Green Rider (27 page)

"You are infants lost in the woods," Garroty said. "I bet your horses were stolen right from under you." At Tome's glower, he let out a great "Hah!" and, "I guessed right. And if you took that leather jerkin off, I bet I could count your ribs. Weapons and swordmasters indeed. You may survive in the court, but out here is where it counts."

Karigan could nearly see the smoke pouring out of Tome's ears. With a yawn, she listened closely as Garroty and Tome continued their debate.

"The problem with you Weapons," Garroty said, scraping bristly hairs on his cheek, "is that you're all honor and ceremony. Honor and ceremony may work in court and in battle, but it won't do much good out here. Even the Blood Guard of Rhovanny leave the court once in a while to see what the world looks like."

"Ceremony is deeply traditional among Weapons of the Order of Black Shields," Torne said. "Ceremony instills discipline. Besides, who needs to know of the real world when the court is the real world? Jendara and I… well, our circumstances are special."

"Ah, and if any of Zachary's soldiers see you and recognize you, you'll be hanged as traitors—at the least."

"We aren't traitors, Garroty."

"I suppose that depends on who you work for, then. Zachary or his brother. But hear this, Swordmaster, Zachary is the one in power. He was the one named heir by his father, not Amilton, no matter the usual order of succession. What you've done is high treason, and if you get caught and strung up, you will be let off easy, I assure you. If I recall history, there was a traitorous Weapon named Saverill who was slowly tortured for weeks, and then chained to the prison tower for the vultures to feed on. He was still alive."

"We know the consequences of our loyalties," Torne said. "Tales of Saverill the Traitor were drilled into our memories when we were mere pledges at the academy. You don't have to remind us."

Garroty shrugged. "Don't misunderstand me. I'm all for fighting on behalf of the highest bidder, even if the stakes are a little high. What I am simply trying to say is that you, a Weapon whose honor and ideals go beyond payment, should make very sure the stakes are worth the price you may have to pay, and that you will succeed."

"The stakes are worth it," Tome said barely above a whisper, "and we will succeed."

Another blob of tobacco juice hit the road in reply. The debate ended there.

The shadows of evening deepened, and the air became heavy with dew. Fireflies blinked, falling like flurries of light between the trees. Thrushes sang their evening songs, and as night descended, milky moonlight spilled into the woods. Tome led them off the road and into the clearing where they set up camp.

Karigan was thrown her usual hard chunk of bread, and was thankful as ever for the cache of food in her pockets given to her by little Dusty. The cache wouldn't last much longer, and soon she'd go hungry again, unless she escaped. Her stomach grumbled as the scent of meat drifted from the mercenaries' cookfire. Tome tossed pieces of dried meat into the stew pot.

Garroty stared at Karigan during the whole meal, stew dribbling out the corner of his mouth, which he roughly wiped away with the back of his hand. Repulsed, Karigan looked elsewhere, trying to focus on more pleasant thoughts. Maybe her father was looking for her by now. Surely Dean Geyer had sent him a message about her running away. Well, that wasn't exactly a pleasant thought either. Her father was going to be irate when he found her. After all, it was the beginning of the spring trading season; any delay in sending out the caravans or barges could prove costly.

Tome stood up and stretched. "I'm going to scout for Immerez," he announced. "That fool should have caught up with us days ago." He buckled on his sword belt, wrapped his worn cloak about his shoulders, and strode out of camp.

"Watch out for ghosties!" Garroty taunted, chuckling heartily. Tome's step faltered as he disappeared into the night.

Silence filled the clearing. Garroty pinched a wad of tobacco from his belt pouch and stuffed it into his cheek. His gaze drifted from Karigan to Jendara, and back again. He leaned back onto his elbows, chewing at his ease. Jendara's expression was stony as she drew her sword from its sheath. From a pouch she removed a soft cloth, oil, and two whetting stones. The hiss of blade against stone filled the clearing.

"I love women who carry weapons," Garroty said. "The danger of it excites me."

The hissing ceased. "You're a foul man, Garroty. Be silent before you lose something very precious to you."

Garroty laughed. "It sounds like a challenge to me."

"I've been wanting to unman you since I first laid eyes on you."

"Then go at it, woman. I'll have fun stopping you."

Karigan tensed as Jendara gripped the hilt of her sword and leaped lightly to her feet. Garroty did nothing, and Jendara hesitated.

"Well, woman, come on. I'm waiting."

Jendara snarled. "Stand up. If you're a warrior, you will fight like one."

Garroty chuckled and slowly pushed himself up from the ground. He stood with his arms spread out wide. "I'm standing, woman. Come for me, and I'll show you
my
blade."

A howling pierced the forest, almost human in its cry, followed by the trampling of foliage. The horses whickered nervously.

"What was that?" Jendara asked.

Garroty shrugged, unconcerned. "Probably some wolf looking for dinner." Then with a wicked grin he added, "Maybe it's found Tome."

Jendara muttered under her breath, looking from the mercenary to Karigan. "I'm going to check it out," she said. Glaring at Garroty, she added, "Leave the prisoner alone." She held her sword before her, and stepped uncertainly into the darkness in the direction of the disturbance. Karigan looked pleadingly after her retreating back.

When Jendara was out of sight, Garroty shook his head. "Foolish woman. Just a coyote chasing a hare, I'll reckon. The horses are quiet now, like nothing happened. No matter." He turned his eyes back on Karigan. "It will give us a little time alone."

"Don't come near me." Karigan's voice quavered as she spoke.

