"That was justice-those bastards had it coming!" said Lewan, a bit of heat rising in his voice. "Not murder. The raiders deserved death. Deserved worse! Berun and his master didn't kill for pleasure or profit. They killed to save me."
"Killing is killing. The why… now that is something else."
The only other time Lewan had seen his master kill another person-a Tuigan outcast from his tribe who'd turned to banditry-Berun had taken no pleasure in it.
"It's the why that makes a murderer," said Lewan.
The half-orc turned and smiled down on him. "Like me?"
Yes, Lewan started to say, his mouth open, but instead he said, "I don't know you."
"I have killed for coins, boy," said the half-orc. "More times than I can remember. And I've killed for pleasure, hunting and slaying those stronger than me, more powerful. But my cunning won out, and I'm still breathing while they're rotting. Killing's part of life. Shy away from it, and you stand a good chance of being one of the rotters."
Lewan looked away.
"You ever killed anyone?" said the half-orc.
Lewan was silent a long time. Again, the pain of memories drained the color from his face. When he was sure he had control of his voice, he said, "I'm a hunter. My master taught me well."
"Meaning you've killed deer and rabbits. Maybe even a bear."
"I've killed three bears."
"But never a man? Never prey with weapon in hand and cunning in heart?"'
Lewan scowled and looked away.
"I'll take that as a no," said the half-orc.
Walking at the rear of the column through the woods, Berun only caught occasional glimpses of Lewan. But each time he did, the boy was listening to Sauk. Berun scowled.
"Your boy is fine," said Val, who walked beside him.
Berun turned his scowl on the blond man.
"You look ready to chew rocks," said Val. That insolent smile again.
What Berun would have given to remove that smile with a few punches. Barring that, he'd have given his next three meals for the path to narrow again so that Val would walk behind him and not be so eager for conversation. The man's incessant chattering was bad enough. Combined with the raw pain in Berun's ribs and the dull fire in his shoulder from the beating he'd endured last night, Berun felt ready to kill. He hadn't hurt this bad in a long, long time, and he hadn't been another's prisoner since… never. Berun had never been a prisoner. Kheil had died a prisoner, and Berun had been reborn a free man.
And here he was held captive by Kheil's old life.
"The boy your son?" said Val.
Berun looked away.
" 'Cause he don't look like you," Val continued. "Looks like a Murghom. Mulhorandi, maybe. His mother a Murghom?"
Berun slowed down, hoping Val would walk ahead, but one of the two men walking behind them jabbed his short sword into Berun's back. "Move it! No lagging."
Val's smile widened. Berun knew he could have easily bested these three, even snatched one of their blades and disappeared into the forest before the other men could do anything about it. But Sauk not only had Erael'len, he had Lewan. And there was the tiger. Berun knew that to beat the tiger, he'd have to think like a tiger. Don't rush. Wait and let your prey give you the best chance to attack. Conserve your strength and wait.
"I don't think he's your boy," Val said. "Too old. If the stories I heard are true, that boy had to have been at least five or six years old when you left Sentinelspire. Unless you sowed some foreign fields while you were working for the Old Man…"
Their path narrowed, the trees and brush closing in, and Val fell behind. But it didn't deter him.
"Not much of a talker, are you?" he said. "Talieth said that was one of your better qualities."
"What about Talieth?" Berun slowed and half turned before he caught himself.
"Well-hell!" said Val, beaming. "He does speak! A little salt in an old wound there, eh?"
Berun turned his eyes back to the path and kept walking.
He was glad Val was behind him and couldn't see the heat filling his face.
"It true what they say about you and Talieth?" Val said.
"Aren't you tired of talking yet, Val?" said one of the men behind them.
"Just trying to pass the miles."
"Well, we're tired of listening to you," said the other man.
"Then fall back," said Val, a sharp edge in his voice. "You don't have to hold my hand."
"Sauk told us to guard him. Told you that too. Didn't say nothing about sharing our life stories."
"He's not going anywhere," said Val. "Not while Sauk's got his necklace and his boy."
Berun glanced back. The two men didn't fall back, but their scowls now matched his own.
