crotch as he shouted something at her, much to the hilarity of his fellows. Vaelin quelled his rising temper and dragged his gaze away, keeping it fixed on the Stahlhast woman as she guided them to the largest tent in the encampment. An unusual banner jutted through the tent’s roof, a circle of burnished steel set within a wrought iron frame. The steel circle was engraved with a skillfully executed depiction of a hawk, wings spread and talons extended.
The man standing in the entrance to the tent was shorter than many of the other Stahlhast that Vaelin had seen so far, and several years older with streaks of grey showing in the untidy black mane of his hair. He held a sheathed sabre in one hand and a flask in the other, taking a long drink from it as the Stahlhast woman dismounted, holding up both hands in what was evidently a gesture of respect.
“Skeltir,” she said, jerking her head at the three foreigners before continuing in the Stahlhast tongue. The man nodded as she spoke, continuing to drink as his eyes tracked over Vaelin and the Jade Princess before coming to rest on Sherin, where they lingered.
He halted the woman’s words with a raised hand and murmured something before disappearing into the gloomy confines of the tent. “The Skeltir of the Ostra doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” the woman said, gesturing impatiently at the open flap.
The Jade Princess and Sherin quickly dismounted and proceeded inside, Vaelin following at a more cautious pace and halting a foot or two inside to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom. The Skeltir sat alone on a low seat covered in oxhide, sabre resting on his knees and flask still in hand. Before him an iron stove cast a steady stream of smoke up to the opening in the tent roof as coals glowed within. Vaelin’s eyes roved every corner of the tent, finding no one else.
“A Skeltir of the Stahlhast doesn’t lure folk into his tent to kill them,” the woman muttered, coming to Vaelin’s side. “If there’s a need for killing, he does it openly in front of the eyes of his Skeld. Now sit.”
Vaelin made another pointed survey of the tent before moving to take a seat on a pile of furs alongside Sherin and the Princess.
“Thirus tells me you killed her sister,” the Skeltir began in Chu-Shin. His voice had the quality of a nicked blade grating on a stone. His gaze was steady on Vaelin’s, hard with scrutiny rather than anger. “And more besides. Loyal riders of the Ostra Skeld sent forth on my word.”
“They drew blades on me and my companions,” Vaelin replied. “So we fought, and so they died.”
The woman, Thirus, stiffened at this, a thin hiss escaping her lips as she moved to stand at the Skeltir’s shoulder. Dipping her head she spoke rapidly in their shared tongue, her tone beseeching and slightly choked.
“Eta!” the Skeltir snapped in his dry rasp, cutting her off. Thirus straightened and retreated, head lowered in either shame or concealed fury. “She just offered to trade her life for the chance to kill you,” the Skeltir told Vaelin. “The bond between sisters is always a strong one.”
“Skeltir Varnko,” the Princess said, “you know our mission and we know your price. Perhaps we should proceed to paying it and we can be on our way.”
The Skeltir’s eyes shifted from Vaelin to Sherin. “The southlanders call you the Grace of Heaven, do they not?”
“Yes,” Sherin replied. “Although I’d rather they didn’t.”
“Why? Do you not enjoy the favour of Heaven? Is your power a lie?”
“My power amounts to knowledge and skill acquired over many years of study and practice. Heaven had nothing to do with it.”
A small glimmer of amused satisfaction passed across Varnko’s face before his stern mask reasserted itself. Apparently, he had heard what he wanted to hear. “I wish to ensure our bargain is fully understood,” he said. “You will cure my son. Once I am satisfied he is returned to health, I will take you to the Mestra-Skeltir.”
“That is what we agreed,” the Princess said with a polite smile.
“If he is not cured,” Varnko went on, gaze still steady on Sherin and paying no heed to the Princess, “your life and the lives of these two are forfeit. I’ll allow Thirus to do as she wishes with all three of you.”
Sherin’s features grew hard as she turned to the Princess. “That is not what we . .