Tournament of Losers (20 page)

"Tempting, but I should probably press on."

"We bought you a cloak and some boots that seemed about your size," Fynn said. "Already packed with the horses. We just have to add your bag to the pile and we'll be all set."

Rath frowned. "Isn't that against the rules? You aren't supposed to help me."

Fynn shook her head. "Our duty is to keep you safe and healthy. If you don't have proper equipment when we get to those mountains, you will die. That's no exaggeration. Buying you necessary supplies is no different than buying food and seeing to room and board when we stop."

"It's appreciated," Rath said quietly. Fynn and Teller smiled. They bid farewell to the women they were speaking with, and Rath fell into step between them as they led the way to the stable behind the tavern.

Teller pushed the door open, throwing a grin over his shoulder. "You look—" he broke off as someone slammed into him, and made a faint, pained noise before dropping to the ground.

The man who'd run into him scowled and looked up, a bloody knife gleaming in one hand.

Fynn shoved Rath out of the way and drew her sword. Rath fell to the ground, face in the dirt, and by the time he managed to stand, the man was dead, Fynn's sword wet with blood. Her face was drawn tight as she dropped down next to Teller. "You stupid bastard, you'd better be alive."

Teller groaned, clutching at his side, blood seeping from between his fingers. "Not for lack of trying on his part, the Fates-rejected bastard. He got me good, but I don't wear armor just to look pretty."

"You could wear royal temple garb and you still wouldn't look pretty, Teller," Fynn said with a slightly-wobbly laugh. "Get on your feet, you sorry excuse for a soldier." She didn't give him a chance, however, simply set her sword aside, got hold of him, and hoisted him up herself. "Come on, let's get you to a healer." She looked to Rath. "Can you help him so I can stand point and take care of anyone else who might come after us?"

"Of course," Rath said and traded places with her, both of them ignoring Teller's grumbling that he could walk just fine on his own. Whatever he said, Teller's skin had taken on a sickly green-yellow undertone, and there was still blood dripping from between his fingers.

Because of Rath. His heart was drumming so loudly in his ears he could barely hear his own thoughts. Someone had tried to kill him, and if he'd gone first into the stable, they might have succeeded. What if they had succeeded in killing Teller? It was one thing to beat up Rath in an alleyway and threaten him with worse, quite another to hurt people who had nothing to do with the matter.

Then again, everyone knew Rath had nothing to do with his father, but they still harassed him time and again, both to get their money and to punish his father by hurting the people he cared about.
Supposedly
cared about, anyway. Rath would have corrected the mistake if anyone had ever bothered to ask or listen to him.

It took them what felt like an eternity to reach the healer, and when they did, Teller was closer to unconscious than awake.

"Put him there," said the healer, a woman with red-brown skin and stiff, curly, reddish-brown hair. She pointed to a narrow bed in one corner of the room.

Fynn hovered in the doorway. "Master Rath, I'm going to take care of the dead man and speak with some people about him. Lock this door behind me and let no one in until I return, all right?"

"All right," Rath said and did as requested once she'd left. He stood near the bed, but well out of the way, as the healer briskly set to work, removing the layers of Teller's clothing and armor, then clucking and tsking at the wound. Rath winced as he got a good look at it: a slash that angled slightly downward along Teller's side, like the assailant had meant to stab, but had wound up slicing instead. A very near thing. If that knife had gone deep like intended, Teller would have already bled out. "I'm so sorry, Teller. This is my fault—"

"Bugger that," Teller said. "The only ones to blame are the bastard who stabbed me and the Fates-rejected shithead who paid him to do it. Stop looking so upset; I've had worse."

Rath shook his head but remained quiet, not certain what to say, anyway.

"Fate-favored, you are," the healer said. "This wound requires stitching, and you will need to stay abed a day or two, but after that, you should be well." She rose and turned away, mixed something together at her work table. "Drink this. It will dull the pain while I clean and stitch you."

