Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [98]
A furious babble of voices rose up. Several surged toward him, but Pier still stood in the way, thumbs hooked in his belt, his dark head slightly tilted while he listened and studied Caelan.
“Pretty speech,” he said, and the others quieted reluctantly. “But what was she doing consorting with you while her husband lay dying?”
The jeers rose again, and Caelan’s face heated. At that moment he hated and despised them even more than before. They were so stupid, so petty, so small. But most of all, he was furious at himself for having put her in this position.
“Aye!” shouted another voice from the back of the crowd. “Where has she been? There’s a reward for her return. Did you carry her off, or did she go willingly to pinch those fine muscles?”
Enraged, Caelan stepped forward, but Pier blocked his path.
Caelan glared at him. “Step aside, that I may choke—”
“You’ll make no move,” Pier said.
The man’s eyes were light brown, steady, dangerous. Caelan tried to beat down that gaze, without success.
“To insult me is one thing,” Caelan said hotly, “but to insult her is another!”
“You have no right to defend the lady,” Pier said in sharp rebuke. “You are a slave and an army deserter. The empress will be judged by her own people, but you—”
“Judge me by this!” Caelan snarled. He drew his sword, and even as Pier reached for his own weapon Caelan was already bending low to place Exoner on the polished stone floor. He sent it sliding over to Pier’s feet. “Do you know what it is?”
Frowning, Pier stared at the sword, then at him, as though at a loss. Slowly he allowed his own weapon to drop back in its scabbard. “It is a very fine-looking sword,” he said after a moment.
Caelan was boiling, but he managed to control his voice. He gestured. “Pick it up. Handle it. Test its balance.”
“Why should I?” Pier asked. His eyes raked Caelan up and down. “When a rich city falls to invaders, any man may steal a good weapon.”
Caelan jerked slightly, finding it all he could do to control himself. Pier smiled in thin satisfaction, and Caelan understood the man was trying to goad him into making a mistake that would get him killed.
“The sword is mine. I did not steal it. If you doubt that,” Caelan said quickly as Pier opened his mouth, “pick it up.”
Frowning, Pier stared at the sword, then bent to grab it. Before he could touch it, however, a child-sized creature with green translucent skin and pointed ears came whirling up to cling to the warlord’s arm.
“Touch not, master!” it said in urgent warning.
Pier drew back. “Why? Is it enspelled?”
“Perhaps it’s poisoned,” another man said. “It’s a trick to kill you.”
Caelan was staring at the creature. He had never seen anything like it before. “What is this thing?”
“Have you never seen a jinja before?” Pier asked. The creature bared its pointed little teeth and sent its master an adoring gaze. Pier patted its head, and the jinja sneezed and scratched its ear.
“The sword is not poisoned,” Caelan said. “If you’re afraid to touch it, let the jinja tell you what it is.”
Another jinja, this one garbed in silk pants and a short, sleeveless vest, sped up to them, zigzagged around Caelan almost too fast to see, then retreated to a safe distance. A third joined them, bright-eyed and plainly fascinated by the sword.
“Choven made,” Pier’s jinja said, scratching its ear again as though it had fleas. “Choven make for one only. Others no touch.”
A strange expression crossed Pier’s face. He bent and tried to pick up the sword, but dropped it immediately.
Several women cried out.
“I am not hurt,” he said to the inquiries around him.
A courtier beside him gave one of the jinjas a shove. “What evil magic does he bring into this court?”
The three creatures raced around Caelan, darting close, then speeding out of reach. One ran at him and touched his arm, then fled, shrieking, “No magic! No magic!”
Pier snapped his fingers, and his own jinja ran over to jump onto the broad sill of