The Dragon Society (Obsidian Chronicles Book 2) (32 page)

Toribor made a low, sweeping attack, and Arlian was forced to concentrate on his swordplay. Steel flickered and clashed, the four blades locked together for a moment; then both men sprang back, disengag-ing. They stood, just out of each other's reach, staring warily at one another. The crowd's noise was only a murmur.

Toribor would have to die eventually, but the dragons had to die first.

"Belly," Arlian said, "I would swear a new oath, in your hearing, by all the dead gods and whatever else you ask. I cannot until we end this fight, but if you allow it, I will swear not to kill you, in Manfort or anywhere else, so long as we know a single dragon to survive."

"What?" Toribor stared at him as if he were mad—

and of course, Arlian remembered, Toribor thought he
was
mad.

"I want the dragons dead far more than I want to harm
you,"
Arlian said. "Can we not end this duel in a truce, and turn our whole attention to destroying the beasts we both agree deserve to die?"

"With what, your stone knives? No one's ever slain a dragon—not a grown one."

"Yes, with obsidian—or whatever else we can find.

And if we never find a way to kill them, then I will never again try to kill
you."

"Unless you change your mind again." Toribor made a quick feint.

"I do not change my mind so easily."

"You change your
name,
Triv, and your appearance, and everything else."

"Not everything. Never everything. I stand by my word."

"Oh, of course you do." Toribor's blade flicked out, and Arlian turned it aside.

Words alone would not end this fight, he saw—but he knew what would He launched a sudden quick attack, a lightning series of jabs, none really meant to kill or seriously injure, but enough to keep Toribor very busy for
a moment.

Toribor fell back a step, and as he did Arlian leapt backward himself, out of reach.

And once the two men were too far apart to reach one another with their swords, Arlian flung aside both his sword and swordbreaker. Steel jangled on the pavement, and the murmur of the crowd suddenly stilled again.

"Our quarrel is ended," he said. "Kill me if you must, but I will fight no more."

"Oh, now you're doing it deliberately?" Toribor shouted. "You think because I spared you once, I'll do it again?" He stepped forward and raised his sword, but did not strike.

"Yes," Arlian said, spreading his empty hands. "You have shown me that you're a better man than I had thought, that I was wrong to seek your death. I swear, Lord Toribor, that I will not fight you again today, that I will not try to kill you while a single dragon yet lives.

My vengeance oath was to myself, and I have released myself from it;
this
oath I give to
you"

Toribor hesitated.

"You can still prove me wrong," Arlian said

"Plunge your blade through my heart, and we'll both see that you are less honorable, less worthy, than I thought. I don't think either of us wants that."

Toribor growled, then said, "Confound you, Obsidian!" He lowered his sword.

Then, for the first time since Arlian had stepped out of his coach, Toribor took his eyes off his opponent and looked around at the crowd of spectators. He glanced up at the city wall.

"No archers," he said. "The ruse was hardly a clever one."

Startled, Arlian turned. Sure enough, the archers were gone.

"They were there," he said.

Toribor snorted.

"I never know where I stand with you," he said.

"You lie as easily as most men breathe, and you're loyal to no one but yourself. I would not put it past you to pick up your blades and strike at me, despite your new oath."

Wounded, Arlian said, "The archers were there, and I will not break my oath." He stepped back, away from his discarded weapons.

"You won't resume the fight, and put an end to the matter?"

"You heard my vow. I consider the matter ended."

"And I must accept that?"

"You have your sword, my lord; I am at your mercy."

"No, you aren't. I don't think you even understand the concept. Are you afraid of nothing, Arlian?"

Arlian blinked in surprise. "I am no more fearless than you," he said.

"You lie as easily as others breathe. You claimed to be pursuing sworn vengeance, unappeasable, yet now you say it's over, and that means our quarrel is resolved. Forgive me if I do not immediately agree—let me remind you that while I may have abused women you came to care for, you have slain three of my comrades, two of them men I had known for hundreds of years. Horim and Kuruvan died in honest duels, but you murdered Drisheen. The circumstances of Enziet's death remain unclear, despite your claims, and I might reasonably believe you had slain him as well.

