David Tallerman - Prince Thief

No, with the King vanished, presumably hustled off to some point far from danger, it was obvious who was running this show — which meant that while Alvantes’s gesture was undoubtedly reckless, it at least wasn’t stupid. Taking Ludovoco out of the picture might really buy us a chance at escape.

It was only a shame Alvantes hadn’t the faintest hope of beating him.

If Alvantes had reached the same conclusion, however, it wasn’t evident from his manner. He had his sword in hand and was wiping it busily with a fold of his cloak. I hadn’t much experience of such matters, but I guessed it was bad manners to fence with an opposing officer while your blade was soiled with the blood of their soldiery.

“A duel, then,” he said finally, once the blade was glisteningly clean. “To the rules of the Crown Academy?”

“Of course,” replied Ludovoco, with a none-too-pleasant smile. “What other rules are there?”

“But — to the death.”

“Oh, certainly. I’d say this is sufficiently a matter of honour.”

It was Alvantes’s turn to smile. “Or the lack thereof, Commander Ludovoco.”

Ludovoco failed to disguise the anger that flushed his narrow face. “But then,” he said, “aren’t such questions always decided by the winner? I assure you, Captain, that when they speak of your death, and of how you let your city fall, and of the things that happened there in the days that followed, not one of the words they use will be honourable .”

Alvantes twirled his blade in a tight figure of eight, as if experimenting to see how well it carved the air. “Maybe,” he said. “But fights aren’t won by talking.” He took a step forward, raised the sword in nonchalant salute.

Ludovoco mirrored the gesture. I could see his good cheer was returning now that the prospect of violence was near, for there was a lightness to his movements that hadn’t been there an instant before.

“One moment, Commander!”

I looked to where the call had come from, recognised Ondeges. He had broken free of the surrounding circle of men and stood now just inside, watching Ludovoco and Alvantes intently. “I never trained in the Academy,” Ondeges said. “But isn’t it the case that there ought to be seconds? I mean, according to their rules?”

“I hardly think that…” Ludovoco began.

“That there’s anyone suitable?” said Ondeges quickly. “I put myself forward, Commander. I’m far from your match, but since you’re hardly likely to need me…”

Ludovoco gave his fellow officer a sullen glare. “Not likely at all,” he agreed.

“Then again,” said Ondeges, “it wouldn’t do for anyone to misinterpret this as a mere brawl.”

“No,” Ludovoco said with heavy irony, “that wouldn’t do at all.” Then, louder, he continued, “I nominate Commander Ondeges of the Altapasaedan Palace Guard as my second in this combat. Should I be incapacitated and unable to fight on, he will take my part. As for yourself, Captain Alvantes?” Ludovoco looked with contempt towards our small band of survivors. “If you have nobody left who’s up to the task, I’m sure we can offer someone from amongst our ranks.”

Alvantes’s gaze swung over the handful of survivors, settled on Navare, his surviving sub-captain — and there was no mistaking his disappointment. For Navare was sagging beneath a savage gash to the right shoulder; he was only on his feet because another guardsman supported him. Navare wouldn’t be seconding anyone.

Estrada started forward then — but before she could speak, a palm on her shoulder held her back, and Castilio Mounteban moved to take her place. “I’ll do it,” he said. “No one else has the right.”

“Castilio…” Estrada’s tone was imploring.

Ludovoco held up his free hand, waved it in mocking exasperation. “That’s settled then. Is there anything else, before we begin? Anything anyone wishes to contribute?”

“No,” replied Alvantes, “I think we’re done here,” — and almost before the last word was free of his mouth, he was in motion.

If he’d thought to surprise Ludovoco, however, it was a wasted effort. The Pasaedan slipped smoothly into a guard stance, his footing perfect despite the spoiled ground. The defence lasted not even a split second, for in less time than that he’d whirled round and swung for Alvantes’s head. It was all Alvantes could do to twist his upper body, jar up his arm to fend away the blow and trip back into space.

Vivid memories of the last time these two men had fought sprang to my mind. Then, Alvantes had only held his own by fighting dirty. Now, it was obvious that something — no, everything — had changed. Ludovoco was both more confident and more wary. As he adjusted his stance once more, I noted how he held his arm outstretched, keeping Alvantes at a distance. Even without Alvantes’s disabling wound, Ludovoco had the advantage of height, the advantage of reach, the advantage of not having spent the last few minutes battling for his life. So far as I could see, all he had was advantages.

Alvantes readied to attack, a mere twitch of a muscle — but Ludovoco was faster, his blade whipping low. Alvantes was forced again to turn his own blow into a block, their blades ringing discordantly. Before, Ludovoco had fought with cruel persistence. Now he was pressing his offensive straight away, his sword point cavorting in a whirl. All Alvantes could do was to keep his own weapon up and retreat. Mere seconds in and sweat was already sheeting from beneath his grey-flecked hair; I could hear his laboured breathing even from where I was.

Then Ludovoco’s blade snuck past Alvantes’s guard to nick his arm. A thread of blood trailed in its wake. Just a scratch — but even as Alvantes recoiled, Ludovoco had scraped the tip of his sword in a neat line across his opponent’s thigh.

Alvantes gasped, tripped back two full paces. Did he realise how close he was to the Pasaedan lines? Once he was forced against that immovable barrier of men, any shred of hope he might have was vanished.

But perhaps Alvantes did recognise the danger, for he tried to counterattack then. Even one-handed, he was the stronger man; he thrust wildly for Ludovoco’s left side, and as soon as the Pasaedan countered, hacked at his right. Each blow Ludovoco slid aside was followed by another, another. It was clear what Alvantes was trying for: to wear down the lighter man, or at least to drive him away from his own lines.

Either goal was as futile as the other. Ludovoco parried almost carelessly; to see the way he tipped each blow aside, or else stepped smoothly to avoid it, it was hard to believe Alvantes was even trying to hurt him. In the meantime, attacking was costing Alvantes more in exertion than defending was Ludovoco. Even regaining ground was beyond him; Ludovoco was making sure that all Alvantes managed was to wade in helpless circles.

To see Alvantes lumbering, flailing, was like watching a blind bear try to wrestle an acrobat. This was play to Ludovoco. And it was clear from his face, from the glimmer in his dark eyes and the smile tugging always at his lips, that it was play he dearly loved. I knew then without a doubt that whatever had guided Ludovoco to his current position, whatever excuses he’d made, whatever gifts of birth had eased his way, it was this that drove him. As Alvantes had said back in the palace, the man was a killer — and this game would end the moment it bored him.

I didn’t have long to wait. Alvantes’s thrusts were growing cruder, more desperate; Ludovoco’s defence had only grown more graceful, as if in direct proportion. He’d never been moving slowly, but this time, as Alvantes drove for his flank, the Pasaedan was almost quicker than my eyes could follow. One moment he was before Alvantes. The next their blades met, flashed — and their chime hadn’t even begun to fade before Ludovoco was at Alvantes’s back and raking his sword across it.