Mai and Ishad wandered the rooftops, traversing bridges, until they overlooked a market. Below, hundreds of little people went about their lives, and in a strange way, the effect was calming. Fruits and vegetables were the primary wares on sale, and squinting, Mai saw an individual transaction be made.
But a moment later, the calm was Broken. For indeed, Mai noticed him in the crowd, who noticed her right back almost immediately.
Mai was annoyed, because she didn’t want to deal with him right then, but then felt elated, as she remembered there was no way for Broken to get up to the top of the roof, to reach them.
Broken walked up to the edge of the building that she and Ishad were on top of, and Mai waved down at him.
Then Broken put his hands against the stone wall, and Mai realized that he was going to climb. She didn’t know how he was going to do it, as the roof was twenty feet up, but she had the sinking sensation that she and Ishad were not going to be alone for much longer.
A market tent stood against the wall, and Broken looked at it very carefully. In a fury of activity, he bounded up to the top of the tent, and before it could collapse, jumped.
Broken’s hands reached the ledge of the roof, underneath the railing, and both Mai and Ishad backed away.
Then, a second later, with a great flip, Broken somersaulted over the railing, and landed, with a flourish, on his feet.
“Getting into a festive mood, are we?” asked Ishad.
Mai, however, was more concerned. Broken’s acrobatics had attracted a lot of eyes, and the last thing they needed was attention.
But neither Broken nor Ishad seemed perturbed.
“Indeed,” replied Broken, even as a pair of soldiers, elsewhere on the rooftops, headed over.
“That was something,” said one of the Barad guards. Mai shrank back, waiting for some kind of confrontation to start, but nothing did.
“It’s amazing how many people try that,” said the other guard, “but few ever make it up. We watched. Congratulations. Now, however, I think, for the sake of security, you and your fan club better leave.”
And so Ishad, Mai, and Broken did, shepherded through another tiny precinct, and down to street level. The guards expressed nothing but enthusiasm for what Broken had done, and explained that they wished to talk with him longer, but their jobs prevented them from doing so.
Outside the precinct, a small group of people who had seen the stunt waited to congratulate Broken, and ask him questions. However, Broken said some noncommittal things to evade the questions, and, with Mai and Ishad, quickly escaped the growing group.
As they walked together through the streets, Mai asked, “Why didn’t the guards care?”
“Everybody’s easygoing in the Art Quarter,” said Ishad. “It’s just in their nature. People here love visitors, and they love to see interesting things. There’s a general consensus that the Holy Citadel provides enough uptightness for all of the Vedil.”
“I fear there’s another reason, too,” chimed in Broken. “The people here are more lax now, because they know that there’s nothing but horror in the immediate future.”
The statement made sense, but neither Mai nor Ishad knew what to say to that. Broken had ruined the pleasant mood nicely.
Broken looked at Ishad, in such a way so that Mai, between them, moved around to Ishad’s other side.
“I have something for you,” he told Ishad, unhooked a belt, complete with sword from his waist, and handed it over. It was only then that Mai realized Broken had been wearing two sword belts before, and two swords.
Ishad took the belt, sheath, and blade. “Why are you giving me this?” he asked. “And why are you giving me this now?” he asked. “Wouldn’t the inn be a better place then the middle of a street?”
“There’s no reason to wait,” said Broken. “You have practiced with one when you were young, and you quickly remembered under my care what technique you forgot. And, if you truly want to protect Mai, you will need a weapon.”
And so, Ishad attached the belt to his waist as he walked.
“What about me?” asked Mai. “Don’t I need to defend myself?”
“You do indeed, but tradition will not allow it,” said Broken. “Normal women, in our culture, do not wear visible weapons of any kind, if they wish to escape extra attention. And despite my performance at the market, I do care about what other people think of us. In our group of three, when I was the only one noticeably armed, attention was attracted because Ishad was not, and the inquiring mind wanted to know why I was special. This way, with both the men armed, things are more uniform.
“And more than that, you of all people should be shocked at the mere thought of ladies carrying swords.”
