Gardens of the Moon

She drew a long, deep breath, then surged forward, sword's point extended.



At the sharp, ringing clang of metal immediately behind him, Crokus dived forward. He dipped a shoulder and rolled, regaining his feet. He cried out in shock. The woman who had attacked Coll in the hills was in a whirlwind exchange with a tall, round-shouldered man with two scimitars.



The thief's jaw dropped as he watched the fight. As good as the woman had shown herself against Coll, she was now being driven back as a flurry of attacks swept around her. They both moved so quickly that Crokus could not even see the parries, or the blades themselves, but as he watched, he saw the blossoming of wounds on the woman-her arms, legs, chest. Her expression held complete disbelief.



Then a voice chuckled beside him, “He's good, ain't he?”



Crokus whirled to see a tall, thin man, wearing a grey and crimson longcoat, his hands in its pockets. He swung a narrow hatchet face to the thief and grinned. “You headin” somewhere, boy? Somewhere safe?”



Crokus nodded numbly.



The man's grin widened. “I'll escort you, then. And don't worry, you're covered from the roofs, too. Cowl's up there, damn his snakeskin hide. But he's a powerful mage, anyway. Serrat was furious, I hear. Let's walk, then.”



Crokus let the man take his arm and lead him away from the duel. The thief cast a glance over his shoulder. The woman was trying to disengage now, her left arm hanging useless and glistening in the gaslight. Her opponent continued pressing, silent as a ghost.



“Don't worry,” the man beside him said, pulling him along. “That's Corporal Blues. He lives for this stuff.”



“C–Corporal?”



“We've been covering your back, Coin Bearer.” The man's other hand reached up to his collar, which he turned back to reveal a brooch. “The name's Fingers, Sixth Blade, Crimson Guard. You're being protected, boy, compliments of Prince K'azz and Caladan Brood.”



Crokus stared, then he scowled. “Coin Bearer? What's that mean? I think you've got the wrong person.”



Fingers laughed drily. “We figured you was walking blind and dumb, boy. The only explanation. You've got other people trying to protect you, too, you know. There's a coin in your pocket, probably two-headed, right?” He grinned at the thief's stunned expression. “It's Oponn's own. You've been serving a god and you didn't even know it! How's your luck been, lately?” He laughed again.



Crokus stopped at a gate.



“This is the place, then?” Fingers asked, glancing at the estate rising behind the compound wall. “Well, there's a powerful mage living in there, ain't there? Well,” he released the thief's arm, “you should be safe enough inside. Good luck, boy, and I mean that. But listen,” Fingers” eyes hardened, “if your luck goes sour, you dump that coin, y” hear?”



Confusion flickered across Crokus's face. “Thank you, sir.”



“Our pleasure,” Fingers said, as he placed his hands in his pockets again. “Get a move on, then.”



The Adjunct broke away, taking a cut across her right shoulder blade as she did so. She ran, blood spraying with the effort, and the man did not pursue.



What a fool she'd been! Thinking that the Coin Bearer wasn't protected! But who was that man? Never before had she faced such a swordsman, and the most appalling thing was that he had fought without the aid of sorcery. For once, her Otataral blade and her skill had not been enough.



She staggered, half blind, down the street, then wheeled round a corner. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of movement. The Adjunct threw her back to a wall and raised her sword again.



A large woman stood before her, regarding her quizzically. “Looks to me,” she drawled, “like you're already done.”



“Leave me be,” Lorn gasped.



“Can't do it,” Meese said. “We been on you since Circle Breaker picked you up at the gate. The Eel says you've got some things t” pay for, lady. And we're here to collect.”



As soon as the woman said that, the Adjunct sensed another presence, immediately on her left. She cried out as she tried to spin into a defensive crouch, and in the cry was an overwhelming sense of frustration and despair. What a waste! she cursed. No, not like this!



Even as that thought thundered through her head, both women attacked. She parried the blade coming at her from the left, but could only watch in horror as the woman who'd spoken revealed two blades, both driving for her chest.