Everything slowed down at that moment. As Rudiger fell backwards, he grabbed at the other man, tried to use him as something to hold onto. With a sneer, the man tore at Rudiger’s wrists. Rudiger’s left foot slipped from the edge of the pier. The man cried out and fell with him.

Rudiger heard the splash more than he felt it. It was like a boom in his ears, and then the water was all around him. Instinctively, he tried to kick out, tried to push himself back up to the surface. He grabbed at his mail, desperately tried to pull it off before he drowned in it.

There was another, more distant thud of water, and a dark shape passed in front of his vision. Blurry shapes like long legs beat the water in front of him. Then something bit his arm and began to pull up. Hold tight, Borisin said. As they broke the surface, Rudiger gasped for air.

“Another man overboard!” a cry rang out.

Rudiger wrapped his free arm around Borisin’s neck to help keep his head above water. Careful, the horse said, don’t pull my head down, or we both drown.

“Get a rope out to him! Quickly now!”

“Thanks pal,” Rudiger gasped.

When the end of a rope appeared in the water near them, Borisin swam closer to it, and Rudiger grabbed hold. A short while later, he was pulled up onto the deck of a fishing boat. It had taken several men to get him there.

“You all right, mate?” one asked.

Another indicated his mail and said, “Not wise to be wearin’ that stuff, mate.”

Still another said, “You see that? The bloody horse leapt right in the water and pulled him up!”

“Borisin,” Rudiger said. “My horse. You’ve got to get him out of there.”

“Easier said than done, mate, but we’ll try.”

It’s all right, Borisin said. I’m not breaking all my legs in one of their nets. I’ll swim to shore.

“Zandrue,” Rudiger muttered. “Excuse me.” He pushed aside the men surrounding him and rushed to the pier side of the deck. Most of the area by the Flying Fish was clear, but there were a few people still about, most with confused or shocked expressions on their faces. The broad, muscular man with the stringy hair had hold of Lucinda’s reins and was patting her on the nose. Near the mare’s feet were the trampled bodies of the first mate and the other two sailors who had been with him. The dagger protruding from the first mate’s chest, however, showed that he had died before being trampled.

The broad Eloorin began leading Lucinda away from the Flying Fish and back down the pier. He was definitely the man from the warehouses, but how he’d gotten here ahead of them, Rudiger had no idea. Farther down the pier, local watchmen were moving in this direction. The Red Knights from earlier were coming, too. There was no sign of Zandrue.

Rudiger drew Slay and made for the pier. “Hey, mate! What’re ya doin’?” one of the sailors cried out. A couple others moved briefly to stop him, but backed away at the determined look on his face.

Once he was back on the pier, he called out to the broad Eloorin. “Hey! That’s not your horse!”

Then the man was in front of him, slashing with a dagger. The blade scraped across the links of Rudiger’s mail, but didn’t cut through. Surprised, Rudiger swung down with Slay, but the man ducked out of the way with a speed and agility Rudiger would never have expected from someone so bulky. The man lunged in with the dagger. Rudiger side-stepped him and brought round Slay again. Once again, the man zipped out of the way with remarkable speed.

Rudiger lunged at the man, but in another eye-blink, the broad Eloorin was a good twenty yards farther down the pier. Well, that answered how he’d gotten here so fast. A watchman tried to remonstrate with him, but the man was gone in a flash.

Rudiger walked over to Lucinda and took her reins. “He may have got away, but at least he didn’t get you.” He half expected a witty reply as Borisin would have done, but the mare just stared ahead, not comprehending what he was saying.

He looked around. Still no sign of Zandrue. Where was she?

The watchmen were almost to him now. The situation shouldn’t be too difficult to explain. After all, there were loads of witnesses about to corroborate his side of the story. “I hope Zandrue’s okay,” he said to Lucinda. “They might have pushed her in the water, I suppose. If they did, she can swim, I’m sure. Maybe she was rescued by one of these other ships even. Maybe she’s waiting for us on the Flying Fish right now. Maybe—”

There was a deafening boom. A rush of hot air sent Rudiger sprawling to the deck, and Lucinda reeling in fright. Rudiger looked up. The Flying Fish was in flames, its hull cracked open like a shell. All along this portion of the pier, burning bits of wood, cloth, and rope lay about. Some had started small fires on other ships. The sailors of those ships were dashing about, desperately trying to put the fires out. On board the Flying Fish, the only sailors he could see were charred and bloody corpses.