You did not kill Wither, but you encouraged him in his suicide. Am I to simply forget all these, all my friends?

Have I no right to seek vengeance upon their slayer?"

"I am here, unarmed," Arlian said. "If you think Drisheen deserving of such revenge, strike me down—

but remember first what kind of man Drisheen was. Do you know what he did to Ferret and Sparkle? And what Horim did to Daub and Sandalwood?"

"The women? You know all their names? And what became of them?" Toribor sounded genuinely surprised.

"Of course I do," Arlian said, startled. "Did you think I simply wanted an excuse? I loved them all.

They deserved far better than they received. You and Nail and Kuruvan treated the ones you held no worse than any other slaves might be treated, but the others—

do you know what Enziet did to Dove? Did you know he cut Madam Ril's throat in the street? She was a free woman!"

Arlian did not mention Sweet, whom Enziet had poisoned; that particular death was somehow not something to be shared.

"I knew," Toribor said.

For a moment die two stood silently, facing each other; then Toribor said, "You say you will swear not to kill me so long as die dragons live—do you
seriously
believe you can slay them?"

"Yes," Arlian said simply.

'1 don't," Toribor said. "I believe you are an amazing man, Obsidian, but not
that
amazing. Killing a soft-skinned infant is not the same as slaying an armored sixty-foot adult."

"I know," Arlian said.

"I am not so foolish and selfish as to listen to Pulzera's nonsense—but I cannot believe yours, either. I find Pulzera's arguments much easier to believe, but I find yours far more appealing. If you really
could
slay tbe dragons ..."

His voice trailed off; then, suddenly, he jammed his swordbreaker into its sheath.

"Very well, then," he said. "Our fight is ended until you tell me otherwise, but you'll forgive me if I decline to sheathe my other blade, or to turn my back on you until we are safely inside the walls."

Arlian bowed. "I'll have my steward retrieve my own blades, then."

"That would suit me."

Toribor stood where he was on the plaza and watched as Arlian retreated to his coach.

"Where did the archers go?" Arlian whispered to Black as he neared the vehicle.

"They received new orders a few moments ago, and withdrew," Black said. "Is there any point in asking what happened out there?"

"You couldn't hear?"

"Only when Belly shouted."

"I'll tell you later, then." He waved at Brook and Kitten, who were leaning out the coach windows.

"When everyone can hear. For now, would you be so kind as to recover my sword and swordbreaker? Lord Toribor does not trust me with them just yet."

"I don't blame him," Black said. "I don't blame him at all." He strode forward to retrieve the blades.

Arlian turned as he stepped up into the coach's door, and saw that Toribor had finally sheathed his own sword and was walking away, toward the city's gate.

Toribor's final words nagged at Arlian. Toribor did not believe the dragons could be killed?

Toribor was far older than he, and probably had seen more of the dragons—Arlian had been trapped in a cellar during most of the attack on his village. If Toribor believed, even after hearing what had become of the dragons born of Enziet and Stiam, that an adult dragon could not be killed, then how could Arlian be sure he was wrong?

Did the rest of the Society also still believe any attempt to fight the dragons was futile, despite the obsid-you know what he did to Ferret and Sparkle? And what Horim did to Daub and Sandalwood?"

"The women? You know all their names? And what became of them?" Toribor sounded genuinely surprised.

"Of course I do," Arlian said, startled. "Did you think I simply wanted an excuse? I loved them all.

They deserved far better than they received. You and Nail and Kuruvan treated the ones you held no worse than any other slaves might be treated, but the others—

do you know what Enziet did to Dove? Did you know he cut Madam Ril's throat in the street? She was a free woman!"

Arlian did not mention Sweet, whom Enziet had poisoned; that particular death was somehow not something to be shared.

"I knew," Toribor said.

For a moment die two stood silently, facing each other; then Toribor said, "You say you will swear not to kill me so long as die dragons live—do you
seriously
believe you can slay them?"

"Yes," Arlian said simply.

'1 don't," Toribor said. "I believe you are an amazing man, Obsidian, but not
that
amazing. Killing a soft-skinned infant is not the same as slaying an armored sixty-foot adult."

