Oath of Swords

returned to collect more. “And did your planning include provisions?”

“I’d enough on my mind already without that,” Bahzell pointed out.

“That’s what I thought. Check my pack saddle.”

Bahzell opened the pack, and his stomach rumbled again-happily, this time-at its contents. He began laying out sausages, bread, and cheese beside the fire, then looked up as Brandark brought in another load of fuel.

“I’m thinking that’s enough wood. We’ve good cover here, but let’s not be building the fire up too high.”

“I bow to your experience.” Brandark dropped to sit cross-legged and grinned. “I always wanted an adventure, but they never seemed to come my way.”

“Adventure.” Bahzell’s mouth twisted on the word. “There’s no such thing, my lad. Or, at least, anyone who’s had one would be doing his best to avoid another. What in Phrobus’ name d’you think you’re doing out here, Brandark?”

“I told you, keeping you out of trouble.” Bahzell snorted deep in his throat, and Brandark flipped his ears at him. “From what I’ve seen so far, you need all the help you can get,” he added, reaching for a sausage.

“I’ve kept my hide whole this long,” Bahzell pointed out.

“So you have. But if I could find you, so can Churnazh.”

“Aye, that’s so,” Bahzell conceded around a mouthful of cheese, then swallowed. “And if we’re speaking of finding me, just how was it a soft city lad like you managed it so neatly?”

“Ah, well, I had an advantage. I knew you were running before Churnazh did-and I know how your mind, such as it is, works.”

“Do you, now? And how was it you knew I was running?”

“Yurgazh told me.”

“Yurgazh?!” Bahzell’s ears twitched. “I’d no notion he was a friend of yours.”

“He’s not, but he knows I’m a friend of yours , and he hunted me up as soon as he got off duty.” Brandark waved a hand in the firelight. “He wasn’t about to say anything someone might repeat to Churnazh, but when he told me you’d gone on a ‘hunting party’ with one hand tied up in a bloody cloth and then mentioned that two palace women had left just before you and that one of them had been beaten, well-”

He shrugged. Bahzell bit off another chunk of cheese and nodded slowly, and Brandark cocked his head. “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me just who you bloodied your hand on?”

“Harnak,” Bahzell said shortly, and Brandark lowered his sausage and stared at him. Then he pursed his lips in a silent whistle.

“I knew it had to be one of them, but Harnak? Did you leave him alive?”

“I left him that way, but I’ve no notion if he stayed so.” Brandark’s gently waving ears invited explanation, and Bahzell laughed unpleasantly. “I caught him beating Farmah and argued the point. He’d a dent the size of a hen’s egg in his forehead, and no teeth to mention, when we finished.”

“Well, now.” Brandark stared at him a moment longer, then began to grin. “That will upset Churnazh, won’t it?”

“A mite,” Bahzell agreed. “Which brings me back to how it was you caught me up so quickly. As you say, if you can find me, there’s no reason Churnazh’s lads can’t be doing it, too.”

“Well, they won’t have started until Harnak woke up-or didn’t, as the case may be. And they don’t know you as well as I do. I’d guess they’ll have wasted a day or two thinking you really did go east.”

“Aye, you’d know I’d do no such thing, wouldn’t you?”

“True. I also knew you’d start out that direction, though, so I headed straight to Chazdark, then came back west. I knew I was on the right track when I reached Fir Hollow.” Brandark shook his head. “I also knew you’d gotten rid of the women by then.”

“Did you, now?”

“Of course. What did you do with them, anyway? Hide them somewhere?”

“No. I sent them on to Chazdark. There’s a man I know there who’ll get them safe to my father.”

“Ah. I wondered about that, but as soon as that healer you spoke to told me you’d asked for supplies to care for an injured woman and then left by the west road, I knew you’d done something with them.”

“Aren’t you the clever one?” Bahzell finished his cheese and leaned back to let it settle before he started on a sausage.

“Well, not even you would be stupid enough to visit a healer openly if they were still with you. In fact, no one in Fir Hollow would have seen you at all . . . unless you meant to draw the pursuit.” Brandark shook his head. “I imagine it’ll work well enough against Churnazh and his lot, but it’s exactly what I would have expected from you. Not too smart, but direct.”

“It’s best a man know his own limits and act accordingly,” Bahzell agreed in a dangerously affable tone. Brandark laughed, and the Horse Stealer went on more seriously. “But much as it pains me to say I’m glad to see you, I’m thinking you’ve gotten yourself into more trouble than friendship’s worth, Brandark. Aye, and your father, too, for aught I know.”

“Father will be fine,” Brandark assured him. “By now he’s disinherited me and sent the law after me-to the east, I’m sure-for stealing three of his best horses.”

“D’you think that will fool the likes of Churnazh?”

“No, not really, but Father’s too tough a nut for Churnazh to crack.” Bahzell grunted skeptically, and Brandark shrugged. “He’d have done something about Father years ago, even without me, if Father didn’t have enough men to make him think twice. He’s pulled down too many of the old families already; the ones who’re left have joined forces to keep him from gutting them all, and he knows it. With his losses against Hurgrum and how restive his ‘allies’ have been since the war, he’ll choose to let it pass.”

“I’m hoping you’re right, but there’s still the matter of what may happen to you if he’s laying us by the heels.”

“So there is-if he lays us by the heels.”

“None of which would matter if you hadn’t been after poking your nose in where there was no need,” Bahzell pointed out.

“Well,” Brandark finished his sausage and wiped his hands, “I’ve always wanted to see the world. Where are you headed, anyway?”

“West,” Bahzell growled.

“ ‘West’ is a large place,” Brandark remarked. “Did you have some particular part of it in mind?” Bahzell gave him a glare, and he sighed. “That’s what I thought. I hope your father plans his campaigns better than you do, or Churnazh may end up ruling Hurgrum after all.”

“D’you know,” Bahzell said meditatively, “I’m thinking you must be even better with a sword than I’d thought. You’ve a true gift for making friends happy to see you.”

“So I’ve been told. But in the meantime, it might not be amiss to think about how you’ll earn your way. You can’t go home, and there’s little welcome for hradani elsewhere, unless you want to turn brigand.”

“I’ve no taste for such as that,” Bahzell growled, and Brandark nodded.

“In that case, we’d best make certain we stay on the right side of the law, and that won’t be easy. They don’t much like hradani most places.”

“Then they’d best be keeping their opinions to themselves!”

“You truly do need someone to keep you out of trouble.” Brandark sighed. He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Esgan,” he said.

“Esgan?”

“The Grand Duchy of Esgan. Navahk trades with the Esganians, after a fashion. Father’s sent me there now and then to dispose of the odd bit of plunder, and Esgfalas is about as far east as the big merchant caravans normally come.”

“And what’s that to do with us?”

“Well, if we’re not going to turn brigand, then we’d best do the exact opposite and be certain we can prove we have. And our best chance to do that is to make our way to the capital and hire on as guards with one of those caravans, if they’ll have us.”

“Caravan guards.” Bahzell shook his head in disgust, and Brandark snorted.

“It’s one or the other for hradani, from all I’ve heard. And at least it’s a trade we know, assuming we can