The bodyguards were nodding and grinning; Gar allowed himself a single thoughtful nod of his own. “Thank you.”
“What about you?” Malachi’s voice was a whip crack. “Think I don’t deserve the title?”
“You have won it on your own terms,” Gar said. He didn’t add that by any real army’s standards, Malachi wouldn’t amount to more than a sergeant major, a lieutenant at the most.
“Well said.” Malachi seemed to expand, preening. “Anything more you want to know before I hand you to a training sergeant who’ll shove your face in the dirt?”
“Only wondering what you’ll call yourself next.”
“Why, king, of course,” Malachi said with a grin that showed several broken teeth. “I aim to boss around everybody between the mountains to the east and the big river to the west, from the northern desert to the southern sea.”
Ambitious, Gar thought, but had to put the idea in Malachi’s idiom. “You don’t think small, do you?”
“Well, we’ll see.” Malachi’s grin widened. “Maybe when I’ve got the whole land, I’ll think of something more.”
The greed in his tone chilled Gar, but he only frowned as though puzzled and said, “It seems so plain when you say it that you make me wonder why nobody ever tried it before.”
Malachi guffawed; his bodyguards joined in. Gar stood against their laughter with a look of polite inquiry.
“Ignorant enough, ain’t he?” Malachi jeered, and the bodyguards chorused agreement. The biggest one said, “He’s gotta be from so far out in the woods they still talk Bear!”
“I do come from far away,” Gar acknowledged, “very far. I take it you’re not the first to think of ruling the whole land, then?”
“Oh, there’s plenty have,” Malachi said. “No one knows how many—but none ever came anywhere near being king.”
“Really?” Gar was extremely interested now. “These villagers don’t look all that tough. What could stop a determined man?”
“Why, the Scarlet Company, of course!” Malachi said with scorn. “They’ve stopped every other man who wanted to be a king, but they won’t stop me!”
The bodyguards gave a raucous cheer.
“Three of ‘em have tried already,” Malachi said, “and my bodyguards got ‘em, every one!” He clapped the nearest man on the shoulder. “Ten of ‘em there be, and every one as tough as oak! That right, Teak?”
“Right as reins, Gen’ral,” Teak said with a gaptoothed grin. “Too bad they died so quick, though.”
“Yeah, no chance to make ‘em talk about the Company,” Malachi grunted.
“Scarlet Company killers either die quick or talk quick,” Teak complained. “Don’t do no good either way.”
“Maybe,” Malachi growled, “but it does show that even the Scarlet Company can’t stop me, not with you bravos watching.”
“Be no loot and no women if you died, Gen’ral,” Teak said. “I know it’s best for you when my job’s dull, but when it gets exciting, it gets really good.” He pushed one fist into the other palm, squeezing and chuckling.
Gar gave the man a quick measuring look. Teak was the biggest of them, but he was still a head shorter than Gar. He made up for it in breadth, though—one solid block of muscle, under a layer of self-indulgent fat. Gar felt excitement stir—he hadn’t had a good fight in a long time, too long, and Teak looked big enough to give him a challenge.
The bodyguard recognized the glint in his eye; his grin hardened. “Anytime, Longshanks. Any time.”
“Why not now?” Gar asked.
Teak chuckled and stepped forward, but Malachi snapped, “None of that! When I’m in the mood to watch a fight, I’ll let you know—but Teak’s on duty and my bodyguards don’t have any room to slack off!”
“Wouldn’t call it slacking, Gen’ral,” Teak said. “What do we know about him, eh? He could be a Company man, he could.”
Malachi stared at Gar, startled by the thought. Then his eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I see what you mean. There’s something about him, something wrong.”
“The Gen’ral has the Second Sight sometimes,” Teak explained to Gar. “It’s one of the reasons he never loses, it is.”
The other reason, Gar was sure, was because Malachi was always careful to attack antagonists who were weaker than he—victims, not foes.
“Yeah, there’s something about him that could be my downfall,” Malachi said with total certainty. “Don’t know what it is, but it’s there. Better not take chances.”
Gar stared incredulously. His skin prickled as he realized that three of the bodyguards had drifted around behind him. He forced a laugh. “How’s this? You don’t fear the whole of the Scarlet Company, but one lone peddler is a danger?”
The general dismissed the objection with a chopping gesture. “You could be Company, like Teak says. I haven’t conquered a forest and three villages by taking chances. Top him, Teak.”
Teak stepped in with a gloating chuckle and a jabbing spear.
4
Gar stepped back, knocking the spear aside with one end of his staff, then swinging the other to clout the man on the side of the head. Teak gave a shout of surprise and pain and sank to his knees.
The other bodyguards bellowed and leaped in. Gar fell. The three rushing behind him tripped over his body—pain ripped where they kicked—and fell into the three charging from the front.
The two at either side stepped in, jabbing downward with their spears and yelling in anger.
Gar swung his staff, knocking one’s feet out from under him, then rolled to avoid the other three spears. One jabbed between his ankles, the other two behind him. He shoved himself up just as the fourth man fell on him, knocking him back into the earth; his spear point tore Gar’s sleeve and pain flared in his arm. Gar swung a hard punch to the short ribs and the man’s mouth gaped, eyes bulging, the wind knocked out of him. Gar shoved him aside and sprang to his feet.
But the six at front and back had sorted themselves out and turned on him. He backed away, staff whirling like a windmill. At least he had all of them in front of him now. They followed, wary and watchful.
General Malachi watched too, grinning, eyes bright, enjoying the show.
Two bodyguards stepped in, jabbing with their spears. Gar struck one with the full momentum of the whirling staff; it cracked across the spear shaft and the bodyguard howled with pain as it leaped out of his hands. With the rebound, Gar struck the other spear down. Its owner too bellowed with pain as the shaft kicked him in the ribs.
But they had bought time for the eight remaining to form a semicircle around Gar, backing him toward the trees, grins gone and eyes grim. There would be no more surprises; they were braced for a real fight. Gar retreated, staff still whirling as a shield between them and him, but felt his stomach sinking; six he might have managed, but nine?
Then he heard a voice call, “Lay off him!”
One man frowned and looked back at Malachi, calling, “What did you say, sir?”
“Me? Nothing!” Malachi scowled, surprised.
But the man had heard what Gar had. He hadn’t known, though, that the voice was inside his head. “Finish him off, Calaw!” Malachi shouted.