as if muscles were tearing.
'Don't think he heard you.' That was Val's voice. Berun couldn't turn his head enough to see, but he felt someone yank his knife out of the sheath.
Sauk let the arm go and put his full weight into the foot on Berun's back. His ribs creaked and he could only take shallow breaths.
'Just remember,' said the half-orc, 'you brought this on. If you'd behaved yourself, you and the boy would be sitting round the fire sharing some soup. Now-'
Shouts of men out in the woods. Berun could hear them. But beyond that, he heard the deep thunder of the tiger's roar, more shouting from the men, and then screaming. A boy screaming.
'Lewan!' gasped Berun, and he tried to push himself up. It was like pushing against a mountain root.
'You just stay down,' said Sauk. 'Taaki isn't going to kill the boy. But she will catch him, and she's not nearly as gentle as my men.'
'Let'-Berun could barely take in enough air to speak — 'boy-go.'
'No,' said Sauk.
'Why?' He wanted to ask, What is he to you? He isn't involved. Let him go and I'll come along, do whatever you say, and a dozen other things, but he couldn't find the breath to form any words.
'Right now? 'Cause you caused me a lot of trouble. Put my men to a lot of trouble. And you tried to hit me with your bow.' Sauk stepped away, turned his head, and spat. 'That wasn't nice, Kheil.'
Sweet air filled Berun's lungs, and he rolled over onto his back. Breath was coming easier now, but his gut still hurt-a little higher with that first punch, and Berun knew he'd be holding broken ribs right now-and his arm felt like splinters were tumbling through his veins. Sauk stood a few paces away, arms across his chest. What he'd done with Erael'len, Berun couldn't see. Val stood beside the half-orc, Berun's bow and quiver cradled in his arms, the knife in one hand, and the insolent smile on his face. Gerrell stood behind them, spear in one hand, looking as if he didn't quite know what to do.
'Berun,' said Berun.
'Berun,' said Sauk. 'Kheil. Leaf-lovin' blight-beater, I don't care what you call yourself. Keep this up and Berun might join Kheil, and they can bicker over who is who in the afterlife. But to finish my answer-even if I weren't annoyed with you, I'd still keep the boy. It'll give you incentive to behave yourself. I have nothing against the boy. But understand, I've got no love for him either. You play nice-no more flyin' lizards in anyone's face, no more trying to slap me with your twig-tosser-and you and the boy can go your way once our business is done. You try any more of this nonsense, and I'll let Taaki have her way with little Lewan. Might even make you watch.'
Berun stayed on the ground. He didn't want another boot on him just then, but he looked up and glared at the half-orc. 'Dukhal.'
Berun had never been fluent in the language of Sauk's orc tribe, but he knew enough to give a good curse. Dukhal. A bastard whelp. A vile enough insult to any orc, but for Sauk it held a particular barb. He was the son of the clan's chief and a human slave. His mother had died before Sauk could walk, and he'd spent his childhood competing for-and never winning-his father's affection and respect among the chieftain's legitimate sons.
Sauk's eyes went cold and hard. 'There you go hurting my feelings again,' he said. Then his visage seemed to soften a bit and something happened Berun would never have predicted. The half-orc looked almost… sad. Truly hurt. 'I see now that Kheil my brother is dead indeed. I was not wrong to bleed for him. Still, we need you. I didn't lie. Help us with this… Berun. Help us, and you and the boy can go wherever your new god takes you.' He turned to Val. 'No need to tie him, but don't give his weapons back. As soon as he can sit up, put him by a fire and feed him. And keep an eye out for that lizard. Don't know where it got off to.'
'The lizard?' said Val, looking annoyed. 'What do you want me to do with a damned lizard?'
'Give it to him,' said Sauk. 'If he can get it to behave, fine. If not, throw it in the soup.' He turned to walk away.
'Where are you going?' asked Val.
'Taaki can catch the boy,' said Sauk over his shoulder. 'But I don't know if she can bring him in without hurting him. I don't want to be up all damned night stitching up a mewling boy.'
The half-orc sauntered off, and the dark of the wood soon swallowed him.
The blond man tossed away the unstrung bow and quiver, then held the knife up and knelt next to Berun. His insolent grin widened. 'Name's Valmir,' he said. 'You can call me Val. Most around here do. You just listen to Sauk and behave yourself, and you and me'll get along just fine.'
Berun considered bringing his leg up and jamming his boot in Valmir's face-the man was close enough-but he knew that even if that worked, he stood little chance of finding Lewan in the dark before Taaki and Sauk. This wasn't over. But something Sauk had told him earlier came to him-I have hunted enough prey to know when it is time to strike and kill and boast, and when it is best not to draw attention to yourself. Calling down doom… that's just foolish. And so Berun let his head fall back into the cushioning grass. He could still hear the tiger roaring, but the screams had stopped.
Chapter Seven
15 Tarsakh, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)
The northern Shalhoond walked. Sauk roused the camp when dawn was no more than a pale shade of gray in the east. Lewan had barely slept. The events of the previous night had hit him hard. The tiger had not harmed him-at least not physically. Master hunter that she was, she'd forced him to the ground, much as she would a deer, but she'd kept her claws in, and her teeth had held his neck without piercing the skin. That had been the worst. In his travels with Berun, Lewan had seen cats hunt. Once the prey was subdued, they took it by the neck, and with a quick snap, it was all over.
He had lain there, crushed leaves filling his mouth, the breath of the tiger filling his ear and rushing all the way down his shirt, and had waited for those jaws to end him. He'd wondered if there would be pain, wondered if he'd be able to hear his own neck snap, or feel his throat cave in, or the teeth tear through the blood vessels of his neck.
But the snap hadn't come. The tiger had held him there, her massive paws pinning his back while her jaws gripped his neck. He had no idea how long he'd lain there. He thought he might have screamed, but afterward he couldn't remember. His first clear memory after the initial attack was the jaws loosening, moving away, then the great weight of the tiger was gone. Lewan had looked up, leaves clinging to his face, and the half-orc and his men were standing around him.
'Don't try that again,' said the half-orc.
And that was it. No beating. No warning. No threats of punishment.
Except from one man, the one whom Lewan had hit with the torch. He came at Lewan, one hand clenched tight and trembling at his side, but the other holding a torch. In pain as he was, still he was quick, and he lunged with the flaming torch.
'Burn me, whelp? I'll-!'
Sauk's boot took the man in the gut, doubling him over, and the half-orc snatched the torch.
'You'll do nothing,' said the half-orc. He looked down on the man, who lay near where the tiger had pinned Lewan. 'Dren, see to his hand. Kerlis, you'd do well to stay away from the boy. I'm setting Taaki to watch him. You come at him, and Taaki will take you. And I won't stop her.'
And that had been it. The half-orc had made sure Lewan wasn't hurt, even brushed off the clinging leaves and twigs, then brought him back to camp where he was fed, allowed to clean up, and given warm blankets by the fire. Still, after the events of the day, he'd lain awake long into the night, unable to stop his trembling. The only thing resembling punishment was that he was not allowed near Berun. He'd seen him, huddled near a fire on the far side of the camp. The way his master sat-hunched over, stiff, and favoring one side-Lewan knew he was hurting, but the two times Lewan rose and tried to walk over, the tiger came and stood in front of him with a growl so low that Lewan felt it in his boots.
And so it was the following day. As they walked deeper into the wood, the country becoming rougher and
