Juliet McKenna - The Swordsman's Oath

“I have business of my own in Relshaz, you know,” said Livak abruptly, some while later. “If Shiv’s managed to talk Halice into his schemes, I might as well travel that far with you all. As you say, the roads can be risky on your own.”

This was none too convincing coming from a woman who’d left home barely out of girlhood with no more than the clothes on her back.

“What business, exactly?” I inquired, tone mildly interested. I hoped it wasn’t anything too dishonest. There were aspects of Livak’s livelihood that sat ill with my conscience.

“There’s a man called Arle Cordainer,” Livak’s eyes were distant and cold.

“What’s he to you?”

“He owes me,” replied Livak crisply. “He’s a deception man, one of the best because he makes sure he’s set someone else up in line for the pillory or the gallows if things go wrong. The four of us nearly ended up swinging for him in Selerima a year or so ago; he couldn’t have dropped us in more shit if he’d left us neck deep in a privy-pit.”

“You think you’ll find him in Relshaz?”

“I saw him on the River Road just after Equinox.” Livak’s face was intent. “He was all dressed up like a Formalin silk trader and wearing a full beard, but I never forget a pair of hands or ears.”

I nodded encouragingly and wondered if this Cordainer knew Raeponin was about to demand a reckoning from him to balance the ledgers of justice.

“I will come as far as Relshaz with you,” continued Livak briskly. “I want to make sure Shiv does right by Halice, if nothing else. I still don’t trust wizards, say what you like.”

Now we were getting to the truth of her change of heart, I decided.

“If we get a scent of these Ice Island thieves, I’ll do what I can to get Viltred’s treasures back, just as long as I’m sure it’s worth the risk. If the wizards owe me for that, they can pay the debt by straightening Halice’s leg.” Livak scowled at the pair of mages ahead of us but the anger in her eyes shaded to hurt when she gazed at Halice’s back. “That should settle any accounts between her and me. Shiv gets one draw of the runes and that’s it, though. If there’s any hint of the kind of trouble we were landed in last time, I’ll be out of there faster than a cat caught at the cream pan.”

“I’ll probably be two steps behind you.” I nodded again and ventured a warm smile, which Livak returned, albeit with a sardonic glint in her eye.

“Saedrin’s stones!” Halice’s inventive curses told us the gig had caught a wheel in a boggy rut.

“How’s the horse?” Shiv asked Livak when we had the vehicle back on decent ground.

“Fine.” She dimpled a smile at him. “But riding something suitable for Viltred was hardly going to be a challenge, was it?”

“I was a notable horseman in my youth, young lady—” Viltred began, stirring himself like an old mouser poked by an impudent kitling.

“We’ll hit the high road about noon, won’t we?” I spoke over the old mage, looking back at Shiv, who was taking a turn at the rear. Livak flashed Viltred a taunting smile and urged the horse to a canter.

“That’s right.” He glanced from Livak’s disappearing back to Viltred with an expression of faint exasperation. As we rode on, he kicked his horse up to a trot and drew alongside me.

“Can’t you get Livak to stop baiting Viltred?” he asked in a low tone.

I shrugged. “I’ll mention it but as long as he keeps taking the worm she’ll keep dangling it, until something more amusing comes along anyway. You could suggest he stops treating her like a maidservant turned out for flirting with the bootboy; that might help.”

Shiv muttered something under his breath that I decided to ignore. The gig slowed as the road wound up a long incline and we found ourselves walking, hearing Viltred’s attempts to find out more about Halice. Since she answered most of his questions with one word, two at most, he grew increasingly irritated and his enquiries eventually moved from the impertinent to the downright offensive.

“I would have expected a woman of your age to have settled, with children.” Viltred slid a glance sideways to see Halice’s reaction. “In my day it was considered unlucky for a girl to pass her generation-festival unwed.”

“I’m going by Soluran generations,” Halice said unexpectedly. “That’s thirty-three years, not the Formalin calendar’s twenty-five. I’ve got another two before I need worry.”

That silenced Viltred and I shared a grin with Shiv. I wondered if I could persuade my mother to do the same; with her fiftieth year looming, she’s desperate for a grandchild.

Viltred took a while to recover from that thrust but after a while began regaling anyone close enough with increasingly tedious stories of his youth, tossing around names that were evidently supposed to impress with all the subtlety of a plow-boy stoning crows.

“Who’s Felmath of Broad Aile?” I muttered to Shiv.

“No idea,” he shook his head.

I frowned. “I know that one, Lord Watrel, but his wife’s called Milar; Abrine was his mother.”

I’d spoken loudly enough to attract Viltred’s attention.

“You are a sworn man to Messire D’Olbriot, are you not?” The old mage was adopting an increasingly lordly manner himself. “You must pass on my compliments to his lovely wife, Maitresse Corian. I had the pleasure of making her acquaintance some years ago.”

I didn’t know quite how to answer that since the lady in question has been ashes in her urn some nineteen years. Luckily, Viltred seemed more interested in displaying his noble contacts than getting any response.

“Yes, we met when I was the guest of Sulielle, Duchess of Parnilesse. She’s a very gracious lady, you know, elegant and a wonderful hostess.”

Halice reached out with her whip to get the carriage horse’s attention. “Dowager Duchess, you mean.”

“Pardon?” Viltred was visibly displeased to be interrupted.

“The Duchess is Lifinal, Duke Morlin’s wife. Sulielle lives on her dower lands in Tharborne.”

“You seem very well informed,” Viltred began.

“I spent three years commanding the Duchess of Marlier’s personal guard,” Halice said crisply and snapped the lash over the horse’s neck. I couldn’t say whether it was her remark or the sudden jolt of trotting that silenced Viltred but I, for one, was grateful that he gave up on his efforts to impress. I hoped the pace of this pursuit picked up soon; so far, it was about as interesting as escorting Messire’s maiden aunts on their annual circuit of the family estates to give them the opportunity of telling the minor ladies of the Name how best to rear their children.

Once we reached the high road we made better speed and reached the little lake I had marked in mid-afternoon. After seeing to my horse, I helped Viltred down from the gig before finding my sword and buckling it on; I hadn’t bothered with it since leaving Lescar but if there was a chance of trouble on this Heath I would be ready. Looking round for the others in the various travelers thronging the banks, I saw Shiv was deep in conversation with a man I didn’t recognize. I moved closer, though not near enough to break into their conversation in case Shiv was about to learn anything of use to us.

“Ryshad!” Shiv waved to me and I made a show of just noticing him. “This is Nyle. He’s a guard captain for that merchant train over there; they’re heading south.”

The stranger nodded a brief greeting. “We’re carrying goods for Sershan and Sons, down from Duryea to Relshaz, finished woollens and ceramics.”

Misaen’s supposed to have built the first men out of clay and this looked like one of the forge god’s earlier attempts. He did have a neck, but at first sight Nyle’s shoulders seemed to start just below his ears and he’d fill more than his fair share of any room. He was a few fingers taller even than me but so heavily muscled that you would think of him as stocky rather than tall if you saw him from a distance. His eyes had the hard alertness of a hunting dog, an impression strengthened by his square jaw and slablike jowls as well as his rough, brindled hair.