Hope you like it.
Reputations
Angel was late. Angel was always late. Punctuality was a concept that she had never quite grasped and no one was brave enough to make an issue of it.Still, I was using the extra time to enjoy a novel experience. The Twisted Crown had a reputation as one of Hartern’s best taverns and to my amazement I found that the reputation was entirely justified. The beer was as fine as I’ve tasted anywhere, the clientele lively enough to be interesting without being actively dangerous and the kitchens served a sublime piece of peppered steak.
I was wrapping a chunk of said steak in fluffy, new-baked bread, when a long fingered hand reached over my shoulder. It calmly fastened upon a strip of meat and retreated back to its unseen owner.
A moment later, Angel sat down on the bench opposite, chewing heartily.
“Now I see why you like this place.” She said, licking her lips.
I suppose I had better make some introductions at this point.
Most people call me Lucius. It is actually my real name, or part of it, and in my chosen trade I am considered one of the top artisans in the Betrician Commonwealth. More on that in a little while. I'm a little taller than average, in better shape than most my age and my face is nothing special at all.
Now Angel is very attractive indeed; about average height, with a slender , smooth muscled body and the sort of face that causes monks to abandon their order forever. She tends to get puzzled when people point this out, being somewhat innocent in some matters.
Angel has been my partner for a few years now and we work surprisingly well together when you consider that the first time we ever met was when she tried to kill me.
She has assured me since that it was nothing personal. Which makes me feel so much better.
In case you hadn’t already guessed, we are both Sword Masters. Give us money and we will guard your back, fight your duels for you, lurk menacingly in the background while you visit someone who owes you money, and so on.
Half the time we don’t need to fight at all. That’s how good people think we are.
“Doing anything this afternoon?” I asked, pushing my empty plate to one side.
Angel helped herself to a mouthful of my ale. “I think I have a commission for us, but not until Sundown.”
“A duel then.”
I couldn’t help noticing the strange expression that flitted across her features momentarily.
“Yes” she said after a moment. “Incidentally, why do you Betricians always fight duels at sunset or sundown? “
She was changing the subject, rather clumsily, but I would leave that for a little later.
“I think the original idea was something about the gates to the Underworld being opened at those times. We didn’t like the idea of angry spirits loitering too long over the duelling grounds.”
I shook away the morbid thoughts this conversation was stirring up and gently pulled my ale-mug free from her grasp. “Anyway, reason I asked was that we have something of a problem.”
From my doublet I pulled out a small, cheaply printed booklet, the sort sold on market corners to bored apprentices and dropped it onto the table between us. “See what you make of this.”
“I’m not really the type for scandal sheets?” Angel grinned, but she picked it up nonetheless.
I watched her expression change as she flicked through the lurid woodcuts and smeared ink, getting darker with each turn of the page. She reached the end and folded it shut and handed it back to me without a word. But her face was like something from one of the old temple paintings, where cold-faced gods walk through the flames of Hell, trampling screaming sinners underfoot.
“We cannot allow this.” I told her.
The duelling ground in Hartern is actually a very picturesque spot beside the river, part of the public parks we Betricians like to fit in wherever we have space. Tall, carefully placed laurel hedges conceal this part of the park from passersby. It would not do for clerks at their lunch and strolling lovers to have their pleasant thoughts ruined by the sight of sweating, fearful men trying to kill each other.
As we arrived, the Duelmasters were lighting torches and placing them in ugly,wrought iron holders around the edges of the ground. I nodded to one or two, I had been here enough times to start putting names to the bustling figures in their dark, sensible clothing.
Angel, as always ignored them. Instead she was watching the other entrance with an intensity I had never seen before. There was something my partner was not telling me and I was hoping it was not something that could get me killed.
“You never did tell me who my client is.” I commented. Not that I really cared but it took my mind off the way my stomach was starting to shrink into itself . I prefer bodyguard duty, if truth be told. When things are quiet I’m too busy scanning the street to get nervous and when things suddenly explode into violence, well, I'm rather preoccupied with not dying.
I think it’s the waiting. Standing around in the open air putting on a brave face for the customer while the sun oozes below the horizon and men in black coats wait on the other side of the torchlight, with a simple pine box at their feet.
“He’s here.” Angel was pointing to a pair of cloaked figures striding through the gate on the other side of the duelling ground.
“Then we had best go and say Hello.”
They could have been father and son but I doubted it. They were both tall and broad shouldered, with the sharp, watchful eyes professional fighters tend to develop very quickly indeed.
