The Kinshield Legacy (39 page)

“You’re a stubborn clodpate, aren’t you?” Toren asked. “Don’t make me—”

Daia growled. Gavin heard quick footsteps in the grass, a grunt of effort, a soft clink of metal on metal. He had to see. Gavin forced his eyes open. His eyes watered, the grit burned. He blinked rapidly. When his vision cleared he saw Daia standing nose to nose with Toren, looking up into his eyes, her face contorted in a grimace.

No! Daia!

She jerked once. And then Toren slumped to the ground, the hilt of a sword flush against his mailed chest.

Chapter 45

Brodas waited while Warrick unlocked the bedroom door. “Watch it,” he said. “We don’t want a repeat of the courtyard incident.”

“Trust me, Brodas,” Warrick said dryly, pointing at his bruised and bloodshot eye. “I’m on my guard.”

“Why don’t you let me heal it?” Brodas asked. “You don’t need to prove your toughness.”

Warrick snorted. “The pain reminds me to be more careful.”

Brodas shrugged and followed Warrick into the room, now dark except for a few slivers of light that gleamed through the cracks between the boards covering the window.

“Good morning, Risan. I trust you slept well,” Brodas said.

Risan sat up on the bed and swung his legs over the side.

“I’m Brodas Ravenkind. I apologize for having to be rough with you. We mean you no harm. In fact, I healed your broken ankle as a gesture of good will. Warrick and I simply want a little information, and then we will send you on your way back home to your lovely wife. Arlet, is it?”

Risan said nothing, nor did he struggle against the iron shackles that bound his wrists.

“I must say, this sword…” Brodas turned it over in his hands. “…is an exquisite piece of workmanship. I commend you on the design. I suppose these symbols etched into the blade here are for luck? Courage? Something to that effect?”

Risan said nothing, but gave Brodas a fierce glare.

“Interesting,” Brodas continued. “But what interests me more are these gems. What depth. The only gems like these I’ve ever seen were in a cave not far from here.”

Risan continued to glare, his mouth pinched tightly shut.

“Who did you make the sword for, Risan? I know you’re not the rune solver, but this leads me to believe you know who is. Tell me his name and you’ll be free to leave.”

The little man was obstinate. And stupid.

Brodas turned to Warrick. “Get behind him and hold him tightly.”

Warrick pulled the Farthan to his feet and locked his arms around Risan’s shoulders, holding him in place. Risan tried to pull his head back as Brodas leaned the sword against his chest. The pommel came to his chin.

“Just relax, this won’t hurt. I just want you to tell me who you made this sword for.” Brodas closed his eyes and drew from his spiritual center. When he opened his eyes, he focused on the gem in the pommel, the snake’s eye.
Sola Spekken
.

A sharp flash of steel pierced his mind. Brodas shrieked. He reeled, his arms flailing to catch himself. The sword clattered to the floor. He hit the wardrobe with a loud crash, and barely caught himself before he fell to the floor. “Damn that treacherous thing,” he yelled.

“By the gods,” Warrick said. “What happened?”

Brodas righted himself and tugged sharply on his tunic to straighten it. “The bloody sword attacked me.”

Risan let out a triumphant hoot. Warrick kneed him in the small of the back, and he fell to the floor, grimacing, but with a sparkle still in his eye.

Remembering Toren’s warning, Brodas narrowed his eyes at the Farthan. “The symbols are an enchantment, aren’t they? Some sort of heathen magic?”

Risan smiled broadly and stood.

“Tell me who you made it for, Risan Stronghammer. You don’t want Arlet to suffer for your obstinacy, do you?” Risan’s smile fell away and found its way to Brodas’s face. “Yes. I think you understand me now. Tell me who you made the sword for.” Risan said nothing, but the set of his jaw and the hardness in his eyes told Brodas that the blacksmith would do anything to prevent any harm from befalling his wife. “I’ll send someone to retrieve your wife. Then we’ll see how cooperative you can be.”

Risan growled and launched himself at Brodas. Warrick caught the Farthan and threw him hard against the wall. Risan crumpled to the floor. Warrick stood ready to intercept another attack. But the blacksmith did not hasten to rise.

“Not smart,” Warrick said. “I don’t mind hurting you. Call it repayment.”

Brodas snatched the sword and left. Warrick backed out of the room and locked the door behind him. Their eyes met in the hall and both men looked down at the sword. Brodas ran a hand through his hair. The weapon actually protected its maker. Brodas realized then that had he attempted to use the gems in the sword to injure the escaping blacksmith in the courtyard, the results could have been disastrous. “Have Lilalian send one of her battlers to Ambryce. Perhaps the lady Stronghammer knows who we’re looking for.”

“Even if she’s as stubborn as her husband is, he’ll talk if he’s made to watch her suffer.”

“Warrick, you snatched the words off my tongue.”

As they jogged down the stairs to the great hall, the manservant opened the front door and admitted Domach Demonshredder.

