"Then," Calistin informed him, "you'll be the oldest man I've ever killed."
Treysind cringed. Calistin suddenly realized the boy did that a lot when he spoke.
Silence descended over the room as everyone waited for Savage's retort.
Finally, the enormous man laughed, waving dismissively. "I like your audacity, boy. That's why I'm going to give you and your little friend there a chance to leave now. Alive." He gestured to one of his cronies to open the front door.
The youth obeyed without hesitation. The latch clicked back open, and the panel eased inward.
Calistin watched the door but made no movements of his own. He measured Savage: well-muscled yet agile, probably quicker than one might expect for a man of his size. The others would prove no obstacle, only interesting distractions.
Treysind retreated a few steps in the wrong direction. Clearly, he intended to keep his promise to allow Calistin to handle the fighting alone. The Renshai remained firmly in place.
Savage frowned. "You're trying my patience, boy. I'm not usually this generous."
Calistin refused to be baited with words. "I'm not the one delaying this battle, old man." He glanced around at the other brawlies. "Your friends may leave, if they wish. They're hardly worth a sword stroke."
None of the toughs took a step. Swords rasped from sheaths.
"My men are loyal." Savage made a sharp gesture, and his nearest companion hurriedly shut and relatched the door.
"If they're so loyal," Calistin taunted. "Why do you feel the need to lock them in?"
Savage drew a wicked-looking, curve-bladed sword with a serrated edge that reminded Calistin of the ones the pirates used in Bearn. A dagger appeared in his left hand as well. He cut the air with them. "Put the bugger in carry position!"
As one, the toughs moved in on Calistin, and Khalen retreated to the farthest corner.
Calistin faked a yawn as the first man made a clumsy cut. The Renshai leaped onto one of the tables, stepped on the brawly's shoulders, then vaulted over them to face the leader directly. Only then, his swords cleared their sheaths, cutting for Savage.
Savage managed a hurried block that caught one of Calistin's blades. He dodged the other, inadvertently slamming a hip into one of the many tables. Bolts of cloth tumbled to the floor. "Get him!"
Already in motion, the brawlies charged Calistin from behind. He spun full circle, parrying one strike, slicing a deep gouge through one's jerkin, and knocking a third to the ground. He completed the move with a strike to Savage's face that nearly claimed his nose. Blood exploded from the wound, gushing down his face.
Savage howled with pain and anger. He attacked in a brutish frenzy that left no room for defense. Calistin danced around the wild strokes, excited as a toddler in his first spar.
"Behind you!" Treysind screamed.
Calistin had not forgotten his other opponents. In fact, he had already numbered them in the order he intended to kill them; it added an extra dimension of difficulty. He skipped through a weaving web of steel, feeling more than seeing it. His backstroke laid a man out, unconscious but alive-it was not yet his turn. Then Calistin bore in, stabbing straight through Savage's abdomen to skewer the kidney behind.
Shock paralyzed Savage's face. Forced to step on the man's toes to liberate his sword, Calistin ripped the blade free, flinging gore across the folded silks and cottons, to meet the expected rush from behind him.
Savage collapsed, taking down three tables with him. Calistin faced the other four brawlies, no longer at his back. None charged him. They all stood, staring at the crumpled body of their leader, except for the one lying on the floor, knocked cold.
Calistin realized he had miscalculated. By taking out the leader first, he had staunched the others' will to fight. "Have at me!" he howled, advancing. "Don't just stand there, you whimpering cowards! Have… at… me!"
The three young brawlies glanced at one another, then lunged toward Calistin. But the bloodlust had disappeared, replaced by an uncertainty that stole the surety and power of their strokes. Calistin did not even bother to parry. The challenge had to come from within, and he placed conditions on his success that hampered him. Staying with his assigned order, he used a single stroke to tear one brawly from stomach to shoulder and slash open the neck of another.
Calistin dodged under the fountain of blood, avoided the organs spilling out of the first, and turned to face the last tough standing. This one retreated, which suited Calistin. Let the coward hide. He's not next.
"Mercy," the last conscious brawly begged. "Mercy, please, master. I won't cause no more trouble. I promise. I promise!"
Calistin kicked the youth he had knocked out. He stirred, groaning.
"Get up," Calistin demanded. "Get up and defend yourself, or die a blithering coward like your friend there." Calistin tipped his head toward the remaining man.
The indicated brawly sank to his knees, his gaze going to Khalen and Treysind.
The downed tough turned Calistin a groggy look that earned him another kick. "Get up!"
Instead of rising, the brawly closed his eyes and sank back to the floor.
Disgusted, Calistin inserted his blade through the rib cage and into the heart, watching his victim stiffen and then go utterly still. Freeing his sword, he looked toward the last of the brawlies who now cowered behind several tables.
As the Renshai met his gaze, the man lowered his head. "Please, sir. Spare me. Whatever you want, I'll do it." Slowly and deliberately, he laid his sword on one of the tables and raised his hands to show them empty.
Calistin scoffed. Light as a cat, he moved toward the man. "You would rather die disarmed then fighting? The very definition of a coward."
"Yes," the man agreed. "I'm a coward. Not worth the effort of killing me, sir." He gave Khalen a wild, pleading look, eyes welling with tears. "But I can be useful in other ways. I can, sir. I can… I can… clean up." He made a cautious gesture, as if worried anything more might be misinterpreted as an attack. "I can undo the bad we've done."
Calistin took another step closer. "Shall I show you the same mercy you would have shown this merchant?"
"We were just after money. We wouldn't have hurt him."
Calistin took another step.
"Honest."
Khalen finally spoke, softly, as if to an overwhelmed child, "Spare him. I'll put him to work."
"He'll put me to work." The brawly seized on this opening. "And I'll do it, too. Happily and well."
Calistin glided around the last table, and the brawly cringed toward Khalen.
Treysind spoke from the shadows. "Hero, I thinks ya should let 'im go."
Calistin did not care what his little companion thought. He had been promised five to six fighting men and got the equivalent of three.
Treysind added, "He ain't worth bloodyin' yas sword."
Calistin shook the blade, dislodging a clot of gore. "It's already bloody. And what's it to you if he lives or dies?"
"It's not nothin' ta me," Treysind had to admit. "But I feels sorry fo' 'im."
Now, Khalen intentionally stepped in front of the brawly, though he did so nervously. The top of his head barely reached the young man's chin. "Hero," he said, using Treysind's name for Calistin. "I appreciate what you've done for me, but it's over. Someone has to clean this mess, and it's certainly not going to be you."
"I'll do it," the brawly chimed in. "I'll handle the bodies. I'll fix every table and wash every scrap of fabric.You can kill me if I don't."
Calistin weighed the promises against the satisfaction of cracking open the young man's skull.
Treysind did not wait for Calistin to reply. "Settled, then. Yas fix up Khalen's shop perfec', an' he don't kill ya." He indicated the merchant, then the Renshai, in turn. "Ya's not workin' or tries ta run off, he kills ya."
Calistin ground his teeth but did not speak. Once again, Treysind had dared to barter for him, and he did not like it. Griping about it, however, would only diminish him in his opponent's eyes. He could easily lunge around tables, Treysind, and Khalen to kill the brawly in an instant. He would be done before anyone figured out his intention.