"And my guard betting on me is?" Dorian said.
Her lips pursed. "Fair," she mumbled. "I'll go check on the timing. Make sure they're announcing you before letting loose their beast," she said as she excused herself.
Dorian turned around in the yard again, his eyes bouncing off every shouting Blackhand in their seat, most drinking mead or wine. It was a great turnout. He noted Hagen and the other Elders in a box by the edge of the wall. Hagen relaxed in his chair, a cup of ale in his hand. Dorian's gaze narrowed at Katla sitting on the arm of the chair beside him, and he wondered if perhaps she was a partner of the High Elder's.
The glint of a blade turned his attention back to his Belwark. Corbin was holding Rhaif's sword, Amaris, up to the sun, and pouring over the rough silver for any miscreants.
"I just sharpened it," Dorian told him. "Should be ready."
"I don't want you using this one," Corbin countered.
"Why not?"
"Because it wasn't made for you," Corbin affirmed. "It's as likely to cut you as it is to cut what you're up against."
"Sounds like you're concerned," Dorian mocked. "You'll let me use your scythe instead."
To this, Corbin laughed. Such a cackle that Dorian shifted.
"What's so funny?"
"Your thinking this blade is something you can use like your swords," Corbin said. "Stick to your short swords instead. You're faster with them. With any luck, the beast you're fighting will be slow."
Dorian nodded in agreement, and he pushed the wrist braces on, gaze continuing to flicker in his Second's direction. He had noticed the worry in Corbin's dark eyes earlier, noted the stretch of concern over his stern features. He didn't like his Second in such a state, especially for himself. It created a hole in the pit of his stomach when he saw it.
"If I live, you can congratulate me later," Dorian said in a low tone as he attempted to make him smile. And he noted the wash of amusement over Corbin's features, watched it rise in his eyes as he sheathed Amaris.
"Kind of hoping you die now," Corbin said.
The smirk rose on Dorian's lips at Corbin’s bantering tone. "What—no kiss for good luck from you either?"
A quiet chuckle escaped the Belwark, and he clapped Dorian's cheek harshly, making Dorian wince. "You got nothing from the woman, and you'll get nothing from me," he informed him. "But try not to die. I'd rather not have to explain that to your sister."
Dorian backed out of his grasp and snatched Amaris from him. "Oh, right. Becausethat'sthe reason. I'm sure you'd explain it to herverythoroughly. Make sure she was consoled in every way possible."
Corbin smiled as he pushed past him. "I might." He took Amaris back as he moved. "And you're not using this."
A great bellow sounded behind him.
A deep roar that chilled him to his spine.
Dorian froze.
Corbin turned, and Dorian watched his Second's eyes widen as he looked past Dorian's shoulder.
"Tell me that was a Blackhand belch," Dorian asked as his heart began to throb.
Corbin gulped. "I wish I could," he said without moving his gaze.
Dorian heard Hagen announcing the battle and reading Dorian's charges. He heard cheers and Blackhand shouts coming from the stands. The beast roared again, and a loud stomp shook the ground as though it had come down off its hind legs to all fours.
Reverie was halted to her own spot, having come down to meet them again. "You're battlingthat?"
The remaining color drained from Dorian's face. "Describe it to me," he asked them.
"Bear," Corbin said.
"The size of three horses," Reverie added.
