"How could you possibly-," Rytlock began, but broke off as the man in sackcloth slid his hand, branded with the pirate's P, into the other man's waistcoat. "Impressive."
"This could be good," Logan said. "This could be very good."
"This could be bad," Caithe echoed. "Very bad."
"What?" her comrades chorused, but Caithe was gone.
"Where did she-?" Rytlock began.
Logan pointed. "Up there!" She was about a block ahead of them, her lithe figure slipping easily through the jostling throng. Logan strode out after her, dodging through the steady flow of traffic. "Excuse me. Pardon me. Look out!"
Rytlock followed, his scowl clearing the way-that is, until another charr approached. The two locked eyes and traded fuming expressions as they marched into each other. They crashed like a pair of bulls, horns clacking and shoulders shoving.
"Out of my way," Rytlock thundered, hurling the other charr aside.
The other staggered a moment, dug his claws in, and drew a sword. "Says who?"
Sohothin leaped up, and Rytlock smiled. "Says he."
The fool eyed the epic blade, clamped his teeth together, and swung his own sword.
Sohothin cracked through the fool's weapon, cutting it in half and dropping the tip in the dirt.
The attacker stared down at his suddenly short sword, turned, and ran.
Rytlock humphed. He now had an open lane, especially since Sohothin still flamed in his grip. He strode down the vacated street between buildings fashioned of boats, heading toward a large circular theater in timber and plaster. Judging from the roar of the crowd, a show was going on within-a show that had drawn Caithe and Logan. Striding up to them, Rytlock sheathed his sword and said, "What is it?"
Caithe turned to him, eyes wide. "An atrocity."
"Bearbaiting," Logan said ruefully.
"Bear what?" Rytlock craned to peer through the archway into the triple-decked theater within.
A circling throng surrounded a patch of sand where a grizzly bear stood on its hind legs. A spiked collar was cinched around its neck, and a chain bound it to a stout post. Within its black coat ran rivulets of blood.
The same blood painted a spiked mace in the hand of a muscular brute. The man wore a grimacing grin and breathed excitedly as he circled just outside the reach of the bear's claws. "Want this? Want this?" the man asked, swiping the mace at the creature.
The bear roared and batted the weapon away. The crowd, their enthusiasm strengthened by the rows of bottles along the walls, roared back.
The man spun about, swinging the mace in a full arc and bringing it back to smash the bear's face. Spikes pierced the muzzle and cracked fangs. The bear reeled back, blood spraying from its jowls. A mad cheer rang from the crowd as the beast staggered against the post and almost fell.
But it didn't fall. Someone was holding it up with slender arms.
"I will stand with you, brother," Caithe said.
The crowd's bloodthirsty cheer faltered.
At the back of the crowd, Rytlock wondered, "How'd she get up there?"
"She's going to get herself killed," Logan said, pressing forward.
The bear could have bitten her throat or torn out her stomach, but it didn't. It seemed to know by touch that she was a friend.
The man with the mace thought otherwise. "Get away! I paid for five licks, and I'll get them."
"Yes, you will," Caithe replied, drawing her white stiletto and spinning it before her.
The man eyed the dagger and then his gory mace. He cocked a grin. "Seems you got a problem with reach, girl." He swung the mace at her head.
Caithe ducked, the spiked ball scraping along her shoulder. Lunging, she rammed her dagger into the man's hand and split his middle finger from his ring finger. Blood gushed, and the mace tumbled to the sand.
The man staggered back, cradling his bleeding hand. "She stabbed me! Get her!"
Six of the man's mates leaped over the half-wall that kept back the crowd. Swords rose from scabbards and cudgels from belts. The men grinned, and the crowd cheered.
Until Logan and Rytlock stepped up beside their friend.
Caithe smiled. "You love bears?"
Rytlock scowled. "I hate bullies."
"I thought you hated sylvari."
"I hate bullies more."
Logan muttered, "There's six of them and three of us."
"Hardly fair," Rytlock agreed, "for them."
One of the thugs snapped a whip, which lashed around Rytlock's neck. He reared back, yanked the man off his feet and into the air, and head-butted him. The man crumpled in a heap at the charr's feet.
"Now there's five."
A thug swung his sword at Logan. He bashed the blade down, stepped on the end, and smashed his hammer into the man's shoulder. The thug staggered sideways into one of his comrades. Both men spilled to the ground.
Meanwhile, Caithe deftly danced away from a morning star. The man who wielded it shrieked in frustration and swung at her face. Caithe dodged back and jabbed her dagger into the morning star's chains, fouling them. She wrenched the weapon from the man's hand and grabbed his throat. "You'll be getting sleepy," she warned as he went limp in her grip. She dropped him to the ground.
Beside the man fell two smoldering clubs, shorn off by Sohothin. The men who had held them moments before turned to run, but Rytlock kicked one into the other, and they crashed together to the ground.
"Anyone else?" the charr roared. "We got licks for all of you!"
The crowd stared back in terrified silence.
"Well, then, how about this?" Rytlock rammed Sohothin into the chain that bound the bear to the pole. Twisting, the charr shattered the chain, and the tormented grizzly was loose.
The onetime bravado of the crowd melted to terror. Screaming, they climbed over each other to get out the gate. The bear charged along the back of the crowd, snapping at them.
"We have to make sure he gets out of the city alive," Caithe said.
Rytlock's jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding."
"What's a grizzly going to do in a city?"
Rytlock watched the bear swipe at screaming spectators. "He knows exactly what to do."
"He's our responsibility, now," Caithe said.
The charr's claws slashed that idea from the air. "I'm not responsible for anybody but myself. I'm going to find a gate to the Black Citadel."
Logan blocked his path. "About that gate-"
"What!" Rytlock roared.
"You can go through it, but you can't take Rurik's sword with you."
"Here we go," Rytlock said. Sohothin ripped through the air before Logan. "Just try to stop me."
Logan flung out his hands, and a blue ball of energy deflected the blade. Wreathed in flame, the legendary blade swung back behind Rytlock. Logan smiled tightly. "We'll see who stops whom."
Caithe shook her head, stepping back.
Rytlock spread his arms and let Sohothin blaze above him. "We fight to the death after all!"
Logan stood his ground. "I don't want to kill you. I don't even want to hurt you. But, you can't take that sword with you."
"It's my sword!"
"It's Rurik's sword! A human sword! You stole it from us just like you stole Ascalon."
"You're deluded."
Blue aura erupted from Logan's hands and swarmed across his hammer. He hauled it overhead to smash into the sand. A profound boom shook the bearbaiting den, flinging Rytlock backward against the half-wall. He smashed it to the ground.
"What are you doing?" Caithe shouted at Logan.
Rytlock roared as he climbed to his feet. "What he's doing is picking out his burial plot." He charged, and Sohothin fell like lightning.
Logan rolled away, flinging sand from his heels. Some of the grains flared like tiny meteors in Sohothin's mantle. The sword chopped through another half-wall, igniting years' worth of spilled spirits. Flames raced around the pit and leaped to the stands.