Exile's Honor

The stallion swung his head about to stare at the others—all but Kantor, that is—with the kind of look that Aksel and Berthold would give pupils who had gone so far beyond merely disappointing their teachers that even the most irrepressible or arrogant of boys could not have gone unaffected.

:What is this?: the newcomer asked—no—demanded, in tones of disgust. :What do I find here? Companions—threatening someone else's Chosen? What were you thinking? How could you?:

One of Alberich's attackers raised his head and stared at the stallion; Alberich 'heard' nothing, but he got the distinct impression that the other was trying to justify his actions, rather like a defiant little boy who knows very well he's in the wrong, but simply cannot bear to admit it. The others were making no such attempts; if a Companion could have flushed or paled with shame, these would have done so.

The stallion gave the defiant one short shrift. :Enough!: he said, but the effect on the other Companion was as if he'd been struck between the eyes with a hammer. He literally dropped to his knees, as the others winced. :You, Jasker,: the stallion said, more in sorrow than anger, :What you and yours have endured is no excuse. What happened to these others is no excuse either. You should have learned that by now.: The stallion swung his head around, and again Alberich felt the full force of his gaze. :You, Alberich—Chosen of Kantor—have you, yourself, ever brought harm to a single soul of Valdemar?:

'Not unless bandits they were, and with a band of brigands riding,' Alberich said truthfully. 'Claim I cannot, that my men and I did not make it so that others freed were, to come against your folk—but never a Valdemaran I touched, nor did any of those under my command.'

:So I thought.: the stallion turned his attention back to the errant one, who had all but shrunk into a mere pony beneath that gaze. :Well.:

It was very clear that the defiant one was the target of a scathing lecture. He was not to hear what the stallion said to the other, but it made the formerly defiant one shrink even further. And if something the size and shape of a horse could have been said to 'slink on its belly,' then that was precisely what the Companion did— toward Alberich.

:I beg your pardon,: the young one said—whispered, rather.

:I can't hear you,: the stallion rumbled, like a storm on the horizon.

:I—most humbly beg your pardon and ask your forgiveness—: came the humiliated response. :Chosen of Kantor, I acted vilely. I am unworthy.:

:I should say so!: Kantor snorted, ears laid back, and teeth bared. :Arrogant little beast, I should —:

:Kantor!: the stallion said warningly.

But Kantor only raised his head and looked the other in the face, with no sign of the profound shame they displayed. :I only said that I should, Taver. I should thrash this little cretin around Companion's Field twice—but I won't. I won't ever. Because I'm stronger and a better fighter and it would be no contest between us, so long as it was a fair fight, and not a case of a mob against one —:

Somehow, the other's head drooped even lower.

:Kantor, I beg your pardon, too,: came the sad voice—if a voice in the mind could sob, Alberich sensed that this one was on the verge of just that. Alberich decided that enough was enough.

For whatever reason, this boy—and it might look like a horse, but it acted like a boy—had a grudge against all Karsites. Apparently he had decided on his own that Kantor had been deceived or subverted.

And he elected to take out his grievances on this Karsite—Alberich—who had somehow come within his reach. Why the child felt this way, Alberich had no idea—but it was apparently a driving passion, and had driven him to gather up a pack of his cronies to act when Alberich had unwittingly put himself in a position where he could be attacked with relative impunity.

But there was also no doubt in his mind that the boy—colt?—had been forcibly shown the error of his ways. And that his contrition was real, his repentance sincere, his shame overwhelming. And there was only one answer that Alberich could make to that.

He stepped forward, and put a hand under the colt's chin. The Companion started at his touch, and began to shake, his skin shivering with reaction, as Alberich forced his head up so that he could look into the colt's eyes.

'Pardon I give, freely,' he said, as he felt the colt fighting to keep from bolting. 'But more. Forgiveness I give also.'