Ki hissed in annoyance. 'Vandien, don't torment yourself this way. There was a terrible accident. It hasn't changed you. Take it from someone who's seen you through some rather strange times. You're a good man. Nothing's changed.'
Silence consumed her words. Then, 'Honor,' he said. He let the word stand by itself.
'Honor?' Ki asked at last.
'I've lost ... honor.'
'Vandien.' Ki's voice was pragmatic. 'You intended no unfairness in that fight. What if he'd caught his foot on a loose nail and tripped? Isn't it the same?'
'No. This ... feels different. Dishonest.'
'Dishonest!' Ki exclaimed. 'Vandien, I've heard you tell enormous lies to people eager to believe them. I've seen you drive bargains so sharp they border on theft. And I seem to recall that your first attempt at horse theft was what brought us together ...' She couldn't keep the amusement from her voice.
His face didn't echo it. 'Equal weapons and the outcome determined by skill alone,' Vandien muttered.
'What?' He cleared his throat. ' In an honorable fight, gentlemen employ equal weapons and the contest is determined by skill alone. No gentleman seeks nor uses an unfair advantage. No skilled swordsman needs one. '
'Where did you learn that?' Ki asked curiously.
'An old fencing master beat it into me,' he muttered.
Ki snorted. 'With those rules of conduct, it's a wonder he lived to be old.'
The look he gave her said he didn't see any humor in her comment. She changed the subject. 'Even with last night's detour, we can't be more than a couple of days from Rivercross,' she offered. And then Villena and then ...'
Hoofbeats.
She pushed the reins into his hands, scrabbled up to peer back over the wagon's roof. Misfortune rode six black horses, and their scarlet hooves flashed in the sun.
She dropped back down to the seat. 'Road patrol. Six Brurjans.' For the first time since the fight at the inn, she saw a flash of spirit in his eyes.
'Can't outrun them,' he pointed out. 'Play innocent or fight?'
'Play innocent,' Ki said slowly. 'Then fight if we have to, Want your rapier?'
'They wearing armor?'
'Light stuff. Mostly leather ... I didn't take that good a look.'
'Knives, then. If we look too ready for them, they'll never believe we're innocent.'
'Right.'
It was all a sham, a play of words to pretend it wasn't hopeless, that if it came to fighting they'd have a chance. Ki took the reins back. Six Brurjans, armed, in light armor on battle-trained horses. If she took down one and Vandien took down one ...
'There'll only be four left to kill us,' Vandien pointed out.
'I've been living with you too long,' Ki mumbled. She kept her hands steady on the reins. The hoofbeats were close now, and then Sigurd snaked his head up and gave a sudden whinny. 'Steady,' Ki whispered, to herself as much as the team. She kept them to their walk.
The Brurjans hit them like a wind full of dust, swirling around the wagon, making the greys go back on their haunches and bare their teeth. 'Pull up!' called one. His black coat was streaked with grey, his harness and his horse's were red trimmed with silver. His battle teeth had grown so long he could no longer close his mouth over them. 'Oh, shit,' Vandien breathed. No Brurjan grew old being honorable. Ki stopped her team. She and Vandien sat silently regarding the ring of riders.
'Kirilikin?' The grizzled old Brurjan wasn't addressing them. One of his men rode closer to peer at Vandien. He shrugged, a strangely human gesture of his massive brown shoulders under the brass-studded leather. 'Probably him,' he grunted. 'He's got the scar.'
'Bring him.' The grizzled one wheeled his mount. 'Duke wants him killed in the village square.'
Kirilikin leaned over to grip Vandien by the back of his collar, but he was already in motion. Vandien launched himself at the Brurjan, using the momentum of his whole body to punch his blade through the thinner, more flexible leather that shielded Kirilikin's throat. A great gout of blood followed the knife as he withdrew it and Kirilikin groped at his throat in surprise. It had happened in less than a heartbeat.
Ki slapped the reins on the greys, and the big horses surged toward, but not through, the equally large black horses that blocked their way. A black-pelted Brurjan leaned from his mount to seize the reins and got the back of his hairy arm laid open to the ridged bones by Ki's short blade. He roared in anger, his crest rising, his maw gaping wide to expose his battle teeth, but drew back, disabled for the moment.
That short instant was as close to victory as they came. Ki never knew how Vandien was thrown to the ground, but he was there before she was, for she landed atop him, then rolled onto her bad shoulder, awakening that old injury. She started to get up, but something whacked her across the small of her back, and she went flat on her face in the dust. She felt split open like a stepped-on crab. Pain was all she knew, her body screaming at her to be still, that she was dying. Vandien was seized, dragged to his feet. She heard a roar that ended in a shriek, then coarse gibing, and the short, terrible sound of flesh struck very hard. She lifted her head.
Vandien had scored again, but paid for it. A Brurjan crouched in the road, her black-nailed hands over her belly. Red leaked between her short fingers and she was cursing, while two of her fellows sat their mounts, pointing at the entrails that bulged from the slash and laughing. Vandien lay face down in the road. Scarlet streamed from the back of his head and slid down the angle of his jaw. He didn't move.
Beyond him, a Brurjan had dismounted and was checking Kirilikin. He looked up from him, shrugged at their leader, and began methodically stripping the body. Someone else had already caught his horse.
Ki let her head fall back onto her arms. Her legs didn't belong to her anymore. She stared at Vandien's body, lying in the sunny road, and the sight of it echoed through her soul. The Brurjan finished stripping Kirilikin's body. He moved to Vandien's, rolled him over with a boot. 'It's nearly dead.'
'Damn!' The grizzled leader turned in his saddle and struck suddenly at one of the men behind him. The blow left four trails of blood down the guard's jowl. 'That's for being too quick with your demi. Duke's orders are that duellers are to be killed in the square, not out on some road where no one sees it. Something like this makes us all look bad.' The chastised soldier looked down at his pommel, his teeth slightly bared. The leader turned back to the Brurjan by Vandien. 'Bring it anyway. It's better than nothing.'
The crouching Brurjan nodded, grabbed the front of Vandien's shirt. Ki saw his bloodied features twitch slightly.
'No!' It was a prayer, not begging, but it drew the Brurjan leader's eyes. His look was flat. He jabbed his demi at the soldier he had earlier rebuked.
'Only the one that duelled needs to be publicly killed. Put her in the wagon and burn it. Then bring the team. They look old, but they're well matched. We'll get something for them.' The soldier looked displeased. 'But, Vashikii,' he began to object, but the leader leaned over and jolted his demi into the soldier's ribs. He bared his huge battle fangs and his spiked crest rose as he spoke.
'Do it, scum. If you miss the execution, it's your own damn fault. Way you hit him, we'll be lucky if he's alive to execute. So you do the dirty work here, and no complaining, Satatavi.'
The female Brurjan dropped suddenly to her side. Her hands fell away, and her entrails spilled from her body into the dust. She hadn't made a sound. Vashikii shrugged. 'Satatavi. Put her and Kirilikin in the wagon also. And bring her gear and horse.'