“You look deranged when you smile like that.”
Nathon glanced over as the final notes of Angus and the Swan faded out from the field below. “I like this song,” he said.
“So do I, although I’ve never understood what a “swin” is meant to be.”
“A soul-twin,” Nathon explained.
Taleb shrugged. “In any case, Oliveah could sing the vineyard’s weekly inventory report and make it sound good. In fact, I had her do it once just to prove the point.”
Nathon didn’t doubt it; her voice had brought her much renown from even the farthest reaches of Dhanen’Mar over the past several years. The crowd around them was now cheering wildly, with scores of flowers being thrown to rain down on the musicians below. He watched as Oliveah and the rest of her troupe took their bows, turned to make a brief show of obeisance to the king and his council, and then began to drift from the field. As he continued to follow her with his eyes, he was left to wonder if she had specifically picked that song to sing today, or if it had been nothing more than a random selection made by her troupe-master. Finally he decided that it didn’t matter, as it boded a positive sign either way.
“We’d best start down soon, cousin,” Sabian Reif’s voice then slid through the lingering shouts of the crowd. “Tenth-hour draws near.”
Nathon looked over to take in the two Reifs. While it was true he found Sabian mildly unsettling, he considered Eugan a friend, having known the man for many years due to the close relationship of Lords Ean and Guerin. He was searching for signs of nervousness in Eugan now, mostly in an attempt to gauge how he would be feeling before his own fight the following day.
Eugan appeared calm but focused as he got to his feet. Nathon knew he’d entered the competition mainly to bring some prestige to the Reif name, and he wondered if Eugan was rethinking that strategy now. His face gave no hint.
“Wait!” Madi cried suddenly, leaping to her feet.
Eugan paused, turning back to the diviner with a quick smile. “Have you now decided to tell me if I should be nervous?”
“Unfortunately, that is something I still cannot answer,” she murmured, digging into her bag. “But I do wish to give you this for luck,” she went on, finally pulling forth a small, dried sprig of sea lavender. She held it out to him. “It is known to aid its wearer in success whatever their venture,” she explained.
“A token of fortune from Lady Madilaine herself,” Eugan smiled, taking the purplish-blue flowers. “There now remains little doubt that my victory is imminent.” He tucked the sprig securely into his waistband.
Madi smiled and nodded.
Sabian rose to start down with his cousin, and both Nathon and Taleb wished Eugan luck as he passed by them. Once the Reifs had vanished into the crowd, Nathon resettled himself onto the bench and turned to the diviner.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any more of those, would you?”
She studied him a moment, trying to discern if he was serious, before smiling. “I’m afraid not. Are you growing nervous?”
He thought truthfully on his answer before replying. “I would not say nervous. More so, curious.”
As it happened, much of what Oliveah had screamed at him and Taleb back at the vineyard had been true; while both men were gifted with the sword, in all honesty, neither had ever had much cause to truly be tested over the years. The games of the King’s Challenge, however, were commonly regarded as the test of all tests, and Nathon was looking forward to revealing the true determination of his skill. So far, and with the likely exception of the Jennite Rydin Kale, he felt he could have pulled off a win over any of the opponents he’d yet seen.
Madi seemed uncertain of how to take his response, and she shifted her eyes past him to Taleb. “And you Taleb? Your own match is only two days away.”
“And I would have it now if I could,” he responded forthrightly. “Actually, I’m much looking forward to simply getting past this first round so that those of us left can get to the more serious fighting.”
The diviner seemed at a loss for words after this proclamation, simply staring at him for a long moment before shifting her eyes back to Nathon. “Confident, isn’t he?” she murmured.
Nathon grinned. While his own participation in the Challenge was mostly for his peace of mind, Taleb, he knew, seemed to feel the need to prove himself before the very world. Nathon was hoping they wouldn’t be made to face each other during any of the rounds, for he was quite certain he wouldn’t be coming from the encounter the victor. Taleb was, in a word, fierce.