Val grinned and looked at Berun. "Isn't that right?"
Berun turned forward. He pushed aside a branch, thick with broken cobwebs, then let it fly back at Val.
"Don't want to talk about the boy," said Val as he ducked under the branch, "and Talieth seems to be a sore spot. What do you want to talk about?"
"I agree with your friends," said Berun. "You talk too much."
"Friends?" said Val. "These two camel humps aren't my friends."
"Lick my-" one of the men started, but Val ignored him and kept talking.
"See. They don't like me twice as much as I don't like them. We just work together."
"We'll remember that next time we're in a fight," said one of the men.
"Kerlis, you couldn't catch one boy in the woods without burning your hand and crushing your little manhood. Twice. I'm not really counting on you in a fight. Unless we're up against a bunch of little girls."
"You-!"
"Leave it," said the other man. "Sauk's already threatened to feed you to Taaki. Don't let this blond pretty boy drive you into the tiger's jaws."
Berun glanced back. Kerlis looked ready to tear logs with his bare hands. The other man just looked weary.
"Wonderful company, aren't they?" said Val, his smile undiminished.
Berun turned around in time to see something flit off the path and into the brush. For a moment, he hoped it was Perch, whom he hadn't seen since last night, but a closer look showed it was just a spider. A big one. A bark spider. Nasty bite, but the venom did no more than cause a rash and make you thirsty.
"Something tells me you don't have many friends," Berun said to Val.
He heard the man chuckle. "I didn't come to Sentinelspire to make friends. Besides, working for the Old Man provides the only kind of companionship I'm interested in."
Thinking of Perch brought a twinge of worry. Berun felt sure Sauk would have said something had he found-or harmed-the lizard, but he didn't know these other men. They killed people without hesitation. Most of them probably enjoyed it. They likely wouldn't give a moment's thought to harming a treeclaw lizard. Berun kept his eye on the path, let his body do the walking, and tried to relax his mind, to quiet his thoughts, and stretch his senses.
"It true what they say," said Val, "that you and Sauk used to be friends?"
Berun ignored him.
"Word around the campfire is that you used to be the best cold-blooded damned butcher Sauk ever knew-and that's something, coming from Sauk."
"Valmir," said Berun, "I don't share your campfire, so I don't care what is said around it."
Val laughed, the chuckle of a mischievous little boy pulling his sister's hair. "Like it or not, you're going to be shating lots of our campfires. Talk or don't. But you don't tell your tale, and others'll tell it for you."
It wasn't working. Perhaps it was the pain. More likely the constant chatter. But Berun could not sense Perch in the area. He knew the lizard was likely following them, staying out of sight, but even a slight reassurance would have done much to ease Berun's mind.
"The villages," said Berun.
"What villages?"
"Out on the steppes. Hubadai Khahan's new settlements. The attacks on the flocks, the attacks on the shepherds, the dead m
an… that was you?"
"Me?" said Val.
"This band," said Berun, motioning wide with his hands at their procession, and regretting it. He winced at the pain it brought to his shoulder.
"Nah," said Val. "Not me. Nor any of the others. That was Sauk's doing. Sent that tiger of his. He and Taaki… not natural, if you ask me, but that damned creature will do whatever Sauk wants her to."
"And Sauk wanted Taaki to kill that shepherd?"
"Kill?" said Val. "Don't know that he put that much thought into it. You'd have to ask him. But Sauk knew that the locals'd hire you once they thought some beast had come hunting them. Knew it'd draw you out. Swore it. Said he knew you like a brother. That true? You and him blood brothers?"
Berun ignored the question and sidled around a thorn bush that crowded the path. Broken spider webs clung to its waxy leaves where Sauk had cleared the path. Dozens of spiders- little budbacks no longer than Berun's thumbnail-crawled over the brush in an agitated swarm. The budbacks' venom wouldn't hurt a man-not even so many-but they liked to bite when annoyed.
"Can't stand all these cursed spiders," said Kerlis as he sidled around the bush. "Damned woods are full of 'em. Makes my skin crawl."
The man slapped at the bush with his sword, then hurried away.
