Part 30 (1/2)

He tucked the pendant even farther beneath his wet tunic, patting his chest in comfort at having it back again. He felt stronger now, more confident against the dark forces beyond the walls of this hold. The crystal had no special powers, no magic other than how it made song. But it belonged to the side of nature unsullied by the Nonkind. If he fell into trouble, the crystal's presence would help him keep a clear head. Besides, it was his talisman, his only legacy. It did not belong in a box, locked away in the darkness of a crazed man's workroom, but here, singing softly against his flesh, a part of his spirit in some way he could not define.

The chapel doors were just swinging open to let out the ma.s.s-goers when Dain hurried across the courtyard and into the Hall. Skirting the public chambers, he went upstairs to change into dry clothes.

The chamber he shared with the other fosters was empty at the moment. Relieved, Dain flung open the lid of the clothes chest at the foot of his bed and found a new doublet folded neatly atop his meager possessions. Holding it up, Dain gave it a shake to release the folds, and thought the sleeves looked long enough this time. The cloth was st.u.r.dy and well woven, dyed a handsome dark red. It was an unexpected kindness, this gift. Dain did not know who was responsible for it. New clothes usually appeared mysteriously like this at Thirst Hold, just when his seams were bursting or his sleeves had shrunk halfway to his elbows. A lump closed his throat, and he crushed the doublet in his hands. He did not want to leave Thirst, he realized. He did not want people here to hate him. The door opened and the page named Hueh looked in. ”Thod above, where is the lamp?” he asked in his piping voice, and hurried to light it. ”You're wanted by the chevard at once. He saw you in the courtyard, so you'd better hurry.”

Dain nodded and stripped off his wet clothing. Clad in a dry pair of leggings, he went to the was.h.i.+ng bucket to clean the mud off his hands. While he was still bent over it, the door opened and someone came in. ”Well, well, so b.a.s.t.a.r.d du Stray has come back,” Mierre said. ”Why don't you put your head in that bucket and drown yourself?”

Slinging water from his hands, Dain straightened and turned around to see the largest of the fosters standing there with his feet straddled and his thumbs hooked in his belt. Mierre's green eyes were as unfriendly as ever. Beside him stood Kaltienne, like a sly weasel, eyes darting with malice. ”Aye,” he saidwith a sneer. ”You should have kept running. No one wants a traitor like you back.”

Dain frowned. ”I am no traitor.”

Mierre stepped forward. ”Mayhap we should drown you and put an end to the matter.”

Kaltienne laughed in an ugly way and started to circle around behind Dain. Quick as thought, Dain ran to his bunk and picked up his dagger. He faced them both, standing light and ready on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet.

The weapon glinted in the lamplight, and his would-be tormentors paused.

”If that's the way you want this done,” Mierre said, and drew his own dagger.

Kaltienne said nothing, but he also drew his weapon. Dry-mouthed, Dain swallowed. He was outnumbered and boxed in by the beds. In the corner of the room, the young page watched openmouthed, of no help at all. Dain wanted to tell him to run for help, but thought doing so would be cowardly. He held his tongue.

Mierre came at him, thrusting hard and viciously with his blade. Dain dodged it, but Kaltienne was hemming him in on the other side, giving him scant room to maneuver. Dain jumped over the narrow bed, going behind Mierre, who turned with him.

Mierre tried to block Dain's blow, but Dain's dagger sliced his arm at the shoulder, ripping cloth. Blood welled up, and Mierre swore savagely. He attacked, and Dain skipped out of reach, only to have to dodge Kaltienne's thrust. Watching their eyes instead of their blades, Dain could hear his breath whistling in his throat. His heart was pounding loud and furiously. But at the same time, he was curiously excited and hot. He saw the warning flicker in Mierre's green eyes, but Dain leaped forward to meet the larger youth. Ducking under Mierre's dagger thrust, Dain stabbed at him, only to be knocked back by Mierre's free fist.

Staggering, his ears ringing lightly, Dain shook his head to clear it, and barely evaded Kaltienne's clumsy lunge.

”d.a.m.ne!” Mierre said. ”Get him and let's end this.”

Dain's head was up. With s.h.i.+ning eyes, he threw Mierre a wild grin. ”Did you think I would stand still and let you gut me?”

”Demon!” Mierre lunged at him again, hitting Dain with his shoulder and driving him back against the wall.

Dain grunted at the impact, and just in time pulled up his dagger between them to block Mierre's thrust at his belly.

”Heads up!” Kaltienne shouted in warning. ”The prince!” Mierre straightened at once, backing away from Dain and turning to face the doorway.

Dain, breathing hard, his knees suddenly weak, glanced up and saw Prince Gavril standing there, gazing in at them. Gavril wore a doublet of pale blue linen, the cloth woven in a chevron pattern. His leggings were of the same pale color, and his shoes were of thin supple leather. On his golden hair, he wore an embroidered cap tilted at a rakish angle. His violet-blue eyes swept the faces of everyone in the room, lingering on Dain a moment before going to Mierre.

”Fighting?” he asked with a lift of his brows. ”Is this seemly behavior?” Mierre's face turned red. ”Your highness, it is only the pagan traitor. We want him not in here with us.”

”Naturally not,” Gavril said.

He smiled at Dain, and it was the coldest smile Dain had ever seen. He knew right then that Gavril would not help him.