Teller made a face, but obediently drank the unappealing, gray-brown concoction. His expression when he was finished said it tasted as awful as it looked. The healer took the bowl, then sat on her stool once more and set to work. Teller grumbled and muttered but within minutes, was fast asleep. Pausing in her work, the healer glanced at Teller, shook her head in amusement, then looked at Rath. "I didn't even give him all that much. It really was just enough to dull the worst of the pain. Better if they stay awake to let me know if something is wrong."

"You should see what happens when someone gives me murgot," Rath said with a smile. "I'd be out for three days."

"Don't see that much out here, unfortunately." She bent back to her work, sewing up Teller's wound as deftly as any seamstress.

By the time she'd finished, Fynn had returned. "How is he?"

"Well enough," the healer said as she began to clean up. "He'll probably sleep most of the day, which is all to the good. A couple of days' rest, not more than light movement, and he should be fine. The stitches can come out after about five days."

Fynn nodded. "Thank you. Can I carry him back to the tavern to rest there, or should I leave him here? I can pay you for the trouble."

The healer scoffed. "A penny for the potion and stitching, if it's no trouble. I'm sorry for whatever happened. Usually our village is so quiet. The worst we get is some young fool getting drunk and falling off something." She gestured at Teller. "You can take him. Just have a care and see he doesn't do much moving until day after tomorrow."

Fynn set a penny on the little table by the door, then gently scooped Teller up and headed out. "All should be safe now, Rath, but have a care and stay close until we're safely back in our room."

Nodding, Rath thanked the healer one last time, then followed Fynn outside and back to the tavern. "I'm sorry this happened. You're supposed to be over-precaution, I remember the crier saying that. No one should be getting hurt because of me."

Fynn snorted. "No one should be murdered because they're doing well in a tournament they've every right to be in. Stop apologizing and instead be angry that someone dared to try to kill you for no good reason. Come to that, you've been remarkably calm about an attempt on your life."

"My father's creditors have been threatening to kill me, and leaving me half-dead in alleyways, for almost as long as I can remember," Rath said. "It never stops being terrifying, thinking you could die, or that you almost died, but sadly, you still get accustomed to it."

"Yeah, it's not so different being a soldier, but at least we're paid for the pleasure of being terrified," Fynn said with a sigh. "I am sorry. I should have been more on guard. Hopefully it'll ease off the further out we go."

They reached the tavern and headed up to the room they'd only recently vacated. "So who was the man you killed?" Rath asked.

"No one recognized him," Fynn said. "Probably followed us from the city and was waiting until your death could be made to look like a theft or something, since killing us on the road from the city would have looked more than a little suspicious." She gently removed Teller's boots and tucked the blankets around him. "I've sent word to the Lord High Constable about what's happened. You and I can resume the journey; someone will come to watch over Teller and see him home, and another will catch up—"

"Do we have to leave him?" Rath cut in, frowning down at Teller. "I mean, he's injured, of course he probably doesn't want to continue on, but I don't want to simply leave him here alone. What if the wound gets infected? It doesn't feel right to abandon someone who got hurt protecting me."

Fynn stared at him. "You can't afford to delay, Master Rath. The challenge—"

"Fates bugger the challenge. I would rather be certain he is well. I won't abandon someone who was hurt because of me."

Fynn huffed softly, a smile tugging at her lips. "Well, it's your challenge, Master Rath, and to be honest, Teller would be crushed to be left behind. He was the first to volunteer to help with this challenge, and there was no containing him when he was assigned to look after you. But he would take no offense if we went on without him. Everybody I know is cheering for you to win."

"I never thought I'd get this far," Rath murmured. "It's more than a little disconcerting."

"Well, don't dwell on it too much. Keep moving and doing. Don't let the thinking set you stumbling. I meant it when I said everyone I know is cheering for you. If you really insist on remaining here until Teller is on his feet again, I promise we'll do all we can to make up for lost time."

Rath nodded. "Thank you. Shall we go fetch our bags and settle in? I can't say I'm sorry I get to avoid the horse for another couple of days."

"You need to get over your fear of horses, Champion. Don't think because you're staying here a little longer that you won't have to ride—this is the perfect opportunity to practice. If you become a hoity-toity, you'll be spending a lot of time on one, so best get used to it." She laughed at the face he made and slung an arm across his shoulders as they headed out.

