Tigana by Guy Kay (novel24 txt) 📕

but a number of men were on their feet, glaring at the Khardhu.

Looking around the room, as if dismissing the boy at the bar as unworthy of his attention, he said very clearly, ‘We beat back Brandin of Ygrath when he invaded us because Khardhun fought as a country. As a whole. You people got whipped by Alberico and Brandin both because you were too busy worrying about your border spats with each other, or which Duke or Prince would lead your army, or which priest or priestess would bless it, or who would fight on the centre and who on the right, and where the battlefield would be, and who the gods loved best. Your nine provinces ended up going at the sorcerers one by one, finger by finger. And they got snapped to pieces like chicken-bones. I always used to think,’ he drawled into what had become a quiet room, ‘that a hand fought best when it made a fist.’

He lazily signalled Ettocio for another drink.

‘Damn your insolent Khardhu hide,’ the grey-eyed man said in a strangled voice. Ettocio turned from the bar to look at him. ‘Damn you forever to Morian’s darkness for being right!’

Ettocio hadn’t expected that, and neither had the others in the room. The mood grew grimly introspective. And, Ettocio realized, more dangerous as well, entirely at odds with the brightness of the spring outside, the cheerful warmth of the returned sun.

‘But what can we do?’ the young fellow at the bar said plaintively, to no one in particular.

‘Curse and drink and pay our taxes,’ said the wool-merchant bitterly.

‘I must say, I do sympathize with the rest of you,’ said the lone trader from Senzio smugly.

It was an ill-advised remark. Even Ettocio, notoriously slow to rouse, was irritated.

The young man at the bar was positively enraged.

‘Why you, you . . . I don’t believe it! What right do you have—’ He hammered the bar in incoherent fury. The plump Senzian smiled in the superior manner all of them seemed to have.

‘What right indeed!’ The grey eyes were icy as they returned to the fray. ‘Last time I looked, Senzio traders all had their hands jammed so deep in their pockets paying tribute money east and west that they couldn’t even get their equipment out to please their wives!’

A raucous, bawdy shout of laughter greeted that. Even the old Khardhu smiled thinly.

‘Last I looked,’ said the Senzian, red-faced, ‘the Governor of Senzio was one of our own, not someone shipped in from Ygrath or Barbadior!’

‘What happened to the Duke?’ the Ferraut merchant snapped. ‘Senzio was so cowardly your Duke demoted himself to Governor so as not to upset the Tyrants. Are you proud of that?’

‘Proud?’ the lean merchant mocked. ‘He’s got no time to be proud of anything. He’s too busy looking both ways to see which emissary from which Tyrant he should offer his wife to!’

Again, coarse, bitter laughter.

‘You’ve a mean tongue for a conquered man,’ the Senzian said coldly. The laughter stopped. ‘Where are you from that you’re so quick to cut at other men’s courage?’

‘Tregea,’ said the other quietly.

‘Occupied Tregea,’ the Senzian corrected viciously. ‘Conquered Tregea. With its Barbadian Governor.’

‘We were the last to fall,’ the Tregean said a little too defiantly. ‘Borifort held out longer than anywhere else.’

‘But it fell,’ the Senzian said bluntly, sure of his advantage now. ‘I wouldn’t be so quick to talk about other men’s wives. Not after the stories we all heard about what the Barbadians did there. And I also heard that most of your women weren’t that unwilling to be—’

‘Shut your filthy mouth!’ the Tregean snarled, leaping to his feet. ‘Shut it, or I’ll close it for you permanently, you lying Senzian scum!’

A babble of noise erupted, louder than any before. Furiously clanging the bell over the bar, Ettocio fought to restore order.

‘Enough!’ he roared. ‘Enough of this, or you’re all out of here right now!’ A dire threat, and it quelled them.

Enough for the Khardhu warrior’s sardonic laughter to be audible again. The man was on his feet. He dropped coins on the table to pay his account, and surveyed the room, still chuckling, from his great height.

‘See what I mean?’ he murmured. ‘All these stick-like little fingers jabbing and poking away at each other. You’ve always done that, haven’t you? Guess you always will. Until there’s nothing left here but Barbadior and Ygrath.’

He swaggered to the bar to claim his sword.

‘You,’ said the grey-eyed Tregean suddenly, as Ettocio handed over the curved, sheathed blade. The Khardhu turned slowly.

‘You know how to use that thing as well as you use your mouth?’ the Tregean asked.

The Khardhu’s lips parted in a mirthless smile. ‘It’s been reddened once or twice.’

‘Are you working for anyone right now?’

Insolently, appraisingly, the Khardhu looked down on the other man. ‘Where are you going?’

‘I’ve just changed my plans,’ the other replied. ‘There’s no money to be made up in Ferraut town. Not with double duties to be paid. I reckon I’ll have to go farther afield. I’ll give you going rates to guard me south to the Certandan highlands.’

‘Rough country there,’ the Khardhu murmured reflectively. The Tregean’s face twitched with amusement. ‘Why do you think I want you?’ he asked.

After a moment the smile was returned. ‘When do we go?’ the warrior said.

‘We’re gone,’ the Tregean replied, rising and paying his own account. He claimed his own short sword and the two of them walked out together. When the door opened there was a brief, dazzling flash of sunlight.

Ettocio had hoped the talk would settle down after that. It didn’t. The youngster at the bar mumbled something about uniting in a common front—a remark that would have been merely insane if it wasn’t so dangerous. Unfortunately—from Ettocio’s point of view, at any rate— the comment was overheard by the Ferraut wool-trader, and the mood of the room was so aroused by then that the subject wouldn’t die.

It went on all afternoon, even after the boy left as well. And that