“Lie?”
Wichtig buried his face in his hands and ran fingers through his hair, dragging clumps of horse intestine free. “Lying is a critical skill for Swordsmen. Everyone must believe you’ve done more than you have. At least until you’re me. Then you’ve done more than any will believe. You’ll have to tone it down, lie in the other direction or no one will want to fight you.”
“You killed that Swordsman in the street without talking or bragging.”
“I wanted his horse and his clothes. And I knew he wasn’t worth killing.”
“How did you know?”
“I am the Greatest Swordsman in the World. Let’s focus on you. Killing unknowns will do nothing for your reputation.”
Opferlamm nodded her understanding and frowned. “But if swordsmen lie about their kills, the people who kill them will go on perpetuating those lies. I could go around believing I’d killed a man who killed a thousand men.”
“The facts don’t matter. Facts are a hindrance. Unless they support whatever it is you’re saying, in which case they are the most important thing in the world and anyone who says otherwise is an idiot.”
“Okay.” Wichtig watched the girl gather her thoughts, saw the frown of concentration take her young face. “I am Opferlamm. I have slain—”
“Why are you looking at me?”
“I’m supposed to convince—”
“Your opponent doesn’t matter. The crowd matters. Convince the crowd. Never fight without a crowd if you can avoid it. If there’s no crowd, then you have to convince your opponent. If that fails, you might have to actually rely on skill with a sword. That should always be a last resort. Now, talk to the crowd. Look at the pretty girls or boys or whatever your preference is. Ignore your opponent. Nothing pisses Swordsmen off more than being ignored.”
Opferlamm stiffly mimed blowing kisses and winking at an imagined crowd, but her attention kept returning to the roof and the door.
“You’re faking,” said Wichtig. “It has to be real.”
“There’s no one here, of course I’m faking.”
“You are the only person who matters. You can’t care what others think. If you can’t do this with no one looking, how awkward will it be in a crowd? What if your opponent makes fun of you? Will you blush and stammer with embarrassment? Try again.”
“Why am I trying to convince people if I don’t care—”
“You don’t care what they think about you, you care what they think about the fight. What they think about your opponent.” Wichtig closed his eyes. “I’m tired. Keep practising in your mind. Imagine the crowd. Imagine what you’ll say and what your opponent will say. Wake me if the dragon comes to eat us.”
He lay still, pretending to sleep, listening to Opferlamm mutter under her breath. Through slitted eyes, he watched the girl rise and circumnavigate the room, peering through cracks and holes as if she hoped to glimpse what hid outside.
“Apprentice,” said Wichtig.
“Yes?”
“Get me one of your blankets. Mine are with my horse.”
“Sorry.” Opferlamm hurried to her horse and hunted through her saddlebags for a blanket. “I should have thought of that.”
“Yes,” said Wichtig. “You should have.”
She draped Wichtig in a blanket like a mother tucking her child into bed.
“Why hasn’t it come for us?”
Wichtig studied her. “It may have recognized me.”
Opferlamm blinked. She opened and closed her mouth, and then nodded. “That must have been it.”
“You’re going to have to stay awake all night,” said Wichtig.
“Doubt I could sleep anyway.”
“Good.” Wichtig slept.
Wichtig dreamed of cold ale, warm women, down-filled pillows, and hot baths. An old man watched with a look of disgust and called him weak, said he was as soft as one of those pillows. Harsh words, angry and threatening, intruded.
With a groan he stretched, cracking an eye open to see Opferlamm, sword drawn, facing off against Lebendig. She looked paler than he remembered, like she’d lost a lot of blood. The big Swordswoman hadn’t drawn steel, but her hands rested on the pommels and her eyes said she was a heartbeat from killing his young apprentice. Seeing Wichtig awake, her face lit with something he didn’t like.
“Get up,” she said.
Still sprawled in the dirt, Wichtig grinned his best grin.
She clearly didn’t give a shite.
Taking his time, he stood, stretching. He left his sword sheathed. “You aren’t dead,” he said. “It’s so good to see you again.” He made a show of examining her. “Though you look like life on the road doesn’t agree with you. Perhaps you should return to that armpit city you come from.”
She eyed his wounds without comment. Twin swords hissed from matched scabbards. “It’s time we find out who really is the best.”
“No” he said. “We already know.”
“You know this woman?” asked Opferlamm, retreating a step.
“Of course. This is Lebendig Durchdachter, a Swordswoman previously of Neidrig. I was going to kill her but a Kleptic bitch got in the way.”