Master and Fool by J. V. Jones Page A

needed to be clean. His hands and clothes
stank, and it wasn't fitting to even think of Catherine whilst he
smelled of the whore he'd just killed.
     

Four
    Jack was dreaming
about Tarissa again. His thoughts, which so carefully avoided her during the
daytime, seemed to gang up on him at night. She was always there; one moment
laughing, tempting, merry as a dairymaid, the next she would be crying,
pleading, falling on her knees and begging him to take her with him.
    Always, even in
his dreams, he walked away. Only tonight he heard her footsteps following him.
Jack's heart raced to hear them. He turned to face Tarissa, but she wasn't
there. Still the footsteps came, nearer than ever now. Jack spun around. Where
was she? The footsteps were so close the ground vibrated with their resonance.
    "He's in
here," came a voice.
    Not Tarissa's
voice. Not a familiar voice_ Not even a dream. Jack jumped up. His senses came
after him. He was in the baker's lodge and the light peaking in from the
shutters told of a new dawn.
    The door burst
open. Four men fully armed barged into the room. Nivlet, the one thin baker in
the Baking Master's Guild, stood behind them.
    "That's
him!" he cried. "He's the one the Halcus are looking for."
    Two of the men
came forward. Jack's hand was already on his knife. His mouth was dry and his
thoughts were still reeling with sleep. As he moved to meet the guards, he cast
his gaze from side to side, taking in the details of the room. Searching for
distractions. The wood shuttle lay to his left, well-stacked with logs. Jack
made a jump for it, kicking it toward the guards. The logs went careening
forward, forcing the two guards to step back. Jack sprang with them. His knife
was ahead of him, drawing ever decreasing circles in the air. The blade caught
one of the guard's arms. Jack put his weight behind it and sliced through
muscle as well as skin.
    Something nicked
him from behind. Spinning around he came face-to-face with the third guard. He
had red hair, a large red mustache, and the longest knife Jack had ever seen.
    "Come and get
some, boy," he encouraged. His sideways glance gave him away. He was
hoping to distract Jack long enough to enable the second guard to slice him
from behind.
    His eyes never
leaving Red Hair for a moment, Jack took a guess at where the second man stood.
He pivoted his weight to his left leg and then kicked back with his right heel
like a horse. He caught the man's knee dead-center. Groaning, he fell forward.
Jack made straight for Red Hair's blade. At the very last instant, he pulled
sharply to the side. Red Hair was already in motion, and his momentum carried
him forward. He went smashing into the second guard, who was rocking over his
knee.
    Jack had no time
to watch the outcome. The air burned in his throat and his lungs seemed ready
to burst. He turned his attention back to the first guard with the wounded arm.
The fourth was still in the doorway, biding his time. Wounded-arm had gotten a
spear from somewhere. He teased Jack with it, stabbing wildly at his chest and
thighs. Jack grew angry at the man's cowardice. Keeping a safe distance between
himself and the spear tip, he raised his knife to his face. Wounded-arm's blood
was still drying on the blade.
    "Hmm,"
said Jack, hoping to get the man to look down at his wound. "I'd see a
physician if I were you. Your blood looks a strange color to me."
    The man smiled.
"I'm not so easily fooled, boy." He jabbed his spear forward.
    Jack was forced to
step back. He realized he couldn't go any farther, as he was now backed up
against the wall. Something had to be done. He returned the guard's smile.
"I still think you may have to see a physician after all, my friend. About
that terrible slash near your eye."
    Just as the man's
face registered confusion, Jack tensed his knife arm like a spring and then
shot his wrist forward. He released his grip on the haft and the blade went
shooting straight for the man's eye. Once again, Jack didn't