The Blackgod

“Treachery,” Ngangata snapped, loudly enough for those outside to hear. “Though Brother Horse promised us hospitality, his kin seem bent on dishonoring his name.”

“There is no honor in harboring monsters,” Chuuzek gasped, already up on one knee. Tsem stepped quickly forward and slapped the man's broad face with the half-curled back of his hand, and Chuuzek sprawled back, spitting blood. A cloth bandage on his head, caked with old blood, began to dampen with new wet redness as well.

Moss stepped into the doorway. “Chuuzek! Stop!” he shouted, the first time Hezhi had heard the young man raise his voice. Chuuzek, fumbling for a knife at his belt, ceased, and instead scooted back against the wall of the yekt.

Moss took another step in, eyes intent on Hezhi. “There is no need for this,” he asserted. “These friends of yours need not die.”

“So far we aren't the ones dying,” Ngangata remarked. Hezhi had never seen him in such a state, either. He was normally so mild, deflecting insults or ignoring them.

“It's not to you that I am speaking, Brush-Man,” Moss replied.

“I don't understand any of this,” Hezhi groaned, and then more firmly, “Get out of this house. All of you, go away!”

Moss frowned. “I would not have chosen this,” he said. “My cousin acted hastily, but his motives were pure. You must come with us.”

“I must do nothing,” Hezhi snarled. ”Yesterday you spoke of hospitality. What did you say? 'I'm only sorry the hospitality of this camp was violated.' Fine words, but I see now which hole they issued from. Not from your mouth, that much is certain.”

Chuuzek stirred again angrily.

“Stand back up, little man,” Tsem growled. “I will break your neck.”

“You cannot break all of our necks,” Chuuzek returned.

“He does not have to!” came an angry voice from outside. “Move out of my way, all of you, you worthless carrion dogs!”

Hezhi saw the look of consternation, quickly mastered, flash over Moss' face. Reluctantly he stepped back as a burst of shouting from outside was followed by sudden silence. Brother Horse shouldered into the tent, swept furious eyes over the scene. His short, spindly legs and wizened body no longer seemed in the least comical or kindly; the old man bore his rage in every angle of his stance, spat it in each terse syllable. The wolf she had seen inside of him now shone out like a candle through a red paper lantern.

“Get out of here,” he said to Chuuzek softly. “Get out of my house, and take these piles of buzzard dung with you.” He kicked one of the dead or unconscious men with the toe of his boot.

“Now we see,” Chuuzek said. “We see the great man cares more for his dun'cheen friends than he does for his own people.”

“I care,” Brother Horse gritted, “more for the ways of the Mang—the Mang, you whelp of a cur and a turd—than I do for your insolent disregard of all we know. I promised these people hospitality, and you steal that from me, you thief. You horse thief!”

Which was about the worst thing one Mang could call another. Raiding and robbing others was war—and acceptable—but stealing from one who gave you hospitality was one of the worst offenses conceivable.

“Perhaps you want her for yourself, old man.”

Brother Horse ignored Chuuzek. He swept his gaze over Tsem, Ngangata, Perkar, and Hezhi. “Are you injured, child? Has any one of you been hurt?”

“I'm fine,” Hezhi answered. “I don't know about Tsem and Ngangata. I just… awoke.”

“We are not injured,” Ngangata answered. “No true harm has been done … yet.”

“No harm!” Chuuzek roared. “My cousins lie there thus, and you say no harm has been done?”

“They begged for their fate,” Brother Horse answered venomously. ”Were they—and you—not protected by the same hospitality that protects these others, I would have you all on the frame, screaming for days on end.”

“I would spit in your face.”

“Brave talk,” Brother Horse answered him. “You have never been on the frame; I have.” He turned to Moss. “You had my answer yesterday. You may seek to turn all of this on your rock-brained cousin, but I know better.”

“I warned you,” Moss said quietly. “I respect you greatly, and I understand your position. If you had let us take her, you would not have been dishonored; the onus would have been shouldered only by Chuuzek and myself. You need only have been too long engaged elsewhere. As it is …” He signed with his hand and four more warriors crowded up to the doorway.

Brother Horse shook his head. “You would slay me, in my own house, during the Ben'cheen? You are not Mang.”

“We do what must be done,” Moss answered. “We will bear the dishonor. Please don't make us bear the responsibility of your death as well, honored one.”

“The warriors of my clan are just behind you. Make another move, and you shall wear a coat of arrows.”

Moss smiled grimly. “You mistake your own family. These warriors have agreed to stand aside. They will not aid me, but neither will they aid you. I have spoken with them all.”

“Yes, well, I have spoken with them all, as well, and I told them to answer you thus. I wanted to see how far down this wrong, waterless trail you would stumble. Now I know.”

Hezhi wished she could have laughed at the sudden understanding on Moss' face, but her heart was still thudding too painfully in her chest. Too much happening, too much. First the mountain and then, with no letup, this.

The green-eyed man seemed to sag slightly, but then he recovered himself.

“You will regret this,” he said sincerely. Not with heat, but with a kind of sadness.

“I regret much in my life,” Brother Horse murmured. “This will not greatly add to my burden, I'm sure.”

“In that you are mistaken,” Moss assured him.

Brother Horse merely shrugged and slapped his hands. Men came from behind and seized Moss and his kin roughly.

“Watch them,” Brother Horse called to his men. “Disarm them but do them no harm. They are protected by my word, and I will not break that word.”

Two men came in to get the bodies. Chuuzek managed to leave under his own power. Brother Horse grimly watched them go before turning to examine those he protected.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't think things would go this far.”

“You knew,” Hezhi stated.

“Yes. I knew when I saw you with them in the desert. They meant to take you then, would have if I had not been present. Moss is honorable at heart, and thought to persuade me rather than slay me. It was a very near thing, though. Did you notice the way Chuuzek kept fondling his sword-grip?”

“No,” Hezhi admitted. “But I knew something was wrong.”

“Something is very wrong,” Brother Horse agreed.

“Thank you for your help,” Tsem said. “Thank you for protecting Hezhi.”

Brother Horse eyed the half Giant. “I had no choice, so there is no need to thank me.”

“I think you did have a choice,” Ngangata disagreed. ”Moss was right; had you turned your back, they could have taken us and no one would have faulted you.”

Brother Horse grinned tightly. “We work to keep the good opinion of our elders, but none here is my elder. That leaves me in the unfortunate position of having to stay clean in my own eyes.”

“They would have killed Perkar,” Ngangata answered, his tone still conveying thanks.

“They would have killed you all, all but me,” Hezhi added.

Tsem nodded. “They must have known you were ill and come to take you while you lay asleep.”

“Ill?”

“Princess, you have lain as dead for a day.”