Ghostwalker - Erik Scott De Bie [23]
"Arya, if it please you, Cousin Meris," the young woman said with an awkward bow.
"Whatever it was," Meris said dismissively. He was eyeing her up and down.
Arya stifled a twinge of irritation. "I'm sorry for startling you, sir," she said. Meris's eyes flickered back to her face. There was fire in those eyes. Arya did not care to think where they might have lingered before. "And for colliding with you."
"Apology accepted," Meris said. "And I'm no knight, lass. I wouldn't address me by a title that matters nothing to me. I might take offense."
Arya was appalled. The lady knight made it a point not to stand on ceremony, but Meris's complete discourtesy made her gape.
Derst stepped up beside Arya. "Have a care how you address the good lady knight, Goodman," he said. His words were civil, but when spoken with that whiplike tongue they carried a thinly veiled threat. "She might take offense at your uncultured tongue."
Meris's smoldering eyes shot to the rapier-thin knight. His nose turned up. "Silence, boy," he said, even though Derst had clearly seen a couple more winters than had Meris. Greyt's son was probably about the same age as Arya. "Can't you see the wench and I were having a conversation?"
All three started.
Meris continued speaking to Derst. "Your face displeases me. Begone, before I have to show you out myself."
"That is no way to talk to a knight," Bars growled. He looked at Derst and shrugged. "Well, I can see the argument, but he is a knight, after all, and that's no way to speak in front of a lady." Meris lifted his brow.
"Aye, so apologize, orc-spawn," Derst snapped.
Meris looked at him incredulously for a moment, blinked, and laid him low with a right hook. The thin knight staggered back, stunned. Bars lumbered in with a swinging left, but Meris ducked and slammed an elbow into the big man's great belly.
Bars gave a great "Oof!" and staggered, bending over Meris, who had dropped low.
Meris had his foot behind the big man's ankle and stood up abruptly, throwing Bars to the ground. Next to him, Arya had disappeared, and a charging Derst was in her place. The wiry knight threw a left hook feint, which Meris ignored, and a right fist thrust, which he ducked. Meris bent, put his shoulder into Derst's stomach, and threw the thin man over him.
"Bastard," Derst gasped as he landed in a roll and reached for a knife.
"You called?" Meris mocked. In response, the thin man's face scrunched.
Bars rose, but Meris shoved him down with his left hand, keeping his eyes on the thin man. Meris's hand went to his sword hilt.
There, it found the point of a long sword hovering at his groin.
Putting his hands out wide, Meris slowly turned. Arya had drawn her sword and was standing just within slashing range.
"Enough of this," she said. Her eyes were deadly. "Cousin, I was truly sorry to have offended you, but I take back my apology now."
Meris rolled his eyes at the sword pointing at his belly and looked up at her with a sarcastic frown. "You can't be serious, Cousin," he said contemptuously. "You side with these fools? They are no better than stupid sheep, and that makes you no better than a shepherdess."
"At least a shepherdess has some dignity," Arya snapped back. "Unlike you, Cousin."
"Until one takes it from her," Meris said without missing a beat. Ignoring Arya's sword, he wiped himself free of invisible dust and brushed past her. The two knights gave him angry stares as he strode away, his white cape swirling behind him, driven up by the haste of his walk.
They watched him slam the inner door behind his heels.
"Well," Derst said, wiping the blood from his nose. "At least you don't take after that side of the family, Arya."
Under any other circumstances, Arya might have replied wryly that she wasn't even related to that side of the family, but the encounter with Meris had unnerved her.
That cold hatred, pent up behind walls of calm…
Arya had faced many enemies, but none who frightened her so. She saw through his every movement, heard the bitterness in his