Oath of Swords

The Bloody Sword was as soaked as any of them, his finery bedraggled and mud-spattered, but meeting his goddess seemed to have honed his elemental insouciance, and there was still something jaunty about the way he drew rein. “I don’t think they were glad to see a hradani, but they’ll let us in. The sergeant was even kind enough to direct me to an i

“I’ll be doing that, if it’s after being decent. And if we can get Tothas into a warm bed.”

“I’m-I’m all-” Tothas broke off in another spasm of coughing, and Bahzell grunted.

“Oh, save your strength, man!” he snapped. “We’re all knowing you’ve guts enough for three men-now show you’ve the wit to go with them!”

Tothas coughed yet again, then shook himself weakly and nodded. The Horse Stealer clapped him on the shoulder and looked back to Brandark. “All right, my lad. You’re the one has the name and address, so-” He made a shooing gesture, and Brandark turned his horse with a damp grin and led the way.

The Laughing God was on the poor side of town, and its weathered walls looked none too splendid. Bahzell suspected Hirahim Lightfoot would have been less than pleased to discover he was the i

Brandark went off to examine the stables while Bahzell accompanied Zarantha and Rekah inside, and the Horse Stealer’s eyes flitted about the taproom as they awaited their host. The miserable weather had swelled its custom, but the place was clean enough, and its patrons seemed unwontedly well behaved. Rough clothing and general shabbiness proclaimed their lack of affluence, yet there was no rowdiness, and no one gave the two overworked barmaids trouble. Which might have something to do with the stocky, powerfully built human who stood with both elbows on the bar and watched the crowd. He was two feet shorter than Bahzell, with an eagle’s-beak nose in the face of someone it would be wiser not to cross, and his eyes considered the hradani warily, then flipped to where Tothas leaned on Zarantha’s shoulder. His hard gaze softened as it rested on the armsman, then tracked back to Bahzell, and he nodded to the hradani before he returned his attention to the crowd.

One patron looked up and paled, then rose quickly, paid his shot, and departed hastily, but no one else seemed worried by Bahzell’s sudden arrival. Either that, or they had a great deal of faith in the man at the bar, and Bahzell was inclined to agree with them. That was a fighting man over there, and an unlikely character to play bouncer in a place such as this, he thought-until he saw the owner. The landlord had lost a leg at the knee somewhere, but that nose could only belong to the bouncer’s brother.

The landlord stopped short as he saw the hradani towering in his taproom, but a glance at Bahzell’s companions seemed to reassure him. His shoulders relaxed, and he wiped his hands on the towel draped over his shoulder and stumped forward on his peg leg.

“What can I do for you?” he asked in rough Spearman.

“We’re hoping you’ve room for us,” Bahzell rumbled back.

“That depends on how much room you need. We’re not the largest i

“As to that, it’s two rooms we’re needing-one for the ladies, and one for myself and my two friends.” The landlord raised an eyebrow, and Bahzell twitched his ears. “We’ve one more man. He’s seeing to our animals.”

“I see.” The landlord thought for a moment, then nodded. “We can manage that. I’ve two adjoining rooms left on the second floor, but they’re not the cheapest ones, mind! They’ll run you a silver kormak a night each, but I’ll throw in stable space and fodder for your animals at no extra charge.”

Bahzell winced, but he felt Tothas sagging despite his most gallant efforts and glanced at Zarantha. She nodded almost imperceptibly, and he looked back down at the landlord.

“Done. And if we can be getting a hot meal for our friend-?” He flicked an ear sideways at Tothas, and the landlord nodded.

“We can manage that, too, and maybe a little better.” He shouted over his shoulder, and a youngster with that same beaky nose appeared like magic. “See these people to seven and eight and tell Matha they need hot food. And see there’s a warming pan for the bed linen in both rooms!”

The youngster dashed off, and the landlord turned back to Bahzell.

“There’s washrooms at the back: one for men and one for women. All the hot water you need for a copper each-and a bargain at the price for someone your size, I think!” He chuckled, and Bahzell gave him a weary grin. “If you’re inclined to get your friend into a tub to soak, my people will have his bed warmed and waiting by the time he comes out to dry.”

“I’m thanking you.” Sincerity softened Bahzell’s voice, but the landlord only shrugged and stumped back off, and the hradani took Tothas’ weight from Zarantha’s shoulder.

“I’m thinking-” he began, then broke off as the door flew open. Brandark’s arms were heaped with enough baggage to weigh down even a hradani, and the women hurried over to relieve him of sufficient for him to see over the rest.

“I’m thinking,” Bahzell resumed, “that now Brandark’s here, he can be seeing you to our rooms while I get Tothas neck-deep in hot water.”

“By all means,” Zarantha said briskly. She opened one of the bags she’d taken from Brandark and withdrew a small bottle and a horn spoon. “And give him two spoonfuls of this-it’ll ease the coughing.”

Bahzell stuffed the medication into his belt pouch with a nod and turned away to half lead and half carry Tothas to the washrooms.

Hirahim, Bahzell thought a few hours later, might not be as irked as he’d first thought to find this i

Bahzell and Brandark, immeasurably refreshed by their own hot baths, had left Zarantha and Rekah watching over him and repaired, at Zarantha’s insistence, to the taproom after supper.

“You two have done your share and more,” she’d half scolded when Bahzell questioned the wisdom of wasting their scant funds on drink. “We can spend a few coppers on you. So go! Get out of here! Just don’t get into any brawls and break anything we’ll have to pay for!”

The hradani had departed with alacrity, and they’d soon discovered that The Laughing God’s cellars matched its kitchen. The local wines were too thick and sweet, but they couldn’t really afford wine anyway, whatever Zarantha might say, and the ale was excellent.

Now they sat before the hearth, listening to the pop of burning wood and the sizzling spit as an occasional raindrop came down the flue, and nursed two of The Laughing God’s biggest tankards. The other patrons had made room for them with a bit more haste than dignity, but they’d calmed down since, and Bahzell stretched his boots towards the fire while he savored his ale . . . and the surprised faces about him. Brandark’s finery had astounded everyone, and some of those who’d prudently withdrawn from his vicinity had been lured back when he uncased his balalaika and began strumming.

It hadn’t taken long for someone a little braver than the others to ask for a song, and the Bloody Sword had obliged with a smile, though he’d asked-with uncommon tact, Bahzell thought-for someone else to provide the voice. By now he was in a huddle with two locals, fingering silent chords while one of them played something softly on a pe