Furies of Calderon - By Jim Butcher Page 0,70

his belt, rather than in his hand-and he also carried a sword, bound with a rawhide thong about its hilt and blade and slung over one shoulder. He had a half-dozen grass plaits bound over his limbs, and his face had been rawly abraded, bruised. The Marat stopped several paces from the trio and held up his hands, open, palms toward them.

Fidelias mirrored the gesture and stepped forward. "What I did was necessary."

Atsurak looked down, at the dead man only a few paces away, whose skull Fidelias had crushed. "It was necessary," the man agreed, his voice quiet. "But a waste. Had they met me openly, I would have killed only one." The Marat squinted at Odiana, staring at the woman with a silent, hawklike intensity, before turning an equally intent regard to Aldrick. "Deadlanders. They fight well."

"Time is pressing," Fidelias responded. "Is everything in readiness?"

"I am the Cho-vin of my tribe. They will follow me."

Fidelias nodded and turned to his horse. "Then we go."

"Wait," Atsurak said, lifting a hand. "There is a problem."

Fidelias paused and looked at the Marat chieftain.

"During the last sun, I hunted humans not far from this place."

"Impossible," Fidelias said. "No one goes here."

The Marat took the sword from his shoulder, and with a pair of casual motions, unbound the thong from the weapon. He flicked it forward, so that its point drove into the ground a pace ahead and to one side of Fidelias. "I hunted humans," Atsurak said, as though Fidelias hadn't spoken. "Two males, old and young. The old commanded a spirit of the earth. My chala, the mate to this one," he put his hand on the herdbane's feathered back, "was slain. Wounded the old one. I hunted them, but the young one was swift and led me from his trail."

Aldrick stepped forward and took up the sword from the ground. He used the same cloth he had cleaned his own weapon with to brush the mud from the blade. "Legion-issue," he reported, his eyes distant. "Design from a few years ago. Well cared for. The wrappings are worn smooth." He took off a glove and touched his skin to the blade, his eyes closing. "Someone with a measure of experience used this, Del. I think he's a Legion scout. Or was one.

Fidelias drew in a sharp breath. "Atsurak. These two you hunted. They are dead?"

Atsurak shrugged. "The old one's blood flowed like a stream. His spirit carried him away, but he was already pouring out into the earth. The young one ran well and was fortunate."

Fidelias spat a sudden, acid taste out of his mouth and clenched his jaw. "I understand."

"I have come to look at this valley. And I have seen. I have seen that the Deadlanders wait to fight. That they are strong and watch carefully."

Fidelias shook his head. "You were unfortunate, Atsurak, nothing more. The attack will be a victory for your people."

"I question your judgment. The Marat have come. Many tribes have come. But though they have no love for your people, they have little for me. They will follow me to a victory-but not to a slaughter."

"All is in readiness. Your people will sweep clean the valley of your fathers and mothers, and my lord will see to it that it is returned to you. So he has pledged."

Atsurak's lip curled into something like a sneer. "Your Cho-vin. Cho-vin of the Aquitaine. Do you bear his totem as bond?"

Fidelias nodded, once.

"I will see it."

Fidelias stepped back to his horse and opened one of the saddlebags. From it, he drew Aquaitaine's dagger, its hilt elaborately worked with gold and with the seal of the House of Aquitaine. He held it up, so that the savage could see the weapon. "Satisfied?"

Atsurak extended his hand.

Fidelias narrowed his eyes. "This was not a part of our agreement."

The Marat's eyes flashed with something hot, vicious. He said, in a very soft voice, "Nor was the death of my chala. Already, there is bad blood between your people and mine. Now there is more. You will give me your Cho-vin's totem as bond. And then I will fulfill my end of the bargain."

Fidelias frowned. And then he flicked the knife, still in its scabbard, to the Marat in an underhand throw. Atsurak caught it without looking, nodded, and turned to walk back into the woods. A few paces past the first branches, he and the stalking bird beside him vanished.

Aldrick stared after the savage chieftain for a moment and then at Fidelias.

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