Broken’s statement was an undisguised jab at the princess Mai had once been, but she took it without saying anything. There was nothing to say. She had changed, and Broken had changed her.
“Where did you get the sword?” asked Ishad. “I didn’t think we had enough coins to purchase this.”
“I gambled for it,” said Broken.
He said what he said in such a way that Mai did not think in the slightest it was chance that the sword had been won. She imagined Broken surveying the gambling tables, until he knew exactly where and what to bet, doing so, winning the sword, and walking away as soon as he did so.
Soon enough, they reached the Restless Dog, the inn where Broken gotten them accommodations.
Inside things were oddly joyful, but none of the three joined in with the party occurring in the common room. Instead, they went upstairs, headed into their rooms, and went off to bed.
Sleep.
Morning came early as the dawn did, but it did not seem to be the dawn that awoke Mai. Instead, it was the noise and bustle of the streets.
Mai yawned, got dressed, and came down with Ishad to the common room, where Broken waited for them.
They ate a meal, and went outside to get the horses. However, in the streets, an angry warrior intercepted them. He wore garb befitting a traveler, but his face was clean-shaven, his short brown hair was neatly combed, and he had the look of a noble about him. Upon seeing Broken, Ishad, and Mai, he placed himself between them and the stables.
Mai took it upon herself to speak, thinking that if he indeed had noble status, it would be easiest for her to diffuse the situation. She knew how nobles thought. “Why do you stand in our way, stranger?” she asked.
Simultaneously, Broken and Ishad put their hands on their swords, an action that seemed to acknowledge they were letting her take the lead.
“I stand here,” said the man proudly, “for I make a challenge against one who hurt my honor.”
All around them, passerby suddenly stopped and started to form a circle, sensing that whatever followed would be a sight to see.
“Who hurt your honor?” asked Mai, hands folded across your chest.
“I know not why a peasant girl is guarded by two warriors,” said the man. “And, truly, I do not care. I, Savel is Varad, Lord of the Second Paril, challenge the one who blighted my honor, as is my God-given right.”
Savel moved a section of his brown poncho, revealing a sword. He drew it. His brown eyes flamed.
Mai stepped to the side, fuming. He called me a peasant girl! My clothes are well worn, but I am clearly no peasant! His father probably licked my father’s boots. But there was nothing she could do. Nevertheless, Mai smiled, knowing that if Savel challenged Broken, he would get far more than he bargained for.
“Who has blighted your honor?” asked Broken, stepping up.
“Last night, you stole away my sword and sheath,” said Savel.
“Really?” asked Broken. “Because the way I seem to remember it, last night you were gambling, drunk, and with a pair of ladies at your arms. Hardly activities befitting one who is both a lord, and a warrior. I merely sat down, and switched our die. You were too drunk to notice. After your blade was won, I even switched the die back, just to be sporting.”
The crowd, hearing the story, laughed, and Savel glared at them.
“Our battle, you trickster, would be one for the ages,” said Savel. “But I do not wish for an epic battle. I wish for my blade and sheath back,” he said, “so I will challenge the one who carries them.” He pointed to Ishad, accusingly. “You don’t know how hard it was to find a sword and sheath elsewhere. But now, I challenge you.”
For a moment, Mai expected Broken to do something, to interject. Ishad might be a decent fighter, but he was no real warrior. Savel was.
But Broken said nothing, and Ishad did not seem to back away from his fate. He was honorable, to the end. “To the other’s mercy then,” he said, speaking the traditional acceptance to accept a duel.
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Mai was confused as to where Ishad had learned those words, as duels only took place between warriors and nobles, and he was neither, no matter what Savel thought. But then she remembered how well traveled Ishad was.
Broken stepped back, as did the crowd, to create a circle. After a moment of reluctance, Mai did as well. She didn’t know how Broken had known that the drunken lord would find them again, and challenge Ishad, but she was sure he had. She seethed with anger. What does Broken have against Ishad?
Ishad drew his sword, or rather, Savel’s, and prepared to fend off attacks.
