“It’s fine to let her know,” Kalazan said. “Don’t you see, Nina? She’s the one we’ve been waiting for.” He turned back to me. “I’m Kalazan. The big man is Dango, and the man with the scarred face is Tanner. That’s Kay Hará and Jem Nakijan, and standing next to them is Vidan and Gan—”
“Gan the Miller’s Daughter,” interrupted the indicated woman. She was young, beautiful, sported a gorgeous laevos, and if she was actually a miller’s daughter, I was the Queen of Old Zaibur. “Kal, Nina’s right. You shouldn’t have said our names.”
“It’s her, Gan.” He became animated, gesturing with his hands. “We’ve eked out a pitiful existence in these woods for months, while the baron and his damn captain burn down village after village looking for their prophesied threat. The demon-claimed child, remember? But what if she is the one they fear? What if it was always Danorak? Nothing in prophecy said it must be someone local.”
I felt a lump form in my stomach, and a blossoming dread stretched over me from head to heel. I closed my hands in fists at my sides rather than succumb to the urge to pick up Kalazan by the neck and shake him by the scruff until answers spilled forth.
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “And be clear, for I loathe prophecy.”
But we never finished the conversation.
Arasgon’s senses are better than any human’s. The fireblood screamed out, “Count, we’re not alone!” just as three dozen armed men on horseback wearing Barsine Banner’s gold-and-brown colors rode into the clearing from downwind.
They all had crossbows.
Or more specifically, they all had crossbows pointed at us.
Several bandits ran for their weapons, or the woods, or what little shelter they might find behind a tree root. Ninavis was in no condition to follow. Although Kalazan didn’t run, I noticed both he and Gan the Miller’s Daughter flipped up the hoods on their cloaks to hide their laevos hair.
“What have we here?” the guard commander said as he rode forward. “Hold your positions; no one move!”
“Ah, good,” Arasgon said, trotting over to greet the newcomers. “We captured these strays. Now help us bring them to your herd master.”
The guard captain ignored Arasgon. “You have nothing to say? Who’s in charge here? Speak up!”
Arasgon blinked and looked back at me. I knew what he thought. No matter if these men looked Joratese; no native son of our fields would dare ignore a fireblood.
Unless they hadn’t understood the fireblood.
Impossible. In ancient times, the god-king Khorsal had chosen us to care for his favored children—his firebloods. When those same firebloods joined humans in overthrowing Khorsal, our relationship had strengthened. Every Joratese child learns to understand our four-hoofed kindred.
But this soldier hadn’t understood Arasgon’s speech. Either he was an idiot, or he wasn’t any more Joratese than Ninavis.
I’d bet metal on the latter.
I stepped forward. “I’m in charge here. I am Count Tolamer, traveling to Mereina to visit Baron Barsine.”
He gave me a critical eye. I didn’t look like a peasant—I had a well-groomed laevos, and my clothing was luxurious enough if one ignored the wear. If fashion and grooming could be faked, however, my idorrá was more difficult to counterfeit. I carried myself as a count.
“Oh yeah? Where are your guards?” he asked.
I heard a strained protest from the bandit leader, Ninavis.
I forced a pleasant smile on my face. “I’m accompanied by a fireblood. What more protection would any noble require?”
The man glanced over, finally realizing Arasgon’s nature. Arasgon tossed his head up as he walked back to the bandits, gathered together in a dense, awkward cluster.
The soldier’s leader dismounted. “I’m Captain Dedreugh. We’ve been hunting criminals who’ve been pillaging and burning villages along the river for almost a year. And this lot seems like a good fit for those crimes, so if you’ll pardon us”—he motioned his men toward the bandits—“we’ll take them off your hands.”
Half his troops dismounted, trading crossbows for swords. Their expressions worried me, though. Nothing so simple as anger. This was the stalking predator’s naked hunger; I saw one eye Ninavis on the ground and lick his lips.4 That look had never known good intentions. A wave of fury filled me with a nasty warmth as I fought to keep my temper reined.
I placed my bare hand against Captain Dedreugh’s leather breastplate.
“I captured them, Dedreugh,” I said. “Defeated them and bound their thudajé to my idorrá. They’re under my protection until I tender them to the baron. Directly to the baron.”
The irony wasn’t lost on me. Doing as Dedreugh asked was the original plan, you see. The trap’s whole point. The other times I’d hunted bandits, I had turned them over to the local authorities without even learning their names. I never wanted to be responsible for them. I didn’t wish to adopt ne’er-do-wells, but fill coffers left empty by my swift departure from my home in Tolamer.
There wasn’t a banner, canton, or ward in the entire dominion that didn’t offer a bounty for brigands. I had indeed meant to turn them over easily, in return for a bit of metal.
But here I was, claiming them under my idorrá, as if they were more important than garbage commoners, criminals, and robbers. Why was this group different? Was it because I’d lost my temper and injured their leader? I didn’t know.
Maybe Captain Dedreugh just ran with the wrong gait.
“Captain,” one soldier cried out, “that one in the back! It’s him!”
Dedreugh tried to shove me away and stopped in surprise when he discovered he couldn’t. Behind Dedreugh, the mounted guard leveled their crossbows. The bandits—dear Khored, they were my bandits now, weren’t they?—would never reach their bows before those soldiers fired.
Captain Dedreugh cut an intimidating figure. He stood at least a foot taller than I, his pale gray skin broken up by darker gray jaguar spots at his hairline. His eyes were ice colored. Although handsome enough, a stink lingered near him I didn’t like, something lurking on the edge of rot no bath would cure.
“Out of my way.” He sneered at me, and then added my lord as an afterthought, without the proper respectful qualifiers. “These criminals are wanted for treason and witchcraft. If you speak for them, I will have to level those charges against you.”
“Captain, if these people committed crimes, they’ll pay for them. However, they’re under my idorrá now. So let’s go to Mereina for judgment, as is proper.”
“Woman—”
“Woman?” I raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
He frowned. “You have no say in the matter. Be grateful I’m willing to escort you back to the town.” He bent down until his face hovered next to mine. “It’s been a hard and dangerous winter. Anything might happen on the way back.”
I stared at him, unamused and uncowed. “Is that so?”
“If you’re real nice to me, I’ll make sure you arrive—”
He made a gurgling noise as my hand closed around his throat.