Oath of Swords

His deep voice was level, but the Purple Lord blanched at something in it and edged his horse back a stride. Bahzell held his eyes for a moment, then looked back at the villager, and the man swallowed.

“Are . . . are ye truly what ye say, sir?” he asked timidly.

“I am that, though I’ll not blame you for wondering.” Bahzell glanced down at his tattered, stained self and gri

Someone guffawed nervously, and the Purple Lord flushed.

“So tell me the truth of what’s happening here,” Bahzell urged.

“Well, sir.” The villager darted an anxious look at the Purple Lord, then drew a deep breath. “The truth is, it’s been a mortal hard year,” he said in a rush. “The price of timber, well, it’s been less’n half what it us’ly is, an’ after Milord took his tithe of it, there’s nigh nothin’ left. We . . . we paid half our rent, sir, ’deed we did, an’ if Milord’d only wait till spring, we’d pay it all, no question. But-”

He shrugged helplessly, and Bahzell swiveled his eyes back to the landlord. The Purple Lord flushed even darker, but his lip curled.

“They’ve always got some excuse, but there are plenty of others who’ll jump at the chance to take their places-yes, and pay their rent on time, too!”

“So you’re after turning them out in the teeth of winter, is it? And them with half their rent for the next quarter already paid?”

“And what business is it of yours?” the Purple Lord snapped. “I’m within my rights!”

“Are you, now? And no doubt you’ve some bit of paper to prove it?”

“Prove it?!” The landlord gasped incredulously, then shook himself. “Hirahim! Why am I even wasting time with the likes of you? Be on your way, hradani, and be glad I let you go!”

“As to that, it’s happy I’ll be to move on,” Bahzell said calmly. “As soon as you’ve returned the rent these folk did pay, that is.”

“What? ” The Purple Lord gawked at him. “You’re mad!”

“That’s as may be, but if you’re after putting them out, then I’m thinking they’re not after owing rent for the time they won’t be here. Aye,” Bahzell’s eyes narrowed, “and I’ve a shrewd notion that precious paper of yours would be saying the same thing, wouldn’t it?”

“ ’Deed, sir,” a woman’s voice said nervously, “it does, and ’twas that we asked him for when he come to put us out, but he said-”

“Hold your tongue, bitch!” the Purple Lord spat furiously. The woman who’d spoken cowered back, and he glared at her. “It’s none of this bastard’s affair! One more word, and I’ll have the whip to you!”

“Now that’s where you’re wrong,” Bahzell said flatly, and the landlord quivered with rage as he glared at the ragged, muddy figure before him. His mouth worked, and he jerked around to his seven guardsmen.

“Kill these swine!” he barked.

His men had more than half-expected the command, and they drew their swords instantly. Bahzell’s blade was still sheathed as they spurred forward, gri

His corpse toppled from its horse, and one of his men shouted a shocked, incredulous oath and came straight at the hradani. His sword flashed, but he was more accustomed to terrorizing tenants than facing trained warriors, and Bahzell’s blade licked out almost contemptuously. The guardsman grunted, staring stupidly down at the two feet of steel buried in his guts, then shrieked as Bahzell plucked him from the saddle like a speared salmon.

Two more men charged the Horse Stealer, but one of them veered aside, face etched with sudden panic as Brandark spurred to meet him. The guardsman got his blade up in time to block a straight-armed cut, but the force of the blow drove his sword to the side, and a lightning backhand took out his throat. He fell with a bubbling gurgle, and Bahzell put his armored shoulder into the barrel of his companion’s rearing horse.

The horse went down squealing, and Bahzell cut yet another guardsman from his saddle while the fallen man fought to scramble free of his mount. He managed it-and rose just in time to meet Brandark’s sword. He crashed back with a split skull, and the two surviving guards were no longer smiling as they flung themselves desperately at the hradani.

They lasted no longer than their fellows, and the Purple Lord gaped in terror as Bahzell and Brandark cut his men apart with polished efficiency. His horse reared as he spurred it, but he was trapped between the palisade and Bahzell. He stared desperately around, and his hand darted to his ornamented, gold-crusted sword hilt.

“Don’t be stupid, man!” Bahzell snapped, but the half-elf was too panicked to heed the warning. He slammed his spurs home once more, and his sword swung wildly as the beast squealed and bolted forward.

Bahzell ducked the clumsy stroke easily, and his own blade hissed back around in a dreadful, economic riposte. He didn’t even think about it; he simply reacted, and the Purple Lord was flung from his saddle without a sound. He hit the mud with a sodden thump, the villagers gasped in horror as he fell, and then there was only stillness, and eight dead men sprawled on the churned up ground.

Bahzell lowered his sword slowly and muttered an oath as he surveyed the carnage. He’d never dreamed the man might be daft enough to try something like this, and his heart sank as he recognized the trouble to come. He turned his head to meet Brandark’s eyes, and his friend sighed.

“Well,” he said wryly, “no one ever said hradani were smart.”

Chapter Thirty-five

“No, no, no , Malith!” Bahzell sighed and shook his head while the village headman looked at him, shrewd old eyes stubborn. “You just be telling whoever asks exactly what I’ve told you to say.”

“But the army, Milord,” Malith protested. “They’ll not be happy, and it’s not right they should be chasing you when-”

“Oh, hush, man! The Phrobus-spawned army can be looking after itself, and right this moment it’s your necks I’m thinking of. So just tell me if you’ve all the details straight.”

“But it’s not right , Milord! ’Twas our trouble, and-”

“Malith! ” The villager winced at the volume of Bahzell’s exasperation and scrubbed his calloused hands together, then swallowed.

“Yes, Milord. I understand,” he said meekly.

“Good!” Bahzell looked up as Malith’s wife scurried off to hide the last of the money they’d found on the dead landlord’s person. Two more women were busy stuffing the hradani’s pack saddles with food under Brandark’s supervision, and the Horse Stealer nodded in satisfaction. He’d been looking forward to a night or two under a roof, but that was before he landed himself and Brandark in this fresh fix. Fiendark seize it, that pompous lackwit would be related to the local governor!

Brandark buckled the saddle tight and wiggled his ears outrageously at the two young women, then kissed each of them firmly. Both of them giggled and blushed, but one of them laughed out loud and seized his right ear to drag his head down and give him a daring kiss in reply before they darted back inside the palisade.

Bahzell grunted, shoved himself to his feet, and crossed to Brandark. It was time and past time to be out of here, he thought, though precisely where he and Brandark could go now was something of a delicate question. The only thing of which he was certain was that they couldn’t take their fresh trouble to Jashân and drop it on Zarantha and her family. Relations between the Spearmen and the Purple Lords were always bitter, for the Empire hated and resented the half-elves’ monopolistic control of its foreign trade. But that very control made them a force not even the most powerful Spearman noble could challenge with impunity, and they were only too likely to choose to make an example of Duke Caswal if he tried to shield two hradani who’d “murdered” the son of a powerful family. They’d done it before, using their grip on the Spear River and its shipping to blockade the trade of nobles who’d irritated them as a way to remind their fellows of who held the Empire’s leash.