Sacred Knight of the Veil (26 page)

In moments, the taproom's atmosphere turned violent as the crowd surged forward to surround the brawl and shout encouragement to the combatants. Kerra peered through the mass of men, trying to see what was going on. Two Cotti were locked together on the floor, punching and gouging each other, and money changed hands as spectators wagered on the outcome. She glanced around for the minstrel, who had vanished, as had the serving maids.

Just as she realised that this was a potentially dangerous situation, the pugilists broke apart, and one punched a spectator who rooted for his opponent. As if this was a signal that everyone had been waiting for, the brawl spread into the crowd, and soon the room was filled with flying fists, tankards and chairs.

Alarmed, Kerra headed for the door, ducking the missiles that flew over her head. A man stumbled backwards into her, propelled by a punch. Kerra yelped as she was thrust against the wall, her ale slopping over the front of her tunic. A flailing arm smacked her on the side of the head, and she staggered, dropping the tankard.

Someone grabbed the front of her tunic and hauled her to her feet, and she stared into a Cotti's bloodshot eyes as he drew back his fist. His savage grin revealed yellow teeth, and she ducked just in time to avoid the punch he threw at her head. His hold on the front of her jacket foiled her attempt to get free, and she bit his hand, making him howl as he released her. She fell backwards, banging her head on the wall. Stars sparkled in her vision, then someone kicked her and she yelped, fighting the urge to scream for help.

More ale splashed over her, and somebody fell over her legs with a curse. She struggled to her feet, battered by the melee of struggling brawlers. A man stepped on her foot, and she pushed him away as hard as she could, staggering back into another Cotti. He grabbed her jacket, and she bit his hand as well, making him thrust her away with a yell. She stumbled over a comatose man and fell, bruising her hip and elbow. Once again, a hand gripped the front of her tunic and dragged her to her feet. As she bent her head to bite it, a cold voice spoke in her ear.

"Bite me, and you will be sorry."

Kerra looked up into Blade's eyes and sagged with relief. He glanced around and pulled her out of the way as two Cotti staggered past, locked in combat. Transferring his grip to her arm, he pushed through the crush, dragging her after him. A swaying man confronted him, and Blade stamped on his foot, sending the Cotti hopping into the crowd, where someone else punched him.

Another man took a swing at the assassin, who ducked, then punched the Cotti in the solar plexus and left him gasping on the floor. They reached an area of relative calm just before the door, but a huge Cotti with a scarred face stepped into the assassin's path. He seemed a little more sober than his comrades, and stayed out of Blade's reach.

"Well, well, what have we here?" he sneered. "A Jashimari assassin, no less."

Blade tried to go around him, but the Cotti blocked his way, grinning. Blade kicked him in the groin, and the big man folded over with a groan. Two more turned from their opponents to note the presence of the Jashimari assassin. Their expressions became gleeful, and they moved towards him. Kerra glanced at Blade, who studied the new threat with narrowed eyes. He released her arm and held up his empty hands in a gesture of appeasement.

"I don't want trouble, just let us through."

The Cotti glanced at each other, and one sniggered. "He doesn't want trouble, lads."

His announcement caught the attention of more Cotti, who turned from their opponents. A chair flew out of the mob and bounced off one of the men, who staggered into another with an oath. Blade took Kerra's arm and started forward again, intent on escaping the taproom before he became the centre of attention. Two men stepped into his path, and one took a swing at his head.

Blade thrust the Queen aside as he ducked, sending her reeling into the wall a few feet from the door. Seeing her chance to escape the brawl, she darted towards the exit, evading the grasping hands of one man but tripping over the outstretched foot of another. She sprawled through the doorway, grazing her hands on the rough wooden floor.

Someone gripped her by her scruff and dragged her from the melee, releasing her with a curse when she grabbed his ankle and almost tripped him up. She scrambled to her feet to find the minstrel facing her, shaking his head with a wry smile. Realising that he had been trying to help her, she shot him a quick smile before turning to find out what had happened to Blade.

