Leesha thought the fight would end there, but the young woman surprised her, springing with the pull to somersault right over the eunuch, placing them face-to-face again as she punched him in the gut.
This time Enkido gave a slight grunt, but he did not release his grip on her braid, yanking her head into his fist, sending a spray of blood from her mouth. Before she could recover, he stabbed stiffened fingers into a nerve cluster that collapsed her leg. He caught her wrists and twisted hard, forcing her down to one knee.
Both Leesha and Enkido thought it done, but Renna Tanner was full of surprises. She let out a feral growl, arresting her downward momentum. Leesha would have sworn she would not be able to use her leg again for several minutes and Enkido outweighed her more than twice over, but, gritting her teeth, Renna slowly forced herself to her feet against his straining muscles. The eunuch’s cold eyes widened in disbelief as their positions reversed and he was the one forced back, his spine bending like a bow and his legs quivering with strain.
She has powers in daylight, Leesha realized. Like Arlen.
Suddenly Renna twisted her arms, easily breaking Enkido’s grip on her wrists. She caught one of his, so thick her hand could not close even halfway, and yanked the man towards her, grabbing his belt. The eunuch landed a few more flailing blows as she lifted him clear over her head, but the girl ignored them, hurling him across the room to smash through one of the wood-panelled walls. Dazed, he struggled to rise from the wreckage.
The battle between Arlen and the Sharum continued to rage. Kaval and Coliv attacked as fiercely as Leesha had ever seen, but Arlen dodged and blocked easily, his expression one of calm focus. Occasionally, he returned a blow, simply to show he could do so with impunity. He took the knife from Kaval, slapping the drillmaster on the side of his head with the flat of the blade, knocking him into Coliv. When the Watcher next came at him, there was a brief tussle that ended with Coliv’s own punch-dagger stuck in his buttock as Arlen danced out of reach.
Leesha didn’t pretend to understand how warriors thought, but she knew enough of Krasian culture to understand that Arlen was intentionally humiliating the men. To charge into battle against a more powerful foe and be killed with honour was the dream of every warrior. But to be defeated and survive was the stuff of nightmares. She could feel the shame and helpless rage radiating off them, and felt almost pity.
Almost.
But they had tried to murder Arlen. She had it from his lips now, and despite her other doubts, this she knew to be true.
The Painted Man was born on the Krasian desert, four years ago, Arlen had told her, when she asked his age on the road last year.
And the man beneath the wards? Leesha had asked. How old was he when he died?
He was killed, Arlen said, though he had never said by whom.
Leesha watched as Arlen fought the two Sharum, and knew she was looking at two of the killers. Two of the men who had kicked him onto the path that led to the madness of warding his own flesh. Had Ahmann been one as well? Probably, if Abban’s warning had been true.
If you know the son of Jeph, if you can get word to him, tell him to run to the end of the world and beyond, because that is how far Jardir will go to kill him. There can only be one Deliverer.
Whatever he had done to her, Arlen was a good man. A good man these men had tried to murder, and very nearly succeeded. A shameful part of her wanted to see them hurt, and to spare the anaesthetic when she splinted their broken bones.
The two Sharum were positioning for another pass when a piercing ululation filled the air. They froze as Amanvah shouted, ‘Stop this at once!’ in Krasian.
Kaval and Coliv stayed their next attacks, but they did not stand down. The drillmaster spared a glance to the dama’ting, keeping one eye on Arlen. ‘Holy Daughter, there is much about this one you do not know. He is a blood traitor, laying false claim to the title of Shar’Dama Ka. Honour demands his death.’
Coliv nodded. ‘The drillmaster speaks true, Holy Daughter.’
Arlen smiled. ‘Tell me, Sharum, if Everam exists, how will He punish your lies?’
Amanvah turned to regard him. ‘So you do not claim to be the Deliverer?’
‘The Deliverer is all of us,’ Arlen said. ‘Everyone who stands tall in the night instead of hiding behind their wards … or underground.’ He looked at her pointedly.
‘My people no longer do that, Par’chin,’ Amanvah said.
‘Nor do mine,’ Arlen said. ‘All of us work to deliver humanity from the alagai.’
‘Holy Daughter, do not listen to this lying chin,’ Kaval said. ‘Justice and your father’s safety demand that we kill him now.’
‘As if you could,’ Arlen growled. ‘We have a blood debt, true, but it is you who owe. I could have collected today, but I kill only alagai.’
‘Why is this man such a threat?’ Amanvah asked Kaval. ‘From his own lips, he makes no claim on my father’s title.’
‘He diminishes it with his words,’ Kaval said. ‘Leaching your father’s honour with his heathen talk while he bides his cowardly time, waiting for the moment to strike.’
Amanvah’s face was unreadable. ‘It is you who attacked first, Drillmaster. My father used to speak often of the Par’chin, and never as anything except a man of honour.’
‘His honour was lost when he betrayed your father in the Maze,’ Kaval said.
Arlen stepped forward, his eyes seething. ‘Shall we speak of the Maze, Kaval? Shall I tell all gathered what happened that night, and let them judge who lost their honour?’
The drillmaster did not answer, exchanging a look with Coliv. Amanvah stared at him. ‘Well, Drillmaster? What have you to say?’
Kaval cleared his throat. ‘It is not a matter we may speak of. We have sworn an oath of silence to the Shar’Dama Ka. You must trust my judgement in this.’
‘Must?’ Amanvah asked, her voice a quiet lash. ‘Dal’Sharum, do you presume to tell a Bride of Everam what she must or must not do?’ The men stiffened, but still they held their aggressive posture, ready to spring at a moment’s notice.
‘Please, Par’chin,’ Amanvah said. ‘Enlighten us about the night of which you speak.’
Arlen shook his head. ‘You want to know? Ask the Spears of the Deliverer. Ask your father. And if they won’t tell you, perhaps you ought to wonder why.’
Amanvah squinted at him, then turned to Kaval. ‘Stand down and heel me. You will pursue this matter no further without my blessing, and I do not give it now.’ When the men still hesitated, she added, ‘I will not ask again.’
There was a finality in her tone that shook even the warriors, and they complied at last, weapons disappearing as they glided to stand at the young dama’ting’s back.
‘It appears your new neighbours will keep you entertained, Miss Paper,’ Thamos said, and Leesha couldn’t help but feel that perhaps his smug tone was justified.
Arlen came over to stand next to Leesha, his voice dropping to a murmur. ‘Glad to see you back safe.’
‘And you,’ Leesha said.
‘Ought to talk,’ Arlen said. ‘Tonight after dusk. Just the four of us at your cottage.’
‘Four?’ Leesha asked before she could stop herself. Clandestine meetings with Arlen were nothing new, but it had always been three. Herself, Arlen, and Rojer.
It was a pointless question, only confirming what she already knew. ‘Renna and I are promised. Where I go, she goes.’
She was surprised to find the words, though expected, still cut at her. ‘Rojer and Amanvah are married,’ Leesha noted. ‘Yet you would deny his bride the same right?’