“Domach, what excellent timing you have,“ Brodas said. ”I have a task for you.” He clapped the swordsman’s shoulder. “Upstairs in the guest room is a blacksmith. He made this sword for someone, and I want to know who. Go and find out.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Warrick handed Domach the key to the room.

“Come to my library when you have the name,” Brodas said. “And be on your guard. The blacksmith is prone to violent outbursts.”

“Yes, my lord,” Domach replied as he started up the stairs.

Risan watched the battler pace for several minutes. Neither of them spoke. If Risan hadn’t already decided that anyone working for Ravenkind was, himself, evil, he might have thought the man wrestled with the task assigned him. The lack of a tag around his neck proved he was no warrant knight. Risan wondered whether such a battler, hiring his blade to whoever paid the most money, possessed a conscience.

“If you think you will get hidegild,” Risan said, “you are mistook. I have no coin.”

“Why don’t you tell him what he wants to know?” the battler asked finally. “Where’s the harm in that?”

Risan sighed. “Because I am not kind of man to betray someone I owe debt just for sparing my own handsome face.”

“Why not tell me, then? You’ve no reason to keep the name from me.”

“Aside from you will tell Ravenkind? Aside from you work for thief?”

“Listen,” the battler said in a low voice, “tell me the name and I’ll withhold the information from Seer Ravenkind until you’re well on your way.”

“You do not understand,” Risan replied. “I am not giving away my friend to your lord. And even if I do, I am not enough fool to think he will let me walk out from here and straight to Lordover Sohan to tell my tale of kidnap and theft. I am alive only as long Ravenkind does not get what he wants from me.”

“You were kidnapped?” The battler stopped pacing and looked at him with wide eyes. “It’s Gavin Kinshield, isn’t it?” he asked in a whisper.

Risan drew back. How did he know that? To lie would be too obvious. To remain silent would be an admission. “I will not say who it is to you or to Ravenkind.”

“Listen,” the battler whispered. “Kinshield and a Viragon Sister named Daia are looking for a kidnapped friend. I sent them to Sithral Tyr’s farmhouse near Calsojourn, thinking they might find him there. It’s you they’re looking for, isn’t it?”

Praise Yrys. When Gavin discovered that Risan was not at Tyr’s house, he might come back. This battler would be able to lead Gavin here – if he knew that Risan was, indeed, the friend Gavin sought. Oh, he hoped he could trust this man. Did he have any choice?

“Are you the friend they’re looking for?” the battler asked again, his voice low. “I swear I won’t tell Ravenkind. I’ll tell him you refused to talk.”

Risan nodded. “Yes. It is Gavin. You swore oath. To betray him would be most terrible of crimes against Thendylath because of he will become king.”

The battler gaped. “King? Gavin Kinshield?”

Risan nodded. “Gems in sword Ravenkind has – they are Rune Stones. Gavin solved King’s Runes and gave me gems for putting into sword.”

The battler drew a deep breath and puffed it out, then nodded once. “You can trust me. I’m a friend of his.”

“Ah, Domach. You’re finished,” Brodas said, looking up from his book. “What’s the man’s name?”

“He wouldn’t tell me,” Domach replied.

“Let me see your hands,” Brodas said as he stood. Domach held out his hands, palms up. Brodas turned them over. The knuckles were clean and white. No blood, no bruises. “Did you kill him?” he asked with alarm.

“No, my lord. I didn’t touch him.”

“Domach, I thought I made myself clear.” Brodas maintained an even tone despite his annoyance. Demonshredder was soft. It would take some time to harden the man to a point where he might actually be worth what he was paid. “Go back up there and get the name of the man he made this sword for. Don’t come down again until you get it.”

“Are you saying you want me to hit him?”

Brodas took a deep breath, summoning the last remnants of his patience. He used the tone normally reserved for slow children. “Again and again. If he falls to the floor, kick him -- until he begs you to stop.”

Domach’s jaw dropped. “My lord, I can’t. I don’t have the stomach for such tactics.”

“Domach, Domach, Domach.” Brodas put a hand on the swordsman’s shoulder and turned him toward the door. “You assured me when you signed on that I could trust you. Don’t disappoint me.”

“No, Lord Ravenkind. I’m not the man for the job. I must resign from your employ.” He started to leave.

“I suggest that you reconsider,” Brodas said to his back, “for the sake of your sister.”

Domach stopped.

“Brawna has been a tremendous disappointment to me. She’s alive only because I’m willing to give you a chance to buy back her life.”

Domach spun and faced Brodas. His eyes shone and his fists clenched. A muscle in his jaw worked.

“I think we understand each other better, do we not?” Brodas asked. He folded his hands in his lap and leaned against his desk, crossing one ankle over the other. “When you’re finished upstairs, I want you to gather your belongings and come right back. You’ll sleep in Red’s bunk. I want you to stay on the grounds until I have no further need of your services. Then we can discuss your sister’s freedom.”

Domach turned and walked out. Brodas waited, listening. When he heard footsteps stomping up the stairs, he smiled. The man was not so stupid after all.