Wait, and let your prey give you the chance to attack. Berun smiled.
Chapter Eight
Nauk pushed them hard. They ate and drank while they walked, and by mid afternoon they began their climb into the broken foothills of the Khopet-Dag. The trees in this region were small, but their branches and leaves were thick, darkening the forest floor beneath them. Birdsong ceased, but the air was alive with newly-hatched insects, and spider webs of every sort festooned the wood.
Some of the trees, long dead from blight or drought, were completely enshrouded in webs. Others were entirely free of the sticky strands, and Berun knew that treeclaw lizards were near. Part of Berun was glad, knowing that Perch would feel right at home, but part of him worried that his little friend might become distracted by the abundance of food. Most of the spiders were no larger than a man's knuckle, but Berun saw a few larger than his hand, and he knew that Sauk's men saw them too. Everyone walked with weapons in hand, and they scanned the forest canopy as often as they watched the path. Kerlis had gone pale as a dead fish's eye, and the fist that gripped his short sword trembled.
Even Valmir had gone silent. Whether it was because the forest seemed to call for silence, his wariness of the spiders, or the exertion from walking the steep hills, Berun neither knew nor cared. He simply thanked the Oak Father and every benevolent deity that the man had finally ceased flapping his jaw.
As the sun fell behind distant peaks, their procession topped a small rise where the rocky ground gave only enough soil for stubborn grasses and thorny bushes, giving them a view of the sky for the first time since late morning. Larger foothills stood before them, and the canopy of the great Shalhoond lay behind and to either side. The southern horizon was dark-a storm building over the Ghor Nor. Looking eastward, Berun could see all the forest laid out beneath them, and the Amber Steppes painted a deep gold out of the mountains' shadow. Beyond the grasslands, jutting from the horizon like a broken tooth, stood a mountain. Sentinelspire.
"Keep moving," whispered Valmir. "We don't want to get separated from the others."
"Spiders bother you?"
No grin from Valmir this time. In fact, his face was downright grim. "There's worse than spiders in the Khopet-Dag these days," he said. "Now move. We're out in the open."
Berun quickened his pace until they were just behind the next man in line. When they descended the opposite side of the hill and were once again beneath the trees, Berun turned to Val and said, "Sentinelspire is east. Why are we walking west?"
"Sentinelspire's two hundred miles east," said Val. "You really want to walk all that way?"
"Beats all these damned spiders," Kerlis muttered.
"We aren't walking?" asked Berun.
For once, Val seemed annoyed at the chatter, his scowl deepening. "There's a portal in the foothills," he said. "I never knew of a portal in the Khopet-Dag." "There's lots of things you don't know," said Val. "Meaning what?"
"Meaning you've been away a long time. Things have changed at the Fortress. Lots of things."
Night hit the woods fast. Though it was still dusk above the tree canopy, the thick leaves blocked out what little light bled down from the sky. Wind from the south had picked up, thunder rumbled in the distance, and Berun could smell the storm coming. Sauk stopped and ordered them to camp at the first sizeable stream they found-a small rivulet that cut its way through steep banks and over the black rocks of the hill before them.
The men set to work, building a few fires and preparing their meager meals. No tents. Each man carried blankets, and they would sleep beside the fires. Berun was thankful for his oilskin cloak. By the sound of the thunder and the smell of the wind, they would have a significant rain before midnight.
Seeing the work well underway, Sauk called out to a man to whom Berun had not yet spoken. Tall and swarthy, he had the build and complexion of a Thayan, but he wore the fine clothes of a westerner. Although he was in need of washing, it was evident he took pride in his appearance; his beard was well trimmed, and his hair was just growing out of what was obviously a carefully chosen cut.
"Merzan," said Sauk. "Me and Benjar and Hama are going out to scout. You're in charge." He looked at Lewan and Berun. "You two just sit by the fire and rest. No talking. Merzan, take appropriate action if they try to speak to each other."
