The Fate of the Tearling (The Queen of the Tearling #3)(10)
“Cautious, eh?” Daniel asked.
Aisa did not respond; she was too busy sizing him up. He kept his arms tucked in close to his ribs, conserving energy. His reach would be longer than hers. If she was going to get close to him, she would have to take at least one blow off her forearm. She began with a series of controlled lunges, each of them slower than she could move, none as far as her actual range. Her blood was singing now; Venner would say it was adrenaline, but Aisa knew that it was really the song of the fight, of being all alone in a corner with nothing to rely on but herself and her blade. She tasted metal in her mouth.
The Caden suddenly leapt forward, waving one arm to distract her while stabbing with the other. But Aisa had learned to keep her attention on the knife hand, and she ducked it easily, rolling beneath the thrust and ending up on her feet.
“Quick,” Daniel remarked.
Aisa did not reply, for she had spotted something as the Caden turned to follow her: his left leg was weak. Either a limp, or, more likely, a recent wound. He was protecting the leg, subtly keeping it out of the zone of contact. Aisa feinted, making a halfhearted lunge for his throat, and hissed as his knife slashed across her forearm. But at the same time, she released a sharp kick toward his left kneecap, pointing her toe as the Mace had taught her. The Caden gave a muffled grunt of pain as he stumbled and went down to the floor.
“Ha! That’s the stuff!” Venner shouted. “Close, girl! Close while he’s down!”
She jumped on the Caden’s back, aiming her knife for his throat, but he had already moved to block, and she could not get a good grip. He gave a tremendous heave, throwing her over his shoulders, and now it was Aisa’s turn to groan as she landed on her back, thumping her head against the stones.
“All right, Aisa?” the Mace called.
She ignored him and scrambled to her feet, keeping her eyes on the Caden, who circled her. She had hurt him when she went for his knee, but he had hurt her as well; the cut on her forearm was deep and her free hand was slippery with blood. Venner had been training her to increase her endurance, but she already felt herself tiring, her muscles slowing down. She adjusted her grip, seeking a new opening. The Caden would never let her near his weak leg again, but her earlier clumsy feints might have worked; he was not protecting his ribs so well as he had before. She would have a shot with one good lunge, but it would cost her.
“Watch your footing,” Daniel advised her. “Blood on the floor.”
“You’d like me to look down, wouldn’t you?”
Grinning, he swapped the knife to his right hand. The guards around them grumbled a bit at this, but Aisa wasn’t bothered; Venner was switch-handed as well. She kept her eyes away from the spot she wanted, the poke of his ribs behind his left forearm, just outside the protection of his armor. She was facing a superior opponent, taller and faster and better skilled, and in a fight to the death she would have been finished. But here all she needed to do was score a touch.
She knew the moment he meant to come for her, for he took a deeper breath just before he lunged, sweeping his knife in a broad arc, going for her shoulder. Aisa ducked and raked her knife across his ribs. The jab was not clean; it nearly jerked her knife from her hand, and at the same time she felt a stabbing tear in her bicep. But she heard him hiss in pain, just before he grabbed her and whirled her around. Aisa lost her balance and a moment later stood helpless in his grip, his knife at her throat. She forced herself to hold still, panting. The Caden wasn’t even out of breath.
“Let her go,” the Mace commanded.
Daniel released her, and Aisa turned to face him. For a moment they merely stood there, staring at each other, as the guards around them began to argue and hand over coin.
“How are you with a sword?” Daniel asked.
“Only fair,” Aisa admitted. Her slow progress at mastering a sword was a sore point.
“I went easy on you, girl, but not that easy, and I’m one of the best knifemen in the guild.” He considered her for a long moment. “Gifted with a blade, mediocre with a sword . . . you’re no Queen’s Guard, child. You’re an assassin. When you reach your full growth, you should quit this mausoleum and come talk to us.”
He touched the wound at his ribs, then raised a hand to the Mace, his fingers dabbled with blood.
“Thank you, Lord Regent. A good show.”
Aisa grabbed her armor and returned to her spot below the dais. Kibb winked as she went. Rebuckling her breastplate, she wiped blood across her front. After the meeting was done, the Mace would likely allow her to go and have Coryn doctor her arm, but not now, for she had asked for this fight. That was fair, but she was losing blood, and after a moment’s thought she looped the ripped lower half of her sleeve around her arm and cinched it tight.
“Our business here is done,” Christopher told the Mace. “We’ll return when the guild has an answer.”
“If the guild says aye, I can give you at least twenty Queen’s Guards to assist.”
“Refused. We want no amateurs involved.”
A murmur of displeasure went through the Guard, but the Millers had already turned and walked away.
Merritt chuckled. “I have no particular love for those three, Lord Regent, but they are good for your purpose. As for me, I stand ready to serve the Queen.”
He followed the other Caden toward the doors, and Aisa felt her muscles relax. Though she would not have admitted it to anyone, she was turning Daniel’s words over in her mind.