ‘Let me get this done quickly.’
Vandien shook his head slowly. Ki wondered if anyone else could see the strength the two men pitted against each other as their rapiers held that touch, could see the measuring of skill that was taking place. She could. And she could see suddenly that Kellich was good, and more than good. And he was young, with the fire that burns so hot in youths before experience comes to bank it.
She looked at Vandien suddenly with new eyes. When they had first met, the same fires that blazed in Kellich now had been hot in Vandien. He had changed, Ki realized abruptly. His body was not the svelte body of a youth, but had the heavier set of a man, the dart of impetuosity replaced with the deliberate movement of experience. She had seen him draw blade many times, most often for the joy of the contest, but sometimes in anger or danger. As the coldness swept from her belly, she knew this was the first time when she had seriously wondered if he would win.
‘I can’t just leave,’ Vandien said. The tip of his rapier darted away from Kellich’s, was pressing his blade from the other side almost before Kellich could respond. Almost.
‘Vandien? That’s the name?’ he asked. The tendons in the back of his hand stood out.
Vandien nodded silently.
‘It’s good to know the name of a man, before your blade wears his blood.’ It began in that instant, too swift for Ki’s eyes to follow. The whicker and whisper of metal against metal, the swift taps and challenges, the deceptive feints that measured the opponent, the bold attacks and the lightning ripostes. Boots moved against the wooden floor and Vandien’s shirt began to stick to his back. Ki tried, but could not see the struggle. Her eyes hung on foolish things, on a loose thread dangling from Kellich’s sleeve, on the dark ring Vandien wore on the hand he held high behind him. Kellich’s blade darted in, was trapped and spun aside by Vandien’s blade, and for an instant the men sprang apart. She heard Vandien suck in breath, thought of his ribs and felt ice track down her spine.
‘You’re good,’ Vandien breathed.
‘And you,’ Kellich conceded grudgingly.
‘This doesn’t have to be,’ Vandien reminded him.
Kellich shook his sweat-damped hair, and his rapier rose once more.
‘So be it, then,’ Vandien said, and his voice chilled Ki. Not because it was cold, or tired, but because it was hot with excitement, full of the lust of the fight. She saw the man move in, knew that what had gone before had been but preliminaries. He had taken Kellich’s measure, and found it good. Admiration for the boy shone in Vandien’s eyes, and the impetuosity she thought he had outgrown flamed suddenly in him. He took the challenge home to Kellich, and she saw the youth’s eyes widen in shock as he was suddenly put on the defensive. But then his blue eyes sparked suddenly, as if they met the joy in fencing that drove Vandien now, and were ignited by it. They moved like dancers, like a paired team of pacing horses, matching and swaying to one another’s movements.
There comes a place, Ki thought, or perhaps it is only a moment. A time when youth and experience may meet and cancel one another. When Kellich would thrust, or weave lithely aside, or dart in impetuously, her heart would clench in terror for Vandien. But the boy’s moves were met by the man’s sure hand, with concise movements of a blade that wasted no energy, shifted not one whit more than was necessary to deflect Kellich’s attacks. Vandien was a center that the youth orbited, the pillar of the maypole dance the boy’s rapier wove around him.
The room was almost silent, all caught up in the contest. Occasionally a man grunted with effort, or made the twitching of muscles that betrayed how closely he followed the contest. Willow was a frozen statue, her eyes so wide they seemed unseeing. Goat had not moved from where he was stuck to the wall; only his lower lip trembled as he watched the fight that would decide his fate. Ki felt the sweat that ran down her back, and she prayed it would end, but did not want it to end, for fear it would end in the death of one of them. There was a gasp as, without warning, Vandien’s rapier licked in to dab scarlet on the point of Kellich’s shoulder. ‘First blood!’ someone called out, but at the instant it was uttered, the tip of Kellich’s blade shot past the guard of Vandien’s rapier to open a shallow gash in the back of his forearm. Both fenced on, as if there were no such thing as pain. Ki watched the blood run and then drip from Vandien’s arm, outlining in scarlet the muscles that stood out in his forearm. She felt dizzy, as if it were her own blood leaking out.
A murmur from the crowd drew Ki’s eyes up to Vandien’s face. He was smiling - no, grinning, as demented as a demon. Even more incredible, the smile was matched by the one on Kellich’s face. She could have sworn that both men had forgotten their quarrel entirely, were fencing for the pure joy of matching their skills against an equal. Both their chests were pumping like bellows, and a streak of darker scarlet marred the crimson of Kellich’s sleeve. She saw Vandien put into play moves she had seen him practice against his shadow in the bright darkness of the full moon. He was pushing himself now, bringingout every trick he had ever learned or tried, dancing and darting in ways as unpredictable as a cat’s play with a mouse; and Kellich was standing up to him, putting aside his attacks, but only just, and then riposting and being turned himself. They were both winded now, gasping with sounds almost like laughter, blue eyes and black shining in mutual concession of skill. Relief washed through Ki’s heart. She knew suddenly, as clearly as she had known anything, that no one would die here, or even be badly injured. In another moment they would put up their blades and bow t
o one another, would share a drink or five, and that Vandien would find a way to make peace between Kellich and Willow.