“Don’t sell him short,” he responded to the diviner in low tone. “I would not be surprised to see him take the gold.”
Her look turned cryptic.
“I heard that,” Taleb cut in. “But I’m forced to think that if you truly meant it, you’d have by now placed at least a small wager on me.”
Nathon turned to him with a frown. “I’m thinking that isn’t going to happen. Especially now.”
The two shared a disgruntled look. Neither was very happy with the promise Oliveah had cleverly wrangled out of them, dictating they needed to stay clear of all Thieves for the remainder of the week. Nathon still wasn’t certain what to think of her story explaining their presence at the vineyard, but it was true he could discern no other likely scenario. For the time being, he was willing to let the matter go.
Although, he was still rather curious to discover exactly who the mysterious Elvin Vikdal was, the man who’d spoken to Oliveah during the Ardin’s Pride festival and who’d claimed knowledge of both Lord Ean and either Taleb or himself. This matter grated at him, refusing to completely leave his mind.
“Well, in any case,” Madi told them, “it is not permissible for the combatants to gamble upon each other.”
Nathon frowned. “But all the betting is, technically, illegal anyway.”
“True,” she nodded. “But the blind eye given by the Justice officers does not extend to the participants. A few were caught at it several years ago and were banned from the competition, as well as fined. They were driven out of Aralexia in disgrace.”
Taleb looked at him. “It looks as though you will just have to find another way to earn your fortune, then.”
“In any case, I wouldn’t have been foolish enough to make a wager on anyone until I’ve seen the warlord take the field. In case you haven’t heard the talk in the city, most are simply assuming he’s going to win,” Nathon replied.
Taleb seemed to consider, then looked to Madi questioningly.
“The warlords always win,” she said, taking in his gaze.
“And in what sorts of conditions do they typically leave their opponents?” Nathon asked, curious.
“Warlords don’t kill if they don’t have to,” she told them. “I believe they view it as dishonorable.” She paused. “Although, it is extremely rare for the final match to finish with both men still alive, whether a warlord is one of them or not.”
Nathon nodded. Should he be selected to face the one entered in the games, the knowledge that warlords didn’t kill unnecessarily would be fairly comforting. What she’d spoken of the final match, to happen upon the last day of the week, was somewhat more concerning, although this truth did not come as much of a surprise. Of course it would be this duel, a match between the last two men standing, that would prove the most brutal.
Quickly pulled from his thoughts, he spotted Oliveah and Reavis now moving toward them, squeezing through the crowd to reclaim their seats. Her face carried the familiar glow of post-performance exhilaration, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed. Watching her, Nathon was uncertain if she was ready to give up this life that, despite its constant mix of highs and lows, provided to her such overwhelmingly joy. He saw no issue, if not; so long as he knew she would return to him, he was willing to wait a few more years until she was ready to settle and begin a family together. But that decision still lay ahead of them, and he knew she would not speak it before the concl
usion of the week; a reasoning he was actually grateful for, as he would possibly not be in the best frame of mind to duel should matters not fall his way.
She settled herself down between him and Taleb now, and the look in her eyes was quickly fading into nervousness as she glanced about.
“Did I miss Eugan? I wanted to wish him luck before his match,” she fretted.
“No cause for worry,” Nathon assured her. “Madi presented him with some sea lavender.”
“Oh—yes, all right then,” Oliveah nodded.
Nathon didn’t actually believe the token would have any influence on the outcome of the battle, and he doubted Oliveah did either. For a situation such as this, one would require items vastly more substantial than a few flowers to actually garner any measure of good fortune. As to what those items might be, he couldn’t say, although he figured the diviner could probably tell him if he asked.
Eugan’s match began just minutes later as the bell-ringer struck his brass bell. Nathon saw Oliveah wince before the first blow was even dealt, and he felt an immediate flash of guilt at realizing what he and Taleb would be putting her through when they took the field for their own fights. It was too late to change events, however, and the most they could do for her now was simply try and keep themselves alive.
