Jess gave a bemused shake of her head. Her familiar was already gone.
Malek, however, looked less than amused. “I wish you wouldn't have conversations about me with people or creatures I can't even see.”
“No worries, brother, he's already gone,” Jess smiled in apology. “Anyway, I'm glad you seem comfortable here, for all that it reminds you of well, you know.”
“My insane family? Yes. There is that,” Malek sighed. “Oh, listen, Jess. I do believe I hear the rattle of blade unsheathed from scabbard. Shall we investigate?”
Jess nodded, noting that the boulevard had opened into a grass-lined courtyard adjoining the massive Scholarium, and what appeared to be a favorite social sight for students and other associates of the college, if a number of tables, seated youths playing games of strategy or holding animated discussions was any indication. A small open stand nearby was even selling food and drink to the various individuals in the courtyard, rose bushes and wildflowers all giving a delightful counterpoint to the scent of sizzling meats, ale, and good cheer. But what caught Malek and Jess's interest first and foremost was the small crowd nearby, carefully surrounding what Jess could just make out to be a classic dueling circle, with challenges cried out even at that very moment.
Within moments Jess and Malek had pressed themselves to the edges of the gathered crowd of spectators, their natural strength, balance, and sense of position almost effortlessly assuring their passage to the very front of the crowd, a cold glare quickly silencing the half drunk fool who dared to protest before catching sight of their eyes.
"Bloody hells, it's going to be a slaughter," Malek sighed, sizing up the contest at once, as did Jess.
“And are you both certain that your dispute cannot be resolved by more peaceful means?” Formally declared a student wearing what Jess supposed were coat and breeches of uniform construction and dark hue, attire worn in common by many of the spectators, Jess saw, along with loose, oiled curls carefully tied in back with a silken ribbon of dark hue.
The two contestants gazed at each other. One was slighter than the other, and held his rapier in a grip that trembled slightly, for all that his lips were pressed firmly together, gaze intent on the man before him. Jess knew at that moment the lad was a novice at best, and did not have the look of a youth who had ever faced live steel before. His features, though pale and thin had a certain elegance that Jess thought might be rather fetching, were the lad smiling in earnest, and not gazing as if death himself were before him.
The other man was an altogether different affair. His swept hilt self-sword was held in a variant of Ochs in one gloved hand; hilt high, blade tip sloping down towards his anxious young opponent's chest. His sword arm showed no sign of fatigue as he effortlessly held the high guard, and the swordsman's cold smile was that of a man well used to the dance of steel. Jess took careful note of his sword, the intricacy of the hilt's guard, the quality of the blade. He wore a tricorn hat that flopped down both sides of his head, securely fashioned by a thick leather strap, and Jess had no doubt such a foppish article of clothing might have invited some ridicule and challenges from time to time, which was somewhat odd as the man looked vain with the way he obviously cared for his oiled mustaches and goatee, and perhaps that was the point of it, she thought. This looked to be a man out for trouble. His dark gaze was calculating, his jacket thick and well padded, as were his breeches, tucked into boots thick and sturdy, much like the ones Jess herself wore.
“The insult this cur rendered me cannot go unavenged,” the shaken youth asserted, even as the darkly grinning man he faced smiled coldly, dipping his head in turn.
“It is so. This pathetic catamite dared to gaze at me as his equal, when the only role suitable for such a fey creature as this is as a sheath for my cock, when I have a mind to visit the dens that creatures such as this gravitate to like flies on shit.” The goateed man laughed cruelly. “Does it offend you that I recognized you on your off hours, catamite, and offered you fair coin to suck my rod once more, where all can see?”
The crowd entire was left speechless at the depth of insult offered. Truly, if the youth were any man at all, he must cry challenge or be unable to show his face in polite society again.
“Bloody hells, that boy is being goaded something fierce,” Malek grimaced.
Jess could only nod.
“Allen. Saints above, Allen, what are you doing?” Jess blinked and turned, surprised to see Raphael in a genuine state of distress. “Allen, for gods sakes, decline the challenge and get out of there!”
