Kingmaker's Sword (Rune Blades of Celi) (13 page)

“No,” I replied, a little calmer myself now, too. But I couldn’t help remembering the flood of images that swept through my mind all those years ago when I had cupped the delicate temples of a thirteen-year-old child between my hands. Was that a bonding? Or was it simply part of the Healing? And that impression of the air around us fizzing when I kissed her, and the thrumming sensation as our swords crossed this morning had been unlike any reaction to magic I’d ever had before. Surely not a bonding.

She groped for the chair behind her and pulled it back to the table so she could sit on it. Without speaking, Cullin handed her a mug of ale. She took a long swallow, then looked at me, her expression bleak. “If it was a proper bond, it means our lives are woven together,” she said more quietly. “One life, two bodies, if it was proper.” She shook her head. “But you’re not Celae. I can hope it wasn’t a proper bond. Perhaps it’s not permanent.”

The thought of being bonded to a woman like her was a bit overwhelming. She was most emphatically not what I visualized when I thought of a life mate. I wanted no more of it than she. “I certainly don’t feel bonded,” I said firmly.

She slanted an oblique glance at me, but said nothing.

“Are you two through shouting at each other?” Cullin asked, still amused.

“I wasn’t shouting,” Kerridwen al Jorddyn said with cold dignity. She looked at me again. “How do you come by a Celae Rune Blade?” she asked. “Let me see it again.”

I sat back and folded my arms on my chest. “You make a lot of demands, my lady,” I said coldly. “Do they not teach common politeness in Skai or in Celi?”

Her lips tightened. “Please,” she said as if it hurt her mouth.

I drew the sword from its scabbard on my back and laid it on the table. “I told you this morning.” I said. “I stole it.”

“Rune Blade?” Cullin reached out one blunt finger and ran it down the blade across the runes. “I’ve never seen runes on the blade,” he said. He glanced quizzically at the woman, then at me. “You never mentioned runes, Kian.”

I shrugged. “I thought it unimportant,” I said. “I can’t read them.”

The woman shook her head. “But you can’t
steal
a Celae Rune Blade,” she said. “It’s not possible—”

Cullin grinned. “He stole that one,” he said. “Or mayhap he inherited it, the owner no longer being in need of a sword. He took it away from a bounty hunter, and killed the man with it. He was unarmed at the time. I was there. I saw it.”

The woman was about to say something else when Moigar came running into the tavern. Moigar never runs. His bulk made walking quickly a tedious chore. He looked around, spotted Cullin and hurried over to the table.

“I’ve come to warn you, Cullin,” Moigar said breathlessly. “The city guard be out searching for you.”

Cullin’s brows rose in inquiry. “Whyever for?”

Moigar collapsed onto a stool and fanned his sweating face with one hand. “One of those Isgardian troopers you encountered last night was apparently the cousin of the Ephir. You damaged him rather severely, I’m told. He be after your blood.”

I reached for the ale jug. “I knew this would happen sooner or later,” I said. “So why not today?  The rest of the day has been perfectly delightful too.”

Cullin cocked an eyebrow at me. “How long did they stay annoyed with us last time?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Three or four seasons?” I said. “I’m not sure. But that time it was only the Captain of the City Guard we tossed out of the tavern. For the cousin of the Ephir, it might take a little longer.”

“He be nursing a broken nose,” Moigar said, a smug upturn at the corners of his mouth. “He be a vain man, be Tergal. He won’t take kindly to anything might spoil his attraction for the ladies.”

“Perhaps half a year, then,” Cullin said. “Or even a year.”

“Trevellin near the Falinor border is pleasant this time of year, I’m told,” I said. “And they have need of merchant train guards.”

Cullin finished his mug of ale before he stood. “Aye,” he said. “Mayhap it’s best if we take ourselves out of the way of trouble for a while. It willna take long to get the horses.”

“I’ll find your men, Cullin,” Moigar said. “And send them on to Trevellin to meet you.”

We walked out into the street, right into a knot of seven Honandun city guards.

