it as a tax on their stupidity.” We shared a laugh at that, and she asked to be excused for a moment. “I’d like to wash up before eating. Would that be okay?”
Fintan shrugged. “Sure.”
“We Brynts can get obsessive about hygiene. Sorry. I’ll be right back.”
The gerstad left us, and Fintan and I clinked glasses and sampled the beer while we waited for her return. The noise drew eyes in our direction from the line, and someone near us recognized Fintan. “Hey! It’s the bard!” a boy said, pointing with one hand and tugging on his mother’s sleeve with the other, and I realized that the gerstad had been blocking Fintan from view until she rose from the table. At that point in Pelemyn, Fintan was the bard—the kid couldn’t be talking about anyone else—so there were assorted gasps and tiny exclamations at spotting a famous person doing something normal, such as eating and drinking.
Fintan grinned at the boy and then the room. “The chowder’s so good here, I came back for more!” he announced. He held aloft his drink and wished them good health, and many glasses were raised in return. It was very warm and congenial for a few seconds there. Then my eyes drifted to the entrance, at the back of the line, where a group of men looked less than pleased. They looked instead like predators that had just spotted their prey, brows hooding their eyes and muscles tensing along their shoulders. And when they stepped out of line and began to push past people, drawing blades of varying lengths out of their belts, I chucked Fintan on the shoulder.
“Incoming fish heads!”
I rose and drew my steel, all merriment gone, and that alerted everyone that something serious was happening, including the mariners who were supposed to protect us sitting at the neighboring table. They sprang up to intercept the fish heads, and the other two mariners stationed at the door fell in from behind. Four on four—trained soldiers against undisciplined meat. Inwardly I was relieved. They’d probably never reach us, and if they did, their numbers would at least be reduced. As the hired men and the mariners fell to it—a quick flurry of blows and grunts and howls of pain accompanied by a chorus of alarm from the lunchtime crowd that scrambled to both get away and get a better view—I noted that none of the attackers was Nentian. They were unwashed types who took on dirty jobs for quick profit, and there was an abundance of them to be found these days. And because I was riveted to the brawl at the front of the house, I completely missed seeing the man with the axe until the blade sank into the table where Fintan had been leaning forward. The axe already had been employed judging by the blood on the blade, and if I had to guess, I’d say someone in the kitchen was dead since this stout, grizzled man hadn’t come through the mariners. He was definitely the Nentian bruiser we’d been warned about, his coppery skin and straight dark hair giving away his homeland. He had sent the fish heads in the front door to absorb the brunt of resistance, leaving him a clear shot at Fintan.
The bard, fortunately more aware than I, had jerked back to avoid the axe and drew a dagger from his belt. He threw it inexpertly at the Nentian, and the handle bounced off the man’s chest. I swung at him, and he ducked underneath it, drawing his sword. I had nowhere to run. I was effectively trapped where I was in a terrible stance, and my swing had made it clear to the Nentian that he had to go through me if he wanted another shot at Fintan—and he did.
I batted aside his first strike but fell for a feint on his next pass as he twisted his wrist and thrust at my belly. When did other people get so bloody fast? I tried to dodge out of the way, but we were in close quarters and I felt the cold steel shiver through my left side, followed by white-hot pain. I cried out, and he yanked the blade, slicing me open further, and I toppled sideways onto the bench as my knee buckled. Fintan was wide open and defenseless now, and the Nentian raised his sword. I weakly threw mine at him; that made him flinch and pause but did nothing else. The mariners were