Alec soon disabused him of that notion. He threw back his cloak and drew his sword. “Come see for yourself.”

Seregil drew his sword and stood back-to-back with Alec, facing the men in front of them. “I don’t much care for the hospitality here.”

“Me neither,” said Alec. “And here I was hoping we’d get through the day without killing anyone.”

The leader smirked at that. “Can’t ya count, you raggedy bastard? You’re outmanned.”

“I don’t see us walking away, even if we do pay yer toll, you ugly son of a whore,” Seregil replied. “So I’d just as soon keep my purse, if it’s all the same to you.”

The leader’s smirk widened. “Suit yourself, then.

With that, he lunged at Seregil while two other men at Alec’s end closed on him.

Clearly the ambushers had chosen this spot on purpose; there was enough room to swing a sword, but no way for their victims to get past them. Seregil heard the clash of blades behind him as he met the man’s attack and blocked his swing. Springing back, he had just time enough to pull his poniard from the back of his belt before the man and another came at him. They worked like wolves, one trying to distract him so the other could get under his guard. Seregil managed to block them both, but realized that it wasn’t common brigands they were dealing with. These men fought like soldiers, fearlessly pressing their attack. Seregil beat them back and glanced back at Alec, who was holding his own against a big man while the others stood back and cheered their fellow on.

“What was your regiment?” Seregil asked his attackers, poised to strike.

That won him a look of surprise. “What’s that to you?” the leader growled.

“I don’t fancy killing fellow veterans, is all,” Seregil told him. Alec was still fighting behind him, and Seregil heard someone go down.

“Eagle. You?”

“Queen’s Horse,” Seregil lied, since he knew Beka Cavish’s regiment the best.

“You don’t have a rider’s stance,” the man scoffed.

“That’s what they said when they cashiered me, but that don’t make it not so.”

Thinking Seregil off his guard, the leader’s second came after him, slashing at his belly. Seregil narrowly sidestepped disembowelment, caught the man’s blade on his quillon, and drove the poniard’s thin three-sided blade deep between his ribs and up into his heart. He jumped back again as the dying man collapsed with a surprised look on his face.