Call Jace came alongside. ‘You fought well, my son,’ he said. ‘I am proud of you. Now let us staunch those wounds.’
‘In a moment, Father. I need to sit.’ Together father and son moved away from the crowd, and sat on the wall of the well. ‘How could he have been so skilled?’ asked Bael.
‘Grymauch,’ answered Call Jace. ‘I should have thought of it. He trained him.’
Bael let out a soft curse. ‘Trained him too damned well.’
‘I made a mistake, son,’ said Call, sadly. ‘It almost cost you your life.’
‘Aye, but it didn’t. You were not wrong. Had we allowed him merely to apologize word would have leaked out, and others would have begun to question the tributes. As you have always said, fear is our most potent weapon. It has ended well, Father. He will go back scarred. People will hear of his fight. The Rigante will lose nothing by it.’
‘Aye, it has ended well, but it might have been otherwise. Had you killed him Grymauch would have come. He would have wanted to challenge me.’
‘And you would have had to kill him,’ said Bael. ‘I know that would have saddened you.’
Call laughed suddenly. ‘Kill Grymauch? I am a good swordsman, and, though I say it myself, a bonny fighter. However, in any battle anywhere, against anyone, I’d bet my fortune on Grymauch being the last man standing. No, Bael, had you killed the boy I would have had Grymauch cut down in ambush on his way here. But you are right. It would have saddened me. Now let me fetch my needle-and close those cuts.’
Kaelin sat silently by the window. Chara was standing beside him , gently wiping away the blood from the deep cut on his cheek . Taking a curved needle she threaded it with thin black twine, and leaned in close. He felt the first prick of the point, but did not wince. Closing his eyes he saw again the fight; the bright, shimmering steel of the blades, the deadly dance within the circle of warriors. Move by move he replayed them all. Three times Bael had engineered opportunities for killing blows, and not taken any of them. In the passion of the fight Kaelin had believed Bael to be too slow to see the openings. Now he was not sure.
The long cut to his face required ten stitches, but at the end the blood had stopped flowing.
‘It will not look so bad,’ said Chara. ‘You will still be handsome.’
He opened his eyes. Her face was but inches from his own. It seemed to him then to be the most beautiful face he had ever seen. Her eyes were leaf green, and flecked with gold. She was examining her handiwork. He leaned towards her, kissing her cheek. Chara pulled back. This is not the time,’ she said, her words stern. But she smiled as she said them. ‘Let us see to your arm.’
He sat and watched as she expertly drew the skin together, drawing in the stitches, tying them neatly before snipping them with a tiny pair of scissors. When she had finished he slowly clenched his fist. The wound felt tight as the muscles of his forearm rippled under the stitches. ‘How do you feel?’ she asked, dabbing away the last of the blood from his arm.
‘Tired.’
She sat quietly for a moment. ‘I want to thank you for not killing Bael,’ she said at last, not meeting his eyes.
Kaelin was lost for words. She thought he had held back, which was not true. He had tried with all his might to slay his opponent. The truth burned in him, and he longed to tell her. He wanted no deceit to corrode his relationship with this Black Rigante woman. And yet deep down he knew that this was a critical moment. The truth itself could damage what was, as yet, a delicate friendship.
‘I am glad he is still alive,’ he said.
‘Bael was not to blame for the duel,’ she told him. ‘It was my father. He put the Rigante reputation above the life of his own son. He thought that if you were not punished then the people of Black Mountain, and other lands near by, would cease their tributes.’