Wildly, of course. She didn't have to move but a hand's breadth to dodge out of his way -- but that only served to anger him further, and he came at her, windmilling his blade fit to cut the air into ribbons.
She rolled off the bench and came up on her toes. He followed so closely on her heels that she had only time to dodge, drop to her shoulder and roll out of his way again, under the shelter of another bench.
As he kicked at her shelter, she could see that Warrl was beneath the table, grinning at her.
You mangy flea-monger, you started this! she thought at him, avoiding the drunk's kick, but losing her shield. She scrambled to her feet again, dodging another swing.
:I did no such thing,: Warrl replied coolly. :lt was purely accident.:
She got a table between herself and the sot-but the drunk swung, split the table in two, and kept coming.
Lady's teeth, I daren't use a blade on him, I'll kill him by accident, she thought. And then I'll have the townsfolk or his friends on our backs.
She looked about her in a breath between a duck and a dodge. In desperation she grabbed a broom that was leaning up in a corner by the kitchen door.
Since he was flailing away as much with the flat as with the edge, and since she could pick the angle with which she met his weapon, she was now effectively on equal footing. Mostly.
He was still drunk as a pig, and mad as a hornet's nest. And he wanted to kill her.
She countered, blocked, and countered again; blocked the blade high and slipped under it to end up behind him.
And swatted his ample rear with the business end of the broom.
That was a mistake; he was angered still more, and his anger was making him sober. His swings were becoming more controlled, and with a lot more force behind them-
Tarma looked around for assistance. Kethry was standing over in the sheltered comer beside the fireplace, laughing her head off.
"You might help!" Tarma snapped, dodging another blow, and poking the drunk in the belly with the end of the broom. Unfortunately, the straw end, or the contest would have finished right there.
"Oh, no, I wouldn't think of it!" Kethry howled, tears pouring down her face. "You're doing so well by yourself!"
Enough is enough.
Tarma blocked another stroke, then poked the sot in the belly again-but this time with the sharp end of the broom.
The man's eyes bulged and he folded over, dropping his sword and grabbing his ample belly.
Tarma ran around behind him and gave him a tremendous swat in the rear, sending him tumbling across the room -- where he tripped and fell into the cold fireplace, his head meeting the andiron with a sickening crack.
Silence fell, thick as the heat, and Tarma got a sinking feeling in her stomach.
"Oh, hell--" Tarma walked over to the fallen drunk and poked him with her toe.
No doubt about it. He was stone dead.
"Oh, hell. Oh, bloody hell."
The innkeeper appeared at her elbow as silently and mysteriously as he'd vanished. He looked at the shambles of his inn -- and took a closer look at the body.
"By the gods--" he gulped. "You've killed Lord Gorley!"
"Your husband may not have been much before, Lady, but I'm afraid right now he's rather less," Tarma said wearily. Somewhat to her amazement, the innkeeper had not summoned what passed for the law in Viden; instead he'd locked up the inn and sent one of his boys off for Lady Gorley. Tarma was not minded to try and make a run for it -- unless they had to. The horses were tired, and so were they. It might be they could talk themselves out of this one.
Maybe.
The Lady had arrived attended by no one -- which caused Kethry's eyebrow to rise. And she wasn't much better dressed than a well-to-do merchant's wife, which surprised Tarma.
It was too bad they'd had to meet under circumstances like this one; Tarma would have liked to get to know her. She held herself quietly, but with an air of calm authority like a Shin'a'in shaman. A square face and graying blonde hair held remnants of great beauty -- not ruined beauty either, just transformed into something with more character than simple prettiness.
She gazed dispassionately down on the body of her former Lord for several long moments. And Tarma longed to know what was going on in her head.
"I'm afraid I have to agree with your assessment on all counts, Shin'a'in," she replied. "I shan't miss him, poor man. Neither will anyone else, to be frank. But this puts us all in a rather delicate position. I appreciate that you could have fled. I appreciate that you didn't--"
"No chance," Kethry answered, without elaborating. She'd signaled to her partner that her damned ensorcelled blade had flared up at her the heartbeat after Lord Gorley breathed his last. Plainly his Lady would be in danger from his death. Just as plainly, Need expected them to do something about this.
"Well." Lady Gorley turned away from the body as a thing of no importance, and faced Tarma. "Let me explain a little something. In the past several years Kendrik has been more and more addicted to the bottle, and less and less capable. The Viden-folk took to bringing me their business, and when Kendrik hired that gang of his and began extracting money from them, I began returning it as soon as it went into the treasury. No one was hurt, and no one was the wiser."
"What about--" Tarma coughed politely. "Begging your pardon milady, but that kind of scum generally is bothersome to young women--"
She smiled thinly. "The men satisfied their lust without rapine -- Kendrik knew I wouldn't stand for that, and I was the one who saw to his comforts. One week of doing without proper food and without his wine taught him to respect my wishes in that, at least. And the one time Kendrik took it into his head to abscond with a Viden-girl -- well, let us just say that his capabilities were not equal to his memories. I smuggled the girl out of his bed and back to her parents as virgin as she'd left."
"So that's why--"
"Why none of us cared to see things disturbed," the innkeeper put in, nodding so hard Tarma thought his head was going to come off. "Things was all right -- we'd warn travelers, and if they chose to disregard the warnings--" he shrugged. "--sheep was meant to be sheared, they say, and fools meant to share the same fate."
"So what's the problem?" Tarma asked, then realized in the next breath what the problem was. "Ah -- the bullyboys. Without Kendrik to pay 'em and to keep his hand on 'em--"
Lady Gorley nodded. "Exactly. They won't heed me. I would be in as much danger from them as my people. We're farm and tradesfolk here; we would be easy prey for them. It will be bad if I keep them, and worse if I discharge them."
Tarma pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Your respect, Lady, but I've got no wish to take on a couple dozen bad cases with just me and my partner and less than a day to take them out. But maybe if we put our heads together--"
"You've got until moonrise," Lady Gorley said, handing a pouch up to Tarma that chinked as she looked inside before stowing it away in her saddlebag. Light streaming from the back door of the inn gave Tarma enough illumination to see that more than half the coins were gold. "That is really all the time we can give you. And I'm sorry I didn't have much to pay you for your discomfort."