running over. “He’s attacked Tay!” shouted Kammel.
Taybard pushed himself to his feet. The crowd moved out, forming a half circle around the two young men. Kaelin Ring still had his canvas bag on his shoulder. Taybard advanced more warily. At least a head taller than Kaelin Ring and twenty pounds heavier, he was known for his street-fighting skills. His heart pounded, and a savage exultation filled him. He would make Ring beg for mercy. Taybard darted forward. Kaelin Ring ducked, moved to his left, and hooked his foot over Taybard’s instep. Taybard stumbled and fell once more. A sharp stone slashed his leggings and cut a shallow wound into his leg. Taybard cried out more in anger than in pain. He looked up. Kaelin Ring was still holding his bag. Twice now Taybard had hit the ground. He scrambled to his feet, aware of laughter in the crowd. It stung him worse than a whiplash. He advanced on Kaelin Ring. The black-haired clansman laid his sack on the floor. Taybard moved in and let fly with a straight left. Kaelin swayed aside from it and delivered a right uppercut to Taybard’s belly. Air whooshed from his lungs, and he sagged forward into a powerful head butt that smashed his nose. Taybard fell back, blood streaming. Fat Kammel ran at Ring and grabbed him. Kaelin Ring slammed an elbow into Kammel’s face. As he did so, Luss Campion ran in and thundered a punch to Ring’s cheek. The skin split, and blood sprayed out. Kaelin Ring lashed out with his foot, kicking Luss Campion’s feet from under him, then hit Kammel twice more with his elbow. Kammel let go and threw a clumsy punch. Ring blocked it and hit the fat youth in the jaw with a straight left followed by a right cross. Luss Campion had regained his feet and ran in behind Ring, grabbing him in a bear hug and pinning his arms. The clansman leaned forward, then threw his head back. His skull struck Campion full in the face.
Taybard watched Luss fall back. Blind rage and pain from his smashed nose overcame his reason, and he drew a small knife from a sheath at his belt. Kammel had grabbed Ringagain, and Luss ran in, hurling blow after blow at the clansman. Taybard moved in, ready to grab Ring’s hair, pull back his head, and rip open his throat.
Just as he reached the struggling trio, a shadow moved across him. He glanced to his left. A golden horse surged forward, its shoulder slamming into Taybard, knocking him once more to the cobbles. Two officers of the watch, one of them the famed Sergeant Bindoe, moved through the crowd and pinned the arms of Kaelin Ring. Luss Campion smashed two blows to the clansman’s face while he was being held. The officers holding him did nothing to prevent the attack.
“That is enough!” shouted Gaise Macon. “Release that man.”
The watch officers let go of Kaelin Ring, who half stumbled and then righted himself.
“Sir, this man attacked a Varlish citizen,” said Bindoe. “It was witnessed by most of the people here.”
“I also witnessed it,” Gaise Macon said coldly. “Three men against one. And he almost had the beating of them.” He turned his palomino toward Taybard Jaekel. “And you, sir. Let me inform you that had you used that knife, I would have seen you hang for murder. Now begone from here.”
In that moment all anger drained away from Taybard Jaekel. It was not the threat that caused it but the realization that he had come close to killing an unarmed man. Shame swept over him, and he swung away.
He did not go back to the market but instead ran down to the lake, where he sat on a fallen tree and offered up a prayer of thanks to the blessed Saint Persis Albitaine for preserving him from murder. Kammel Bard and Luss Campion found him there.
Taybard’s broken nose was deeply painful, and a headache was pounding at his temples. Luss had a lump on his cheekbone, and Kammel was sporting a swollen, blackened eye.
“We’ll get him another time,” said Luss Campion.
Taybard did not
Taybard pushed himself to his feet. The crowd moved out, forming a half circle around the two young men. Kaelin Ring still had his canvas bag on his shoulder. Taybard advanced more warily. At least a head taller than Kaelin Ring and twenty pounds heavier, he was known for his street-fighting skills. His heart pounded, and a savage exultation filled him. He would make Ring beg for mercy. Taybard darted forward. Kaelin Ring ducked, moved to his left, and hooked his foot over Taybard’s instep. Taybard stumbled and fell once more. A sharp stone slashed his leggings and cut a shallow wound into his leg. Taybard cried out more in anger than in pain. He looked up. Kaelin Ring was still holding his bag. Twice now Taybard had hit the ground. He scrambled to his feet, aware of laughter in the crowd. It stung him worse than a whiplash. He advanced on Kaelin Ring. The black-haired clansman laid his sack on the floor. Taybard moved in and let fly with a straight left. Kaelin swayed aside from it and delivered a right uppercut to Taybard’s belly. Air whooshed from his lungs, and he sagged forward into a powerful head butt that smashed his nose. Taybard fell back, blood streaming. Fat Kammel ran at Ring and grabbed him. Kaelin Ring slammed an elbow into Kammel’s face. As he did so, Luss Campion ran in and thundered a punch to Ring’s cheek. The skin split, and blood sprayed out. Kaelin Ring lashed out with his foot, kicking Luss Campion’s feet from under him, then hit Kammel twice more with his elbow. Kammel let go and threw a clumsy punch. Ring blocked it and hit the fat youth in the jaw with a straight left followed by a right cross. Luss Campion had regained his feet and ran in behind Ring, grabbing him in a bear hug and pinning his arms. The clansman leaned forward, then threw his head back. His skull struck Campion full in the face.
Taybard watched Luss fall back. Blind rage and pain from his smashed nose overcame his reason, and he drew a small knife from a sheath at his belt. Kammel had grabbed Ringagain, and Luss ran in, hurling blow after blow at the clansman. Taybard moved in, ready to grab Ring’s hair, pull back his head, and rip open his throat.
Just as he reached the struggling trio, a shadow moved across him. He glanced to his left. A golden horse surged forward, its shoulder slamming into Taybard, knocking him once more to the cobbles. Two officers of the watch, one of them the famed Sergeant Bindoe, moved through the crowd and pinned the arms of Kaelin Ring. Luss Campion smashed two blows to the clansman’s face while he was being held. The officers holding him did nothing to prevent the attack.
“That is enough!” shouted Gaise Macon. “Release that man.”
The watch officers let go of Kaelin Ring, who half stumbled and then righted himself.
“Sir, this man attacked a Varlish citizen,” said Bindoe. “It was witnessed by most of the people here.”
“I also witnessed it,” Gaise Macon said coldly. “Three men against one. And he almost had the beating of them.” He turned his palomino toward Taybard Jaekel. “And you, sir. Let me inform you that had you used that knife, I would have seen you hang for murder. Now begone from here.”
In that moment all anger drained away from Taybard Jaekel. It was not the threat that caused it but the realization that he had come close to killing an unarmed man. Shame swept over him, and he swung away.
He did not go back to the market but instead ran down to the lake, where he sat on a fallen tree and offered up a prayer of thanks to the blessed Saint Persis Albitaine for preserving him from murder. Kammel Bard and Luss Campion found him there.
Taybard’s broken nose was deeply painful, and a headache was pounding at his temples. Luss had a lump on his cheekbone, and Kammel was sporting a swollen, blackened eye.
“We’ll get him another time,” said Luss Campion.
Taybard did not
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