"As you say, Sauk," said Merzan. He gave Lewan and Berun a look of complete indifference. That bothered Berun. A grin might have shown overconfidence-something Berun could use. A bluster or boast might have meant he was dealing with someone too keen on who was in charge-something else Berun could use. But the complete lack of emotion likely meant that Merzan was an iron-cold killer, who didn't care one way or the other whether Lewan and Berun lived or died. That meant trouble.
Berun settled himself beside the fire that Benjar and Hama-Vaasans, by the looks of them-had left. His shoulder felt better. Perhaps all the walking had helped to stretch it. But his side where Sauk had kicked him still throbbed with pain.
Valmir sat across from him. The blond man looked tired, but the easy grin was back. "Hungry?" "A little," said Berun.
Val rummaged through a heavy canvas pack. "No servants out here. We'll have to make our own." — "Sauk took my pack." "No worries," said Val. "I got you." "Very kind."
"You haven't tasted my cooking yet. May not think me so kind after."
Berun shrugged out of his cloak and loosened his belt a notch. He winced at the pain in his ribs. "Still hurting?" asked Val. "I'm fine."
"Have it your way. Tea'll be ready soon." Berun watched Val set a small iron kettle near the fire and rummage through his foodstuffs.
"What kind of changes?" asked Berun. "What?"
"Back on the hill. You said there've been lots of changes at Sentinelspire. What kind of changes?"
Val's smile widened. "So you admit that you used to live there?"
"I never denied it."
"Never admitted it, either."
"Why give you answers you already know?"
Valmir nodded. "Fair enough, I suppose. Let's just say the Old Man's been busy all these years. And not always in good ways. That man could give Sauk lessons in cunning."
"Then won't he know we're coming?"
"Don't you worry about that," said Val. "Sauk is still as much a cunning hunter as he ever was, and the Old Man still trusts him. We might have to disguise you a bit, though I'd wager that you look nothing like you used to. Am I right?"
"I'm… not the man I used to be."
Val laughed. "Who is?"
Berun glanced to the other side of the camp. Lewan was sitting beside a fire. He accepted a bit of food and a small tin cup of water from one of the men. It bothered Berun that the boy seemed
so at ease.
"Don't underestimate your old friend Sauk," Val continued. "He could get King Haedrak into Sentinelspire if he wanted to."
"But you said the Old Man was even smarter. 'Could give Sauk lessons in cunning,' you said."
"True enough," said Val as he continued to prepare the tea. "But I also said that the Old Man still trusts him-and we aren't on our own. We got us some… what you might call 'inside help.' "
"You mean Talieth."
Valmir's movements suddenly became very careful and precise. Very intentional. "What do you know about Talieth?"
"Another one of those questions to which you already know the answer?"
Val's grin didn't falter, but the good humor left his eyes. He shrugged and said, "People talk."
Berun knew that was enough on this subject. Kheil and Talieth… to say they had a history together would be only the beginning of a long tale, and it was not a happy one. And this was obviously a sensitive point for Val. That intrigued Berun.
"How long have you been at the Mountain?" said Berun.
"A few years."
"Where before that?"
"Why are you so interested in talking all of a sudden? Couldn't get a damned word out of you all day."
Berun shrugged. "When I walk, I walk. But fireside is good for talk."
The glint of mischief lit Val's eyes again. "And there's one thing you don't like to talk about. Am I right?"
"That's true of everyone," said Berun. "You don't want to tell me where you're from, then?"
"Not much to tell," said Val as he inspected the insides of two tin cups. Apparently satisfied, he took the kettle from the coals and poured the tea. He looked at Berun through the steam rising from the cup as he handed it to him. "I was a thief in Darromar. A moderately successful one. Enough that I began to get a bit of a reputation. I had an… incident with the local guild and had to ply my skills elsewhere. Went to Tethyr, where I took in with a fellow who started teaching me a bit of the Art."
"Magic?"
"Nothing special. Just a few spells here and there that help in my line of work. But that line of work proved a bit too successful again. I was hiding from a local noble's hired men when worse trouble came knocking at the noble's door. Turns out he'd angered some of the wrong people, and the Old Man was hired to take care of the problem. One thing led to another, and I ended up impressing Merzan, who offered me… what you might call an audition."
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