Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [225]
He bared his teeth at me. “I think not.”
“Look around you, Astegal.” I gestured with my blade. Members of Vitor Gaitán’s Harbor Watch had pushed through the crowd to surround us, crossbows drawn and trained on Astegal. “You’re a dead man. Do you think you can mount a horse without withdrawing that sword from Sidonie’s throat?”
“Then we’ll walk,” Astegal said grimly. “My dear wife and I.”
Sidonie’s eyes flashed with fury.
Elua help me, I almost smiled. “All the way to New Carthage?” I asked. “Then you’d best not lower your blade for an instant, because one of us will be there to kill you the moment you do. And you’d best not sleep, because Sidonie will slit your throat herself.” I watched the knowledge sink into him and spread my arms. “Come. Surely you’re not afraid?”
“Of a man half-crippled?” he asked in contempt. “Ba’al have mercy, no.” Astegal tightened the blade against Sidonie’s throat. “Make it worth my while, D’Angeline. Because right now, I’ve no reason to do aught but die knowing I caused you grief.”
“All right.” I nodded. “Kill me and you’ll be given a sporting chance to live. A swift horse and an hour’s lead.”
The crowd had been spell-bound and silent, but that raised a gasp. “You can’t make that offer,” Serafin said in a tight voice. “Aragonia will not countenance it.”
I looked at him. “I won’t lose.”
There were a hundred debates we could have had, but I couldn’t marshal the will to argue them. The ringing in my head had quieted, but I could feel Kushiel’s presence over me like a mantle. This was what I was meant to do. I was as certain of that as I’d ever been of anything in my life. And Serafin L’Envers y Aragon was half D’Angeline. There was Kusheline blood in the line of House L’Envers. He returned my gaze for a long moment, and mayhap the bronze wings beat faintly in his blood, because in time he nodded.
“A swift horse and an hour,” Serafin said. “I swear it.”
There was a roar of protest at his words, but Astegal jerked the blade again. Blood trickled down Sidonie’s throat and she closed her eyes. The roar faded. “I don’t trust you,” Astegal said to Serafin.
Serafin shrugged. “Bring him a horse.”
It was done. I watched Astegal weigh the decision, wondering if he could trust Serafin’s word, wondering if there was some other way. I picked my words carefully, driving them like a wedge into the fault-lines on his soul. “I killed your kinsman, Astegal. I watched Bodeshmun die. I led your Amazigh into ambush and killed three of them with my own hand. Are you sure you’re not afraid?”
He lowered the sword and shoved Sidonie violently from him. “Come and see!”
Fingers tightened on the triggers of crossbows. “Hold!” Serafin shouted. “Give him his chance!”
“Are you all right?” I asked Sidonie, steadying her.
“Yes.”
“Good.” I kissed her lips and went to fight her husband.
Astegal was waiting for me. He’d wrapped his cloak around his left arm to serve as a makeshift shield. The end was dangling and I thought he might try to use it to foul my blade or distract me. He had the hilt of the executioner’s sword firmly gripped in his bleeding right hand. I wished I’d donned my vambraces and I wished my leg didn’t hurt so damnably much. It would slow me down, and my speed had always been one of my advantages. Astegal was reasonably quick, too. I’d seen him spar. And he was a tall man. He had a few inches of reach on me.
I looked forward to killing him.
He circled around to my left, angling to get the rising sun in my eyes. It made me smile. Elua knew, Astegal wasn’t going to defeat me that way. I pivoted right on my good leg and positioned myself behind him. He jumped to face me before I had a chance to land a blow.
“What the hell are you smiling at?” Astegal growled.
“You,” I said simply.
His left arm snaked forward, folds of cloak unwinding in the direction of my face. I ignored