The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [96]
“So you could have, and maybe I deserve to die for underestimating you like that. Let’s see what happens between you and me, shall we, girl?”
When he settled into a stance of his own, knees wide, his weight perfectly balanced between them, she realized that he was a good fighter—and much more dangerous than she was, whether she had a dagger or not. From the way he smiled as he circled round, he knew it, too. They heard Rhodry, then, yelling her name, and footsteps pounding toward them, but neither said a word, merely circled, Gwin leading, nearer and nearer to his fallen knife. She felt her heart thudding as she waited for the one split-second she would have, when he stooped to grab it. Closer now, closer, and Rhodry screaming like a berserker outside—Gwin tripped, cursed, and went down, screeching foul oaths, under a heaving pile of Wildfolk. With a howl of triumph Jill sprang, straddling him from behind while Wildfolk scattered and grabbing his hair in one hand to wrench his head back. It was her dagger at his throat, now.
“Jill, don’t!” Rhodry burst into the room with the door banging behind him, a blooded sword in his hand. “Don’t kill him!”
Only then did she realize that she’d been about to do just that. She froze, staring at Rhodry. He wasn’t begging—he was ordering her, his eyes snapping as he took another step into the room. She let Gwin go and stood, dodging free of him before he could rise.
“As Your Grace commands, of course.”
At the snarl in her voice Rhodry turned bewildered.
“Ah by the hells, my love, I don’t mean to order you about. It’s just that you were half-berserk, and I wanted to make sure you understood me. Words don’t mean a blasted lot to berserkers, you know.”
“Well, true enough.”
Gwin was still lying sprawled on the floor. Slowly he rolled over and sat up with a cautious eye for the Wildfolk who stood about in mobs or hovered above him in the air.
“Why not let her kill me, Rhodry?” This time he spoke in Deverrian.
“Because I owe you somewhat, enough so that if you have to die, I’ll do it myself for the honor of the thing.”
Gwin stared, his mouth a little open, his eyes filling with tears, and that grief was a gruesome thing to see on a man as cold and hard as he was.
“I can understand that kind of honor,” he whispered. “My thanks, Your Grace. So, that lofty a title belongs to you, does it? Who are you? I never did know.”
“Rhodry Maelwaedd, Gwerbret Aberwyn.” It was Salamander, crowding into the room with a wince for the huddled corpse of the Bardekian. “Do you know what it means to raise a hand against a gwerbret?”
“By the dung of the Clawed Ones! I do at that, by every god-cursed demon in the three hells! That’s just like the filth-sucking Old One, isn’t it, to hire us to risk our rotten lives and never even tell us just how great the blasted risk is! The pig-bugger! I’ll …” Gwin stopped, his mouth twisting in his mocking grin. “Well, I’ll be doing naught that can harm him, truly, unless I come back as a haunt or suchlike.” He got to his feet, slowly, keeping his hands in the air where they could all see them. “If ever I did you any favor, Your Grace, when you were in that stinking ship, I’ll beg you to kill me quickly and easily. That’s all.”
He could force himself to smile, force himself to stand proudly, his head tossed back like a true warrior, but there was nothing he could do, apparently, that would make him stop shaking all over. It wasn’t fear, Jill realized; his eyes were too dead already for him to be simply afraid to die. When Rhodry laid his sword blade alongside Gwin’s throat in such a way as one flick of his wrist would kill the Hawk in an instant, Gwin merely looked him straight in the face—yet he went on shaking. Although Jill had been ready to kill him herself only a few moments before, she found herself stepping forward.
“Tell me somewhat,” she said. “Would you rather live or die?”
“I don’t know.” Gwin smiled again, such a normal smile, filled with good cheer, that it chilled her heart. “I truly