Part 20 (2/2)

Banks came at him in a desperate fury, now wielding his sword with all the skill Granger knew the younger man possessed. And Granger was hard pressed to parry these blows. Steel clashed and clashed. The plaza seemed quiet but for the crack of swords and the scuffs and grunts of each opponent. And then Banks slammed his buckler into Granger's face.

Granger recoiled, shaking his head.

A great roar went up from the crowd.

Banks was breathing heavily, his eyes full of pain and fear. He rushed at Granger a second time, that quick mind of his composing a flurry of feints and blows that tested Granger's own skill to the limits. He seemed detached from his actions, indeed possessed of a strange sort of madness. Only when the two men clashed and wrestled did Banks finally break away. Now Granger could feel pain rising in his chest as the strain of exertion began to take its toll. He doubted he could beat his opponent.

And then he saw Briana Marks.

He realized he had heard the launch's engine somewhere in the back of his mind, but had not registered it until now. The Haurstaf witch alighted from the slender deepwater craft, and hurried up the dock steps to the plaza. She was wrapped in whale-skins and wore goggles on her forehead. Ianthe was not with her.

Banks turned his sword over and made to move at Granger again.

'Wait,' Granger said.

But the young man was already lost to whatever madness or battle l.u.s.t gripped him. The look in his eyes suggested that perhaps he no longer even recognized his opponent. Everything was about the fight, about survival. He launched a vicious attack with sword and buckler both, thrusting and punching with consummate skill.

Granger parried, but not fast enough. Banks's sword sliced through his right shoulder.

Banks lunged forward for the killing strike, but Granger managed to break away, more by luck than design. He jogged backwards. Briana Marks had by now reached the podium. The emperor bowed and then waved away one of the administrators to offer her a seat. She glanced over at Granger and shook her head.

What did that that mean? mean?

Granger ran towards the corral wall. 'Sister Marks?'

She lowered her gaze.

'Sister Marks?'

Still she refused to acknowledge him. Emperor Hu glanced between Granger and the witch and then frowned. He spoke quietly to Marks, but she ignored him completely and simply continued to stare at her hands.

Granger heard Banks approaching from behind and turned to find the private with his sword already raised to strike. In that moment he saw the pain and despair in his young opponent's eyes. Granger lifted his own blade in a desperate attempt to fend off the blow, but he already knew it was too late. Banks had the advantage.

But he didn't take it.

He stopped, and just stood there for a heartbeat with his sword raised, staring down at Granger. Then he threw his weapon away. It clattered off the flagstones and came to rest several yards away, gleaming like a mirror. Silence settled over the plaza.

A third shot rang out.

Private Merrad Banks remained standing for a moment longer as his life blood surged from a hole in the centre of his forehead. He started to lift a hand up towards the wound and then he paused and sat down on the ground. His body slumped forward.

Granger rushed to him and held him. He could smell Banks's sweat and blood, feel the heat from the other man's sun-warmed steel epaulettes, but there was no life left in that body. Everything Banks had been had come to an end here in this rotten corner of the empire. He heard the corral gate sc.r.a.pe open behind him.

'Finish him off,' Hu said. 'But do it slowly. No less than fifty cuts.'

Grech took to the podium again. 'Ladies and gentlemen,' he began, 'jailers of Ethugra, protectors of the Imperial law. For the final trial, our gracious ruler has chosen, for your pleasure, your pleasure, to pit against the traitor the strongest, the fastest, and the most to pit against the traitor the strongest, the fastest, and the most merciless merciless of all combatants!' He raised his hand to quell the excited chatter from the crowd. 'Three score years in the training! His mortal flesh empowered by Unmer sorcery, his eyes scorched from his own skull from gazing into the furious reaches of infinity. Ladies and gentlemen . . . the emperor presents to you, his very own . . . of all combatants!' He raised his hand to quell the excited chatter from the crowd. 'Three score years in the training! His mortal flesh empowered by Unmer sorcery, his eyes scorched from his own skull from gazing into the furious reaches of infinity. Ladies and gentlemen . . . the emperor presents to you, his very own . . . Samarol Samarol!'

The crowd went wild.

The bodyguard who had fired the shots now detached his seeing knife from his rifle for the final time and held it lightly in one mailed fist. Despite his great size he moved with the grace of a wolf. His helmet grinned fiercely, but its silver eyes evinced a rage that did not belong to its wearer. It was the fury of the empire carried by a surrogate. It was an executioner's mask. And was it possible to think of the Samarol in any other way? What mortal man could hope to prevail in a fight against one?

The Samarol stepped into the corral, and the gate closed behind him.

Granger glanced at Briana Marks, and, for an instant, their eyes met.

She stood up and called out to the emperor, 'Wait.' And then she hurried over to the corral gate and beckoned Granger to approach.

'Maskelyne wasn't at Scythe Island,' she said. 'He's out at sea somewhere. I couldn't reach him.'

'So that's it? You're leaving me here to die.'

'I've no evidence he has a hostage with him at all, Mr Granger, let alone a psychic one. I can't sense another seer within three hundred miles of here. And I cannot interfere with an Imperial trial on your word alone.'

'You could,' he replied. 'But you choose not to.'

He could see from her expression that he'd struck upon the truth. The Haurstaf had the power to ostracize and thus bring down empires at their whim, and yet that that power could only be maintained through strict impartiality and honesty. Those emperors and warlords who paid so much for psychic communications in wartime needed to know that the information they received was not influenced by others that all parties were paying for the truth. Briana Marks could stop Hu if she desired, but she wouldn't risk Haurstaf honour to do it. His life wasn't worth that much to her.

As she turned to go, he said, 'Look for her again, after the trial.'

She nodded and walked away.

'Proceed,' the emperor said.

The Samarol came at him running, astonis.h.i.+ngly quickly for a man of his size. His leather boots made no sound on the flagstones. His seeing knife flashed. Granger feinted left, but then pushed himself away from the corral wall in the opposite direction. The bodyguard turned like a dancer and pa.s.sed by in a blur.

Searing pain ran up Granger's arm.

He stared in astonishment at blood welling from a knife cut across the back of his right wrist. It was deep. He hadn't even seen the bodyguard's attack.

The crowd shouted, 'One!'

The Samarol relaxed into a jog, and made a circuit of the corral. Granger turned with him, following the other man's progress with the tip of his sword. Blood flowed freely over his right hand, spattering the flagstones at his feet. As the bodyguard drew near, he picked up his speed, flipping the knife from one hand to the other and back again.

Granger thrust his blade up at the man's head.

The Samarol ducked and pivoted, and spun away.

'Two,' roared the crowd.

Granger felt warm blood spilling down his leg. A second cut had sliced through his breeches and split the skin on his thigh. He clamped his hand across the wound and turned again to follow the bodyguard's progress.

The Samarol made a second leisurely circuit of the arena, and as he ran he wiped his knife against a leather patch sewn across his belt. He closed on Granger a third time, the seeing knife now clenched in one back-turned fist, his wolf helmet gleaming.

Granger swiped his blade in a wide arc, hoping to drive his attacker back. After all, he had the advantage of reach.

But the bodyguard caught the sword on the edge of his knife, and turned the blow up, over his own head. Granger had never seen reflexes like it. The man was inhuman. Within a heartbeat he had ducked again, moving inside Granger's reach. And then came that same strange pirouette, and Granger felt something sc.r.a.pe his rib.

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