Second Contact (Okal Rel Saga #1)

Chapter 14.1 - A Tournament Champion, Not a Blood Fighter

The Demish Champion met Di Mon's charge with sober courage. He fought right handed, as the Demish usually did, but Di Mon had dueled enough of them in his time not to be put off. His opponent feigned a move to draw him out, but Di Mon did not respond. That worried the Demish prince, who probably counted on exploiting hot, Vrellish tempers when fighting black-hairs. They engaged in a room gone as quiet as space — except for the slash and slither of their blades — and drew back, having tested one another and grown grim.

The Demish Champion began to circle out of range of Di Mon's lunge, or so he thought.

Pent up grief shot Di Mon forward, engaging, rebounding, and whipping a long thin slash in frustration down his opponent's flank. His Demish opponent gave a startled cry but did not lose his concentration. Di Mon was not inclined to stop at first blood, but the strange prince had a strong defense. The only hits that Di Mon landed were harassing ones.

So be it, thought Di Mon. The Demish hurt more than the Vrellish did. He would fray his opponent's wits with distracting pain and his stamina with loss of blood. Di Mon settled with a predator's cunning to the task, and was disappointed when his opponent called the duel off.

"I don't want to fight you!" the man panted, bleeding from three separate cuts. He took a judicious step back as he lowered his sword. "I tried to tell your errant as much, but he attacked."

"You are backing down!" exclaimed the paladin, Thoth, his disapproval measured by a one-rank drop in grammar.

"You fight him if you've cause!" the Demish Champion fired back, nettled, dropping the honorifics owed a paladin in Demish dialect.

Di Mon deduced the champion was loath to take orders without an explanation and decided he wanted to encourage that, so he, too, took a step back. The Demish Champion was shaking in the aftermath of Di Mon's attack.

A good sword, but not a blood fighter, Di Mon decided. A tournament champion.

"I am sorry I was forced to kill your man," the Demish Champion apologized again, with a dip of his head towards Tan. "We're here to investigate a report of okal'a'ni weapons. Nothing more."

Di Mon said, "Get out. Now."

It was Thoth that Di Mon wanted to run through. Thoth, as Delm's surrogate, although he could not rationalize his suspicions and therefore distrusted them.

L'Ket glared at the Demish Champion who had killed Tan. She still wanted blood and that was dangerous. Di Mon's side would be badly outnumbered if a melee broke out.

Thoth stepped forward. "This is completely unnecessary, Liege Monitum," he announced in an official tone. "We both seek justice, nothing more. What cause have you to defend Perry D'Aur?"

"None. You may have her," said Di Mon. "But Den Eva's is under my protection. None of its staff or courtesans will be questioned without my gorarelpul as witness. If you accept those terms, I will stand down."

"That seems reasonable," said the Demish Champion.

Thoth was counting up numbers and hoping for a better result.

L'Ket looked too intense for comfort.

I must kill her if she goes for their champion, Di Mon realized. But he didn't know if he could. He understood her desire for vengeance.

Hesseratt emerged from the smoking spoke-hall, helping Vretla, who was on her feet, sword in hand, although just moving took all her concentration.

Thoth perked up. "Liege Vrel's baby?" he asked.

Coldly, Di Mon answered, "Lost."

L'Ket made a low sound in her throat. Thoth hesitated on the brink of some provocative remark, worried by the look in Di Mon's eyes. Di Mon thought, warmly, of Hangst Nersal taking down paladins on the Octagon in defense of D'Ander's hearth right. One more, he thought, would make a nice set. Silently, he targeted Thoth. He would take him out, personally, if it turned into a melee. The odds were still not good, of course. Highborn advantage disappeared if taking on more than one nobleborn. That was why melees were so hazardous. When there were lots of people involved, it often didn't matter how good you were.

Doors banged open in the den's entrance hall. Through them rushed a dozen Nersallians, some of them still dressed in mechanic's overalls but all of them wearing swords. Ses Nersal plunged through their center and saluted Di Mon.

"Good cycle, mekan'st ma," she greeted him.

"Good cycle," he answered, accepting the Vrellish naming word for a friend-lover.

She grinned from ear to ear with her wide mouth. "We heard there might be fighting to watch," she said.

Di Mon smiled back. If he dared to child gift, he'd have offered to do it for Ses Nersal for this rescue. Ses recognized the Demish Champion and looked impressed. The one thing she liked better about court than the Nersallians fleet, from which she had retired, was the chance to watch and bet on duels between Vrellish and Demish champions.

Kertatt began sliding down the wall where Di Mon had left him when he dashed to the aide of his errants.

"Assist Di Mon's sister-son," Ses ordered one of her followers.

Di Mon looked for Eva. "Have you made up your mind?" he asked.

The den mother came away from the wall she had been pressed against, watching. It took a heartbeat for her to grasp what Di Mon meant, then her carriage straightened.

"Yes," she said, firmly. "I will be your lyka."

"Lyka is it?" Ses said, and winked at Eva. "That's a good sign! Warm him up for me, den mother. He's much too self-controlled to be Vrellish!"

Di Mon frowned, aware he ought to do something to refute the implication he was cold-blooded, but he couldn't — nothing to do with sex felt light-hearted to him.

L'Ket saved him from further embarrassment by demanding his complete attention. She had been kneeling over Tan's body, confirming that he was dead. Now she cleared her sword as she straightened.

The Demish Champion had pinked up a little at Ses Nersal's suggestion to Eva, and wasn't paying much attention.

Di Mon blocked L'Ket's attack with a lunge, driving her sword down. The Demish reacted to the sound, but by then it was already over.

"Assist your captain with Liege Vrel," Di Mon ordered his rebelling errant.

L'Ket blinked, aware that Di Mon could have killed her. He still held her sword down beneath his own, the tension in their arms rock solid. "Tan—" she objected.

"Tan chose to duel?" Di Mon demanded, merciless.

"Yes," she admitted.

"Ack Rel, then," Di Mon told her. "I am grateful. Do not shame him with a dishonorable grudge."

L'Ket looked confused, could not sustain it, and came down on the side of obedience.

"We cannot let you remove people from this den until this incident has been properly investigated," Thoth objected with Demish officiousness.

"Why not?" demanded the Demish Champion, who was suffering his bleeding cuts to be bound. "So long as they do not take the suspects, just the victims."

"You are under my command!" Thoth insisted, speaking down sharply.

The champion colored an angry red. "I am here at the Ava's request, as your champion," he told Thoth, sounding splendidly, Demishly stubborn. "There's a difference between that and taking your orders." His pronouns magnified the insult Thoth had offered.

Thoth's jaw worked a moment. The Demish champion stood firm. Thoth crumpled. He said nothing, but broke off to lead a knot of nobleborns down the spoke-hall where they had left Perry D'Aur. Since nothing of theirs still lived in the rooms beyond, the Vrellish let him.