His friend gave an abrupt shake of his head. “I am sorry, Raphael. We shall have to put off our meeting for just a bit. I have a matter of honor that must needs be attended to.”
Jess was struck with a sudden cold understanding. “To the point or hilt?” she cried aloud.
The student refereeing the bout only then deigned to turn and face Jess. "To first blood, of course, though neither shall be at fault, so long as they withdraw after the loser has been marked."
Goatee's cold smile was all the evidence Jess needed. Desperately, she strove to get Allen's attention. “Allen, friend of Raphael, you have the right to ask for a champion!”
The youth gazed at Jess in surprise and sudden hope, even as the goateed man laughed. “Are you truly that much of a fool, popinjay? Or perhaps this catamite is your lover?” The man smiled coldly at Jess. “This commoner has directly offered challenge to me, his better, and I have accepted. He cannot hide behind any second, and must accept the consequences of his request.” He turned his gaze to the student acting as the overseer of the match, who gulped and stepped back. “We have both accepted the terms of this match. To first blood. Now on with it!” the goateed man roared, the youth so addressed turning as pale as the lad about to duel the noble before them.
“Yes, my lord. You may both begin at will, but to first blood only, as this crowd serves as witness!”
“Sorry, Raphael,” Malek sighed. “I fear your friend might not be in the best of shape to assist us, once this match is over.”
“Saints above,” was all Raphael said as the two contestants began to circle each other, one with the cool grace and mocking smile of a born predator, the other near tripping over himself, blade held still and unsure before him.
“Ward with your free hand!” Jess cried, well aware that counsel and catcalling were frowned upon in all serious matches, but unable to help herself. This boy was in peril and didn't even know it. “If he pricks your arm, the contest is over, and none can contest that you fought for your honor. Win or lose hardly matters, just end the fight!”
If Allen heard her he gave no sign of it, seeming to gather some measure of focus as the moments wore on, and Jess held the briefest flicker of hope for him, beginning to see some evidence of ingrained training trying to win past the terror.
Teasingly, goatee crossed blades with Allen, gauging his strength, feeling for weakness, and Jess hissed, sensing what was to come as it all played out, almost in slow motion. Allen grunted, trying to power through goatee's careful bind, the mocking smile flashing upon on the nobleman's lips as he adroitly shifted his balance, Allen stumbling forward, in perfect position for a telling slash across his arm or leg, which would have been more than sufficient for the match to be won decisively. Yet the man declined to strike, instead stepping back as a panting Allen spun back around, the crowd laughing as if enjoying the show.
But Jess was sickly certain that goatee's objective was not to bait or humiliate Allen.
It was to kill him.
Again their blades crossed, a rapid flurry, Allen desperate to redeem himself, unleashing a flurry of cross cuts, impressive if one didn't know the trick of it, or how little energy his more experienced opponent expended keeping his blade in line, easily deflecting the panting younger man's increasingly fatigued slashes, goatee hardly in any danger at all.
Jess had to fight not to grimace. For all that Allen's cutting rapier had an edge, it was hardly a saber
, and save for clever, well timed slicing cuts at wrist, throat, or knee, had neither the blade nor the balance to hack or cleave. Goatee's side-sword, for all that it had a protective fencer's hilt, was a far different affair. Not so specialized for the killing lunge as was the rapier, it was nonetheless deadly in the thrust or slash in equal measure.
He laughed then, cold and mocking, deliberately letting his sword point drop.
Allen roared and charged, lunging forward.
And with a killer's grace, goatee had his off hand raised to parry his opponent's thrust even as he pivoted counterclockwise while snapping his point up with blinding speed and thrusting forth with his sword, plunging his weapon deep into his opponent's chest.
Allen gazed in horror at his own death, his own charge making it impossible to avoid his enemy's fatal thrust, his own momentum carrying him up the sword to the hilt.
A perfect thrust, just under the solar plexus, spurting a fountain of blood.
Allen hadn't stood a chance.