"I know," Arlian said.

"I am not so foolish and selfish as to listen to Pulzera's nonsense—but I cannot believe yours, either. I find Pulzera's arguments much easier to believe, but I find yours far more appealing. If you really
could
slay tbe dragons ..."

His voice trailed off; then, suddenly, he jammed his swordbreaker into its sheath.

"Very well, then," he said. "Our fight is ended until you tell me otherwise, but you'll forgive me if I decline to sheathe my other blade, or to turn my back on you until we are safely inside the walls."

Arlian bowed. "I'll have my steward retrieve my own blades, then."

"That would suit me."

Toribor stood where he was on the plaza and watched as Arlian retreated to his coach.

"Where did the archers go?" Arlian whispered to Black as he neared the vehicle.

"They received new orders a few moments ago, and withdrew," Black said. "Is there any point in asking what happened out there?"

"You couldn't hear?"

"Only when Belly shouted."

"I'll tell you later, then." He waved at Brook and Kitten, who were leaning out the coach windows.

"When everyone can hear. For now, would you be so kind as to recover my sword and swordbreaker? Lord Toribor does not trust me with them just yet."

"I don't blame him," Black said. "I don't blame him at all." He strode forward to retrieve the blades.

Arlian turned as he stepped up into the coach's door, and saw that Toribor had finally sheathed his own sword and was walking away, toward the city's gate.

Toribor's final words nagged at Arlian. Toribor did not believe the dragons could be killed?

Toribor was far older than he, and probably had seen more of the dragons—Arlian had been trapped in a cellar during most of the attack on his village. If Toribor believed, even after hearing what had become of the dragons born of Enziet and Stiam, that an adult dragon could not be killed, then how could Arlian be sure he was wrong?

Did the rest of the Society also still believe any attempt to fight the dragons was futile, despite the obsidian blades? If so, no wonder they had taken Pulzera's words seriously.

Arlian looked thoughtfully out at the plaza.

The crowd that had watched the fight was dissipating, many of them clearly disappointed to see no deaths, no crippling injuries. As Arlian stood in the door of the coach, Lord Zaner pushed forward through the throng, clearly wishing to speak a few words with him.

Perhaps, Arlian thought, Lord Zaner could tell him something more of what had been said yesterday on the Street of die Black Spire.

Stammer had been moving hesitantly toward the coach as well, but when Zaner pushed past her she stopped, frowned, waved, and then turned toward the gate, leaving Arlian and his party to those more important than herself.

Politely, Arlian waited as Zaner approached. Several other spectators turned and fell silent, eagerly waiting to hear what one lord had to say to the other.

Zaner stepped up to stand a few feet from the coach and said, without preamble, "Lord Obsidian, I had not realized you were a coward, to fling down your sword when bested!"

That had not been what Arlian expected. He knew Zaner considered Toribor a friend, and had thought perhaps Zaner intended to thank Arlian for not fighting to the death. Apparently, Zaner did not see anything to be grateful for; presumably he was quite certain that it was Arlian's death, not Toribor's, that had been avoided here. All the same, his remark seemed unreasonable.

"You think it cowardice to stand unarmed before a foeT Arlian asked mildly.

"You knew Belly would not kill you! Had I faced you out there, I wouldn't have killed you, but by the dead gods, I'd have at least slashed that pretty face of yours!"

Arlian dabbed at the blood running down his cheek from the cut above his eye and said calmly, "I will keep that in mind should we ever meet at swordspoint, my lord."

Black had come up behind Zaner as they spoke, and now he pushed past the dragonheart, interrupting Zaner as he was about to say more.

"Your pardon, my lord," he said, as he extended Ar-yan's sword, hilt-first. "You'll want to clean the blood off before you sheathe it," he said.

'Thank you," Arlian said, accepting the weapon. He was gratefiil for both the reminder and the interruption; the exchange with Lord Zaner did not seem to be going anywhere profitable. He pulled out a handkerchief and began ostentatiously wiping Toribor's blood from the steel.

Zaner looked from Arlian to Black and back, then snorted and turned away, to Arlian's relief.