away from the attack, stuck out an arm, and caught Ruari across the ribs, knocking the wind out of him. This time Ruari couldn’t clamber upright. He lay awkwardly in the briars, gasping for breath.
“What’s it going to take to get through to you that I’m not your enemy? I’m not your father and you’re not going to prove anything by hating me as if I were. You’ve damn near twice lost the only home you’ve got, and what have you got to show for it? I’m still here, and you’re one gasp away from being meat.”
Ruari worked his mouth, trying to muster enough strength and saliva to spit.
“Fool,” Pavek muttered.
He thumped Ruari’s still-heaving ribs with his foot. The youth began to choke. Pavek grabbed an arm and jerked him to his feet. Ruari’s eyes were full of spite, but he couldn’t talk, couldn’t stand on his own feet, and didn’t want to land in the briars again. He clung to Pavek’s arm; the ceramic medallion dangled around his neck in easy reach. Pavek left it hanging there, knowing that so long as the half-elf wore it, he’d know where the scum was. And fearing that, short of killing Ruari, he wasn’t ever going to convince the stubborn scum that there was no good reason for them to feud with each other.
They stood there a while, with Pavek keeping an ungentle hold on Ruari’s arm. Ruari couldn’t fill his lungs. He wheezed and trembled, leaning hard against him, because he could do nothing else.
Pavek knew, from long years on the practice ground, that elves could gasp themselves to death if their lungs collapsed. He didn’t think he’d hit Ruari nearly hard enough, but it was always hard to gauge the vulnerabilities of half-elves. Sometimes they were weaker than either of their parents.
“Come on, Ru,” Pavek urged, forgetting himself and using the youth’s familiar name. “Calm down. Take it slow.” He felt something soft brush against the back of his legs: kivits, three of them, their ears twitching each time Ruari gasped, their large, dark eyes seemingly glazed with anxious tears. They rose up on their hind-legs and touched the youth’s limp legs with dexterous forepaws.
Familiars, Pavek thought. Every half-elf was supposed to have them. His old nemesis the administrator Metica was rumored to sleep with a nest of poisonous snakes. He didn’t want to think what sort of familiars Elabon Escrissar might keep. But the kivits were clearly Ruari’s familiars, and just as clearly distressed by the sight of him.
“I’m getting tired of this,” he complained as he swept an arm under Ruari’s legs, lifting him up. “I’m no nursemaid.”
Now that Ruari had shown himself, the features of the grove were apparent. Pavek carried Ruari to the side of a small, bubbling pool and propped him up against a sapling willow tree. The kivits bounded onto Ruari’s shoulders, nuzzling into his hair and against his face. Pavek raised a hand to chase them away, but Ruari’s eyes had closed, and he was breathing easier.
He tended his own cuts and scratches in the pool, then sat on his heels, waiting for Ruari to complete his recovery. It didn’t take long.
“Nothing’s changed. I still hate you. You’re still a lying, treacherous lump-of-scum templar, and I’m still going to kill you.”
“Give it up, scum. You’re not a dwarf. You don’t have a to-the-death focus to worry about. Stop being so stubborn and think straight for a change. If I’d wanted to kill you or hurt you or anyone else, I could have done it ten times over by now. I’m not your enemy. I’m not Quraite’s enemy. I’m not anybody’s enemy—except some templars back in Urik: the ones making Laq. We’re on the same side, Ruari. While you were wrecking that stowaway, I was trying to convince Telhami and Akashia not to take any more zarneeka to Urik. They weren’t listening to me, but you stopped them. You did the better job.”
Ruari scratched the itchy spots on each of his kivits before he met Pavek’s stare. “How do I know I can believe you? You lie real good, templar-man, like you lied about my poison.”
“You believe a man after you ask what he’s got to gain by lying. I’ve got nothing to gain by lying to you, and I haven’t killed you yet. That should be enough.”
“Kashi.” Ruari looked down at the kivits as soon as he’d uttered the word.
“Mekillots will fly first. You may enjoy being a fool, but I don’t. That