The younger man was narrow faced and sullen, clearly unhappy to be here. He dressed well but without excessive flamboyance and the matching sword and dagger at his waist looked well cared for. An apprentice, I would guess, someone to watch in years to come.
But the older man , now there was someone who drew the eye. The years had added extra lines and extra flesh to his face and his close-cropped hair was flecked with grey but when he swept back his cloak I saw the shadow of rolling muscles under his shirt.
“You must be Lucius.” He was smiling, which was a little disconcerting. “I have heard much about you and your partner.”
Holding out his hand, he added. “ My name is Iridamius. I am your client. Also your opponent.”
“I think now would a good point for a few explanations.” I was trying to keep calm. I didn’t want to go into a duel carrying a skinful of anger. Iridamius was reputed to be one of the best men with a blade in all of recorded history. He didn’t need me making it easy for him.
Angel spread her arms wide with a sheepish smile. “You can beat him.” she declared. “I have faith in you.”
“Aside from the fact that this is Iridamius, a genuine living legend, we are talking about and I am not sure I can “beat him”, I would like to know exactly why you accepted this insane contract in the first place.”
I was down to my shirtsleeves now and a stiff breeze was bringing hints of rain to come. What a wonderful evening this was turning out to be.
“He asked for you specifically. Said he had heard you were the finest swordsman in Hartern.”
Over on the other side of the square, Iridamius and his second were arguing. From the set of the younger man’s shoulders and the look on his face I knew exactly what he was saying. Like so many seconds I had seen over the years, he was trying to talk his man out of it. With a few sharp comments from either side, the discussion broke off suddenly. Iridamius turned and looked over towards me, a strange, thoughtful look on his face.
Angel leaned in towards me and lowered her voice .”Don’t ask me why, but I think he wanted you because you stand a good chance of winning.
Pushing my parrying dagger into my left hand, Angel patted me on the shoulder in the same way you would reassure a small boy stepping onto the stage to sing for the first time. “Remember this, if you kill him, we can put our fees up by a quarter.”
And with that, she sent me off to fight a man who had killed so many duellists even the Duelmasters Guild had lost count.
There were three of us out in the centre of the square. Myself, Iridamius and the Duelmaster Prime. There were formalities to be observed after all, otherwise this would be the same as an ugly little brawl down by the docks.
“Does either of you wish to withdraw?” The Prime was a squat one-eyed man with a deceptively gentle voice. Probably a swordmaster himself once.
“Iridamius and I shook our heads in unison. Strange as this might sound, it had never occurred to me to just walk away. I had a reputation too.
“This is an…unusual…case, but nevertheless, the customary rules apply. You will retreat to the white marks on the ground and wait there until I say “Begin.” Once battle is joined it may not be halted for any reason until a clear victor has been determined. Your seconds may not interfere, but may engage each other if they so desire. Fight bravely and with honour.”
“May I ask my opponent a question, Prime?” My request was unusual, but this affair would have the DuelMasters Guild arguing for years in any case, so he nodded and stepped back out of the way. Now it was the two of us.
“Why?” I asked
“Why you?” Iridamius was smiling.
“Why do this at all. Why hire someone to fight yourself?”
“Simple.” He said evenly.”I’m getting old. Either I stay in this game too long and have some young brat boasting that he killed me, when I was too old to even bring my sword up for a stroke. Or I die in bed. Withered, alone, stinking of piss and cheap wine. “
He shrugged. “Won’t do much for the Iridamius legend will it? So I thought I would just go round the Commonwealth picking fights until I found someone who deserved to win. End my story by starting someone else's.”
Then his eyes went cold and hard.” So come on. Let’s get this done.”
We took our positions and the Duelmaster gave us the word and then he was at me like a whirlwind. Even past his prime, Iridamius still moved like a snake, trying to slither that rapier inside my guard and through my heart, while the dagger in his left hand was a wall between my point and his flesh.
It seemed like forever. The two of us were locked into a spinning, quickstepping dance and our blades were the link that bound us together. Everything else was a void around me. There was only the blur of silver between us and the stamp and scrape of our feet on the stone.
Something scored a sharp line of pain across my left arm and then again along the left side of my ribcage. The next thrust would have opened up my throat but I caught the edge on the bellguard of my dagger , held it long enough to flick it away and then slipped my point past his guard to leave my own red trail across his white shirt, gouging out a narrow strip of skin from shoulder to nipple.
“Not bad.” he hissed. Then his point was coming for my eyes and the dance was on again.
