Chapter 6: The Market at Marrowford

Leofric Thornfield rode into the middle of the market square with twenty men behind him.

People scattered between the stalls and pulled their children out of the way.

A woman dropped a basket of eggs, and no one stopped to pick them up.

"Gate-brat!" Leofric called, loud and cheerful. "You look better with a broken face."

I pushed Ilsabet behind me.

"Where's my sister?"

"Safe in my father's pit. Where else does a girl belong who's been given to the Duke?"

"You said she was a mage-ward."

"She's a bargaining chip. Don't be so slow."

He swung off his horse and handed the reins to a groom.

The square had gone silent.

Merchants and farmers and old women stood around us in a ring, watching the Duke's son hold court.

"I'd have had you killed in the snow," he said. "But Father likes to keep his options open."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because you hit me in front of three hundred people."

He touched his split lip.

"And I want three hundred more to watch what happens now."

He raised one hand.

From the ranks behind him a huge man stepped forward, bald, with a scarred neck and a sword as long as my leg.

"This is my champion," Leofric said. "He's won eleven duels for me."

"Beat him in front of this town, and I'll let you walk to Greywall on your own feet."

"And if I lose?"

"Then you won't be walking anywhere."

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