'I agree.' Vandien lifted his glass, tasted it. A damn sight better than the swill Trelira had served him so long ago. Maybe this was one of those southern vintages he had heard so much about. His eyes met the Duke's. 'I don't expect to live to see the dawn,' he said, quite truthfully. He smiled, the expression tugging at the old scar down his face. The scar he had taken saving Ki from a Harpy. 'I intend to see that many of them share my fate.' He returned to his soup.
The Duke was plainly unsettled, and his silence lengthened. Finally, he said, 'Do you think I will offer you money for this information, or a quick death? What are you trying to buy?'
Vandien shrugged, set aside the soup to make room for a plate heaped with sliced rare meat. He saw the Brurjan server's nose twitch in distaste from the smell of cooked meat. 'Revenge, I suppose. I'msupposed to kill you with a poisoned blade tonight. In return, they promised to set free a friend of mine they hold hostage.' He sipped more wine to clear his throat. 'I know she is already dead.'
'How careless of them,' the Duke commiserated. He smiled coldly. 'The meat is from our plainsbuck. I shot this one myself. It isn't too rare for you, is it? I'm afraid I've come to share my Brurjans' habits where flesh is concerned.'
'It's fine.' Vandien's voice was steady. 'The bloodier, the better. Blume and Kurtis - the men I killed today - they were a part of this rebellion. And the fencer named Trask is one of theirs, as is the woman who wore the red silk blouse today - I don't know her name, but someone will.' Vandien sliced into the meat, lifted a forkful. He appraised the Duke carefully and was suddenly wary. His face was troubled, but in the wrong way.
He passed him a dish of stewed spiced fruit. A strange smile stretched his lips. 'Earlier today, I mistook you for a man of honor.'
Vandien accepted the dish, served himself some. It was a good accompaniment for the strong-flavored meat. He didn't reply to the Duke, but went on eating. Silence would draw him out.
'I was sure you had some secret grudge against me, something that drove you to win a bout with me at all costs. I almost admired you for it. And when I witnessed your final display of swordsmanship, I said to myself, There is a nobleman born and true to the old ways of honor. I knew you wouldn't be swerved from your resolve to kill me.'
Vandien set down his wineglass. 'And?'
'And I find I'm wrong. You cut through those men for a chance to betray them. For revenge.' The Duke permitted himself a small smile. 'You may be more useful to me alive than dead. I'd have to mark you in some way, so folk would not think I'd gone softly with you ... perhaps a slash down your face. One more scar should not matter to a man marked as you are. Though I'd like to see the swordsman who put it there.'
Vandien kept his rising temper from showing in his face as he sliced more meat. 'Not a swordsman, Duke Loveran. A Harpy's talons. Not that it matters to our previous discussion. I am curious as to what use you would find for an honorless man like myself. Do you refer to what I could tell you of the rebellion?'
The Duke made a dismissing gesture with his hand that had nothing to do with the meat being cleared from the table. 'The rebellion. Pah. Frankly speaking, Vandien, there is very little you could tell me of them that I don't already know. No. When I said you might be useful to me, I was speaking of your skill with the sword. Archaic and obsolete as it is, I'd still love to learn Harperian fencing.'
Vandien let the last thrust slip by him. 'If your knowledge of the rebels is so complete,' he asked slowly, 'why haven't you acted upon it?'
The Duke chose a pastry from a beaten silver platter set before them. 'I might say they amuse me. Surely, even you must have been amused by the childishness of their plottings. Try one of the raspberry cream ones; my cook has a special knack with them. I could tell you that it's easier to leave them intact and deal with their small treacheries as my informants make them known to me; if I crushed them here, I'd only have a dozen more such rebellions popping up tomorrow. Sort of like a skin rash, Vandien. Scratching only spreads it.' 'And your real reason for not dealing with them?' Vandien was eating the pastry calmly, forcing his face to stay neutral despite the slow chill that was spreading up his arm.
'They simply aren't that important, nor that powerful. If I moved against them, their movement would gain recruits and impetus. If I publicly ignore them, while privately making sure that all their plots come to nothing, I take their credibility away. Who joins them now? Younger offspring with no money and no hope of inheriting, old men whose families don't pay enough attention to them ... no one I need fear.' The Duke looked up at him calmly. 'I'm afraid I won't be the vehicle for your revenge, Vandien. You see, there's nothing in it for me.'
'I see.' Vandien's hand slipped toward his cuff, where he had concealed the roll of Thwartspite. He felt for it, then became desperate enough to look. It wasn't there. The Brurjan's search had been more thorough than he realized. He glanced at Halikira; she lifted her lips slightly, rolled something briefly between her short fingers. He glanced away. Damn her. He lowered his sword arm to his lap, pressed it against the warmth of his belly. The ache eased slightly.
'Don't be so disappointed, man. A hundred years from now, it won't make one whit of difference to anyone. Here. Try this wine with the pastries; I find it provides the perfect contrast.' The Duke was pouring from a different bottle into fresh glasses.
Vandien watched him idly. He could think of nothing significant to say. His day had suddenly caught up with him. His poisoned arm ached like desolation itself, and every other muscle in his body was protesting his earlier exertions. Even sitting down, his hip pained him. And the hot bath followed by a generous meal had done nothing to increase his alertness. The false energy of the Thwartspite had led him to exceed himself. Even his mind felt muzzy. Not one whit of difference a hundred years hence. So the Duke had said. And probably true. What would remain of him a hundred years hence? No child would carry his names. His body would be long gone to good black soil. His sword, perhaps; it was already older than a hundred years. Where would it be? Hanging in a dim corner of the Duke's Masterhold? Or maybe heaped on a table full of secondhand weapons in some Loveranish marketplace? And what would its honor mean then, or his? What had it ever meant to him, really? He tried to think of a time when being an honorable man had given him the advantage in a fight. He sipped absently at the wine the Duke set before him. 'Of what use is honor?'
'None at all,' the Duke replied.
Vandien startled, surprised to find he had spoken his question aloud. 'It has to be,' he insisted, but couldn't think of any arguments to support it. A less honorable man would have let Kellich kill Goat. A little less honor would have kept Ki alive.
'Honor's of no use at all,' the Duke was saying. 'In fact, it's a handicap. Tonight, for instance. Keep your honor and I kill you. Or renounce it, take a slash down the face, and live on as my retainer. You can ask my Brurjans; I'm a generous man with those who work for me.'
'I don't know,' Vandien said, but he was not answering the Duke, but himself.
'You don't have to decide right now,' the Duke told him. 'Even in the middle of the bout, you can change your mind.' The man was standing, gesturing to Halikira to bring his weapon. It was a lovely blade. Another time Vandien would have itched to examine it. Its swept hilt glistened with a myriad of tiny sparkling stones set into it. A true swordsman would have disdained them, lest others say he used them to distract his opponents. But there, again, that was the thought of a man concerned with his honor. TheDuke disdained honor. And Vandien had none left. He couldn't bring down the rebellion that had killed Ki. He'd die on the Duke's sword, and it would all have been for nothing.