“Dear gods.” Could one of those corpses have been Zandrue? He couldn’t bear the thought.

“You there!”

Rudiger reached groggily for Slay, which had landed a few feet in front of him, but a metal boot stepped between him and the sword. The man to whom the boot belonged was one of the Red Knights; he reached a hand down to Rudiger. “You all right?” Warily, Rudiger accepted the hand and let the Blood help him to his feet. Standing about six and a half feet, only a couple inches shorter than Rudiger, the Knight was a wide-eyed Folith man—no, boy was a more apt description—with an unblemished face and a broad grin. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen. He wiped some of the dirt and grime off Rudiger. “Nasty business.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Rudiger replied. He pointed at Slay. “Uh, do you mind? My sword?”

“Of course.” The boy bent down and picked up the greatsword, taking a moment to admire it. “Nice weapon!” He tested the balance and almost dropped it. “Heavy though!” The boy laughed. Rudiger grimaced. Last thing he needed was for this kid to accidentally drop Slay off the pier.

“Right, what’s going on here?” The question came from a city watchman striding over to them. Behind him, another one of the watch was leading Lucinda away, and two others were questioning sailors. The other Red Knights were also questioning witnesses.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Rudiger answered, snatching his sword from the boy Blood.

“Several people have already placed you as being one of the ones in the centre of this whole mess,” the watchman said. He was a Folith of a much more mature age than the Blood. His dark hair and beard were streaked with grey and there was a weariness in his eyes that spoke of having been through too many situations like this in the past. His voice had less of the lilt than most of the locals—perhaps because it was a very deep voice—but it was still present.

“That’s because I was attacked,” Rudiger answered. “Several people tried to kill me and my friend.”

“Where is this friend of yours now?” the watchman asked.

Rudiger shook his head. “Wish I knew. Haven’t seen her since we were attacked. They threw me off the pier; might have done the same to her. Or she might have...”

“Yes?” the watchman pressed.

“She might have been on the ship.”

“The one that exploded, you mean?”

Rudiger nodded.

The watchman scratched his beard. “I take it you weren’t a crewmember on the ship.”

“Passenger. Bound for Lockanith.”

“And why do you think these people attacked you?”

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Rudiger shrugged. “I’d seen the fast one before. The one who ran off. He was interested in my horse. They might have been trying to steal him.” He didn’t really believe that, but he doubted the watchman would believe the real explanation.

“So they destroyed the ship to get to your horse,” the watchman said.

Rudiger shrugged again. “I…I really don’t know.”

“And what about you?” the watchman asked, turning to the young Blood.

“Sir Alaan Geravan of the Red Knights at your service!”

The watchman shook his head and shrugged with one arm. “That supposed to mean anything to me, boy?”

“We’re a new organisation, sir,” the boy replied. “From Plavin-Tyl. I’m part of an emissary group come to see Lord Samma about expansion into Friaz. We stand for the old ways of chivalry and—”

“Spare me the speeches, boy. I’m not interested in your politics. What’s your involvement with this mess?”

“We saw the commotion from the quay and came to assist.”

The watchman shook his head. “Well, here’s some advice for both of you. One, the watch doesn’t need the help of emissary groups from other provinces. Two, you wander around these docks dressed like that, carrying those blatant weapons, you’re asking for trouble. The armour’ll kill you if you end up in the water, and the swords will just attract unwanted attention. Now then—”

“Captain!” another watchmen called out. Two other watchmen by him were holding a short Eloorin man. “We may have one of the perpetrators!” Rudiger didn’t recognise the man they were holding, but he hadn’t really gotten a good look at most of his attackers anyway.

“I’ll be right there!” the captain said. He looked at Sir Alaan. “All right, young man, let’s put your chivalry to the test. Your word you won’t leave this pier. I’m not done talking to either of you.”

“You have my word,” the boy replied.

“Good,” the captain said. He indicated Rudiger. “See that he doesn’t leave either.”

“You have my word on that, as well,” the boy said.