Garroty was across the clearing in three strides. He seized her arm, and lest she cry out loud enough for Jendara to hear, he clamped a sweaty hand over her mouth. He yanked her to her feet, and before she could squirm away, he wrapped his arm around her chest and held her securely. If only her hands weren't tied!

"I've been waiting for this." His hot breath filled her ear damply as he spoke, and smelled of stale tobacco. Garroty dragged her beyond the clearing into the dark of the forest. She kicked and writhed, but the man must have a hide like boiled leather. She raked his shin with the sole of her boot—a trick taught her by the cargo master—but it didn't phase him one iota. Most people would have screamed with pain.

Minutes passed like hours as Garroty dragged her, and then threw her to the ground. The barest shred of moonlight fell across his face, revealing a sickening grin. "I've been waiting for this," he whispered. With a childlike giggle, he unbuckled his sword belt and dropped it to the ground. Karigan rolled over and started to crawl away, but Garroty caught her in the small of her back with his foot, and ground her into the dirt. She gasped for air.

"If you fight," he warned her, "I can easily break your spine." He let his foot rest there for a moment, pressing down when she moved the slightest bit. Then he pulled it away, caught her under the ribs with his toe, and rolled her onto her back again. Karigan gasped for breath, her side throbbing with pain.

Garroty fell to his knees and straddled her. The stench of his unclean body was overpowering, his very sweat reeked of tobacco. Tobacco drooled from his mouth and stained her shirt. Karigan shook uncontrollably.

Fight, fool!

It was a voice Karigan remembered. The voice she had heard that night in the settlement. Garroty's hands now pinned her shoulders to the ground. His expression was rabid.

Fight
! the voice commanded.

Yes, fight. The cargo master had taught her several tricks should she ever be in a situation such as this. She lunged and sank her teeth into Garroty's wrist. He screamed and yanked his hand away, almost snapping her head off her neck with the force.

He growled and struck her across the face.

The blow sent reverberations ringing through her body, and she blinked dazedly. Garroty examined his wrist. This distraction might be her only chance—he was vulnerable with his legs spread above her as they were. She locked both hands into a single fist and punched upward. Garroty's jaw fell slack as if uttering a silent cry. His eyes bulged like a fish's, and he clutched his crotch.

Karigan poised to punch his ugly face in, when she heard Jendara's laughter. The swordmaster sheathed her blade and crouched beside them. "Seems I underestimated you, girl. You don't need a sword to unman this idiot." She chuckled mirthfully at Garroty. "You like dangerous women, do you? It seems to me it would be of service to all women if we permanently crippled you." She reached for her dagger.

Garroty's face swelled with such blood that Karigan thought it might explode. Instead, his fist slammed into Jendara's face. The impact sent her flailing backward, her head striking the ground hard. She didn't move.

Garroty grunted in satisfaction and leered down at Karigan. "This is going to be more interesting than I thought. When I'm through with you, I'll finish off with her whether she wakes up or not."

Not willing to leave himself unprotected a second time, he grabbed both of Karigan's wrists, and knelt across her legs.

Karigan thought desperately. She thought back to summer evenings in an empty warehouse on her father's estate where the cargo master practiced swordplay with her. For one lesson, he left the wooden practice swords leaning against the wall and devoted the session to what she could do with her bare hands.

"Now, Kari," Sevano had said, as she sat cross-legged on the dirt floor. "There may be a time when no weapon you've got. I'm gonna show you how to use your hands and feet to maim, and if need be, kill some thug who tries to harm you. But first, let me tell you where it's gonna hurt him most…"

She had tried Garroty's shins and groin already. What was left? She couldn't pinch the nerves in his hands, and she couldn't kick—she was too immobilized by him to do anything. Sevano would disagree, though. She thought frantically.

Once she decided, she breathed a short prayer and gathered herself up. Propelled by her elbows and shoulders, she slammed her head into Garroty's face. Not a precision move, but it would have to do. There was a muffled cry and he fell back clutching his nose. Blood was splattered across his face. He curled into a fetal position on the ground, writhing in pain.

Karigan dared not breathe, fearing she had not damaged him sufficiently, and that he would be back on her to finish what he had begun. But he didn't get up, and after several minutes, he stopped moving altogether.

She crawled to him on knees and elbows, and saw that his chest did not rise or fall. The cargo master had said that if the nose was bashed into an assailant's head, the bone would shatter and pierce the brain, killing him. Karigan had killed a man.

She had killed Garroty and was appalled because it did not bother her.

Jendara still lay unmoving, rivulets of blood trickling down her cheeks from her nose. She wasn't dead, for she breathed, but she didn't look likely to wake up in the next few moments. This was Karigan's chance for escape.

She espied Garroty's discarded sword and drew it. She rubbed the rope that bound her hands against the blade, carefully so she wouldn't slice herself. With relief bordering on joy, she watched the rope fall away—her hands were free!

She hastened to her feet to run to The Horse, but paused. The ring of Kariny G'ladheon gleamed in the moonlight on Jendara's hand. Karigan slid it off the swordmaster's callused finger and onto her own. It had always been a little loose on her, but now it fit perfectly.

A twig crunched behind her. Karigan whirled around.

"This is quite a scene." Tome's face was more grim than she had ever seen. "Somehow—I'm not sure how—you've killed my friend and hurt my partner." His sword
shooshed
out of its sheath.

Defend yourself
, the voice thundered in Karigan's head. Jendara's sword, still sheathed at her side, was closest. She grabbed the hilt and drew it. The black band seemed to disconnect the blade from the hilt. The sword was of the best balance she had ever held—of course, it belonged to a swordmaster.