The Exiled Blade (The Assassini) - By Jon Courtenay Grimwood Page 0,112

Giulietta thought about Marco’s question as Tycho watched from where he rode slightly behind. Frederick rode ahead. Only two horses could ride abreast on the narrow road and Marco had claimed the space beside her. Behind Marco came his knights, what remained of Frederick’s krieghund and those who’d been guarding the lakeside camp.

“W-well?” Marco demanded.

“Don’t try to turn your cowardice into a guessing game.”

“Those c-creatures are d-dead, the p-paladins are g-gone . . . The thin ice in the m-moat will soon be h-hard enough for people to w-walk. But, m-most importantly, Alonzo won’t attack the m-men we left. Not n-now.”

“What?” She sounded genuinely puzzled.

“He’ll l-look for m-me and d-discover I’m gone. He won’t r-risk his remaining t-troops in a b-battle for no reason. He’s too g-good a soldier.”

“He’s going to come after us?”

“Of c-course h-he’s going to c-come after us. What d-do you expect?” Marco sounded almost happy about it. Either that, or he hoped to steady those around him. His knights had to know how desperate things were. The ex-Regent might spare what was left of the archers and spearmen. The flipside of that coin was that the Nicoletti and Castellani who made up most of those forces would feel no duty to attack him. Leaving him free to track Marco if that was what he wanted.

Tycho nudged his mount slightly forward.

“You t-think w-we should h-hurry?”

“Yes, highness.”

“You’re p-probably right.”

They rode until dawn, higher and higher. The air thinned, and the wind rose when they climbed above the treeline, their horses steaming with sweat as the beasts fought for each step. Far below, the cathedral burnt bright enough to redden the mountainsides until the coming day paled the effect to elegant pink.

“C-cover yourself,” Marco ordered Tycho.

“Highness, leave me here.”

Instead the duke ordered that Tycho be tied to his own saddle and hidden by horse blankets until his soul returned. “You d-don’t sleep,” he said. “N-not like we d-do. You abandon your b-body. W-well, so I’m t-told.”

Giulietta blushed.

Frederick just looked hurt.

When he woke, Tycho knew instantly something was wrong. His group was too quiet, the atmosphere too strained. He shook his head free from the horse blanket covering him and found his wrists lashed beneath his mount’s neck and the animal led by Marco himself. “Shush . . .” Marco whispered.

Leaning across, the duke pulled at a knot and Tycho’s hands came free. He reached back to check his sword was loose in its scabbard. Frederick looked tight-faced, his followers watchful. Captain Weimer pale but resolute. Giulietta’s thumb was in Leo’s mouth to keep him quiet. She looked terrified.

“Alonzo . . .?”

Marco raised a finger to his lips.

Fire flamed the mountain ridge behind him and Tycho realised he’d woken to the very last of the daylight. The peaks burnt so bright he turned back to the track and had to close his eyes. There were riders on the mountain below them. Their mounts stumbled on the rocks and steamed with exhaustion, but they kept coming. Perhaps twice as many men as in Marco’s party. With Frederick’s krieghund and Captain Weimer’s troops they should be able to set an ambush. Tycho wondered what the other problem was.

Frederick pointed to the cliff above.

Shadows flickered along the moonlit top, fleeting and mostly visible out of the corner of his eye. They were swift and silent and kept easy pace with those using the treacherous track below. The clear sky and almost full moon made Marco’s party easier to see. Dropping back, Tycho found Captain Weimer. “How long?”

“Less than an hour, my lord. I thought it an ambush, but . . .”

Whoever held the high ground, they were fresh enough to move at speed, and they could stop or slow Marco’s progress enough to let Alonzo catch up if that was their aim. They had done neither. “Bandits?”

“If we’re lucky.”

“Can we outrun Alonzo?”

“Not without abandoning those on foot.”

“Then do it,” said Tycho, shocked the captain hadn’t done so already. The infantry could make a stand and hold Alonzo back long enough for Marco and Giulietta to ride ahead and find safety.

“The duke forbids it.”

“Of course he does. Bloody idiot.”

Marco turned and smiled, almost as if he knew he was the subject of their whispered discussion.

“Then we must all make a stand.”

Captain Weimer nodded. “My thoughts. Unfortunately, it’s not my choice.”

“Have you suggested it?”

The captain looked at him strangely. “I’ve been doing so all day. His highness said no decision could be made until you woke. Well, you’re awake, so perhaps you should go talk

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