Page 14

Galfrid still speaks of him as the babe he sent away those many years ago, but Kipp Aldwine is a strong, capable man. From what we’ve heard in the south, he’s reputedly the fiercest of all Voyagers.

“Also not a boy? Your opponent this evening.”

I’m not surprised Thomas has taken notice of the man as well. And he’s right to do so. If we are to stay in Murwood End, the vitriol he’s sending our way, stares that are becoming harder to ignore, cannot be tolerated. It will only encourage bad behavior.

“Shall I get the others?”

“Nay.”

I stand.

“Christ’s body,” Thomas mutters behind me.

Unwilling to spill blood in the very place we’re taking shelter, I break eye contact with the man and stride out the door. The smell of sea air, more crisp than in the south, welcomes me. The docks are dark, quiet, and largely empty, though the moon provides enough light for me to see my adversary as he strides out the door after me.

“Southerner.” He spits on the ground in front of me.

“A king’s man,” one of his companions warns, as if to dissuade him. At least one of the local men has some wits about him.

“The king’s commander,” Thomas informs them both. If he intended for the words to caution the man, they seem to have the opposite effect. He unsheathes his sword.

I sigh. Loudly.

“We have no king here.” He spits again and advances, barely waiting for me to unsheathe my own weapon before raising his against me.

If I were not so weary from travel, I might have enjoyed a bit of sport. But this has been a long day, one I’m ready to end.

So instead of engaging with him, I simply wait for his thrust. When it comes, I rebuff it, knocking his sword from his hand after just three attempts. Not an easy feat given his size and strength, but unlike my opponent, my intent was not to harm or maim.

Sword tip pointed to his neck, I back away, addressing the small crowd that has gathered.

“I am Lord Vanni d’Abella, Curia Commander to King Galfrid. Aye, a Southerner. But I’ve no fight with you. Our purpose here is a peaceful one.”

I pull away, sheathing my sword, and reach for my opponent’s hand.

And wait.

Finally, to a round of cheers, he shakes it. Thomas hands the man his sword.

“I have no fight with you,” I repeat.

He responds by snatching his sword and thanking Thomas with a scowl. But my purpose has been served. Although not as fruitful as I would have liked, the day was hardly a disaster.

“Come. ’Tis time to find our beds.”

Thomas follows me back into the inn’s small hall, and I take a deep, calming breath, giving silent thanks no blood was shed this night.