“Rebellion?” Teram shouted back at the king. “You’re harboring an evil sorcerer—”
“Told you,” murmured Javes.
“—taking him into your House, to the very throne! We are not rebels!” Teram waved his hand around at his men. “We are the last bastion against the corruption you have let loose on Iversterre!”
“And the fact that Lord Rabbit has sixty-four degrees and you only forty has nothing to do with any of it,” Jusson said, his mild voice turning dry.
“Sixty-four?” I asked, startled. “It’s not seventy-two?”
“No,” Javes said. “There’s some duplication. All that intermarrying.”
“I have proof of his sorceries!” Teram yelled. “Done right here in the Royal City!” He beckoned and an assorted group of people emerged from behind his troops to stand in front of him. Recognizing most of them, I sighed.
Javes sighed with me. “As I said, anyone could be suborned.” The server from the restaurant with cold drinks, silver-haired Guarez from the royal furniture shop, the duty cook from the Royal Garrison, a servant in Flavan livery, even the man who flinched away from me when we watered our horses in the park. I glared at the ground, thinking it was too bloody hot for this rotting nonsense.
“He also has seven brothers and sisters, each one twenty-four lines closer to the throne than you’ll ever be,” Jusson said, his voice even drier as he ignored the witnesses.
“All abominations, like he is!” Teram shrieked, the king finally goading him into abandoning his rehearsed speech.
“Why? Because you say so?” The king shifted in his saddle. “This has nothing to do with sorceries and everything to do with you coveting what you never will have. Not now, not ever, Flavan of only forty lines to the throne. We still hold the Royal compound, including the garrison and bridge. Our men have secured the city gates and our Own are now at the House of Dru. Your confederates have failed and are either fled or in our dungeons.” He waved a hand in my direction. “And Lord Rabbit ibn Chause e Flavan has once again escaped from your clutches.” The men in front of me parted and I smiled, nodding at my cousin.
“Not all have fled or are imprisoned, Jusson ibn Iver!” Teram screamed, flinging a hand up, and I heard a muted thwack, then a buzz, sort of like a bumblebee’s hum. I recognized the sound and my heart jumped, then sped up as everything else slowed down. I barely raised my shield before feeling a thump against it.
“Archers!” someone cried.
Another thwack and the buzzing sounded again.
Trust, the wind said.
The humming abruptly stopped, the square becoming absolutely quiet. After a moment I lowered my shield, an arrow quivering in it, my thumping heart the only sound I heard. Jusson was once more staring wide-eyed, but instead of at me, he was focused on an arrow that was frozen in midair a span away from his face. Beside him, Thadro was also wide-eyed as he tried to cover the king with His Majesty’s shield. I looked around and saw other arrows in shields and shattered on the ground, but more hung in the air, stopped midflight.
Jusson reached out a finger to touch the arrow in front of him. He watched it fall to the ground, as did all the others that hung in the air. He then turned gold eyes on Lord Teram.
Teram did not hesitate. “Witchcraft! See how the arrows stopped—”
“Take them,” Jusson said.
There wasn’t time for the trumpets to sound the advance. Nor was there room in the square for any clever battle plans, any elegant maneuvering for position. The two sides simply fell on each other with a clash that made my ears ring: swords against swords, against shields, against armor, enraged horses screaming, men shouting. Suiden swirled away, his sword rising and falling. I heard a man cry out and Suiden’s sword shone red. Javes pressed forward, his own sword flashing out and striking sparks as his lips pulled back in a snarl. I followed him, my horse shouldering king’s men, mercenaries, and rebel troopers out of the way in my haste. “Slevoic!” I bellowed.
I reached the front of the king’s line and out of the corner of my eye I saw Esclaur and another lordling both ride to the witnesses who huddled together in terror of wayward swords, battle-axes and flailing hooves. Jusson separated a man’s head from his body, then charged forward to engage Teram, but the Flavan lord instead rode towards me while Commander Loel bore down on the king. At that moment the melee parted and I caught a glimpse of purple. “Slevoic!” I tried to ride past Teram, shoving at him with my shield. But he dodged it and brought his broadsword up in a show of competence, the blade whistling past my head. I bent low, using my knees to turn my horse around to face him and raising my shield just in time to block a second hacking blow. I was startled at the power behind it, the hit jarring my arm.
“You should’ve stayed in the Border, cousin,” Teram said as he swung again, grunting with the effort. “But now I shall mount your head above my throne. And I shall warm my feet on a mountain cat rug.” What I’d thought was fat contained a fair amount of muscle—once again blocking his sword jarred my shield arm. He closed in, trying to unseat me, but my horse pushed his off, hooves flashing out, teeth biting at his horse’s neck.
Eso Dru, Slevoic’s cousin. I wondered how I could have missed the malice behind Teram’s “well met” front. I opened my mouth to speculate on his mating habits and probable parentage of his children but I found myself yelling, “Reaver!” as the rune’s warmth filled my hand again, traveling up my arm.
“Oh, really! Is that the best you can do?” Teram’s eyes slit in a smirk. “No ‘Murderers’ or ‘Assassins’?” He shook his head. “What a bumpkin!” He brought his sword around and I dodged out of the way. I then raised my own sword and this time he parried with his shield. He feinted, then swung once more at my uncovered head. I ducked, and at the same time brought my sword up to his open side. His hauberk deflected it, but I hit him hard enough to cause him to gasp for air, his eyes indignant that the Border provincial had dared to connect a blow.
“Reaver!” I yelled again, as the warmth from my hand spread across my body. I thrust at his sword arm and when he shifted his shield to block, I brought my sword around at his knee. He quickly lowered his shield to stop me, and I hit his exposed face with the edge of my own shield, his nose exploding like a ripe tomato despite the nose guard on his helm. Teram grunted, this time in pain, and tried to bring his shield up once more, but it had caught on the bottom of mine. I dropped my shield inside of his and pulled, yanking him out of his saddle, and Teram fell to the ground with a surprised shout and clatter of armor. He still held onto his sword, though, and tried to gut my horse by thrusting it up through his belly. But my horse reared up and danced on his hind legs, ready to bring steel-shod hooves down on Teram ibn Flavan e Dru.
“Hold, Rabbit!” A hoof from another horse came down, and Teram’s mouth opened in a gasping scream as his sword hand was crushed. I allowed my horse to land, his hooves alighting on either side of Teram’s head, and I found myself staring at King Jusson, Lord Commander Thadro behind him. Jusson gave me a very nasty smile, a cut dripping blood down his cheek. “This one’s mine, cousin, and I want him alive. For now.” More than willing, I moved out of the way as Jusson was joined by his wolf pack and guards, and I scanned the square. To my surprise, the battle was already ending; many of the turncoats were kneeling in surrender while Commander Loel lay unmoving on the ground. Several of the King’s Own had joined Esclaur in guarding the witnesses, while a mixed group of troopers, guards and lordlings rode past me to Flavan House to pound on the gate. More went down the sides of the mansion, where they also hammered on doors. Esclaur saw me looking and, with a word to a guardsman, wheeled his horse and headed my way at a fast trot.