with his bedding, but Pavek found himself looking away from the village when he opened his eyes. He started walking without saying a word.
Akashia called him; Telhami also—and voices he didn’t recognize. If Yohan’s had been among them, he might have reconsidered. But the dwarf held his peace and soon the only sounds were those of his own sandals on the dry ground.
* * *
He expected something odd, something sudden or frightening, but Ruari’s grove, when it came into sight, was a low-lying tangle of briars and saplings, far smaller than Telhami’s or Akashia’s, but otherwise essentially the same. A shimmer of druidry hung about the place, which from the outside seemed no more than few hundred paces across. There certainly was no sign of Ruari himself, though the ache of the missing medallion was a palpable force in Pavek’s mind. He hesitated before wading into the rampant shrubbery, and held his breath until his lungs burned once he entered the grove. Thorns carved bloody tracks into his legs, but that was the true nature of thorns and nothing magical.
“Ruari!” he shouted loudly enough to penetrate every shadow. “Stop hiding.”
There was no answer; he hadn’t truly expected one. He thrashed and cursed his way to what seemed to be the visible center of the grove. The medallion felt close enough to touch, but Ruari was nowhere to be seen.
“She says this hiding-thing is your choice. You may as well come out where I can see you. I’m not going anywhere until you know you did the right thing, wrecking the stowaway.”
Something cracked the base of Pavek’s skull. It might have been a nut or a small stone; he didn’t turn around.
“Talk to me, street-scum.”
“Go away!” a familiar, anger-filled voice shouted, followed by another pellet striking his flank.
He stayed right where he was, looking straight ahead, out of the grove. “We can’t let Telhami settle this for us, street-scum.”
“I’m not street-scum!” Another shout, closer by the sound, and another pellet flung hard enough to make him wince.
“You act like it: another dumb-fool, too-smart-to-think clod of street-scum. I know the type.”
“You know nothing!”
But even in the absence of footfalls through the brush, the medallion told him when to turn around, where to grab himself an armful of street-scum. Ruari kicked and punched and clamped his teeth into Pavek’s forearm—for which he clouted him hard behind the ear. Then dropped the stunned fool into the thorns.
“You want to hate yellow-robe templars, scum, that’s all right with me. I hate a few myself. You want to hate your father or your mother, that’s all right, too. I didn’t have much luck with my parents, either. We’re even. But you want to take your hate out on me, and that’s just plain foolish, street-scum.”
“That’s what you say!”
Fists forward and teeth bared, Ruari surged out of the briars.
They grappled for no more than a moment before Pavek got the upper hand and hurled him into the thorns again. “That’s what I say because it’s the truth. You—”
Ruari took a deep breath and launched himself again. Pavek had enough time to step aside, which would have allowed the youth to dive head-first into the underbrush. His mind’s eye showed the gouged and bleeding copper-skinned face that would result. He was tempted, but stayed where he was, taking the scum’s charge full-force in his gut.
They both went down, with Ruari pummeling Pavek’s flanks. Yohan had taught his pupil well; Ruari knew how to land an effective punch with his compact fists and where to aim them. Pavek roared and thrashed free. A wicked thorn caught below the corner of his right eye as he did, and he got to his feet with a finger-long gash across his cheek. The sight of his blood made Ruari bolder and more reckless than the scum already was. The thought that he might have been seriously injured brought out Pavek’s coldest rage.
“You want to prove something, scum? Now’s your time. Give me your best, and I’ll give a better reason to hate templars—”
He settled into the brawler’s stance he’d shown to Yohan, then he lowered a fist, daring Ruari to strike at his jaw. Ruari took the dare, leaving his right side undefended. Pavek was heavier, faster, and far more experienced; he beat aside Ruari’s punch and struck twice, left-handed, on the scum’s jaw and right shoulder before withdrawing.
Ruari’s lips trembled and, hard as he tried, he couldn’t hold his right arm steady.
“Had enough?”
The half-wit shook his head and charged. Pavek leaned