The captain’s expression said nothing of whether he believed the boy or not, but he was obviously satisfied that they wouldn’t be able to get anywhere, since he turned away from them and headed over to where they were holding the alleged perpetrator.

Rudiger sighed. “Didn’t even ask me for my word.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” the young Blood said. “It seems pretty clear that you were the victim in this. They probably just need to ask you a few more questions, get you to identify a few people. Those sorts of things. Then you’ll be free to go.”

“I suppose,” Rudiger said. “I’m just worried about my friend.”

The boy smiled at him. “Don’t worry. If she’s alive, she’ll show up, I’m sure.” He grimaced. “I mean... Sorry to suggest that she might be dead, but...well...if she was on that ship when it blew...”

Rudiger nodded.

“So, are you good with that thing?” The boy tapped Slay’s long blade.

“I try to be,” Rudiger replied.

“Great! You know, we’re always on the lookout for new recruits. If you’re interested…”

Rudiger groaned.

“There a problem?” Alaan asked.

“I’ve heard the spiel before. You’re not the first Red Knight I’ve met.”

“Really? That’s great then! You know all about us. Somebody as big and strong as you would be a great asset to us. I can let my commander know that you’re interested.”

Rudiger was about to interject that he wasn’t interested when the boy’s commander came over to them. At least, Rudiger presumed it was the boy’s commander, as the man had a definite commanding air to him. He was slightly shorter than the boy, but was at least twenty years his elder. He had long, light brown hair that was just beginning to recede and formed a very sharp widow’s peak on his forehead. His face had a harshness to it that, when combined with the dirt and grime that covered everything in this blasted city, made him just plain intimidating. He strode up to them, carrying his helmet under one arm and his shield on the other, and somehow managed to look even more intimidating. “Alaan.”

The boy snapped to attention. “Commander!”

“What’s up here?”

“This man was one of the ones attacked, sir,” Alaan responded. “He’s been expressing interest in our order.”

“Has he now?” the commander said. Rudiger wanted to respond that he hadn’t been, but the commander handed his helmet to Alaan and held out his hand to Rudiger. “I am Sir Hardimon Mesters of the Red Knights. A pleasure to meet you, sir. You are?”

Was it wise to give out his name? Rudiger wondered. Unfortunately, he couldn’t really think of another name on the spot, and if he didn’t say something, that would be sure to arouse suspicion. “Rudiger Fonivan.” He shifted the weight of Slay to his left hand and grasped the commander’s hand. As he did so, the commander’s eyes fell on the sword, and what started as a vigorous handshake became lacklustre.

“Your sword, sir,” the Blood said. “Might I inquire where you got it?”

“Exquisite, isn’t it, sir?” Alaan said. “I was commenting on it, myself.” The boy didn’t seem to have noticed the change in his commander’s tone.

Hell, Rudiger thought. Just when he’d thought that maybe these Bloods didn’t know anything about him! This was likely to turn into Tyl all over again. “Family heirloom,” Rudiger said.

“May I see it?” Sir Hardimon asked.

“I’d rather it stayed with me,” Rudiger replied, and gripped Slay securely with both hands. He readied himself to flip the sword point-up if he needed.

“Oh, don’t worry, Rudiger,” Alaan said. “Sir Hardimon is an expert swordsman. He won’t be as clumsy with it as I was.”

“Enough, Alaan,” Hardimon said. “This man is a wanted felon. Hand over your sword, sir, and submit to Lady Plavin’s justice.”

The boy was clearly shocked. “Felon? Are you sure, sir?”

“Of course I’m sure. The sword leaves little doubt and his name leaves none at all. He’s wanted for the murder of several Red Knights, amongst other things.” Sir Hardimon took back his helmet, slipped it onto his head ,and drew his own sword. “Submit, sir, or I’ll have your head.”

Rudiger flipped Slay around and took a defensive stance. “Look, I’m not looking for trouble. Those charges are false.”

“Then submit,” the Blood said. “If you are innocent, that will be determined at your trial. You have my word you will be treated honourably.”

“Sorry, but I haven’t had much reason to trust the word of a Blood.”

Alaan had drawn his sword now. “Come on, Rudiger. Don’t make us do this.”

