trying to get away from us?”
Reyn shrugged, fighting to remain calm. “Staying away from you two is a lifelong ambition.”
“Oh, listen to him!” Yancel clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Clever with words, ain’t he? Does all that singing, and now it turns out he thinks he can be clever, too!”
“He ain’t so clever.” Borry was cracking his knuckles and moving to cut off any attempt at escape, which Reyn could already tell was not going to happen in any case. “Else he wouldn’t have let himself be caught out alone like this. You want to try us now, boy? Or do you just want to take what’s coming to you and be done with it?”
“Yeah, maybe that. Just take your punishment for that smart mouth. We won’t break too many bones.”
“’Course, you won’t be playing those pretty songs for a while. Or maybe never, once we’re done with you.”
“Singing, Yance. He won’t be doing much of that, either, I don’t expect.”
“Well, I’m sick of his singing in any case. Best if we don’t be hearing him at all after this. You know what he’s gonna sound like? Like a chicken head after it’s been twisted off, throttled good and proper, all croaking and slobbering. No one gonna understand him anymore. Not a word.”
So there was no avoiding this, no way to keep it from happening. Reyn thought momentarily of trying to dash back inside fast enough that they couldn’t catch him. But if he did that, he would be a marked man and they would call him a coward. There would be no end to their mockery. Better to try to stop it here and now. He was strong enough to take either one alone. He might have a chance against both if he kept his wits.
And if they didn’t use knives.
Then he saw the iron bar that Borry was holding down against his leg. So much for that.
“You really don’t have much confidence in yourself, do you?” he said, taking a step toward them. “If you need that iron bar, you must think you’re in trouble.”
Borry laughed. “Don’t need it, chicken-boy. I just like the idea of it. I don’t want to hurt myself more than I have to on pig slop like you. Come on, step a little closer.”
Reyn unslung the elleryn and leaned it back against the wall of the building, searching as he did so for something he could use as a weapon. He saw a washtub and a clothesline. Useless. Some wood was stacked against the back wall. He moved over quickly and snatched up a four-foot length. Better than nothing.
“You sure about this?” he asked them, advancing a few steps.
The brothers exchanged a quick glance, and then both grinned. “Sure enough,” Yancel spat at him.
“Gonna hurt you bad,” Borry added. “Real bad.”
They came toward him, separating slightly so they had room to maneuver. Reyn kept his eye on Borry and the iron pipe, letting Yancel think he was free to act. As he expected, Yancel came at him first, charging in a sudden rush that surprised his brother and caused him to shout out a warning.
The big man paid no attention, however, and threw himself at Reyn in an attempt to overpower him using his superior size and strength. But the boy dropped into a crouch, braced himself, and jammed one end of the piece of wood deep into his attacker’s stomach. Yancel gasped, retching uncontrollably as he dropped to his knees. Reyn was already leaping up to meet Borry’s attack but to his surprise found the other Fortren just standing there, staring at him.
“You’re so tricky, ain’t you? Just think you can make us look like fools, but I ain’t stupid, chicken-boy. I ain’t my brother. I got something else in mind for you.”
Borry backed toward the tavern wall. “See, hurting you ain’t just about breaking bones. It’s about breaking your heart. By doing this.”
With inexorable purpose he moved to where the elleryn rested. Several violent swings of the iron pipe smashed it to pieces. Reyn stared in shock as his instrument was reduced to broken bits of wood and severed strings, ruined beyond any hope of repair.
Borry turned back to him. “How do you like that, you pissant? How do you like your pretty plaything now? Why don’t you play something for me? Why don’t you make your pretty music?”
Reyn felt the rage building in a slow, steady boiling that worked through him like a fire given life by kindling and