The assassin gazed at his opponents with bitter eyes, wondering why it was that men always wanted to pick a fight with him. Assassins were much hated by the populace, who found their trade distasteful and took every opportunity to insult, injure or inconvenience them. This had forced assassins to excel in self-defence, which in itself had become a challenge for rough men who wanted to prove themselves. That he was Jashimari made it worse, for the only thing Cotti hated more than a Cotti assassin was a Jashimari one.

Nothing would give these men more satisfaction than beating him senseless, a prospect he did not relish. The Queen had vanished through the door, and he hoped she had the sense to go to the room and wait for him there. He glanced around, raising his hands once more in a gesture of appeasement, and to show that he had not drawn his daggers. All the men in the taproom carried weapons of some sort, and to arm himself would only cause them to do the same, with deadly results. In taproom brawls, unspoken rules allowed only furniture and fists to be used as weapons, which cut down on injuries. As soon as some fool drew a weapon, the conflicts became bloody.

Blade stepped back, hoping the Cotti would lose interest and return to the brawl in the centre of the room if he made it clear that he did not wish to fight. One of the men who had first confronted him grinned at his apparent cowardice and shouted insults. Belatedly, he realised that these Cotti would not let an assassin escape a beating, whether he fought back or not. They also knew that he would be forced to defend himself. Blade had no intention of engaging these men if he could possibly avoid it, however.

Turning away, he leapt onto a table as the men charged with a roar, then swung to kick the nearest in the face, sending him crashing into those behind him and making them stagger back. Leaping onto another table, he headed towards a window in the far wall, glancing back as two Cotti scrambled onto the table and started after him. A man turned from the brawl and took a swing at his legs that would have sent him crashing into the melee, had it hit.

Blade leapt over the man's arm, landed lightly and kicked the Cotti in the face, sending him flailing into the fray. A tankard sailed past his head and smashed into the wall behind him, spraying glass as he leapt onto the next table. The Cotti who had confronted him at the door attempted to follow, but their comrades hampered them, trying to haul them down into the fracas. Two had succumbed, and fought their way back towards the tables to continue their pursuit of the assassin.

Blade teetered as a pair of struggling men collided with the table on which he stood, waving his arms to keep his balance. A Cotti climbed up beside him, but the assassin pushed him off before he could find his feet, then leapt a wider gap to the next table. Its surface was slick with spilt ale, and he skidded, lost his footing and fell backwards onto the floor. He flung out his hands to break his fall, then rolled under a table as a boot stamped down where his head had been a moment before.

Someone grabbed the back of his jacket, which he had not laced in his hurry to find the Queen, and dragged him from under the table, cracking his head on the edge of it. He was spun around to face a bald Cotti, who aimed a punch at his head. Blade grabbed the man's vest and threw himself backwards, dragging the Cotti with him and sending him headlong into the wall. Blade banged his head on the floor, and cursed foully as he sprang to his feet, shaking his head to clear it.

The assassin glanced around for his pursuers, just as one of them launched himself from a table. Blade spun aside, allowing the man to crash into the table behind him. A Cotti charged from the fray, and Blade sensed another swinging a tankard at his head from behind. He dropped into a crouch, and the charging man got the tankard in the face in a spray of glass and ale. The man who had swung the tankard picked up a chair and lifted it high, preparing to smash it down on the assassin's head. Blade swept his legs out from under him, and he fell back into the ruckus behind him.

After a quick review of his surroundings, Blade found the window and headed for it, climbing onto a table. As he rose to his feet, someone grabbed his ankle and yanked his leg from under him. He kept his balance and jerked his foot from the Cotti's hold, then kicked him in the face. The man howled and clutched his nose as he lurched back, vanishing into the mass of struggling men. Blade headed for the window again, hurdling a chair that was swung at his legs.

A few feet from the window, one of his pursuers tackled him from behind, grabbed his legs and brought him crashing down on the table. His arms broke his fall somewhat, but he was forced to turn his head at the last instant to save his nose and probably his front teeth too. The crack on the side of his head stunned him, making lights dance in his eyes. Someone gripped Blade from behind and lifted him to his feet, pinning his arms.