Rath eyed her warily. "Why would I be spending a lot of time on horses? The royal family never leaves the city, not that I've ever heard. Even if they did, don't they usually travel by carriage?"

"For one, it's easier to get around the city on a horse. Second point, rumor has it that His Royal Highness Prince Isambard is going to be traveling the kingdom on behalf of the king and queen, visiting all the towns and villages to address problems and simply let the people see at least one member of the royal family. The crown prince can't do it, and Princess Vivien is set to go abroad not long after the end of the tournament. Prince Harrow is pregnant and has other obligations. So it's fallen to Prince Isambard, and whomever he marries will obviously be going with him. Some parts of the kingdom can only be reached by horse, and others a carriage
can
reach but a horse it just easier."

"I see," Rath said. So much traveling sounded exhausting, but not as terrifying as it might have just a day ago. Though he hoped it came with a lot less stabbing.

Holy Fates, why was he thinking about it like it was going to happen? It wasn't. He wasn't going to win the tournament. Staying until Teller recovered was going to set him back by days, and the trip had only begun. His luck had never been going to last forever. After this challenge was over, it would be back to life as usual.

When had thinking that started bringing disappointment instead of relief?

Rath laughed as Fynn shoved Teller off the rock he'd been using as a seat while they broke for lunch. "Shut your mouth."

"When have I ever done that?"

"Only reply to that is crude, and I won't lower myself," Fynn replied tartly. "Finish your food so we can get home already. I'm ready for a bath, my own bed, and to not have to look at your ugly face for a few days."

Teller snickered as he resumed his seat. "Please, who do you think is going to be put on watch together not two hours after we get back?"

Fynn groaned. "Stuff it, Tell. If we get stuck on watch, I will throw you in the harbor."

That didn't halt Teller's snickering, but the rock she threw at him did.

Rath shook his head, smiling around the bread and jerky he was eating. He couldn't wait to be home, back to where everything was familiar, but he would miss Teller and Fynn as fiercely as he'd been missing home. Was there any chance he could see them again? But every time he tried to ask, nerves got the better of him, and he bit the question back.

"You don't look very excited, Champion," Fynn said. "Thought we'd have to take away your horse so you didn't go galloping off."

"Ha ha," Rath replied. "We all know me and galloping is a bad idea." He'd gotten used to horses over the past weeks, for the most part, but he still wasn't in a hurry to make a habit of them. "I can't wait to be home, but this was fun, too."

They beamed, and Fynn said, "I'll drink to that, and you can buy them, seeing as you're going to be a wealthy prince soon."

Rath rolled his eyes. "The tournament isn't over yet, and there's two challenges to go. I'm not sure I really want to know what they are. What could be more difficult than traveling around the country for several weeks?"

"Got us," Teller said as he and Fynn shrugged in unison. "I mean, we couldn't tell you if we did know, but they only told us what we absolutely needed to know to do our job for this challenge. Once you hand over your tokens, we go back to the castle." He grinned. "Though obviously, we'll be at the fairgrounds to see you win."

"You're going to be disappointed, then," Rath said. "I can't even tell if I've passed this challenge. Hopefully we're not the last to return." They shrugged again, but their smiles were reassuring and Rath dared to hope he hadn't failed.

He still refused to think about why he had gone from wanting to quit to wanting to win. He'd been drawn into the foolish spell of the tournament, and he had every faith he'd come out a loser. But he was still secretly hoping otherwise, and had no idea what to do about it. The sooner he lost, the better.

"Come on, you lazy things," Fynn said, first to finish as always. She threw the end of her bread at Teller, who caught it and shoved it into his mouth as he walked over to his horse.

Rath went to his own and swung up into the saddle, patting her neck fondly before turning her toward the city. "Home, sweet home, here we come."

The last few hours seemed to last forever, where all the rest of the last leg of their trip had gone by too fast. By the time they reached the city gates, Rath was ready to scream. Instead, he tamped down firmly on his fraying patience. "I assume I give the Lord High Constable my tokens tomorrow, given it's past dark? Should I leave Thief with you or follow you somewhere to leave her?" He hoped it was the latter; he wasn't in a hurry to say goodbye to any of them.