Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [293]
Gallus was cunning and efficient. Every move was economical. He kept his feet planted and his guard high, moving only for an occasional feint. Eamonn watched him warily, circling with slow deliberation. For a moment I thought the bout would turn earnest, but then Gallus Tadius put up his sword and grinned.
"Ah, Prince Barbarus!" He clapped a hand on Eamonn's shoulder. "You'll do. Next!"
When my turn came, I stepped forward and bowed, then drew my sword and settled into a two-handed Cassiline fighting stance, angling the blade across my body.
Gallus eyed me with dour amusement. "What in the hell do you think you're doing, fancy-boy?"
"Preparing to be tested, my lord," I said politely. "Would you care to make a wager?"
"A wager!" He roared with laughter. "Oh, aye, lad, I'll wager aught you care to wager!"
"All right." I hesitated. "I'll wager I can disarm you. If I lose, I'll…" I swallowed. I couldn't bear to wager the Bastard, the only living reminder of home I possessed. I reversed my sword, offering the hilt. I pushed aside the memory of Joscelin and me conferring with the master smith. It was only metal, wrought in a pleasing shape. "I'll give you my sword."
There was a good deal of whispering among the conscripts, and not a little snickering. "I don't want your sword, lad," Gallus said absently, examining it. "I want you to use it in my service. Nice piece, though." He nodded and returned it. "All right. Mine for yours if you lose. And if by some poxy D'Angeline miracle you don't?"
"You sleep, my lord," I said steadily. "A full nights sleep."
His sharp brows, Lucius' satyr's brows, shot toward the rim of his helmet. "Oh, sweet tits of the Vestals! Now you're a damned nursemaid!" He turned toward the conscripts, laughing. "What do you say, lads? Does Gallus Tadius da Lucca need sleep ?"
"No, sir!" they shouted.
Gallus might not, but Lucius did. "Do we have a bargain, my lord?" I asked doggedly.
He shrugged. "Why not?"
It went fast. I'd watched him fight. Nothing in his experience had prepared him for the fluid Cassiline style, but if I gave him a chance to adjust, he would. So I didn't. I brought my sword around from right to left in a high, sweeping circle, raising his guard, then continued the circle with a low feint at his legs. I ducked low under his counterthrust and rolled toward the right, coming up outside his guard.
His head was turned the wrong way. I could see a few inches of exposed skin between his helmet and his gorget where his pulse beat.
I didn't strike. Instead, I spun behind him, turning my back to him, keeping my blade high and tight against my body. Circles within circles, as Joscelin had taught me. Gallus was caught inside my circle, his sword-arm overextended. He was turning toward his left. I was on his right, where he didn't expect me. With my two-handed grip, I brought the pommel of my sword down hard on the back of his gauntleted hand.
It opened in an involuntary spasm.
He dropped his sword.
There was a collective gasp from the watching conscripts, with Eamonn's low chuckle resonating beneath it. I sheathed my sword, stepped back, and bowed.
"Well," Gallus Tadius said mildly. He slung his shield aside and shook out his hand, which must have stung somewhat fierce. "Well, well." He picked up his sword and sheathed it. "You're full of surprises, D'Angeline."
"Yes, sir," I said.
He stepped closer to me. I couldn't read his expression; I only knew there was nothing of Lucius in it. But there was no malice, either. "Do you know," he mused, "I had a D'Angeline in the Red Scourge once. Doucet, or something like. Got in some trouble back home, took to the mercenary life. Don't suppose you know of him?"
I shook my head. " 'Tis a large nation, my lord."
"Aye." Gallus nodded. "And he's been dead a while, I imagine. Hailed from Camlach, as I recall. He got a little crazy when he fought, too. Different style. A sodding pretty bastard, though not as pretty