Aske didn’t reply at first, her watchful eyes taking their own measure of the odds. But the outcome was never really in doubt. You didn’t walk away from a challenge, however coded. Not with so many witnesses to hand and reputation at stake.

“Have it your way.”

Four

Four

By unspoken accord, they settled on the alley between the Silver-way’s dray yard and the warehouse behind. Far enough from the roadway’s firestone lanterns so as not to draw a constable’s eye. Close enough that the low rush of the river weir rumbled beneath every word spoken.

Rosa halted a pace or two into the alley. She set her shoulders against the wall and shooed the others along. “Well? Get this over with.”

Malachi cast a nervous eye towards the river. “You heard her. I’d rather not be caught.”

Kasamor shook his head. “You’re always so concerned about your reputation.”

“I’m only here to stop you doing something foolish.”

Kasamor offered a wry smile. “Too late. And I’m not fighting for my reputation, but Calenne’s.”

Might be he even believed it, Malachi decided. Pride was a complicated burden. Yet, there was a rare lightness in Kasamor’s voice. Perhaps this was all about Calenne. Malachi only hoped the young woman was grateful for the risks taken in her name.

Malachi kept his thoughts to himself. His attention he spared for Aske’s group, deeper into the alley. Three others accompanied her. Two in the crimson and black surcoats of Tarev hearthguards, and the last in plain black garb. It struck Malachi as unfair that she’d brought so many, but that was the problem with such duels. The ritual had been born on distant battlefields and carried home by soldiers on leave. There were no rules, just a loose acceptance of what was to unfold.

Kasamor clapped him on the shoulder and set off down the alleyway. On reaching the midpoint, he spread his hands wide, sword still in its sheath.

“Right! How are we doing this? Three touches, or will only blood shake an apology loose?”

Aske’s only reply was a shriek of rage. Sword naked in her hand, she charged, boots thudding through refuse and horse-dung.

Malachi glanced at Rosa. She shrugged, eyes dark and thoughtful.

Kasamor stood arms outspread and sword scabbarded, seemingly frozen in place. At the last moment, he sidestepped. Aske’s sword flashed past. A heartbeat later so did Aske herself, further hastened by the heel of Kasamor’s boot against her rump.

“So you’ve no manners at all?” Kasamor asked. “Care to try again?”

Aske snarled and hurled herself into another headlong charge. It ended much the same as the first.

Kasamor drew his sword and cut at the air in sweeping circles. “Is this how your family fought at Zanya? No wonder they’re not here to speak for themselves.”