With a horrid gasp, gazing about with panicked eyes, Allen stumbled to the ground, even as the goateed noble ruthlessly tore his blade free and stepped back, Allen giving but one choking gasp before collapsing to the ground, his blood spurting out front and back.
Josie screamed. Others cried out in horror and panic.
Jess was filled with a cold rage.
“Step back, step back!” The student refereeing the bout cried, but goatee had already done so, smiling coldly in Jess's direction. “Healer, we need a healer!”
Without a moment's hesitation, Josie rushed forward, paying no mind to her exquisite dress suddenly soaked with the fallen man's blood as she knelt before him, Jess wordlessly putting her hand on Josie's shoulder, willing to offer what strength she could.
Trembling, Josie pressed her palms to the now utterly still Allen's horrible wound. Jess could feel her questing, searching, somehow pulling herself in directions Jess could scarcely imagine, ready to draw Jess's strength in a flood. Jess could feel her friend's terrible focus and held a moment's fierce hope, before Josie abruptly pulled herself back, sobbing in Jess's arms.
“Oh Jess, oh gods, it's too late. It's already too late! Arteries cut, lung ruptured, his brain dies before I can even begin to mend the wounds!”
Jess wordlessly held her sobbing friend close, glaring over Josie's shoulder at the man who smirked at them even now.
“Was he a valued friend of yours? How very tragic. The catamite should have known better than to challenge his betters if he was unwilling to risk a death far more honorable than one of his sort deserves.” He raised a sardonic brow. “I do hope this won't be an issue for you, child? I do try to make a habit of putting no more than a single fop in their place on any particular day.”
Jess gazed coldly at the man's off hand. “When you smacked his blade out of line, the instant before you yourself pivoted and thrust, his blade should have marked your glove. Tell me, are there any cuts upon your palm, per chance?
Cold dark eyes blazed as the man repressed a snarl. “Do you question my honor, cur?” He abruptly yanked off his glove, showing a palm thick with callouses, much like Jess's own, but suffering no obvious injury from the duel. “No cut did I suffer from that fool's blade. His tragic death occurred as the result of an honorable duel, and no rules of engagement were broken.”
Malek grimaced. “He's right. This bastard's going to get away with murder, fair and square.”
For but a second the man's dark eyes blazed, before cooling once more into a sardonic smile. “Ah. I see this poor lad's death has... inconvenienced you somehow. So tragic when a contest such as this has such fatal results.” He tutted mockingly over the fallen lad, already still with death. “Obviously the poor fool was only taught to fight for sport. His cuts were poorly suited for anything save drawing first blood, and he was far too eager to sally forth with the lunge. Oh well, the fault lies with his teacher, I suppose.”
He flashed a too bright smile. “Now, if you lovely children will excuse me, I am absolutely dying for a drink. Farewell!” With a final mocking wave, he was off at a fast clip. Jess began to curse under her breath and follow, hand clenching madly at her hilt, before being brought up short by none other than Malek himself.
“Calm, Jess!” he hissed, gazing at the dozen or so students and shocked onlookers who had witnessed the fatal duel. “If you carry on now and something were to happen to that man, an inquiry would be raised that you sought vengeance for an honorable duel!”
Jess blinked and grimaced, unable to deny that vengeance was absolutely at the top of her list.
"He's right, you know," admitted the red-eyed lad who had acted as the referee. "I should have pled harder with Allen to avoid that fight. I swear, if I didn't know better, I'd say that lord had deliberately baited my friend to his death!" He gave a fierce shake of his head. "But no. I can't believe that anyone would be that sick. That depraved. And what would I dare do in any case, being but common born, scholar in training or no?"
The youth gave a frustrated shake of his head, before gazing back up at Jess, tears now streaming freely down his cheeks. “Please, sir, have a care. That man is of the Lessers, I am sure of it, and thus far above the station of the hardworking man, and I would hate for you to be caught up over your head, pursuing that... person now.”
“You have to understand, things are different here at the capital.” Malek's imploring gaze begged Jess to see reason. “If you pursue goatee there before a night and day pass, any challenge or duel offered will be seen as fueled by passion and fury, and thus its legitimacy would be forever in question.”