“What the hell’s going on over here?” The watch captain stormed back over to them, his hand on the hilt of his own sword, although he had not yet drawn the weapon.

“This man is a wanted fugitive,” Sir Hardimon said. “Lady Plavin has ordered his capture, dead or alive.”

“This is Friaz,” the watch captain said, “not Plavin-Tyl. Lord Samma rules here. I still need to question this man about what happened here today.”

Sir Hardimon lowered his sword. “Of course. We won’t stand in the way of your duty. We simply request the right to take him into custody when you’re finished with him.”

“We’ll have to see about that,” the watch captain said. “Why don’t you tell me exactly who you are to begin with? And spare me any political speeches! What is the man accused of?”

“Alaan, watch him,” the older Blood said. The younger nodded briskly.

While Sir Hardimon and the watch captain talked, Rudiger looked around, hoping for an avenue of escape. The other three Bloods were moving in his direction. If they got here, escape would be even less likely. Luckily, they were still some distance down the pier. He figured he had about a minute. Rudiger wasn’t worried about being able to get past Sir Alaan, but if he was drawn into a fight with either or both of Sir Hardimon and the watch captain, he doubted he could get past them fast enough. Still, he might be able to slip by before they could do anything. But where would he go? It was beginning to look as if the only way out was back into the water, where he would just sink like a stone. And taking his armour off would definitely draw attention.

Then he noticed Lucinda. The watchman who had been leading her away hadn’t gone far, and was talking with another watchman. His hands were only very lightly on the reins, and neither he nor his companion were paying any attention to the horse at all.

“I’m innocent, you know,” Rudiger said.

“Like Sir Hardimon said, you’ll have a chance—”

Rudiger didn’t give him a chance to finish. He slammed into the boy, using his shoulder to bull rush him aside. The boy was completely unprepared and toppled over. He cried out as he fell onto the pier, though. As Sir Hardimon spun round, his sword wheeling out, Rudiger ran for Lucinda.

“Stop him!” Hardimon cried.

The two watchmen by the horse looked up just as Rudiger barrelled into them. One of them, a young Eloorin no older than Sir Alaan, fumbled for his sword, but Rudiger’s elbow impacted with the side of his face before he could get to it. The boy reeled, spitting teeth out as he fell, and collided with his companion.

“Sorry about that!” Rudiger cried. Poor kid didn’t deserve to lose teeth at so young an age. He sheathed Slay on his back, grabbed Lucinda’s reins, and hopped onto her back. The mare was startled, but she was well-trained and quickly acquiesced to his control.

The Bloods were almost on him; all of them had swords drawn. Rudiger took a deep breath and kicked Lucinda into motion. She wasn’t trained for combat, wasn’t trained to charge heavily armed men. Would she do it? If she didn’t, he was dead. As she increased her speed to a gallop, Rudiger could tell she wasn’t used to his armoured weight. Surely, she could manage it for a time, though.

Ahead, the Bloods were holding their ground. Rudiger’s instinct was to draw his sword. If Lucinda had been Borisin, he could have trusted the charge to him, and wielded the two-hander without worry. But not on Lucinda. The Bloods raised their swords. “Go!” Rudiger urged the horse. She went.

Two of the Bloods dived out of the way at the last moment. The third foolishly held his ground and swung at the galloping horse. Lucinda reared in fright to get away from the flashing metal. The blade passed mere inches from cutting into her front legs. Then those legs came back down on the Blood’s chest, knocking him to the pier. Rudiger heard the thud of the metal hitting wood, almost felt Lucinda’s hooves trample over that metal.

Then they were past. People along the pier dived out of the way as they galloped by. When they reached the quay, Rudiger slowed the mare to a trot and then a walk. There was no way she would be able to manage a gallop through the thick mud. He doubted even Borisin could do that. Besides, the people here hopefully had no reason to go after him, and he didn’t want to give them a reason by drawing their attention. The Bloods and watchmen on the pier had a quarter mile or so to walk back. It would take them some time to catch up.

It quickly became clear that Lucinda didn’t even like walking through the mud with him on her back, so he dismounted and led her on foot, his boots soon filling with mud again. Eventually, he made it out of the muddy market-dock and onto drier land.