A sword fight is like chess, I have heard it said, strategy and skill, move and countermove, except plans are laid and relaid within seconds while instinct and hard-earned reflexes keep each player in the game.
I could feel him tiring just as he could feel the strength seeping out of me. Then my foot slid out from under me and while I reeled off balance Iridamius lunged for my heart. His sword rang against my dagger and swept it aside, but the blow had been deflected just a little and with a surge of effort that strained muscles almost to breaking point I managed to twist to one side. While his blade scored a groove through the skin over my collarbone, mine was driving deep into his chest…
Iridamius slid backward off my sword and sat down hurriedly as his legs collapsed.
His second was already running to him, anguish twisting his face into something ugly. For a moment I thought me might launch himself at me but then he dropped to his knees and took his master in his arms.
I felt a cloak being placed on my shoulders. “ I knew you could beat him.” said Angel , so softly that I almost didn’t hear her.
I knelt down beside the man I had killed. Oh, he was still breathing, but there was bright, foaming blood on his lips and more staining his shirt a vivid crimson. A dead man smiled at me and said through gritted teeth. “ Well done. “
“People will talk of this fight, tell their children outrageous lies about what happened today.” I told him, waving to indicate the DuelMasters moving in on us.” Is that what you wanted.”
“Close enough.” he chuckled and then blood gushed from his mouth to spatter across the stones.
The street of Printers was a short one, barely a dozen sprawling, two storey buildings. At the bottom end sat the premises of Master Eminn, a pitiful little place with peeling whitewash and far too many gaps where slates should be.
Printers work late, as a rule, so we were not too surprised to see lights through his shutters and the clatter of machinery. The door was open, so we let ourselves in.
Inside stank of of ink and paper, so thickly it clogged my nostrils. Thick drifts of paper lay across everything, with the exception of the iron press that stood in the centre of the room , currently being manipulated in arcane ways by a youngish man in an inkstained smock.
“We wish to speak to Master Eminn.” Angel anounced in her most imperious manner. That girl has a definite flair for the dramatic.
“Come back in the morning.” snarled the printer without turning his head.
“I’d rather not.” I told the back of his head. “I would prefer to speak to him now . We have some news for him. “
He stood upright suddenly and turned around with a broad, slightly greasy smile. “Yacob Eminn at your service.” He didn’t offer his hand, stained as it was with ink and other substances.
I could understand why he had gone into his chosen line of work. Never have I met someone who looked so much like a rodent, even down to the slightly overlarge teeth. He had the sort of complexion I would normally associate with the newly dead and breath to match.
All of which made our mission easier.
I produced a certain booklet from my doublet and handed it over to him. It took him a moment to notice as he was too busy gawping at Angel. When he did, his face lit up again. “Oh yes. The Tale of Angel And Lucius .” he cried, “This should be one of my best sellers ever. I’m printing another batch of these as we speak.”
“ Is any of it true?” Angel asked , a definite edge to her voice that most people would have caught..
Eminn shrugged his narrow shoulders “I doubt it.” He must have noticed something in my expression at long last, because only then did he ask who we were.
“My name is Lucius.” I told him and his face went even whiter than it had been previously. A trick I hadn’t thought possible.
Then he looked at Angel again. Only this time I could see him studying her, rather than simply leering. One by one the tumblers clicked into place.
Female.
Wears mens clothing.
Carries a sword and buckler.
Travels with Lucius…
Luckily the paper everywhere broke his fall.
Once we had woken him up again, we walked him through to the back room which doubled as living quarters and storeroom and sat him down at the table.
I sat down opposite him and treated him to what I think of as my Number 4 “Slightly Psychotic” Smile.
Of all the things he was expecting, me placing a bottle of wine on the table in front of him was probably low on the list.
“I brought you this to wash down your dinner.” I informed him.
“But I’ve had dinner.” Eminn protested. Angel leaned over and dropped a pewter plate onto the table. “So then this shall have to be an early breakfast.”
And then I carefully placed a newly-printed copy of “The Tale of Angel and Lucius.” on the plate.
To his credit, he ate it all and the five other copies we made him eat before we were finished with him. When he was finished, he swore an oath on every god he knew that he would burn every single copy of his disgusting little book.
And just to make sure, I waited until Angel was out of the room before I had a quiet word with him. “Just thought you might like to know a couple of things. Firstly, this was my idea. Angel had something else in mind that you truly, truly do not want to know about.
And secondly, If I were you, I would hope she never finds out about the two chapters I took out of the book before I let her see it…”
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