Hands grasped at me as I bounced to my feet. To stay on the floor would have been surrender-or death, in a slightly different fight. I swiftly tracked Samma, standing now as well; and the looming bulk of the Rectifier. Where was Surali?
In this room I had too many enemies and not enough allies. Spinning away from Mother Vajpai, I blurted to the Selistani watchers, “She would bring down the god Endurance!”
That was a weak arrow with which to move them to action, but I had no better ready and no time to think of one.
Even then, I’d distracted myself too long. Mother Vajpai was upon me with a swift rain of pulled blows. She meant to make me submit without actually disabling me. I ducked into them, accepting the punishment on my shoulders and upper arms, to drive my elbow into her hip.
That caused her to step back as the joint folded in reaction. I followed the hip blow with a feint to her gut and an open hand to her face. Much to my surprise, the face blow connected with a resounding smack and an arcing sheet of pain strongly suggesting I’d just seriously damaged a finger or two.
Mother Vajpai stopped moving to shake her head twice, sharply. Blood was running freely. Had I broken her nose?
Good!
I stole another moment to spot Surali. Around me the Selistani men were moving, though I could not yet tell if this was space-clearing, flight, or incipient riot. The Bittern Court woman stood just past the Rectifier, raising something in her hand to point toward me.
The only way to defeat someone about to shoot you was to run them down and hope they missed. I’d played this trick before. I kicked off, intending to smash Surali’s face for her trouble-let her negotiate the purchasing of unquiet deaths with a lopsided nose and missing teeth!
Mother Vajpai had recovered faster than I’d realized. She grabbed my elbow to swing me off my intended course. I stepped into the grapple she offered in doing that, and butted her damaged nose hard with my forehead. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Rectifier’s hand close over Surali’s.
I pulled back from Mother Vajpai as she landed a slap on my ear that made my hearing echo dully. I tried for another head butt. She turned aside just slightly and I caught a shoulder in my sternum for my troubles.
That pushed me backwards, winded almost to the point of blacking out.
Mother Vajpai took advantage of my moment of incapacity to step away from the fight as well and put her hands to her face. Trying to set her nose, I presumed. A quick scan of the room showed me Surali on her knees. Tears streamed down the Bittern Court woman’s face, her hand still in the Rectifier’s grip. I owed him a thanks. Samma visibly nerved herself to step in, but I realized Mother Vajpai was waving the other Blade away with one hand even while the other still pressed against her own nose. My countrymen were hanging back to shout and wave fists.
By now most of the pardines in the room were on their feet. We were moments from a full-scale bar fight.
Wait… Something nagged at me. Why was Mother Vajpai keeping Samma from the sparring? Right now my old teacher desperately needed a foil to help her take me down.
I glanced at Samma again, then back at Mother Vajpai. Over the line of her hand, her eyes crinkled, even with unshed tears of pain glittering within them.
She was smiling at me, out of Surali’s line of sight.
Mother Vajpai had been fighting to lose. Already my body was in agony in half a dozen places, so her blows had been real enough. But she’d intended to lose to me.
Betrayals within betrayals. I nodded very slightly, just a tic of my chin, then rushed my old teacher hard. Her hand came down from her nose a fraction too slowly to block me, as I now knew it would. I slammed my shoulder into her chest, digging low and pushing up with the blow.
Mother Vajpai left her feet and slid backwards onto the now-empty table. Her head cracked loudly into the pardines’ stone bowl. I winced, but turned away, ignoring her and Samma both.
The Rectifier had pressed Surali to the floor. She was openly sobbing. I heard popping noises from her hand still clenched inside his fist. “We must leave,” I shouted in his ear.
“Should she survive?” he rumbled, his eyes flickering toward the Bittern Court woman.
“Yes,” I said, not even trying to weigh the benefits of having him kill her right here. This was not the Rectifier’s business. I wanted the Revanchists and the Selistani embassy to thwart one another, not launch an all-out war.
What if I gave him the Eyes of the Hills? Maybe, maybe, I told myself, but dismissed the thought for later consideration. Too much else occurring in the moment, too much else at stake. This was not the opportune time for important decisions.
The huge pardine dropped the Bittern Court woman’s right fist and swung his arms wide with a growl. The surging brawl inside the tavern made space for him and his wicked claws. I stepped close and kicked Surali hard in the chest, then stepped on her unhurt left hand, grinding my heel into her remaining unbroken fingers. Having someone spoon-feed her for a week or two might teach this one some humility.
Samma grabbed at my elbow as I turned to walk away. She almost got a faceful of knife blade for her trouble before I realized who it was. Her expression nearly stirred me to tears.
I followed the Rectifier out into the rainy night, cowering behind that broad back as the sounds of fighting faded behind us. Only the chilly, wet darkness welcomed me onward.
We found shelter inside an old grain wagon. This was a wooden box about eight feet high, seven feet wide, and twenty feet deep, down on its frame amid a jumble of junk and salvage in a narrow yard behind a wheelwright’s shop on Kraster Road. I’d never seen the place before in my life, but the Rectifier led me there by a steady, purposeful circuit through the puddled streets, obviously designed to allow him to spot and throw off any pursuers.
When we’d reached the little yard, the Rectifier was satisfied we were alone. So was I. Climbing through the collapsed stacks of old scaffolding and cart axles and warped lumber was educational. I had no idea someone as massive as he could so effectively squirm through such apparently tiny gaps.
Inside stank of mold and rot, but it was dry, and relatively clean. A small alcohol stove and a bedroll bespoke frequent occupation, though I wasn’t sure the Rectifier was the sort to bother with such niceties.
“This is your place?” I was still breathing hard from the fight at the Tavernkeep’s. My ribs were grinding with a sharp, discouraging pain. When had Mother Vajpai hit me so? I examined my right hand, which promised some marvelous bruising. All my knuckle bones were intact, somewhat to my surprise. I began idly exploring my mouth with my left index finger, wondering if any teeth were loosened from the head butts I’d delivered.
“I use it,” he growled. He added a few words in the flowing language of the pardines, which I had rarely heard spoken. I could not say if it was a blessing, a curse, or something else entirely.
Mumbling around my finger, I answered, “I need to check myself for serious injuries. Then I must ask your patience to hear me out on something.”
The Rectifier eased himself to the floor. He had not fought, much, but he moved as if something bothered him. Had he been in an earlier combat? “We will stay here this evening. My time is yours, until either one of us passes into sleep.”
“Mmm.” I finished exploring my mouth, then took inventory of my other hurts. Several good-sized lumps on my head, but the worst was definitely the damage to my ribs. There didn’t seem to be much I could do now except wrap them. I proceeded to do that with fabric torn from the lining of my stolen coat.