Jess grimaced. “No such bloody restrictions in Highrock.” At those words several of the onlookers visibly blanched. The student before them did a double take, seeming to take Jess and Malek's uniforms in for the first time.
“I thought there was something familiar about that attire,” he said breathlessly. “Are you both truly students of that college of war?”
Jess pretended to ignore whispered words of savages and barbarians, noting at least a few approving stares in the mix of milling onlookers.
“We need at least a few brave souls willing to do what must be done in the war to come,” was a sentiment uttered more than once, earning a smile from Jess in turn.
“We are indeed students of Highrock,” Malek acknowledged, before turning back to Jess.
"There are no restrictions at our college, because duels there don't result in this sort of tragedy, as much as we train for battle near every day of our lives. No foolish disparity of skill and lack of suitable sparring equipment for us.”
“They trained us well, at Highrock. Unlike the folly that just occurred here,” Jess noted.
Malek gave a sad nod. “In any event, to avoid endlessly burning feuds depopulating the noble houses, laws were enacted here at the capital centuries ago to allow for a cooling off period. No more than one duel per moon between two clans with known animosity, and a full day and night must pass before a man may be challenged a second time.”
Jess gave a cool nod. “Very well, then. No challenges for today. Shall we?”
Malek grimaced and pointed, and Jess cursed to see their target was already lost in the milling crowd. “Let's go, then.” He turned to give a last look of sympathy at the sad young man gazing down at his friend. “I'm sorry for your loss,” he said, gently squeezing the youth's shoulder.
“Would that you could have championed him,” the youth said softly, before turning away.
Raphael's gaze was heavy, and Jess gave him a wordless hug. “If only we could have gotten here ten minutes sooner,” Raphael sighed.
Jess gave a sympathetic nod, both sharing a gaze of mutual understanding for all that they would not speak their declarations aloud, surrounded by onlookers. Wordlessly, they gathered a sobbing Josie in their arms. “I think you and Josie should head back home,” Jess advised. “Clean her up, comfort her. Malek and I will see if we can find something, anything that might
be of aid to us.”
Raphael sighed and nodded. “That might be for the best, my friend. Perhaps our new acquaintance would be so kind as to show you and Malek to the library? You can tell them you are visiting guests and give them my name.”
Jess gazed at the sudden hopeful looking lad before shaking her head and smiling sadly. "I fear what wrath might befall any student who goes out of his or her way to help us on this day, Raphael, lacking a nobleman's resources as they do." At that, the youth visibly paled. "Just point us in the right direction, and have your men escort you and Josie home."
At that the pair of house guards who had been discretely following them and on high alert after the fatal duel that had just occurred gave polite nods of deference to Jess.
Raphael gazed solemnly at Jess for some few moments before nodding, pointing to the grand building before them. “Just head down the main hallway and turn left at the end. If anyone seeks to accost you, simply show them this.” With that Raphael dropped his signet ring rather offhandedly into Jess's hands. Jess blinked at the bold gesture of trust, discrete as his movements had been.
“I thank you, my friend,” Jess said solemnly.
Raphael flashed a sad smile. "Josie and I still owe you two our lives. The horror of this day, how ruthlessly my friend was butchered before us, to find that various Lessers are goading commoners for bloodsport only emphasizes that stark reality." Raphael's gaze grew hard. "It is a matter I shall make sure is addressed quite thoroughly, when next I attend Lords Council. Even the most jaded of my cohorts will see the flaws in a system that allows any lord to strike at his enemies in Court by goading their underlings into duels they can't hope to win.
“Our most talented servitors, too prudent to allow themselves to be knocked off the board once they realize that they themselves are all in play, would leave the capital in droves, perhaps even making their way for foreign courts with all our confidence and secrets in their care, and then where would we all be?” Raphael flashed a cold grin. “Or such is the argument I shall raise in Council, and I have no doubt our goateed friend will find himself blacklisted from most social circles, if not facing challenges from higher ranking nobles in droves.”
Oblivion's Queen Page 10
