he certainly did not feel. ?And let us pray that the wretch Ashwarawu was the first to taste of the last raid's spoils!"
The Yatol, feigning anger and frustration, dismissed them all, then walked with a huff from the grand room, back to his private quarters, an honestly confused and concerned Carwan Pestle close behind.
But Yatol Grysh was not concerned. Not at all. He had a measure of this rebel, Ashwarawu, now. He was beginning to recognize the man's patterns and he knew that he was adding to the self-confidence that would ulti-mately bring the man down.
It would be an enjoyable spring in Dharyan.
"You are unnerved," Pagonel remarked to Brynn the day after the cara-van raid. Brynn was sitting off to the side of the camp cleaning her sword, alone and apparently calm and composed, but the perceptive mystic had seen through the facade. ?It is one thing to kill a man in combat - the rush of fear and the need for self-defense allows for conscious justification. But it is quite another to kill a man lying helpless on the ground. Be relieved, my friend, that there were no uninjured Behrenese after the raid, no men who had just been knocked aside and captured."
"You presume much."
Pagonel gave a disarming smile. ?A soldier invading your homeland de-serves death, perhaps."
"Any Behrenese entering To-gai uninvited deserves death," Brynn said with as much conviction as she could muster.
"Do they?" The question was spoken, again, with perfect calm and the appearance of sincere reasoning. ?If you happened upon a settlement and found a young Behrenese mother with her child, would you kill them?
Without guilt?"
Brynn stared hard at him.
"You would put them on the road to their own land, perhaps," the mys-tic remarked. ?And likely with enough supplies so that their road would not be dangerous."
Brynn went back to her work on the sword, her expression intense. ?You presume much."
"Presumptions, perhaps, but based upon considerable observation," the mystic explained, taking a seat beside the young ranger. ?I watched you at your practice this morning."
The statement froze Brynn in place. She had walked off far from the To-gai-ru encampment early that morning to practice her bi'nelle dasada, the elven sword dance, a ritual that she had been neglecting far too often of late. In the elven valley, Brynn had performed the dance nude, but since it "winter here on the steppes, with that constantly chill wind cuttings the iced grasses, she had worn a slight shift that morning. Still, el's proclamation caught her off guard, and made her feel no less violent than if she had been dancing nude. Bi'nelle dasada was an intensely rsonal exercise, a disciplined series of elaborate motions designed to vsically train the muscles in the motions of battle, but even more than to extend the consciousness, to heighten the bond between body and mind.
Slowly, the young woman looked up at Pagonel.
"We of Jhesta Tu have similar routines," the mystic explained. ?Quite similar, though we rarely fight or practice with weapons. The Chezhou-Lei warriors do, as well. As do certain factions of the Abellican Church to the north. I am curious as to how you came to learn such a dance, for yours, I believe, is quite extraordinary."
"It is not your business," Brynn said, with all the warnings of Dasslerond that bi'nelle dasada was a secret not to be shared echoing in her mind. She went back to her work on the sword again, pointedly.
"One day we will speak of it, I hope. But of course, the choice is yours. As for the events of yesterday, I am glad to see that you are troubled by them."
Brynn looked back at him again, her expression skeptical, though Pagonel could not be sure if she was trying to deny the premise of his statement, that she was troubled, or if she was merely confused that he should be glad to witness her guilt.
"You trouble yourself needlessly," he explained. ?Those men were dead anyway - by Ashwarawu's hand if not by the wounds they had already re-ceived. And you struck with mercy and compassion, which is more than most would have done, and is as much as the doomed soldiers could have expected. Our mighty leader would not allow his reputation to be dimin-ished for the sake of Behrenese soldiers."
"Should he?" Brynn asked, her tone making it fairly clear that she sided with Pagonel on this issue.
"I know not," the mystic admitted. ?Ashwarawu's reputation serves him, and To-gai, well, I believe. Can the cost of conscience