poise regained in the motion. I place us both in bonds of guest and host.
Then he jerks a thumb back over his shoulder, artfully casual, as if it s an afterthought.
But your friends back there stay out in the dark.
Ringil doesn't look back. If Hjel the scavenger prince and sorcerer can play this game, so can he.
But as the new chill walks its way up his spine, he knows beyond doubt what he ll see if he does turn. He knows because he s seen it before, falling off the feverish edge of consciousness as he lay on the cobbled streets of Hinerion and heard the screams of Venj s men dying.
A gaunt figure, a scarred face, a sword blade swinging like a scythe.
A blunt, powerful form, fists gripped around a heavy smith s hammer and long-handled manacle cutters.
A young boy, mouth open, snarling through bloodied teeth, a quarrel sprouting from under his sternum like some alien iron appendage.
They stand at his back in the cold he can feel them there now like new gods. Like a fresh pantheon, waiting to be born.
It was warm, by the fire.
CHAPTER 22
he slave quarters were guarded.
Harath sank back into cover with a clenched curse. Four flights of stairs below the landing they crouched on, a pair of tall doors like those they d passed through to get to the gallery. Heavy chain through the handles, and three burly figures sat in a circle on low stools in front. A couple of lanterns stood on the ground nearby and threw long, fitful flickers across the floor. Low mutter of Majak, the odd explosion of good-natured cursing the three men were playing dice in the dust. Three staff lances were propped casually against the side of the door, thin, bony shadows slanting down the wall in the lantern glow.
This is new, Harath whispered. They never used to bother.
What happens when your hired help starts mauling the merchandise, Egar hissed back.
Harath grinned sheepishly, and Egar felt like choking him. There was a thin, restless anger rising in him now. Thanks to this Ishlinak punk, he was going to have to do it after all. Majak blood on his hands once again, and for no better reason than
Than what, Dragonbane? Than bare, bored-out-of-your-mind curiosity? Than random scouting of the enemy s ramparts in service to Archeth, who s out of town anyway?
Or oh, wait is it that itch you can t scratch with Ishgrim, maybe, and the thought that some other willowy Naom slave gash might be grateful enough if you
He chopped the thoughts irritably away. The restless anger slopped higher in him, seeking outlet.
Fucking punk kids.
In his day, no Majak who d taken coin to guard slaves would have dreamed of touching the goods or
That s right, Dragonbane. And brothers always stood together, the buffalo came when they were called, the grass grew taller and greener, and it never fucking rained.
Get a grip, old man.
He crushed out the brooding with a grimace. Drew one of his knives. Crouched and listened to the voices float up through the gloomy air. The twang of the Ishlinak dialect.
Harath dipped his head closer.
I thought you said we weren t going to get into it with these guys.
I thought you said the slave quarters weren t guarded, and we d get in with a bent pin.
Half the sheepish grin again. Yeah, but
Egar spared two fingers from the grip on his knife, snagged Harath by the collar, and jerked him close. Eyes like slits, teeth tight. Voice a snake-strike hiss.
You ve been paid, Majak.
Harath jerked loose. But he looked away and wet his lips.
Look I reckon that s Alnarh down there, he murmured.
Good. That should make it easy for you. Some payback for all his shit? You can take him, I ll do the other two.
The younger man nodded hesitantly. Egar could not quite repress a savage twinge of satisfaction. Bit of fucking consequence for your acts and the coin you take, eh, kid? He gestured with one knife-filled hand, and they ghosted down the stairs together in the shadow of the balustrades. Got to the final landing, and the last corner of usable cover. Harath hovered. Wet his lips again.
Egar widened his eyes at him, jerked his chin. Fucking get on with it.
Harath stood. Went down the final flight of stairs toward the dice players with no attempt at quiet.
Scrabble of action as they saw him and came to their feet, grabbing weapons.
Hold it right the fuck there!
Not another step, asshole!
Harath snorted. Oh my, what big fucking blades you have, boys.
Stunned silence. Peering through the balustrade, Egar made out short-swords, maybe an ax. But their staff lances still stood against the wall. The murderous seven-foot, double-bladed Majak standby but still not in play.
One of the Ishlinak halfway lowered his sword.
Harath that you, buddy?
Shut up, Elkret. He s outcast. What the fuck are you doing here, Harath? Who let you in?
Harath made it to the bottom of the stairs, hands well away from his sides. He seemed, finally, to have started enjoying himself.
Hey, Alnarh. How s it hanging? Getting any Revelation-approved pussy?
Alnarh twitched toward the staff lance where it leaned against the wall. I said who let you in?
Let me in? You stupid fucking twat, you think I need letting into this place? I already told you, Alnarh. You couldn t set up a guard duty to save your fucking
And time.
Egar vaulted the landing rail, came down ten feet like a catapult stone and cut loose with his knives. He landed just off Elkret s shoulder, swung and slashed, sent him sprawling with a yell. Alnarh whirled at the sound. Had just enough time to yell
Ware raiders! before Egar reached the third, unnamed Ishlinak. The other man got in a lucky block with the haft of his hand ax Egar took it on the forearm with a grunt, shoved back and swept the guard aside, stabbed in roundhouse beneath. The knife blade found flesh somewhere above the man s hip, slugged home to the hilt. The Ishlinak quivered and shrieked. Peripheral glimpse off to Egar s right, Alnarh reached his staff lance, just had time to grab it away from the wall and turn as Harath rushed him. The lance swung, Alnarh got it crossways to block, and the two men met in a whirl of limbs and spat curses. Egar twisted his own blade and pulled it out blood splattered out on his hand, so hot it seemed almost to burn. The Ishlinak he d stabbed went down with a pleading look on his face, clutching at Egar s sleeve. Gazes locked instinct telling them both the truth of what had been done.
Elkret behind him.
He whipped about. Elkret had a long-knife raised in his left hand, but he was slow was hurt must have hit lucky, that first slash. Egar couldn t see the wound he d made, but he could have dodged this attack in his sleep. He stepped sideways from the thrust of the knife, snagged the arm behind it at the wrist, pulled and locked it out. Right hand raised, tightening to a fist around his knife he slammed down at the locked elbow joint, broke the arm. The hollow snap echoed in the lantern flicker, chased away with the choked scream it wrung out of Elkret. The long-knife flew loose. Egar got in close, dragged back the Ishlinak s head, exposed the throat
No wait!
Harath s hoarse shout. Egar broke his stroke with an effort. He dragged Elkret around so he could see