Savel smiled, as he saw Ishad was inexperienced. “Ah,” he said. “A young warrior. I knew one who needed my blade couldn’t have all that much talent. You probably dropped your own sword, somewhere, and forgot where you put it.”
To Mai’s horror, the crowd laughed again.
Then Savel charged. Ishad managed to fend off one strike, then another, and for a moment Mai dared to hope that he might somehow be able to win.
But Ishad stumbled, after parrying a strong blow, and Savel took advantage, spinning around, and slamming Ishad in the gut with the pommel of his sword.
Ishad gasped, and fell to his knees. Savel’s sword dropped from his hands.
As Ishad recovered, Savel carefully switched their blades, so that his own sword was in his hands once more, and the sword he had come into battle with was lying on the ground.
Ishad reached for the new sword on the ground, and grasped it, but before he could get up, Savel sliced down at his head. Ishad blocked, on one knee, but Savel twisted his blade, and the sword Ishad held went flying.
It was then that Mai realized that the fight was over. But Savel was not done.
The Lord waited for Ishad to get up, then sheathed his sword, and punched Ishad savagely in the gut. Once, twice, three times. In sympathetic pain, Mai felt every blow.
Then Savel reached out, shoved Ishad to the ground, and started kicking him. Over, and over and over again. With each of Savel’s kicks, Ishad convulsed on the cobblestone.
Mai looked around. There were Barad Guards in the crowd, but they did nothing to stop the proceedings. Savel had issued a challenge, and Ishad had accepted to save his honor, so Savel could legally do what he chose with him. There was nothing that the soldiers could do to stop it.
That didn’t prevent Mai from cursing them under her breath.
The beating went on for a few more moments, until Broken stepped into the circle. “You have already won back your sword, sheath, and belt,” said Broken. “Release Ishad here from the bond of the challenge, or I will challenge you next.”
Savel stepped back from Ishad, who lay bleeding on the ground.
“Who is he?” asked the Lord. “Your apprentice?”
“In many ways,” said Broken. “Thank you for sparing him.”
“It was the least I could do,” said Savel. “You and he were not the only ones at fault here. Last night, I sinned. Now, if you would be so kind, retrieve my sword belt and scabbard. I already have my sword.”
Broken reached down, unhooked the belt and scabbard for Ishad, and gave it to Savel.
Savel threw the belt and scabbard he wore on the ground, and replaced it with his own. “My thanks,” he said. “As it would take more effort that it would be worth to return the gear and sword I brought here today, your apprentice may keep it. Thus do I show my humility.”
“I appreciate what you have done,” said Broken, and then, he and Savel clasped hands.
The crowd, seeing two great warriors come to terms, began to clap.
Mai, however, did not join in. Her gaze was on Ishad, ignored and abandoned on the ground.
Broken and Savel released hands, and the watching crowd parted, and went about their ways.
And Mai ran over to Ishad, and knelt beside him. Looking up, she saw both Savel and Broken above her.
“So that’s who the peasant girl is,” said Savel. “The poor excuse for an apprentice’s poor excuse for a lover.”
And with that, Savel turned, and left.
Mai from the ground at Broken, who had already hooked the belt, scabbard, and sword Savel had left behind to his belt for safekeeping.
“You did this,” she said. Knowing that Broken would just give her some sort of rhetorical answer, she turned away from him, to Ishad.
Ishad did not look in good shape. He had been scraped against the ground until he bled, and he looked dazed and completely disoriented.
“Can you get up?” Mai asked him.
Ishad nodded slowly. With great effort, Mai put an arm around his shoulders, and helped him up.
Broken just stood there, a distance away, watching. “Let’s get back to the Restless Dog,” he said. “We will have to stay here for another day.”
Mai struggled to support Ishad, who it was clear could not remain on his feet without her help. Broken, who Mai was sure could support Ishad with much more ease, just stood there, face inscrutable.
Broken didn’t offer help, and Mai didn’t ask for it. Somehow, they started to walk, and made it back within the Restless Dog.
As the patrons of the common room stared at them, Mai started helping Ishad up the stairs, even as Broken, silent, trailed behind.
