Nat spat on the ground.
The other man nudged him again. "Look at what he's wearin' and ridin'. If he ain't no knight, he's doin' a damned good inidation. Else, he tooked that stuff off 'n a knight, in which case I don' think we wants to cross 'im, eh?"
"We're willing to fight," Darby said, snatching an ax from the cart pile with a quick, dexterous motion that impressed Ra-khir. He held it in battle position. Clearly, someone had at least started him in weapons training.
Nat snorted. He glanced from the bowmen on the pinnacle to the one on the opposite side of the trail. "I says we jus' shoot 'em and be done with it."
Ra-khir hesitated. He knew the bowmen would have doubts, if not because of murder, because this particular one could leave them hunted by two mighty kingdoms. It would be easy for him to remind them of their folly. A life-or-death situation, like this one, virtually obligated him to take control. Yet Ra-khir pictured his father: always resplendent in his knight's garb, the perfect picture of a Knight of Erythane, his commitment to every principle unyielding. Knight-Captain Kedrin would finish what he had started. He would let Darby parley, despite the mortal danger. To do the same, Ra-khir had to bite his tongue. Hard.
"Shoot us, then." Darby's voice held nothing but calm bravado. Only Ra-khir stood near enough to see the boy's hands shaking on his weapon. "Earn a cartload of trinkets and the wrath of the high king. The penalty for interfering with the duties of a knight is a traitor's death. What do you suppose they would do if you killed one in cold blood?"
Darby's words were not strictly true, but there was no law that compelled Ra-khir to correct such misunderstandings or to argue minutiae. Under certain circumstances, the penalty could become that high.
Silence settled around them, broken only by the donkey. It snorted restively, pawing at the dirt. The bowmen shifted in obvious discomfort. Nat might command the strike, but they would be held at least equally accountable for the killing.
"Or…" Darby continued, his voice unexpectedly loud in the hush. "… you can let us go, and I can tell you where I found this… junk." He used their terminology, making a gesture toward the loaded cart. "I took only a small portion. There's enough left to make all of you wealthy."
Ra-khir caught himself nodding. He had not meant to become a truth detector for thieves.
The other swordsman looked hopefully at Nat. "That sounds all right, don' it, Nat?"
Nat scratched his stubbly chin. "Sounds pert' good." His eyes narrowed. "If 'n it's true. An' he don' lie 'bout the location."
"How we gonna know that?" The highwayman looked at Darby as he asked the question.
Darby shrugged. "It's not far. You'll have time to go there, see if I'm lying, and still get back to catch us before we make town."
Nat grunted. It was hard to argue with such logic.
Ra-khir supposed the men might find the battle site, mark the location, and come after them anyway; but he doubted it. Once they saw the battlefield and the potential it held, they would want to stay and plunder before someone else found it. "You're giving up a lot," Ra-khir whispered.
Darby did not bother to turn to face the knight. "I have more than enough."
Nat and the other man talked softly together while the bowmen remained in place, their weapons still cocked but no longer directly aimed at knight and boy.
"All righ'," Nat finally said. "Start talkin', boy."
Darby cleared his throat then explained, in reasonably clear terms, how to find the battle clearing.
When he finished, Nat made a broad, arching gesture. "Come on, men."
The click of disarming crossbows followed the command, then the highwaymen disappeared into the forest.
Only then, Darby collapsed onto the dirt. The ax slipped from visibly shaking hands. "Why… why did you do that?"
"Do what?" Ra-khir asked innocently, listening for the sounds of the departing men to assure himself no one had remained behind to watch them. He did not think they would. No thief would want to risk losing a share of treasure.
"Let me… me… handle that?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Ra-khir rubbed Silver Warrior's neck. The well-trained steed had remained still and silent throughout the ordeal. "I knew you could do it." He showed no trace of his own trepidation. He wanted Darby to believe he had trusted the boy implicitly. He would have done nothing different for his own sons.
"But you scarcely know me. And both our lives were at stake."
Ra-khir doubted the highwaymen would actually have slaughtered a Knight of Erythane, though Nat had seemed just stupid enough to do it. "I'm a good judge of character.You have courage, Darby, intelligence and moral fiber. I knew you could handle it, and you did."
Darby climbed to shaky legs. He hefted the ax and tossed it back onto the pile. "Coming from you, Sir Knight, that is high praise indeed. And I thank you."
Ra-khir nodded. "And thank you for not proving me wrong and getting us killed."
Darby laughed.
"Did you ever consider becoming a knight yourself?"
Darby drew himself up to his full height. "Only my whole life! Isn't that the dream of every Western boy?"
Ra-khir had to admit it had been his. At least, from the day he discovered his actual father was one. "Apparently not. Not one of my sons has followed in my footsteps, though one did consider it." He tried not to think too hard about Saviar. The young man who had spoken with him so earnestly months earlier had disappeared without a word.
"Oh," Darby said with clear surprise. "I wish I-" he started, then apparently changed his mind. "A knight wouldn't allow himself to feel envy, would he?"
Ra-khir shook his head. The message had come through despite the lack of words. Darby wished he had had the same opportunities as the knight's boys. Of course, he had no way to know about the Renshai half of their heritage.
Darby smiled crookedly and returned to the donkey's head.
CHAPTER 27
Death in combat is not the end of the fight, merely its pinnacle.
Saviar insisted on finishing a full day's walk, though his leg ached so unmercifully he could concentrate on nothing else. That, in itself, bothered him. Renshai were trained from infancy to fight not just through pain, but because of it. Fatally wounded, they called upon Modi, the god of wrath, to give them the strength to take their enemies with them. Now, the single, simple act of walking demanded Saviar's full attention, and he felt like a failure and a craven. He appreciated that Subikahn remained silent, disappearing at frequent intervals to scout the way. If his twin had hovered over him, treating him like an invalid, Saviar might have felt driven to carry out his threat to kill them both.
For once, Subikahn made no complaint when Saviar ate heartily from their dwindling stores. "I've filled all the waterskins," he explained. "And I can get plenty more, so drink as much as you want."
The amount he needed to satisfy his thirst surprised Saviar, but he took his brother at his word. As he finished, he could feel the cold of the liquid seeping into his blood, chilling him deeply. He shivered. "Do we have any more wine?" They had confiscated it from a dead Northman at the beginning of their journey, savoring a few mouthfuls at a time. Now, Saviar hoped, it would warm him and take the edge from pain that seemed to multiply exponentially as the day wore onward.
Subikahn winced. "I used it all on the wound. It's supposed to help keep it from getting tainted."
"Which? The wound? Or the wine?"
Subikahn managed a lopsided smile at the flimsy joke. "It's been longer than a day. I need to redo those bandages before we go to sleep."
Saviar looked at the rags wrapped around his thigh, now sweat-stained and filthy. The flesh of his fingers looked oddly pale near his leg, and they trembled beyond his control. "Where are you going to get more?"