Eugan landed a deep slash across his opponent’s shoulder early on, drawing an excited cheer from the crowd, but then failed in making a successful block and took his own wound across the back of his thigh. Both men were dripping blood as they paused briefly to regroup, circling slowly. Oliveah, by this time, had a death grip on Nathon’s arm, and he saw after a quick glance that she had a similar grasp on Taleb to her other side. He was seriously considering telling her not to even be present for their fights, but suspected she wouldn’t listen.
Eugan and his opponent were now back to trading blows, and, at least to Nathon’s eye, looked to be possessed of a similar skill—well-trained and practiced, but a little short of exceptional. Eugan managed to land another strike to his opponent’s side, blocked the retaliation, and swept his blade in toward the other man’s neck.
The crowd almost seemed to gasp as one as a sudden silence reigned, all waiting to see if Eugan would follow through with the strike or let his adversary, whose movements had now frozen in place, live. Eugan held to the position several more moments, and then stepped back and withdrew his sword with a flourish.
The majority of the spectators cheered him, the more bloodthirsty of them booed him, and Oliveah’s fingers slowly prised themselves from Nathon’s flesh.
“Oh—sorry,” she said, looking surprised to see the bloody marks her fingernails had left on his and Taleb’s arms.
“I’m thinking it might be wise to don armor tomorrow, once Nathon takes the field,” Taleb commented, inspecting his arm.
Nathon grinned. “A shield may come in handy as well.”
Oliveah glared at both of them. “Could the two of you be any more insensitive?”
“With ease, actually,” Taleb said.
She threw up an arm at him. “I don’t want to hear it! Now, I’m going down to give Eugan my congratulations, and then I’m starting back to the inn. I’ve had enough of this for one day.” She got to her feet. “Madi, Reavis? Do you wish to stay or accompany me?”
The diviner rose on Nathon’s other side. “I have no need to remain, now Eugan’s fight is over.”
Reavis was also rising. “I’ll see you both back to the inn.”
Nathon looked up and over at him. “We can escort them, if you wish to stay for the remaining fights.”
Reavis shook his head. “The first round bores me.”
Nathon didn’t really see how anyone could find even a single aspect of the games boring, per se, but then, he tended to understand very little when it came to Reavis. “Very well,” he nodded.
Oliveah turned to him. “Yours is the final fight tomorrow?”
“Yes. At Eleventh.”
“All right,” she muttered.
“We’ll come for you a little after Tenth,” Taleb said.
She nodded in wordless acceptance and then started off, following Reavis as he pushed his way toward the aisle. Madi trailed after them, looking, as she often did, lost in her own thoughts.
As it turned out, Nathon was glad Oliveah hadn’t stayed to observe the final two duels of the day. The first saw a Justice officer paired off against a man from Veron, a country clear on the opposite side of the continent, and this ended up being one of the most brutal fights of the Challenge so far. The Justice officer eventually prevailed, leaving his opponent dead and decapitated on the field below; an act which evidently proved too much for some of the women in the audience, for Nathon saw at least a handful of them begin vomiting at the sight.
The final match saw two Dhan’Marian men face off, and both fought with the hearts, if not the skills, of warriors. They were each riddled with an incalculable number of wounds, both minor and serious, as well as drenched in blood, by the time one finally grew sloppy due to his obvious exhaustion. The other pounced upon the opening, and it seemed his foot slipped slightly then in some spilt blood, causing him to unintentionally bore almost completely through the other man’s chest.
It was a grim conclusion to the second day of the first round, seeing three men dead and bringing the total to six already killed in the competition. Basically, this evidenced that fully half of the men defeated could expect to die here. Nathon found those to be fairly alarming odds.
