Player's Ruse by Hilari Bell

just wrote to your uncle and asked where young Rudy was. Master Makejoye’s been keeping your uncle informed of all his movements these past five months. I’d have intercepted you on the road if it hadn’t taken a bit of time for your uncle’s letter to reach me. I wish you’d read it, for he’s deeply worried about you. And he’d not betray you for pay, like this lot here.”
    Rosamund stiffened. It was Rudy who spun to Master Makejoye. “Hector, you didn’t!” It was a protest, not a question.
    “Lad, what would you?” Makejoye shrugged. “I hadn’t the least notion the girl would turn up, and he offered ten gold roundels just to tell him where you were. Since I knew you didn’t intend to abscond with her, where was the harm? Though candidly, even if you had planned to steal her away, I’d have done the same. How many times must I tell you all, I cannot challenge a man like Baron Sevenson.”
    “A wise choice, sir,” said Quidge. “You see, girl, they won’t protect you, but your uncle will. I can’t guess how much he’s already spent trying to see you safe. Just let me take you home, and—”
    “No,” said Rosamund.
    Rudy released her and started down the steps, his handsome chin thrust out. “Maybe Hector won’t protect her,” he said. “But I will!”
    He leapt from the steps as he spoke, but Quidge was ready for him—and a better fighter than Rudy would ever be. He caught one of the boy’s out-flung arms and ducked beneath it, slamming Rudy’s body to the cobbles as he did.
    The matter should have ended then, but acrobats know how to fall. Rudy hit the ground rolling and sprang to his feet, coming back at Quidge with fists clenched.
    “Michael, do something!” Rosamund shrieked.
    “We’d better stop it,” said Michael, “before someone gets hurt. You take Rudy, Fisk, and I’ll reason with Master Quidge.” It was probably a fair division; though Rudy was less skilled, Master Quidge was more likely to answer to reason.
    Having no desire to see anyone hurt, I laid down my hammer and followed Michael down the steps. We closed in behind our respective targets—no small feat, for they were prancing around each other, fists flying. At least, Rudy’s fists were flying. Quidge was mostly blocking, aiming a blow only when he thought it might get through. Rudy had a reddened streak along one side of his jaw, but acrobats are good at ducking, too, and it looked like the fight might last longer than I’d expected. Except that we were going to stop it, of course.
    I stepped up behind Rudy and wrapped my arms around him, spinning him away at the same time in case Michael failed and Quidge took an ignoble advantage—highly probable, from what I’d seen of him.
    Rudy swore and tried to throw me off, so I barely glimpsed Michael stepping in front of Quidge. I don’t know where communication broke down, but Quidge’s fist whipped past Michael’s ear. Then they were dancing and trading blows, as Rudy twisted like a serpent in my grasp and tried to stamp on my feet.
    “Try reason!” I gasped to Michael. He was a better fighter than Rudy, and after working all spring as a bouncer was in better practice as well. He and Quidge might actually do some damage.
    Rudy shoved me backward trying to ram me against the building behind us, and I dug my heels into the cobbles and pivoted so we both hit the stone wall sideways. It hurt.
    “Stop fighting, you jackass. We’re trying to help you!”
    A breathless curse was my only answer. Men fighting for their lady’s favor seldom want help, a point I should have remembered when Michael assigned Rudy to me.
    I was too busy to watch, but I could hear the slap of boots on stone and the occasional thud of blows. All in all, I have seldom been more grateful to hear the whistles that heralded the arrival of the watch.
    Rudy heard them too and stopped struggling, so I released him. We had our shirts tucked in and our hair tidy by the time the deputies