Cullin stopped dead in the street and stared at the Isgardian troopers. He swore loudly and an expression of acute dismay spread across his face. The Isgardians saw it and began to grin in anticipation of chopping us into stewing chunks.

“Seven of them,” Cullin said in disgust.

“Aye,” I said, knowing my part. “And only two of us.”

“Outnumbered,” Cullin said.

“Indeed.”

Cullin watched the troopers draw their swords and slowly drew his own. “This is an insult,” he said. “Only seven for two of us.”

I drew my own sword and moved to his left side. “It isna fair,” I agreed. “But then, mayhap they dinna know any better,
ti’vati
.”

Cullin tested the balance of his sword and grinned. “Only three each and we’ll have to share the last.”

I heard the hissing susurration of drawn steel. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the woman, Kerridwen al Jorddyn, step up to Cullin’s right side.

“Two each, and we can flip for the one left over,” she said firmly. “Crowns, he’s mine. Falcons, you can share him.”

The grins on the faces of the Isgardian troopers faded. The leader eyed us warily and motioned his men to spread out in a bid to surround us. I swung around to cover Cullin’s back, saw the woman had already done so, then moved so that each of us had a full one-third arc of a circle to cover.

The good citizens of Honandun, never ones to become involved in another man’s quarrel with the City Guard, had scattered. The street in front of the tavern was deserted except for us and the troopers. That was good. I hated tripping over noncombatants in a fight. It spoiled your timing.

Cullin faced the troop leader, the grin widening on his face, the light of battle in his eyes. His earring glittered and swung as he snapped the long braid back over his shoulder out of his way. “They gather their courage,
ti’rhonai
,” he said. “I told you before that you should cover that face with a beard. It almost frightens me, too.”

I flexed my fingers on the hilt of my sword, feeling it settle against my palms, perfectly balanced. “No, it’s your teeth,
ti’vati
. I would—”

The troop leader sprang forward, his sword slicing down at Cullin’s belly. Cullin stepped back and shook his head in disappointment and well-feigned pity. “Did they no teach you anything about proper handling of swords, man?” he asked sadly, then whirled into action.

As the troop leader swung his sword, two of the troopers came at me, and I lost track of what Cullin was doing as I spun to meet them. I had spent seven years under the tutelage of one of the best swordmasters ever to come out of Tyra, a land renowned for its swordmasters. I was not the equal of Cullin dav Medroch, but I was more than a match for the two Honandun guards. They were slow and clumsy. I ran my blade through the thigh of the first even before he had his sword fully raised to strike. The second, wary now, leaped back, then attacked more cautiously.

I was at least a handspan taller than he, and my sword was longer. I had a lot of reach on him. He couldn’t get close enough to do any damage. In the end, tired of playing with him, I feinted a blow to his head, then lowered the sword and tangled it in his feet. He went down like a fallen tree and his sword went spinning out of his hand. I brought the flat of my blade down on the side of his head to discourage any thoughts he might have had about trying to retrieve the blade.

When I turned back, Cullin was standing with his foot across the throat of the troop leader, leaning on his sword, watching Kerridwen, the grin still in place. She had left one guard sitting in the dust of the street, moaning over a bleeding sword arm. The one guard still remaining fought desperately as she beat him inexorably across the street, her blade flashing almost too quickly to see.

“She moves well,” Cullin said calmly. “A bonny fighter, yon wee lassie. D’ye think she needs our help?”

“She disdains help from barbarians and savages,” I said. “Or so she told me this morning.”

“Ah.” He grinned again. “You could get the horses ready, I think. I’ll stay for a moment and discourage this fellow down here—” He gestured toward the guard leader who lay completely still, his throat under the sole of Cullin’s boot. “—from trying to stop us. She should be finished playing with that wee mannie fairly soon, now.”

“I suppose we’ll have to take her with us now,” I said.

“I suppose so. They’re going to be severely vexed with her after this, I fancy.”

I nodded, then sighed. “I was afraid of that.”

He laughed. “We owe it to her to get her away from here, at any rate. I’ll meet you at the stable in a few minutes.”