They departed from the forum with the rest of the crowd, lost in the crush of people who were now spilling out into Aralexia’s streets in droves. Nathon was unused to such activity and having a bit of difficulty adapting to life here within the largest city of Dhanen’Mar, although he was doing his best to keep an open mind regarding city life. He suspected that come weeks’ end, though, he would be very happy to start back toward the Oslund vineyard.
Finding the streets more or less a maze when awash with so many moving bodies, he was basically trusting to Taleb’s sense of direction and simply following his lead as they swept across one street to start down another. There still remained several hours before the onset of dusk, and it seemed most citizens were now heading for their favorite taverns to rehash the events of the day over a goblet of wine or tankard of ale.
They’d just rounded onto the street Nathon recognized as the one keeping their inn when Taleb suddenly pulled up short, creating a small pile-up of people behind them.
“What is it?” Nathon frowned. Pausing next to him, he attempted to follow the other man’s line of sight.
“The mage.”
Nathon glanced back. “Are you certain?”
“Absolutely. Also, he appears to be alone.”
“Well, his timing is most inconvenient. We’ve been searching for him for the past two days, and now that we can’t approach him, he appears,” he grumbled.
Taleb finally drew his eyes from their target to briefly shoot Nathon a look. “We promised not to seek them out. Nothing was said about one of them walking straight into our hands.”
Nathon considered. “An excellent point,” he finally agreed. “Although I’d like to know what you propose we do exactly, in the middle of a crowded street.”
Taleb glanced about. “We’ll grab him and pull him into that alley, there,” he gestured with a nod. “So long as we move quickly enough, I doubt anyone will even notice.”
“If he sees us coming he’ll vanish and we’ll lose him,” he pointed out.
“We’ll have to grab him fast, then. Once we have a hold of him it won’t matter if he turns invisible.”
“All right. Let’s move.”
The mage, who Nathon was only able to identify by Taleb’s gesture, was stepping down the opposite side of the street. He appeared to be alone, and his movements looked a bit jerky, making Nathon think he wasn’t entirely healed from the stab wound he’d received at the vineyard. Nathon and Ta
leb circled around behind him, and then rapidly closed the distance just in time to each grab a hold of one of the mage’s arms as he drew up beside the mouth of the alleyway.
He gave a startled grunt as they hauled him into the alley. Nathon kept a firm hold, expecting the man to now fade from sight, but to the mage’s credit he remained visible as they roughly pushed him up against the alley wall.
“I thought,” the man began, his blue eyes skipping from one of his captors to the other, “Flynn and Oliveah worked all of this out.”
“We still have some questions,” Taleb told him.
The mage winced. “Fine, but would you mind easing up some?” He regarded Nathon pointedly. “I’m not completely healed yet, you know.”
Neither Nathon nor Taleb relaxed their hold.
“All right, then,” the mage frowned. “What do you want to know? I believe Flynn already explained that I was only hiding out in the vineyard until I could safely oust myself from Tyrell.”
Nathon glanced at his medallions. “It is your Secondary that boasts Thieves. Why did you not just flip it inward and conceal the truth of what you are?”
“Because,” the mage told him pointedly, “I’d just spent the entire week before walking about the city with it on display, making it possible one of the citizens would remember me for what I was.”
Taleb frowned. “That sounds a bit weak to me.”
The mage looked at him stonily. “With my life hanging in the balance, I didn’t feel especially inclined to take any chances.”
Nathon thought that sounded reasonable. “So, you were in Tyrell for the Ardin’s Pride festival? Are we then to presume you had a part in the events now being blamed on your kind?”
The mage paused. “Actually,” he finally said, “that was the reason I’d gone back to Tyrell. That and the melee that erupted at the Tulan ball.”
Taleb frowned quickly. “You were there?”
“Yes.”
Nathon quickly determined he’d therefore had some involvement in the theft of the Tulan’s horses and diamond. Most likely Fajen had masterminded the scheme, and also been present somewhere on the grounds that night.