Vandien was pushing him again, in a final series of thrusts that Kellich turned at the last possible moment. The laughter was plain in their gasping now, and all the circle was grinning. Save one. Ki saw his face suddenly behind Kellich, contorted with anger and hate and fear. She cried out aloud, but it was too late, for Goat had already stepped in, had already given Kellich the one push from behind that was all it took. His rapier went wide; the staggering step he took to try to regain his balance carried him wildly forward. Amazement widened his eyes and his mouth opened silently.
It was Vandien who cried aloud as his thrust, unchecked, sank his rapier deep into Kellich’s chest.
ELEVEN
As Kellich fell, the supple blade of Vandien’s rapier ripped free of his chest, flinging a bright spray of red droplets. They freckled the faces of bystanders, who cried out in horror and recoiled as if sprayed with poison. But above their sounds rang out Goat’s high-pitched victorious shriek. ‘He’s dead! He’s dead! He’s dead!’
Vandien’s rapier clattered to the floor. He dropped to his knees by the youth. Unbelieving, his fingers reached, touched the spreading stain where Kellich’s life was pumping out in fainter and fainter gouts. He pressed to hold back the flood that poured past his fingers. ‘Kellich?’ he asked. But the youth’s eyes were open, wide and blue as the empty sky. His mouth was ajar still, as if he would never get over the surprise of his death. ‘Oh, Kellich,’ Vandien whispered. He touched the boy’s cheek, the hand that still gripped his weapon. ‘I’m sorry.’ His voice broke on the words, and his head sagged onto his chest. His shoulders drooped, and his hand went up to cover his mouth. Ki heard the ragged breath he drew through his bloody fingers.
From without the inn, a shout. ‘Guards coming! Guards coming!’
Within the inn, instant mayhem. No one wanted to be at the scene of a duel, let alone one that had ended in death. Frantic customers shouldered past Ki, sending her staggering as she fought her way toward Vandien. ‘Not in my inn, oh no, not in my inn!’ the tavernkeeper was wailing.
And above the curses and shouts as folk fought their ways toward doors and windows, Ki heard Willow’s voice ring out. ‘… nothing left for me! Nothing! Because of you! May you never know a moment’s peace or rest for all your days to come! I curse you and all that care for you and any children you father! May you know loss such as mine! May you never forget what you have done. Never!’
Vandien was still on his knees beside the body, his face raised to Willow as if she had blessed him. Blood welled in the tracks of her nails down his face, and as Ki moved in, she slapped him again. He didn’t move. Ki wasn’t sure if he even knew she was there. She shoved Willow aside, and the girl sprawled by Kellich’s body, clutching at him and sobbing wordlessly. Ki gripped Vandien’s arm. ‘We have to get out of here. The guards are coming.’ He didn’t respond. She shook his shoulder, then tried to drag him to his feet. ‘Please, Vandien. Get up. We have to get out of here.’
He looked up at her blankly. ‘I didn’t mean to kill him,’ he said softly. Tears suddenly brimmed his dark eyes. ‘It’s like I killed myself …’
She snatched up his rapier from the floor, got under his arm and levered him to his feet. He tottered as if he were drunk. ‘It’s going to be okay,’ she told him as she guided him to the back door. ‘It’s going to be all right.’ They reached the wagon and she pushed him up onto the seat. She took the kerchief from her throat and wiped the blood from his face, then wrapped it hastily around his still-dripping forearm. He sat still and dumb under her touch. She opened the cuddy door, tossed his rapier inside, slammed it shut. Kicking off the wheel brake, she started the team at a careful walk and held them there despite her hammering heart. Mustn’t look like we’re in a hurry, she told herself. From the front innyard, she could hear the shouts of the Brurjan guards and the screams of those being questioned by them. She guided the team down the narrow alley between the stables and the manure piles and out into another street. ‘Willow knows who we are and where we’re going,’ she reminded herself. ‘She has no reason to keep still about it. Except that she has no travelling papers; maybe she’ll be hiding herself…’ But Ki knew she couldn’t count on that. At the next corner, she turned randomly.
Vandien looked bad. He was swaying with the wagon, and his face was dead. She pushed the cuddy door open, grabbed the wineskin off its hook and pushed it at him. It held cheap wine, good only for washing the road dust from a dry throat. ‘Drink some,’ she told him, and he obeyed her mindlessly. She left him holding the skin and swaying stupidly with every jolt of the wagon; if he looked drunk, maybe the guard wouldn’t stop them for questioning. For now, she had to find shelter for them and the wagon, and give the turmoil at the inn time to subside.