I sheathed my sword and left him still admiring the way Kerridwen handled her blade. The inn was only two streets away. I remembered Kerridwen had stayed at the inn as well, and flipped a copper to the stable boy.

“The lady Kerridwen’s horse,” I told him. “She’s in need of it in a hurry. Saddle it quickly and bring it here.”

He snatched the coin deftly out of the air and flashed me a wide grin. “Aye, sir,” he cried and darted to a box stall in the back of the stable.

By the time I had Cullin’s bay and my sorrel saddled, the boy had led a black mare out into the courtyard. I flipped him another coin and was rewarded by another grin. A moment later, Cullin and Kerridwen came dashing around the corner.

“We’re going that way,” I said, pointing south.

“I’m going with you,” she said. “I’m not letting you or that Rune Blade out of my sight until I sort out what’s going on.” She snatched the mare’s reins out of my hand, then turned and slapped a heavy leather pouch into Cullin’s hand. “That should cover your fee for the next season or two.”

Cullin weighed the pouch judiciously, bouncing it gently on his palm. “What say, Kian?” he asked me, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Do we take her along?”

“If it were up to me, I’d tie her up and drop her down the nearest cistern,” I said. “And drop that bag in after her. Onto her head.”

“I take it that means yes,” Cullin said mildly.

I glanced at Kerri, who glared back. “Tcha-a-a-a,” I said, and mounted Rhuidh. “If we’re going, we’d best go before the whole of the Honandun guard comes boiling around that corner.”

Kerri vaulted into the mare’s saddle and crowded the horse close against the sorrel so that her knee pressed hard into mine. “And one more thing,” she said, her voice harsh. “If you ever try to kiss me again, or even touch me, I’ll carve out your liver for roasting, and feed it to you for breakfast. Is that quite clear?”

I pulled Rhuidh back a step and raised both hands, palms out in surrender. “I’d sooner kiss the mare,” I declared positively. “Or the sword. It would be warmer.”

Cullin was having trouble with the corners of his mouth again. He put up his hand to smooth his beard. “Kian’s right,” he said. “We’d best go.”

He kicked the stallion into a canter. Kerri gave me one last scowl, then urged the mare to follow. I said, “Tcha-a-a,” again, and followed.

We showed
our heels to Honandun. We didn’t move with any particular alacrity, being fairly certain the city guard would not pursue us past the city gates, but we wasted no time, either. It had, after all, happened once or twice before when our welcome in the city had been temporarily withdrawn. Cullin’s reputation being what it was, there was always someone who thought to challenge him, and his ability also being what it was, the challenger almost always ended up predictably embarrassed. Given time, bruised pride eventually settled down again. Cullin also being the best merchant train guard on the continent, the merchants of Honandun usually managed to sort things out before we returned to the city.

If I had been expecting Kerridwen al Jorddyn to complain about the abrupt exit, or about the relatively arduous pace Cullin set, I was again mistaken. She rode in pensive silence, keeping up as well as I did. She was as good a horsewoman as she was a swordswoman. But I kept glancing at her to find her gaze, speculative and thoughtful, on me. Or, mayhap more correctly, on the sword I carried across my back.

It was nearly dusk when we left the track and found a small hollow in a copse of silverleaf and scrub oak by a thin thread of quiet water. I lit a small fire while Cullin unlimbered his bow and set out along the burn. Forty-five minutes later, a brace of fat rabbits sputtered and crackled on a spit over the fire. When we finished eating, Cullin announced he would take the first watch. I told him to wake me at moonset, then wrapped myself in my plaid and curled up amid a heap of bracken, and was asleep in minutes.

Cullin woke me just as the moon touched the tops of the trees behind him. As he settled himself for sleep, I wrapped my plaid around my shoulders and moved to sit by the fire, my back to the fire, watching the moon slip down behind the trees.

Guard duty at night leaves a man alone with his thoughts. Even while my eyes and ears remained alert and watchful, I could let part of my mind drift. I drew the sword and held it across my knees, then got my sharpening stone and cleaning cloth from the wallet at my belt. The last light of the moon picked out the runes engraved on the blade, and I ran my fingers across them thoughtfully.