As Aegon finished speaking and sheathed the sword that had originally belonged to Harlan, the gems on its scabbard flashed with a deeply ironic gleam beneath the sun hanging directly overhead at noon.
He turned away, his back to Harlan, who lay trembling in the muddy water, and silently took a step toward Sunfyre.
Then he abruptly spun around, drew the sword, and slashed.
The blade traced a vicious arc through the air and struck Harlan squarely in the chest.
Yet Aegon controlled the force of that stroke perfectly-the edge sliced through Harlan's mud-soaked, dark purple velvet coat and left a cut across his chest that was neither deep nor shallow. Blood slowly seeped through the torn fabric, staining the already faded lining over his chest red.
Harlan's eyes flew wide. He had thought Aegon had spared him, but now his lips trembled, and no one knew what he was trying to cry out-whether a scream of pain or a plea for mercy.
The instant Aegon's blade struck, his body convulsed violently before going completely limp on the ground as he lost consciousness.
Whether he had fainted from fear or pain was anyone's guess.
At the sight, the master Water Dancer who had stayed out of the fight could no longer stand idly by.
He lunged at Aegon, the rapier at his waist clearing its sheath in an instant. Its silver blade traced a sharp arc in the sunlight-but before it could reach Aegon, three longswords caught it at once.
At some point, Cole had arrived at the shipyard with William Blackwood. His longsword pressed firmly against the side of the Water Dancer's rapier, while the brothers Arryk Cargyll and Alek Cargyll followed close behind, one on either side, their longswords cutting off every possible avenue of retreat.
The three