They reached the room where Mai and Ishad had slept the night before, and Mai carefully helped Ishad lay down in the bed. Broken was in the room as well, but he was still silent, and offered no help.
Mai turned to him, almost too angry to speak. “You knew this would happen,” she said. “For anyone else, what happened would have been on random chance, but somehow, you set this up.”
“Ishad needed a sword, and we do not have enough coins to buy one,” said Broken. “Now, Ishad still has a sword, and experience, as well. I intervened before he died.”
“You disgust me,” said Mai, as she realized Broken was not denying what he had done. “Get out.”
Broken turned, and left the room, closing the door behind him.
With that, the anger left Mai, replaced by fear for Ishad’s safety. She rushed over to him, and sat down next to where he lay.
“How do you feel?” she asked him.
There was a pause, and Mai realized that since Ishad had been beaten, he had said nothing. Maybe he could no longer talk.
But a moment later, at least that fear was allayed. “I…” said Ishad weakly. “I think he cracked a couple ribs.”
Mai wanted to pull off his shirt to see what his chest looked like, but she didn’t dare. She was no healer, and she could be doing more harm than good.
It was horrible to see Ishad lay like this. At the burning of the Holy Citadel, they had all escaped much more fearsome adversaries than a single warrior, and had escaped with little injury. Savel had been no demon or golem. How could he do this to Ishad? It didn’t seem fair, for Ishad to escape that horror only to fall to a vastly lesser threat in Barad.
“Rest,” she told him. “I’ll…I’ll see if I can go find help.” But Mai had not the faintest idea of where that help might be located.
“I know where you can go,” said Ishad. He cracked a thin smile. “I have connections here, remember? Go to Ral. He’ll be at the precinct. Tell him I’m hurt, and he’ll get a healer.”
“I’ll be back,” said Mai.
And she left the room, and took of running, as if Ishad’s life depended on it. She didn’t know much about wounds, so for all she knew, it did.
It didn’t take long to find the Art Quarter, and it didn’t take long to find Maverax Lane. She rushed to the precinct, and knocked on the door.
Ral opened it. “Welcome to Maverax precinct,” he said. “This can’t be where you’re--” He stopped mid-sentence. “Oh, you’re Ishad’s lady friend,” he said. “I never caught your name.” He noticed the look on Mai’s face. “Is something wrong?”
“Ishad needs help,” said Mai, wasting no time. “He was challenged by a warrior in the streets, and he’s hurt badly. He told me to come to you.” As an afterthought, she added, “My name’s Mai.”
“Ishad was the one who that happened to?” asked Ral, incredulous.
“You heard about that already?” asked Mai.
“News travels fast in Barad,” said Ral. “And challenges are rare.” He frowned, smoothing his brown hair. “Who was the black wearing man with you?”
“His name is Broken,” said Mai, “and he travels with us.”
“Doesn’t do a good job protecting his friends, does he?” asked Ral. “What inn are you staying at?”
“The Restless Dog,” said Mai.
“Go back there,” said Ral. “I’ll get a healer as quickly as I can, and meet up with you there. You coming along would only slow me down.” He looked honestly worried for his friend.
Mai turned and back, heading for the inn once more. When she got inside the common room, and rushed up the stairs, Broken was nowhere to be seen, but she cared little.
“Are you still all right?” she asked Ishad, at his bedside once more.
He looked at her. “As all right as I can be. It hurts…” He trailed off, as if he was embarrassed about showing weakness in front of her.
“Ral’s coming as soon as he can find a healer,” said Mai. “Just hold on a little while longer.”
“I’m not dying,” said Ishad.
“You could be. We don’t know.”
“Thanks for the encouragement.”
And then Mai sat there with Ishad, silently, listening to him breath in pain. A half hour later--or an hour--or maybe two, as Mai had no way to keep track of time, Ral and a healer barged in.
Ral was still in his uniform, and the healer wore hers: a white robe. She carried no visible equipment, and was surprisingly young, in her mid-twenties.
“Get away from the patient,” the healer said roughly, and Mai complied. She more or less switched places with the healer, as she got up to stand next to Ral, and the healer sat on the side of the bed.
