Sentinelspire

scratched in the boot print. Fear that Kheil's old life was catching up to him after nine years of trying to bury it. But Sauk's casual curse of the Oak Father and his servants had lifted that lid off his fear, and here in the nighttime camp, Berun found himself filled with anger. No, not anger. Pure, cold rage. Nine years! Nine years of burying the past, and here it was again, spitting in the face of all he now held precious.

'You never answered me,' said Berun, his voice careful and controlled. 'What do you want? Why this ruse to draw me out here? 'A fool to hope.' Please. You didn't go through all this for a reunion. You want something. You said Talieth found me. Did she send you? Are you still her father's favorite lapdog?'

The rest of the camp had gone quiet halfway through Berun's speech. Every man now stood watching, some sitting paralyzed with bits of food held before open mouths. Others were caressing the hilts of their weapons. All eyes were on Sauk,

The half-orc's eyes had narrowed to slits, and he was grinding his teeth as he watched Berun. v

One of the men standing behind Sauk, a tall man with dirty blond hair who looked as if he hadn't shaved in days, said, 'I think we ought to teach this one some courtesy. Eh, Sauk?'

'Val, that you?' said Sauk, not turning around. 'Yes.'

'If I want to know what you think, I'll ask you. You want to lead this party? All you have to do is get through me. Understood?'

Much of the boldness went out of the man's gaze, and he looked away from Berun. 'Understood. You're the boss.'

'Am I?' said Sauk, still not taking his eyes from Berun. 'Or am I the Old Man's favorite lapdog?'

Berun said nothing. He forced his muscles to relax. He sat less than five feet from one of the fiercest hunters he'd ever known, and he was surrounded by seven armed men, all watching and ready to kill him, awaiting only their master's word. And there was still the tiger to consider. Hopeless. If he'd had some distance and more cover between him and the men, if his bow were ready, if, if, if…

If it came to that, he wasn't going back to the grave alone.

Then Sauk did the last thing Berun expected. He threw back his head and laughed, rocking back and forth on his rump, his hands on his knees. Confused, Berun looked around. A few of the men relaxed, but most still stood tense, hands on weapons. The looks on their faces showed that they were just as confused as he was.

'Oh, Kheil,' said Sauk, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of one hand. 'Pardon me. Berun. Berun, it must be. Kheil was never such a damned fool.'

'Fool or not, Kheil is dead,' said Berun. He tried to hold on to his anger, but he could feel it slipping away. 'I'm sitting here alive.'

Sauk went still again, though the mirth did not leave his countenance. 'Well, for now anyway,' he said. 'You think the Old Man sent us, is that it? Sent his favorite lapdog after his favorite assassin? Bring the naughty boy back home? The little runaway?'

'Isn't it?'

Berun saw several men exchanging amused glances, and the one Sauk had called Val grinned and shook his head, like a favorite uncle amused at his nephew's latest foolishness.

'Not even a little,' said Sauk. 'Wrong on all counts, in fact. Berun, you are sitting surrounded by conspiracy. Every one of these men, this half-orc included, has sworn to see the Old Man of the Mountain dead. Or die trying. Now sit and listen.'

Chapter Five

You spoke truly about one thing,' said Sauk. 'I didn't come for a reunion. Gerrell?' The half-orc looked to one of his men, the one who had held the spear on Berun down in the ravine. The man's wounds were all cleaned, though filth still covered his clothes. 'Food ready yet?'

'Almost, Sauk.'

Sauk returned his attention to Berun. 'Not much, I'm afraid. We haven't hunted in days. Bits of smoked venison stewed with whatever else they throw in. Doesn't taste like much, but it'll fill you. There's bread, too, though you might have to pick out the bugs.'

'Tell me what you want with me,' said Berun, 'then I'll decide whether to accept your hospitality.'

'What makes you think I'm giving you a choice?'

'There's always a choice, Sauk.'

'Not always a good one.'

Sauk rummaged through the leather satchel at his belt and pulled out a half-eaten hunk of brown bread. Seeing that, a flood of memories hit Berun. He knew that no matter how hungry Sauk became, if anyone offered the half-orc meat, he would not eat it. Sauk served Malar, the Beast-lord, and he would eat no flesh that he himself had not hunted and killed. He'd choke on moldy, maggot-infested bread first.

Sauk bit into the loaf and spoke as he chewed. 'That druid. The one the Old Man sent us to kill nine years ago.' 'Chereth,' said Berun.

'Yes,' said Sauk. 'Or as we in the Fortress have come to call him: 'The one who got away.' '

A few of the men, listening in, laughed at this.

'He the one who killed y-uh, killed Kheil, that is?'

'No,' said Berun. 'The rangers executed Kheil. Chereth called me back to serve the Oak Father.'

Sauk nodded and swallowed, and Berun caught a glimpse of a strange look that the half-orc quickly hid. A knowing, pleased expression. Another memory hit Berun. Something Talieth used to say. The best way to catch a liar is to ask him questions to which you already know the answer. Was that Sauk's game here?

'And then?' asked Sauk.

'Then?'

'After you were… 'called back to serve?' Chereth brought me to the Oak Father and taught me the ways of the wild.'

'His ways,' said Sauk.

Berun knew that Sauk was thinking of Malar. Sauk was zuwar, a hunter sworn to the service of Malar the Beastlord. The Beastlord was also of the wild, but only of its more bestial aspects-the hunt, the kill, survival of the strong. The Oak Father did not deny those aspects, but Chereth had taught him that these were only one leaf on a tree that grew many branches.

'You knew Chereth well, then?' asked Sauk.

'He was my master,' said Berun, and left it at that. In truth, he had known the old half-elf as well as anyone, which was to say he'd seen only the surface of a pool that ran very deep.

'Did you know that five years ago Chereth came to Sentinelspire?'

'I… suspected.'

Sauk's eyebrows shot up. 'And you let your beloved master go? Knowing what you know? Knowing us?'

Berun clamped his jaw shut and stared into the fire.

'Your Oak Father breeds odd disciples,' said Sauk. 'Your master walks headlong into death, and you don't so much as go after his body, much less vengeance.'

Berun said nothing. He knew that Sauk was trying to provoke him, partially to see what information another torrent of angry words might reveal and partly out of his own personal disgust for the so-called 'leaf lovers' and 'blight beaters'-druids and their ilk who did not embrace the savagery of the wild.

'Do you know why your master came to Sentinelspire?' said Sauk.

'He'-Berun swallowed to keep his voice from breaking — 'wouldn't tell me.'

'Ah,' said Sauk. 'Old leaf lover wanted to protect his precious disciple. That it? Well, you know more than I thought. But this I'll bet you don't know.' The half-orc smiled and took another bite of bread. He chewed, swallowed, and took a sip from a waterskin. 'Your old druid came to Sentinelspire to kill the Old Man of the Mountain.' Sauk paused, giving the words time to sink in-or perhaps letting the hook dangle before the fish. 'Imagine that. An old leaf lover coming to the most impregnable citadel east of Thay and hoping to kill the king of killers. Now there is a tale!'

Sauk's words didn't really surprise Berun. He'd long known that there was some sort of history between