The prince stepped into the room and turned his gaze on the wide-eyed face of the little page. ”You,” he said to Hueh, ”get out.”

Hueh fled without a word, not even glancing in Dain's direction. Kaltienne had already sheathed his dagger, remembering the rule against drawn weapons in the presence of royalty. He bowed. ”I beg your highness's pardon. We just thought we'd teach the pagan a lesson.”

Gavril gestured at the door. ”Close that, and then you may continue.” Dain stared at him, feeling his spirits sink. Three against one was not good, and he could not think of a way out of this. Gavril was gloating openly, his blue eyes clearly inviting Dain to plead for mercy.

Dain clamped his jaw shut. He wouldn't do it, not even if they strung his entrails from one side of the room to the other. Kaltienne hastened to slam the door shut. Mierre grinned, and his green eyes narrowed on Dain. ”You must always deliver lessons in private,” Gavril said. ”Never in front of silly little pages.”

”Where's your protector?” Dain called out, using bravado to mask his fear. ”Why not make it four against one?”

They took no shame at his words. Gavril laughed and seated himself on a stool.

”Finish this quickly,” he said. ”It's almost time for dinner.” Mierre's grin widened. He sprang at Dain, who ducked away with a nimbleness the larger youth couldn't match. Mierre was very strong, but not agile. From the corner of his eye, Dain watched for Kaltienne, always sneaking to get at Dain's back like the coward he was.

With Gavril clearly antic.i.p.ating some good entertainment, Dain felt determined to best both of these bullies, if only to wipe the smug smiles off their faces. He would have preferred to attack Gavril and see blood splatter across that pretty pale doublet, but right now he had to concentrate on Mierre. Lunging at Kaltienne, Dain slashed viciously with his dagger in the way Sir Nynth had taught him. Moving his arm up and down in a blur of movement, he attacked with force, driving Kaltienne back until the boy stumbled into one of the beds and fell with a cry of fear.

Dain slashed at his exposed stomach and missed, for at the same moment Mierre gripped him by his shoulder and pulled him back. Dain twisted desperately to avoid being impaled on Mierre's dagger. He felt the tip rake his ribs, bringing a swift burning of pain and the trickle of blood.

Cursing in the dwarf tongue, Dain ducked and spun, plunging his dagger up at Mierre's vitals.

Mierre blocked the thrust with his blade, and for a moment the two weapons locked. They strainedagainst each other until the tendons knotted in Mierre's thick neck and Dain felt his muscles tremble with effort. Mierre bared his large, yellowed teeth. His green eyes, savage and merciless, glared down into Dain's.

”Finish him! Finish him!” Kaltienne was shouting.

Dain felt himself giving beneath the other boy's greater strength. With all his will and might, Dain struggled to hold firm. Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes. His back was bleeding, but the pain fired his determination all the more. He would not give way. He would not.

But Mierre kept pus.h.i.+ng him down, and Dain felt his knees shaking and starting to buckle despite all he could do. Once he was forced to kneel, his throat would be level with Mierre's blade, and too easy a target.

A week past, Mierre would not have dared kill him, for Dain was the favorite of the knights. But today, after the battle with the Nonkind, when everyone seemed to be blaming Dain somehow, he wondered if Mierre would even take punishment. Dain struggled to disengage his dagger, but Mierre had such pressure on his hand, twisting there, that the blades remained locked. Dain's whole arm was shaking now from the strain. His knees failed him, and Mierre drove him down. ”Now!” Kaltienne shouted.

Mierre twisted his wrist to unlock the dagger guards. Already Dain could feel how Mierre intended to draw his arm horizontally, slas.h.i.+ng Dain's throat in one clean stroke.

But as Mierre disengaged, Dain lunged at him and with his head b.u.t.ted Mierre right between his legs.

Mierre howled a shrill, piercing cry of pain. Dain overbalanced him, sending Mierre toppling to the floor.

Dain scrambled on top of him and pinned him while a white-faced Mierre, his knees drawn up, clutched himself.

Gripping the front of his tunic, Dain put the point of his dagger to Mierre's throat and lifted his gaze to Gavril.

The prince had risen to his feet, and was staring at Dain with a mixture of fury and horror.

Behind Dain, Kaltienne was shouting, ”Foul trickster! Honorless cheat!” Ignoring him, Dain kept his gaze on the prince. ”Well?” he asked, breathing hard. ”Is this the lesson you had in mind?”

Red spots burned on Gavril's cheeks. Before he could reply, however, Kaltienne loosed a hoa.r.s.e cry and launched himself at Dain's back. Too late, Dain tried to turn to face his attack. Kaltienne's dagger point skidded across his shoulder blade and gouged into the back of his arm. Pain blossomed there, and Dain's cry was being engulfed by Kaltienne's furious screaming, when suddenly the door slammed open as though it had been kicked and Sir Roye came rus.h.i.+ng inside.

”What's all this?” he demanded.

Gavril pointed at Dain and Kaltienne, who were locked in a struggle atop Mierre. ”Stop them at once,”

he commanded. ”Sir Roye, I have ordered them repeatedly to stop, but they will not heed me.”

Swearing, Sir Roye gripped Kaltienne and heaved him away, sending him sprawling. His b.l.o.o.d.y dagger went clattering across the floor. Dain barely had time to drag in a short, gasping breath before Sir Royeyanked him upright. ”Thod's bones,” he swore, glaring at Dain as though this was somehow his fault.

”Are you bad hurt?”