Karruno tossed back the last of his drink. "You mean a duel?"
"Yes."
"Why? Does my mere existence offend you, little man?"
Karruno's companions laughed.
As usual, Calistin found the comment more grating than amusing. "A true warrior needs no reason for combat but accepts every challenge for the sheer joy of battle."
Karruno's brows rose. "Is that right?"
Calistin had never had to defend a Renshai proverb. "Of course it's right."
"Then," Karruno said, looking around the table, "I guess I'm not a 'true warrior,' at least not by your cute little definition."
Calistin knew an insult when he heard one. "I'm challenging all the best swordsmen of the world." He intended to enter the Northlands with a powerful reputation behind him. When he found Valr Magnus, he would not just best the Northman, but destroy him utterly. From swordmaster to buffoon, from warrior to coward, the North's great master of the sword would fall from history, from memory, from Valhalla.
"Why?"
Calistin had no intention of revealing his life story to strangers. He simply wanted to battle, to diffuse his anger in a wild flurry of combat, to learn the tricks of the best ganim swordmasters before he met the challenge of Valr Magnus. "Because it suits me."
Karruno clearly did not appreciate that explanation. "Suits you, eh?" He tossed knowing glances around the table. "It suits him to challenge all the best swordsmen in the world."
"Of course it does."The last of the trio finally spoke. Short, broad-faced and coarse-featured, he sported a dark mustache speckled with foam. "If he wins, he looks like a great hero. If he loses, it doesn't matter. He's only a boy, after all."
"I'm a man," Calistin corrected for the third time. "And my name is Calistin."
"What's in it for me, Calistin?" Karruno leaned forward, lacing his fingers on the table in front of his empty mug. "If I lose, I look the fool. If I win, it's simply foregone." He made a dismissive gesture. "Now, go home, boy.You've wasted enough of our time."
Karruno's companions made similar motions, and all three turned away from Calistin. They leaned forward, as if thoroughly engrossed in the conversation they had long ago lost.
Fire lashed through Calistin's veins. His nostrils flared. He understood that these men did not know him or his abilities, but their willingness to turn their backs to him meant they considered him no threat. And that was the gravest insult of all. Without another thought, Calistin dumped the contents of his mug over Karruno's head.
Ale cascaded in a foamy, golden wave, soaking Karruno's dark mop of hair, his no-longer-meticulous black cloak, and pooling in his lap. All three men were on their feet in an instant, rounding on Calistin. "You gods-damned little pissant!" Karruno yelled. "I'll wring your scrawny neck."
It was exactly the reaction Calistin wanted. His hand slid to his hilt, but he waited for his opponent to draw first.
The bar fell silent, except for the sound of ale dripping from Karruno's clothing. Every eye in the place went suddenly to their table.
Oscore shouted from across the room, "Take it outside!"
"Fine!" Karruno glared down at Calistin, a full head and shoulders taller than the Renshai. "You want to fight, we'll fight." He made a stiff motion toward the door.
The tavern emptied in a rush, as every man inside funneled to the streets to watch the battle. Soon, they formed an eager circle around the soggy farmer and Calistin. Karruno threw off his sodden cloak to reveal torn and soiled britches and a plain linen shirt. The sword and dagger still girded his waist. He shook ale from his hair.
"What's the end point?" Calistin asked calmly.
"First blood," Karruno growled, drawing his sword.
Faster than thought, Calistin drew, lunged, and retreated. "Done."
"What?" Karruno raised his sword arm to reveal a sticky trail of scarlet dribbling from the back of his hand. "Damn it. I wasn't ready yet."
Calistin shrugged. "Are you ready now?"
Sword drawn, Karruno crouched. "Yes."
Again, Calistin made a lightning draw-cut and resheathed the weapon in a single motion. "Done."
This time, a bright red line scratched across Karruno's forearm.
Karruno's face purpled. His fingers went white around his sword hilt. "Damn you to the pits, you smug little bastard! I'm going to kill you!" He sprang for Calistin in a wild fury.
Calistin easily dodged the assault. "So now the end point is death?" He did not wait for an acknowledgment. "Very well." His blade licked out only once through Karruno's furious assault and cut across the farmer's throat in a deep, fatal line.
Karruno's eyes went enormous with surprise. He dropped his sword and clutched at his throat, gasping in a single, bloody breath before collapsing to the ground.
"Done," Calistin said, wiping his blade on a soft cloth before returning it to its sheath.
For several moments, the crowd stood in stunned silence. Then some ran to Karruno, too late to help him but trying fruitlessly to do so. Others charged into the streets, swallowed by the shadows. A few remained in place, staring at Karruno's body or openmouthed and furious at Calistin. No one challenged him, however.
Finished with his task, Calistin headed out into another night of lonely sleep in the cold, wet Western forests.
CHAPTER 25
Cowardice is always wrong, but it is acceptable to abandon a battle if it can only result in killing friends.
The sun beamed over the western forests, promising a beautiful day of travel, and Saviar tried his best to savor it. He had discovered the purpose his life had lacked for weeks, he had found his twin brother, and the funk that had settled over him since his mother's death finally seemed to have lifted. No one was dying or mourning to excess. No one was stalking or harassing him to the point of violent confrontation. Even the denizens of the forest seemed oblivious to the two Renshai in their midst. Birds flitted between the trees, exchanging happy twitters. Squirrels scrounged unhurriedly for nuts, and tiny lizards sunned themselves on rocks still damp from the previous day's rain, moving only when a shadow fell directly across them.
Still, Saviar had to force himself to revel in the warm, clear comfort of balmy weather and the fresh aromas of evergreens and undergrowth. He and Subikahn would devote themselves to a conventional heroism his life had sorely lacked, and he anticipated so much exhilaration and worthiness in their future. It had taken immense tragedy to get them to this point, but those misfortunes were mostly behind them. He wished he could find the will to enjoy every glad moment his mind and heart could spare.
Yet, despite the weather, and Saviar's deliberate focus on positive thoughts, two days spent trudging silently through the western forests frayed at his mood. He had not given much thought to the journey, instead imaging himself and Subikahn performing heroic acts and earning grateful companionship, the finest drink, and plates heaped with fresh-cooked food. Between their feats of courage, the twins would discuss the time they had spent apart, learning great new insights about one another, and becoming ever closer.
Subikahn and circumstance, however, seemed absolutely determined to sabotage Saviar's glee. Whenever the redhead tried to engage his twin in conversation, his attempts resulted in gruff monosyllabic responses. No matter what he said, the topic veered to Subikahn's private dilemmas, which always resulted in an angry plea to let bitter secrets lie. Furthermore, Saviar had the feeling that his furtive brother was deliberately avoiding inhabited areas, forcing them to subsist on journey bread, weeds, and berries. Those seemed to satisfy the smaller, slighter Subikahn but left Saviar with a painful hole in his belly that further devastated his mood.