arm up suddenly, but only partially deflected a flying chair, one leg spinning about to poke him hard in the forehead, which only heightened his dizziness. The fight around him was slowing now, for more men were down and groaning than still standing and punching, but Wulfgar needed another reprieve, a temporary one at least. He took the only route apparent to him, rushing to the bar and rolling over it, landing on his feet behind the barricade.
He landed face-to-face with Arumn Gardpeck. "Oh, but ye've done a wonderful thing this night, now haven't ye?" Arumn spat at him. "A fight every night for Wulfgar, or it's not a fun one."
Wulfgar grabbed the man by the front of his tunic. He pulled him up roughly from his crouch behind the bar, lifted him with ease, and slammed him hard against the back wall above the bottle shelving, destroying more than a bit of expensive stock in the process.
"Be glad your face is not at the end of my fist," the unrepentant barbarian growled.
"Or more, be glad ye've not toyed with me own emotions the way ye've burned poor Delly," Arumn growled right back.
His words hurt Wulfgar profoundly, for he had no answers to Arumn's accusation, could not rightly argue that he had no blame where Delly Curtie was involved. Wulfgar gave Arumn a little jerk, then set him down and took a step back, glaring at the tavernkeeper unblinkingly. He noticed a movement to the side, and he glanced over to see a huge, disembodied fist hovering in the air above the bar.
Wulfgar was hit on the side of the head, harder than he ever remembered being struck. He reeled, grabbing another shelf of potent whisky and pulling it down, then staggered and spun, grabbing the bar for support.
Across from him, Josi Puddles spat in his face. Before Wulfgar could respond, he noted the magical floating hand coming at him hard from the side. He was hit again, and his legs went weak. He was hit yet again, lifted right from his feet and slammed hard into the back wall. All the world was spinning, and he felt as if he were sinking into the floor.
He was half-carried, half-dragged, out from behind the bar and across the floor, all the fighting coming to an abrupt end at the sight of mighty Wulfgar finally defeated.
"Finish it outside," Reef said, kicking open the door. Even as the man turned for the street, he found a dagger point at his throat.
"It's already finished," Morik casually explained, though he betrayed his calm by glancing back inside toward the thin wizard who was packing up his things, apparently unconcerned by any of this. Reef had hired him as a bit of insurance. Since the wizard apparently held no personal stake in the brawl, the rogue calmed a bit and muttered under his breath, "I hate wizards." He turned his attention back to Reef and dug the knife in a bit more.
Reef looked to his companion, holding Wulfgar's other arm, and together they unceremoniously threw the barbarian into the mud.
Wulfgar climbed back to his feet, sheer willpower alone forcing him back into a state of readiness. He turned back toward the closed door, but Morik was there, grabbing his arm.
"Don't," the rogue commanded. "They don't want you in there. What will you prove?"
Wulfgar started to argue, but he looked Morik in the eye and saw no room for debate. He knew the rogue was right. He knew that he had no home.
Chapter 4 A LADY'S LIFE
"Ganderlay," Temigast announced as he entered the room to join Priscilla and Feringal. Both looked at the steward curiously, not understanding. "The woman you saw, my Lord Feringal," Temigast explained. "Her family name is Ganderlay."
"I know of no Ganderlays in Auckney," Priscilla argued.
"There are few families in the village whose names are familiar to you, my dear lady," Temigast replied, his tone somewhat dry, "but this woman is indeed a Ganderlay. She lives with her family on the south slope of Maerlon Mountain," he explained, referring to a fairly populated region of Auckney some two miles from the castle on a step-carved mountainside facing the harbor.
"Girl," Priscilla corrected condescendingly. "She's nowhere near to being a woman."
Feringal didn't even seem to hear the comment, too excited by the steward's news. "Are you certain?" he asked Temigast, jumping up and striding determinedly to stand right before the man. "Can it be?"
"The gir-the woman, was walking the road at the same time your coach