A man flung a pitcher of ale into Blade's face to revive him, and he raised his head, blinking the stinging liquid from his eyes. He glimpsed a fist coming at him and jerked his head aside. The punch skimmed past his cheek and cracked into the face of the man who stood behind him. The Cotti released Blade, who drove his foot into the groin of the man before him and pushed him back as he folded over.

Blade glanced around at the diminished melee that still filled the taproom. Many combatants were stretched out on the floor, providing obstacles for the weary fighters who still grappled with their opponents. In Jondar, the City Watch would have broken up the brawl long ago, but in Faranot these things were allowed to reach their conclusion.

The innkeeper had probably gone to bed already, and would count the cost in the morning, charging the reviving fighters for the damage they had done to his taproom. From the looks of it, that would be quite a hefty sum. Blade turned to the window again, unwilling to run the gauntlet of struggling men between him and the door, even though he had defeated the last of his pursuers. Unlatching the window, he flung it open, and was preparing to climb over the ledge when a man tackled him from behind. The window ledge caught him across the hips, and he was bent over it, his arms caught and twisted behind his back.

A voice that he recognised as belonging to his primary antagonist rasped in his ear, "Now I have you, assassin. You're going to pay!"

Blade struggled to wrench his arms from the Cotti's grip, but the man laughed at his efforts. When it came to brute strength, Blade was no match for a strapping warrior who topped him by a head and weighed almost twice as much. This he had learnt long ago, and he had found ways to make up for his deficiency by using his head, something he found that strapping warriors did not do much. In his current predicament, the Cotti could do little to him, for his arms were occupied holding the assassin down, but soon he would summon his fellows to take advantage of Blade's helplessness.

Pinned against the wall, he could not kick out, and bent over the ledge, he could not jerk his head back into his captor's face. He stared down at the cobbled street below, blood thrumming in his ears. The drop was not far enough to be fatal, but was potentially injurious if he should land badly. Normally he could be relied upon to land on his feet, but this was an awkward situation. He took mere moments to make up his mind, while the Cotti sniggered in his ear, acting before the man called his friends.

Blade threw himself forward, pushed off the floor and kicked the Cotti's feet out from under him. The man howled as he went over the ledge with Blade. Taken by surprise, he fell head first towards the street below. Blade jerked his arms free as the momentum of his dive turned him onto his back, his adversary beneath him. He landed on top of the Cotti, punched the wind from his opponent's lungs and smacked his head against the cobbles. Rolling off the man, Blade checked to see that he still breathed, then stood up. The Cotti would be out cold for some time, but he was not dead, which was fortunate, since he did not want to be hunted for murder. He glanced around to check that the street was empty, then strode back to the inn's front door.

Blade opened it and slipped inside, finding the Queen in the hall, peering into the taproom where the brawl still raged. She glanced around, her eyes widening at his expression, then sprinted for the stairs and galloped up them. Blade followed, arriving at the door to the room as it was slammed in his face. Twisted the handle, he set his shoulder to it and forced it open while the girl struggled to hold it closed. She released it and retreated as he pushed his way in and closed it behind him. Blade leant against it and eyed the frightened queen, who backed away, her gaze raking him.

"You are not hurt." She sounded surprised and relieved.

"Luckily for you."

"I can explain -"

"Do not trouble yourself. You disobeyed me."

She raised her hands. "I was not looking for trouble. I only wanted to see what it was like."

"I trust you had your fill."

"You are angry. I understand, I was wrong..."

Blade pushed himself away from the door and walked towards her. "No, I am not angry. I am furious. What in Damnation did you think you were doing?"

Kerra retreated, bumped into the chair and groped her way around it. "I could not sleep. I was just curious!"

"So you decided to go downstairs and join a room full of drunken Cotti. How stupid are you, exactly?"

"I was fine until the fighting started." The wall stopped her retreat, and she glanced around, licking her lips. "I will not do it again."

Blade halted when he was toe to toe with her, raised his hands and slammed them against the wall on either side of her head, making her jump. Kerra gazed up at him, biting her lip as she studied his face, noticing that sweat sheened his skin. His eyes gleamed silver in the lamplight, as hard and cold as a midwinter's frost. She fought a strong urge to touch his face and soothe the anger from his eyes with her timid caress, annoyed by her desire.