‘Don’t tell me, just go and get her! We’ll keep the guards busy.’ Kest shoved her unceremoniously towards the stairs leading belowdecks before coming to my aid.
Brasti joined us. Sighting along the line of his arrow at a group of guardsmen who were preparing to make a run at us, he asked, ‘Tell me again why we didn’t bring fifty Greatcoats from Aramor on this little pleasure-cruise?’
‘Perhaps because we don’t have fifty Greatcoats?’ Kest suggested.
In fact, we had less than a dozen at Castle Aramor, despite all the Bardatti we’d sent out in search of them. But that wasn’t the reason why I’d brought only Kest and Brasti with me to Margrave Evidalle’s wedding. ‘We’re here to send these bastards a message,’ I reminded them.
‘A sternly worded letter wouldn’t have sufficed?’ Brasti grumbled.
A massive brute of a man grabbed one of the tables by two legs and held it out in front of him like a kite-shield, and more guardsmen rushed to take up position behind him so that they could rush us without fear of Brasti’s arrows. Brasti tried sidestepping, looking for a clear view of their flank, but the table was too wide and the big man holding it too wily to give him a target.
‘I hate the big ones,’ Brasti complained. ‘Since we’re likely to die here, Falcio, do you mind telling me what message we were supposed to deliver?’
‘It’s simple,’ I replied, reaching up to wrap the end of a rope hanging from the yardarm about ten feet above me around my forearm. Once it felt moderately secure, I leaped from the raised foredeck, the point of my rapier aimed at the face of the man carrying the table. I’d never tried anything like this before, but if I was stuck having to fight on a boat, I’d damned well try and enjoy it. When the guardsman tilted his makeshift shield over his head to protect himself, I let go of the rope and landed squarely on the middle of the table. Before the big man could shake me off, I’d hopped to the other side of his little squad and by the time the man at the back had turned to face me, I’d already stabbed him in the arse.
‘Think twice the next time you decide to ambush a Greatcoat, gentlemen,’ I suggested. ‘We’re better at this than you are.’
Believe it or not, that got a smattering of applause from the wedding guests.
The rich really are different from the rest of us. They’re insane.
‘Seems a little unfair to punish these poor fellows for ambushing this Chalmers person,’ Brasti said, taking advantage of the confusion to fire an arrow into the thigh of the man holding the table. ‘She wasn’t even wearing a proper greatcoat.’
‘Neither are you,’ Kest pointed out, joining us at the barge’s centre mast.
‘You know perfectly well I couldn’t wear my coat under my disguise. You’re being intentionally abstract.’
‘I think you mean obtuse,’ Kest said, parrying an opponent’s clumsy swing with his shield and sending the blade screeching along its surface. By the time the guard had his weapon back under control, Kest had already bashed him across the face hard enough to send him toppling back into his fellows.
‘I need help – now!’ Chalmers shouted.
‘I’m on it,’ Kest said calmly as Chalmers came struggling up the stairs, hampered both by the young woman in torn, filthy clothes who was clinging desperately to her and by the two guardsmen intent on blocking their escape. Chalmers was waving around that broken cutlass of hers, but she couldn’t even get a decent swing at her enemies for fear of hitting Lady Cestina’s terrified sister.
Speaking of whom . . .
‘Face me, Trattari!’
I was barely in time to parry what I thought was a pretty impressive lunge by the bride-to-be. Her smallsword was a lovely piece, the glittering gold inlay positively gleaming, which reminded me that my own rapiers were in sorry need of some love and attention. I felt decidedly shabby next to the radiant bride.
For her part, Lady Cestina was full of passionate fury as she came at me. ‘Your tyrant Queen’s laws will never take root in our lands while I live,’ she cried. For someone who’d apparently been deeply involved in the conspiracy, not to mention the murder of her former husband and the kidnapping of her own family, Lady Cestina’s outrage sounded positively noble.
I deflected a series of thrusts aimed at sensitive parts of my body as I said, ‘Forgive me, my Lady, but there is one law we all must obey.’
The tip of her sword whipped out suddenly, leaving a tiny cut on my cheek. ‘What law might that be, Trattari?’
She pressed her attack, and I felt a strange mixture of admiration and sorrow for her. When you spend a good part of your life study-ing the sword, you like to think it somehow makes you a better person, but the look of glee on Lady Cestina’s face, presumably at the prospect of killing me, was rapidly disproving that theory.
On the other hand, I’ve always argued that there are differences between an experienced duellist and someone who just happens to be good with a sword – differences such as knowing to pay as much attention to the changing terrain as you do to your opponent. When people get stabbed, they bleed, and that blood has to go somewhere. In this case, I’d noted a nice little pool of it on the deck between us, so I gracefully allowed her to press me back – and just at the moment she started smiling at my apparent retreat, she slipped on the slick surface. I contented myself with a gentlemanly thrust to her shoulder – although it was her sword arm, naturally.
‘The law we must all obey, madam, regardless of rank or privilege, is the first rule of the sword: whoever’s first to put the pointy end in the other guy wins.’
She dropped her weapon, grimacing in pain. Margrave Evidalle, who’d thus far been too busy nursing his own injured hand to pay attention to anyone else’s situation, shouted in despair, ‘Monster! What kind of man are you, to wound a lady?’
I assumed he was being ironic, but Brasti said, ‘Actually, he used to be offensively squeamish about fighting women as equals.’ He clapped me on the shoulder. ‘You’re really growing as a person, Falcio.’
‘A little help here?’ Kest called out.
The last of the guardsmen were now focusing their efforts on keeping Kest from helping Chalmers to rescue Lady Mareina.
‘Hey,’ Brasti called, ‘you men attacking those nice ladies—!’
Much to everyone’s surprise, several pairs of eyes turned towards him.
‘Want to see a magic trick?’
The absurd question was delivered with such ebullient confidence that I swear some of the guards were about to nod yes.
‘Watch closely now, because I’m about to make you disappear.’