Some hours she passed in a run-down wainwright’s on the far side of the town bargaining for axle grease, linchpins and other trivial supplies. The man didn’t object to making money, and her wagon was all but invisible in his yard full of rotting hulks of other wagons and rigs. Vandien remained sitting, drinking the sour wine and staring at his hands. Ki left him alone. She couldn’t think of anything she could do for him. He needed to think through what had happened. It was hard to leave him alone, but he had to make his own sense of Kellich’s death. She tried to keep herself and the wainwright busy with small talk.
Early evening brought a soft, forgiving darkness and a little-used north road that would take them out of town. Or so the wainwright assured her; she hoped he was right. It wasn’t unusual for folk to know little of the roads that led away from the towns they had been born and raised in.
The horses snorted occasionally, complaining of the dark road and the annoying ruts that crumbled under their heavy hooves, but Ki kept them to their pace. The town fell away behind them, and then the cultivated fields. They finally entered the endless swell of the prairie. Vandien still hadn’t spoken. She slid closer to him on the seat. Hooking one arm around his waist, she pulled him tight against her. He sighed suddenly, and put his arm across her shoulders. She didn’t mind the weight. Turning her head, she brushed a kiss across his stubbled cheek. She waited.
‘Ki,’ he said, and stopped. For a long time, he said nothing. She moved her hand up his back, rubbed the tight muscles in the back of his neck. He didn’t relax.
‘He was one of the best swordsmen I’ve ever faced.’ She nodded into the dark.
‘I think we could have been friends.’
She nodded again.
‘Oh, gods!’ he cried suddenly. ‘I killed that boy!’
‘You didn’t mean to,’ she whispered. She let go of the reins to hold him, and the team, free to do its own will, immediately halted. Around them was only the empty night, the chirring of insects and the smell of the earth as the dew settled. Ki held him, wishing he would cry or curse, anything but hunch and hold his pain inside him. She ran her hands up and down his back, then hugged him suddenly, kissing the side of his face fiercely, trying to make him feel less alone.
He moved then, capturing her wrists and gently setting her away from him. ‘The horses need to be unharnessed.’
‘Yes. And I’ll make a fire. You’ll feel better when you’ve had a cup of tea and something to eat.’ Her own words sounded inane, but it was all she could manage. She let him unharness the team while she found straw and twigs and bits of scrubby brush to build a fire. The small light in the darkness was cheering; she took courage from it. She filled the kettle from the cask and set it over the flames, then climbed the wagon step to get the new bag of tea.
It was dark within the wagon, and she groped over the bed where she had earlier tossed the sack of tea. Something warm stirred under her hands.
‘Ki? Have we stopped finally?’
She stumbled backward down the steps, fleeing as if confronted by a nightmare. Goat followed her out, rubbing his eyes and blinking after his long sleep. She cou
ldn’t make a sound, could only stare at him. She didn’t remember thinking of him since they left Tekum, but now she knew a part of her had deliberately decided to leave the boy behind. That same part was both horrified and enraged to see him emerge from the wagon. He walked toward the fire, holding his hands out toward it.
‘DAMN YOU!’
It was the pain in Vandien’s voice more than the anger that froze her for the instant that it took him to get to the boy. Goat went down under him, and Vandien’s hands tightened on his throat before she could reach them. Stupid details imprinted themselves on her mind as she flung herself into the struggle: that the cut on Vandien’s forearm had opened and was leaking darkly in the firelight; that Goat had not changed his shirt and there were great rings of sweat under his arms; that the boy looked like a dying rodent as his drawn-back lips bared his long yellow teeth. Then she was in the middle of it, wedging her shoulder against Vandien’s chest and up, kneeling on Goat’s chest as she levered the man off him, and then springing up to fling her arms around Vandien as Goat raced, howling, for the shelter of the wagon. Vandien flung her off with a curse and sprang after the boy, but he already had the door shut. She heard a thud and then the clatter of overturned pans as he piled things against it. Vandien turned to the other door, but she got to the seat before he did. She sat, her back to the other cuddy door, and looked down on him.
‘Don’t!’ she warned him as he started up. ‘Get out of my way.’ He spoke as if she were a stranger, one he would not mind bloodying. It shocked her.
‘Listen to me.’ Her voice was shaking. ‘Wait a minute.’ He didn’t. He was coming up onto the seat. She planted her hands on his shoulders, held him back. She wondered if he would throw her aside, knew that his anger made him far stronger than she, wondered what she would do if he did. He didn’t, but all of her weight was insufficient to keep him on the ground. He was on the wagon seat. She plastered herself against the door.
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