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"How dare you talk to—" Haladhan began furiously, but Bahzell slashed a hand through the air, cutting him short.
"It's not after sounding so pretty put that way, is it now?" he asked softly. "It may be you'd not thought of it in just those words, Sir Haladhan Deepcrag, but just you be thinking on them now, for that's the truth of it. You may not believe me a champion of Tomanāk , but be that how it may, just you be asking yourself what Tomanāk would be saying to such as you and your precious Lord Warden are having in mind to do here."
"I—" Haladhan stopped himself, glaring at Bahzell, then spat on the ground. "That for you—and for Tomanāk , too!" he snarled. " 'Women and children,' is it? Well, nits make lice, hradani , and we've suffered your kind too long as it is!"
"I see." Bahzell gazed down at the furious young knight, then swept his companions with his eyes. "Hear me now, all of you," he said finally, his deep voice flat, "for I'll say this only the once. The lot of you can be turning around and marching back up the Gullet, and no harm done. Or you can be staying right where you are, and again, no harm done. But you'll not go another furlong down this trail without you come through us , and whether you're minded to admit it or no, we are the Order of Tomanāk . I've no doubt you can kill us all, for we're but his servants, and mortal enough, the lot of us. But you'll not find it so easy as you may be thinking, and himself—and the rest of the Order—won't be so very pleased to hear as how you've done it. Go back and show you've the sense to turn around, Sir Haladhan... or come ahead and see how many of your own will be dying with us."
He turned and stalked back to Charhan's Despair without another word.
"Well that was a masterpiece of diplomacy," Brandark remarked as Bahzell climbed down the inside of the wall. The Horse Stealer cocked an ear at him, and he shrugged. "Your voice does tend to carry, Bahzell. Tell me, do you think there was any incentive to slaughter us that you didn't give him?"
"As to that, I doubt he'd any need of incentive I might have been giving him," Bahzell replied. "And it was plain enough he'd no interest at all, at all, in talking his way to anything else. But he's not after being the commander of those lads, either, and he wasn't alone. I'm thinking as how that older fellow will be one as makes sure whoever is in command is after getting the whole tale. But if they're so set on slaughtering hradani they're minded to take on the Order to do it, then there's not an argument in all the world that I could be making as would stop them, now is there?"
"I suppose not," Brandark admitted. He stood gazing out over the wall, rubbing the tip of his cropped ear while the sun sank still lower and the shadows deepened. "I do wish I could hear how their commander reacts to your version of diplomacy when he hears it, though," he said finally.
"Those bastards! Those thieving, murderous, lying, Phrobus-damned bastards!" Sir Mathian slammed his gauntleted fist against the hilt of his sabre, and his face was twisted with rage. "How dare they threaten me—us!"
Sir Festian glanced sideways at Sir Kelthys. The facts in Haladhan's version of the parley had been accurate enough, but the marshal had allowed contempt and hatred to color his report. In his turn, Festian had tried to soften the more vitriolic of Haladhan's remarks. He'd had to proceed carefully, though, and while he was confident he'd recounted the entire conversation accurately, he hadn't been at all sure Mathian had bothered to listen to him.
Now he was sure the Lord Warden hadn't. He knew the signs, and his stomach tightened as he watched Mathian working himself up into a towering fury.
"I'll kill them all!" he shouted. "I'll kill every murderous one of the bastards, and then I'll burn their stinking towns to the ground! I'll—"
"A moment, Milord." Kelthys' voice was so calm that Mathian's mouth snapped shut in astonishment. He wheeled to face the wind rider, interrupted in mid-tirade, and Kelthys shrugged. "I understand your anger, Milord, just as I understand why you wish to insure the hradani are never able to threaten the Kingdom. But even so, I think it behooves us to at least consider the possibility that this Bahzell is telling the truth."
"The truth? You think a hradani could be telling the truth when he claims to be a champion of Tomanāk ? "
"I think all things are possible—theoretically, at least, Milord," Kelthys said serenely. "The priests and philosophers would have us believe so, at any rate. Some are more probable than others, no doubt, and I must confess that, as you, I find the thought of a hradani champion less likely than most. But I also doubt that many men would make such a claim falsely. If Toman?k failed to punish them directly for it, no doubt His Order would do so as soon as it heard."
"The whorseon is lying to stop us from hitting his gods-damned kind while their warriors are away," Mathian said flatly. "Phrobus, Kelthys! He's got no more than two hundred warriors down there. He knows he can't stop us from killing all of them any time we choose to, so of course he's lying! It's a bluff, and nothing more!"
"With all due respect, Milord, I don't think it is," Kelthys said, and now his voice was flat... and loud enough for the other officers clustered around to hear. "I believe we should at least consider the possibility that he's telling us the truth. At the very least, we should not risk arousing the justified anger of the Order of Tomanāk —to which, I remind you, the King's own brother Yurokhas has sworn Sword Oath—without first consulting with Baron Tellian, in whose name we are acting."
Mathian stared at the wind rider, his face bone white, and Festian held his breath. The Lord Warden of Glanharrow ground his teeth, and then he spat on the ground.
"I thought you a man , Kelthys!" he snarled.
"At least I am not a boy driven by his own unheeding passion," Kelthys replied, and his own tone was like a slap in the face. Mathian's hand darted to his sabre, and steel scraped, but Festian's hand snapped out and caught his wrist before he could draw it.
"Calmly, Milord! Calmly! " he said urgently. "This is neither the time nor the place for us to begin killing our own!"
Rage quivered in every sinew of Mathian's body, and muscles ridged like iron lumps along his jawline as he glared at the wind rider.
"Very well, Kelthys," he ground out finally. "You've given your advice . Now stand aside. Those of us who aren't puling cowards have work to do."
"I think not, Milord," Kelthys said softly, and watched Mathian's eyes flare. "You are our Lord Warden. In time of emergency and in defense of the realm, you may command us to do your will, and any disobedience on our part is high treason. But, Milord, there is no threat to the realm. We stand not upon its borders, but halfway down the Escarpment. Toman?k or no, the hradani who face us ca
"Treason?" Mathian whispered. "You dare to accuse me of treason? "
"Not yet, Milord," Kelthys replied gravely. "However, if you—or any of these other lords who follow you—continue on this course, then, yes. Treason is an ugly word, but the only one which will apply."
"Curse you!" Mathian snapped, and whirled to Haladhan. "I want his head for mutiny in the face of the enemy!" he screamed.
"Milord, I—" Haladhan began, and then stopped as a sabre whispered from its sheath. He turned to Kelthys, hand dropping to his own hilt, but it was not the wind rider who had drawn. One of the lords from the Tharkonswald District had stepped in front of Kelthys and stood facing Mathian with the back edge of his naked blade resting on his right shoulder. Another sabre was drawn, and another. In the space of less than a minute, almost half the minor lords who'd followed Mathian had formed a circle around Kelthys with weapons ready. No one said a word, but there was no need to.
Mathian stared at them, seeing his plan crumble, and something worse than rage boiled within him.
"So," he said, his voice cold and empty. "There are that many traitors among you, are there? Very well. Go. Go, all of you! Go! "His voice was no longer cold or empty, and he spat again. "Take this other cursed traitor with you, and may Krahana lick his bones! I'll deal with him—and all of you—later! But for now, I command those of you who still know your duty to summon your men! We've got a nest of hradani to kill!"