The mage went on. “I was trying to find some explanation for those disasters. True, we Thieves may have begun the trouble, but what resulted stretched far beyond our ability to manipulate.”
A moment of pause followed this, and Nathon exchanged a long look with Taleb. There was much their captive wasn’t spelling out for them, namely that it must have been a feeling of guilt compelling him back to Tyrell, causing him to risk his very life as he sought some explanation for the carnage and death that had occurred there.
This was not an evil man standing before them. A thief, yes, but the intents he held in his heart clearly weren’t murderous ones.
Nathon removed his hold and took a step back. Taleb, he saw, was not quite so ready to do the same.
“So what did you find?” Nathon asked. Having witnessed first-hand the brawl at the Tulan ranch, he was very interested to know if the mage had found any explanations for it.
But the man just shook his head. “Not a lot, unfortunately. Although we do hold to a theory that Magic was somehow responsible.”
“You mean, this could have been caused by some sort of spell?” Taleb frowned.
“It’s possible. Perhaps a rogue mage was present and escaped my notice, or one wearing a Secondary of Magic somehow pulled it off. But if the latter is the case, chances are this person would have been born to Chaos.”
“The Jennite wears a Chaos Birth medallion,” Taleb said quickly.
The mage began nodding. “He entered our thoughts too, but since his Secondary remains hidden, we have no way of discerning if he’s a viable suspect.” He paused briefly. “Also, after witnessing his first duel in the games, I admit I’ve become . . . hesitant to investigate him further. I won’t envy either of you if you’re chosen to face him. Although I do find it interesting how he happened to emerge here for the Challenge, after being in Tyrell for Ardin’s Pride.”
Nathon and Taleb had found that interesting as well, but not really concerning as these were two of Dhanen’Mar’s biggest events of the year; it was not so strange to think Kale had just decided to attend them both so long as he was in the country. But what the mage was saying now certainly added some darker suspicions to the scenario.
“Perhaps we should look into this,” Nathon muttered now, thinking. Dhanen’Mar and Jennen had always held to a shaky peace, and it was not inconceivable Kale was here to simply stir up trouble and cause damage. Entering himself in the games would actually be a very good way of accomplishing this, to say nothing of what he’d done in Tyrell, if he was in fact responsible.
Taleb, by this time, had also relaxed his hold on the mage. “At the very least, we could report our suspicions to the Legion,” he mused.
“It’s a little late for that,” the mage told them. “Kale’s a participant in the Challenge, and no one is going to touch him, at least not this week. But it may be something to consider should he live through it. Naturally,” he went on, eyeing them, “I will leave such a task in your capable hands.”
Nathon gave him a wry look while nodding. Obviously, the Legion of Justice would have little care for any such words coming from a known thief.
Taleb was also nodding. “We’ll take care of this—one way or another.”
The mage looked from one to the other, a hint of amusement coming into his eyes. “If you don’t mind my saying so,” he began, “you two are much like a pair of hunting hounds. That said, allow me to profess my eternal thanks for no longer being the object of your obsession.”
Nathon now felt mildly guilty for having stabbed and nearly killed this man. Under the circumstances he could forgive himself, but was very grateful the mage hadn’t died due to his wound. He offered his hand, which the mage looked at suspiciously before moving to take.
Taleb appeared amused by the display, but he followed Nathon’s lead.
“Now,” Nathon said, “how about you tell us your name, so we can quit referring to you as “the mage”?”
“I imagine you had much less favorable terms for me these past few weeks,” he grinned, taking Taleb’s hand. “Knoxx Alvik,” he said.
For some reason, this reminded Nathon of the one matter continuing to plague him, and he quickly figured it would do no harm to ask the mage if he knew anything of it.
“The name Elvin Vikdal doesn’t happen to mean anything to you, does it?” he said. “A man you may have chanced upon during the week of Ardin’s Pride?”
Knoxx Alvik looked back at him squarely. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ve never heard that name before in my life.”
Chapter 31