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.As had Shaine's qu'mahlin, the war of annihilationleveled against us by my kinsman, my great-great-grandsire on the Homanan side, nearly a hundredyears ago.So no longer do we trust, nor blind ourselves tobetrayal, deception and subterfuge.We have learnedto judge, to weigh, to measure, knowing very wellthat to a people reluctant to show strong emo-tions to those who are unblessed, the feelings andconvictions of other races are often ludicrouslytransparent.Men are easy to read.Even Erinnish exiles.Rory Redbeard was kind in his own rough way,and solicitous of my well-being.In the morning hefed me journey-bread and venison stew spiced withthyme and wild onions, eating what all of them ate,and poured me a cup of water.I ate, drank, feltbetter, but wished I had my knife."Lass," he said quietly, "will ye not let me tendyour scrapes?""No lime," I said briefly, chewing the last toughbite of bread."I must get back to Homana-Mujhar."His tone was idly kind."Surely you can wait thatlong, lass.I sec; how they're hurting you."Well, they were.Abraded flesh had seeped fluidand watery blood, then crusted as I slept.Movementhad broken open the beginnings of fragile, puckeredscabs.I could barely turn my head and forbore touse my right arm."I must get back," I repeated, thinking of Aileen.But I quailed from it, afraid; quailed also from theacknowledgment I would have to tell Brennan some-thing.I had lost his prize colt; how, by the gods, couldI tell him?And how would I get back? Lir-shape was out ofthe question.As a bird, I would lack a wing.Asanything else, I would lack a foreleg, much limitedin speed.Walking would be faster."I have a horse," Rory said, and I looked at him sosharply it cracked a knot in my neck.I winced.A glint crept into his eyes.By daylight he was adifferent man: younger in face—what I could see ofit above and beneath the beard—though weatheredby Erinn's sea-clime; in clothing and accoutrementsmore obviously a man denied his homeland, as wellas the trappings of normal life.Like the others, hewas travel-stained and shabby, though knives andswords were well tended.Aye, they would be.For by knives and swords—and cunning—new lives would have to be forged.I drew in a deep breath."My father—" Stricken, Icut it off, then rapidly reshaped it."My father, theMujhar's arms-master, would give you no welcome,nor would his master, if they knew."Rory Redbeard laughed.It was but a short bark ofsound, underscored with the knowledge of ironicfutility."Would he not? And why not, I'm wonder-ing? In killing Sean—if I have—I've stolen a hus-band from his lass.Tis a serious thing, that, andworth contemplation by men who are merely fathersin addition to Mujhars." Absently he stroked ruddymustaches into neatness, though all of him wantedwashing."Niall and Liam are friends as well asallies.your father's master will have no more lovefor me than Liam, should news come that Sean isdead."My father's master.with effort, I made theadjustment.I wanted nothing more than to throwoff my own subterfuge so I could speak freely again.Never in my life have I lied to anyone regarding myheritage; there has been no need for it."If the Mujhar learned you were here—""But he won't be learning, will he?" He pausedsignificantly."Unless you're for telling him." A friendlyman, was Rory, on the outside of his skin, but willingenough to show steel around the edges when he feltit required of him.It irritated me."What would you have me tellhim?"Rory shrugged."Don't lie, lass, save for telling myheritage.tell him the truth of everything but that,as you can.Tell him, if you like, there are brigands inHomana—I doubt 'tis anything he doesn't know al-ready, judging by the men who chased you to myfire." He rose, turning away on some errand, thenabruptly swung back to face me.His expression was,yet again, masked."Tell him what you will, lass.for when the Mujhar sends men to find us, we'll bein another place." Then, casually cruel, "D'ye thinkI'm so daft as to trust you?"It stung.But I gave him a glimpse of my teeth inreturn."Nor I to trust you."Rory smiled, then laughed."Agreed, then! Come,lass, we'll be saddling my horse.'Tis a long ride, I'mtold, to Mujhara.we'd best be setting about it."I stood, gritting my teeth against the aches andstiffness, and followed him from the fire into a thicket."How would you know how far it is to Mujhara?"He laughed explosively."We're here for a reason,lass: the road.I'm told it goes from Mujhara clear toEllas."Frowning, I nodded."Then so does trade, my lass.as well as wealthymerchants."I stopped."A thief!"He paused, half-turning, putting out a hand toscreening foliage, but hesitated to draw it aside."Be-come one," he agreed."Can I be presenting myselfto the Mujhar, asking for a place in his service?" Histone was cool."I'm thinking not, lass.*.not withAileen there, who knows me.I'm thinking the bestway for me to feed myself and what's left of mycommand is to acquire a bit of the wealth others havein plenty.""A thief," I said again, thinking of the others; ofthe man whose knee I had bent—or broken—andthe companions who had chased me, intending re-venge and rape."Aye," he said evenly, and drew aside the foliage.I started."Brennan's colt!"Blond brows arched."Yours, then; I was thinkingso, when they brought him to me last night after youfell asleep." His mouth hooked down in a wry smile."I'm for keeping him, lass.""But—no.not him." I pushed past Rory, thread-ing my way through foliage, and went to the chest-nut colt.Tied up short, he could barely turn hishead."Not him," I said again, cupping chin andmuzzle, thinking of my brother."He belongs to thePrince of Homana.""He belongs to Rory Redbeard."I turned on him angrily."What right have you tosteal? This colt belongs—""—to me." Rory moved to the colt, deftly shuntingme aside." "Tis what thievery is, lass.and that'right' you speak of is right of conquest, or require-ments." He saddled the chestnut easily, tighteninggirth, snugging buckles."I'm thinking the Prince ofHomana has more than this bright lad in his stable.""Aye, of course—but—""Then he'll do as well without him.'Twill give himtime to ride the others." He turned the colt, swungup, reached down to clasp my hand."Will ye becoming, lass?""You were a lung's man, once—""Once," he said quietly."Now I may be the causeof my brother's death.d'ye think stealing mattersto me? Or who I steal from?"It silenced me easily, as he intended it to.Iwanted nothing more than to denounce him, but therewas nothing left to say.Nothing left to do; I clasped hishand, let him pull me up, settled a careful leg on thecolt's sleek rump and slid slowly into place.Thinking violent thoughts [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]