“I’m sorry about her manner,” said Ral. “Ailur is a good healer, but her bedside manner can be less than expected.”
“I don’t care what she calls me, as long as she makes Ishad better,” said Mai.
“How long could you have known him?” asked Ral. “Ishad only became a monk year ago, and I know that half a year ago, he was still one of them.”
“A couple weeks,” said Mai honestly, surprised herself by the quick way the relationship had developed.
“Is that about how long Ishad hasn’t been a monk?” asked Ral.
“Indeed.”
As they spoke, the healer placed the palms of her hands on Ishad’s chest. Frowning, she quickly and efficiently pulled Ishad’s thick shirt off, and threw it to the side. Ailur then placed her palms on Ishad’s chest once more. She closed her eyes.
“He has multiple rib fractures, in case you care,” said the healer, “along with a great deal of internal bleeding. Little external damage, but don’t get your hopes up. The only reason there’s a skin is to protect what’s inside.”
“How bad is it?” asked Mai.
“His chest is rather smashed up,” said Ailur. “Without me, there would be a live chance of about one in three, but not immediately. He’d linger about a month, enduring increasing amounts of pain.”
The fact that Mai had just learned the wounds Ishad had received could prove mortal, and as such, she had not wasted her time running, did not allay any of her fears.
“But, you can heal him, right?” she asked.
“Yes,” said the healer. “He’ll be as good as new. Well, not quite as good as new, as when I’m done with him he’ll be a little bit older, but…”
“The healing ages him?” asked Mai.
“No,” said Ailur. “He’ll just be the fraction of a day older then…Forget it. Forget I ever mentioned it. The healing process has nothing to do with artificial aging. Just let me work.”
Mai looked at Ral.
“I can only imagine what she’ll be like when she’s actually old,” he said.
But Mai was in no laughing mood.
She watched, as Ailur’s hands on Ishad’s chest seemed to press hard, then harder still.
Ishad let out a wheezing gasp, and Mai heard the sound of within his body, things moving.
Then Ishad’s head flopped to the side, his eyes closed.
“They always tend to faint at some part of this,” said Ailur, not glancing up from her work. She closed her eyes.
Mai stood there for a few minutes, hearing the crackling sound. Then, Ailur opened her eyes, got up, and walked away from the bed. Ishad was still unconscious.
“Why’s he still--” asked Mai.
“Like that?” said Ailur. “He’ll be out for a few more hours, at least.”
“So he’s healed?” asked Mai.
“At this point, it would be very, very unlikely for him to die,” said Ailur. “I fixed all the major problems, but the minor ones, the problems the problems caused, are beyond my ability to heal. He will wake up fatigued, as that’s the main side effect, and he shouldn’t get up from bed for a few days. Now, what about my pay?”
Mai stared at the healer, unsure if they even had any to give.
Then, Ral cut in. “I’ll pay,” he said. Turning to Mai, he said, “I’ll be back here tonight, to see how he’s feeling.” Then he and Ailur walked out. In the hallway, Mai thought she heard them arguing.
Mai waited for a few moments, until she was sure Ailur and Ral were gone, and then she went into the hallway. She walked to Broken’s room, and instead of knocking on the door, tried to open it. And it turned out, the door was unlocked.
She walked in, and Broken, who seemed to have been meditating on the floor, got up to face her. He still wore the two swords at his belt.
Mai wasn’t really sure why she had come here. If the door had been locked, she would have turned away without knocking. But then, she was sure Broken had left it unlocked on purpose.
“Ishad could have died,” she said.
“I take that to mean that he’s not going to,” said Broken.
“He could have died because of what you did, and he would have, too, if not for the healer.”
“However, if I interpreted correctly, he’s not going to, barring unforeseen circumstances.”
Disgusted, and not sure why she had come to him, Mai left the room. Broken shut the door behind her.
Mai returned to the room where Ishad slept. Not wanting to disturb him, she sat down on the floor, much as Broken had, and began to meditate. A memory came to her, one that she began to recall.