Oath of Swords

“My Lady!” he shouted. “Lady Zarantha!” Silence answered, and he looked desperately up at Bahzell. “Break it down!”

“So I’m thinking myself, but best we get the landlord up here first.”

“No! She might-she might be dying in there!”

“Calm now, Tothas,” Bahzell said as gently as his own fear allowed, and drew Tothas back from the door with compassionately implacable strength, despite the armsman’s struggles. “No one got past us last night, you’ve my word for that, but if aught’s wrong with Zarantha, then it must be so with Rekah, as well, for they’re neither of them answering. And if that’s so, I’m thinking there’s no point in haste.”

Tothas gave one more futile wrench against his grip, eyes full of agony in his wasted face, then slumped and patted the Horse Stealer’s wrist.

“Aye,” he whispered. “Aye, you’re right. Would to Tomanāk you weren’t, but you are.”

He sagged against the wall, hands scrubbing his face, and Bahzell turned as Brandark clattered back with the landlord. The pudgy little man looked both indignant and frightened in his ridiculous nightgown, and he was badly out of breath from the ruthless haste with which the Bloody Sword had dragged him from his bed.

“What’s the meaning of this?!” he tried to snap, but it came out in a nervous quaver, and Bahzell frowned down at him.

“Little man,” he said, “we’ve people behind yonder door, and they’re not after answering.” The landlord jerked as if he’d been struck. His eyes darted to the door, and he paled, then swallowed.

“M-Maybe they’re just a-asleep,” he stuttered.

“Then it’s the soundest sleep I’ve ever heard of,” Bahzell rumbled.

“Well, I can’t help that! What do you want me to do about it?”

“Just you stand right there,” the Horse Stealer told him grimly. “I’m after opening this door, one way or another, and I’m wanting you to know why I’ve done it when I do.”

“You mean-?” The landlord stiffened as the hradani backed up four paces. “No, wait! You can’t just-!”

Bahzell ignored him and charged. The human-sized hall was too cramped for him to build much speed, but, as Harnak had learned in Navahk, the door that could stop Bahzell Bahnakson was a very rare door indeed. The crash shook the i

The Horse Stealer stumbled two more paces forward to regain his balance, but his eyes were already sweeping the room, and a snarl rose in his throat. The single small window hung wide to the rain, and the furnishings were smashed and splintered, as if a madman had run amok with an axe. One bed was empty, but a bloody oval face hung over the side of the other slashed and tattered mattress in a tangle of golden hair.

The hradani crossed the room in one enormous stride, and his hands were gentle as he touched Rekah’s throat. Her neck was ringed in brutal purple bruises too long and thin to have come from any mortal hand, and blood streaked the bedpost where her attacker had slammed her face into it again and again while he choked her, but a faint pulse fluttered against his fingertips.

“Fetch a healer!” he snapped over his shoulder. Tothas sagged in the doorway like a man who’d taken his death wound, and the petrified landlord gawked past the armsman. “Phrobus take you, fetch a healer before I gut your lard-swollen belly!” Bahzell roared, and the man vanished with a squeal.

The maid disappeared on his heels, and Brandark caught Tothas, easing him down to sit on the floor, horrified eyes locked on the empty bed.

“How?” The Bloody Sword’s tenor voice was hard with fury. “In the names of all the gods and demons how? And why didn’t we hear something?!”

Bahzell only shook his head, but Tothas shoved himself up from the floor. “Sorcery,” he groaned, crossing to Rekah like an old, old man. He touched her bloody face with trembling fingers, and his voice was riven and harrowed. “Sorcery-black, black sorcery!” he whispered, going back to his knees beside the maid, then laid his face on the bed and wept.

The healer was a stout, gray-haired matron with a gentle face, and she hissed in horror when she saw the room. She looked ridiculous with her clothing all askew and her hair all wild under the cloak she’d snatched over her head, but her hands were gently deft as she examined Rekah. She peered into the maid’s eyes and moved her head with infinite care, then sighed in relief.

“Eh, it’s bad!” she murmured. “Mortal bad, but her neck’s unbroken, praise Kontifrio.” She muttered to herself as she checked for other wounds and broken bones, then rounded on Tothas and the two hradani. “And which of you treated her so?!” she snapped furiously, but Bahzell shook his head.

“No, mother. I’ll swear whatever oath you’re wishing, we’d no hand in it. The door was barred from inside; we broke it down to find her.”

“What?!” The healer stared at him, then looked at the wrecked door and went almost as pale as the i

“Well, that’s as may be, but this lass is bad hurt-bad! She’s a crack in her skull like someone hit her with an axe, and it’s the gods’ own mercy she’s still alive. Out-out, all of you! I’ve work to do, so clear my way!”

Bahzell nodded and drew Tothas gently away. The landlord was nowhere in sight. His servants had copied his example, and Brandark dived into his personal pack for a carefully wrapped bottle of brandy as the three of them returned to their own room. Tothas coughed and tried to pull away when Brandark forced a huge swallow down him, but something like intelligence returned to his eyes, and Bahzell cleared his throat.

“Now, Tothas,” he said in a soft voice, “I’m thinking it’s time you told us what Lady Zarantha never did.”

“Why?” Tothas’ voice was hopeless, and he rocked in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “Oh, My Lady!”

“Hush, now, man!” Bahzell’s voice was harsh, and Tothas looked up. “There’s no body in yonder room, only Rekah. I’m thinking whoever-or whatever-it was left her for dead, and never a sound did it make while it was about it. If it was minded to kill Zarantha, why not kill her then and there? No, Tothas, she’s alive, or was, and if we’re to get her back, we’ve time for naught but the truth!”

“Alive?” Tothas blinked, and the horror retreated-a little-as his face recovered some of its normal determination. “Aye,” he said softly. “She would be. She is! They won’t kill her here-they’ll take her home for that!”

“Who, man? Who?! ”

“I don’t know-not for certain.” Tothas shook himself again, harder. “You’re right. Tomanāk knows we should have told you sooner, but My Lady was afraid that-” He drew a deep breath, then stood and faced the two hradani.

“I ask you to believe,” he said in a deep, formal voice, “that we kept it from you out of no distrust. It was My Lady’s decision, and she meant it for the best-for you, as well as for her.”

“Meant what?” Brandark asked flatly.

“My Lady . . . misled you. She is, indeed, the Lady Zarantha Hûrâka, and her father is Caswal of Hûrâka, but few know them by that name. Hûrâka is an all but dead clan-she, her father, and her sisters are its only members-but Lord Caswal is also lord of Clan Jashân, and most know him as Caswal of Jashân, Duke Jashân.”

“Duke?! ” Brandark blurted.

“Aye, the highest noble of the South Weald after Grand Duke Shâloan himself.”

“Phrobus!” the Bloody Sword whispered, and Bahzell’s eyes went flint hard as he stared into Tothas’ face.

“Are you after telling me the second noble of the South Weald sent his oldest daughter overland to the Empire of the Axe with naught but a single maid and three armsmen?!”