The Khroi slowly rose to the ped-clusters his kind used for feet. He flexed each of his arms and legs all along their length, an eerie sight. There were a few wounds on his head and arms that were leaking the dark fluid the Khroi used for blood, but none of the wounds appeared to be disabling. He turned so that one of his three eyes faced Morlock and another faced Thend. The Khroi had needle-toothed mouths at the three corners along the base of their pyramidal heads, and this one clacked his mandibles once or twice, a mannerism Thend thought might be like clearing his throat. But then, instead of speaking, he jumped over and bit Thend on the shoulder, right through his jacket and shirt into the flesh below.
"Hey!" screamed Thend, and Morlock was there, kicking the Khroi in the midsection. The Khroi flew through the air and rolled a few feet on the ground, slamming into the base of a tree. He leapt back on his legs with unbelievable swiftness, gripping a sharp rock in one of its stringy palpclusters, so unlike hands.
Morlock drew his sword, Tyrfing. Sunlight glittered along its black-andwhite, strangely crystalline blade. "You have your weapon," he observed ironically. "I have mine."
The Khroi lifted the sharp rock and marred himself with it, scraping it savagely along his purplish carapace by the neck. He kept pounding with the rock until the point broke off, stuck in his shell like a tooth. He dropped the rock, looked at the two of them with two of his eyes, and then fled away through the trees.
"How's that wound?" Morlock asked, turning away and sheathing his sword.
"It's the best kind," Thend snapped. "Hurts and everything."
"Well," Morlock said, smiling a little, "it's not too deep." He tore a strip from the hem of Thend's jacket and said, "Hold this on it. When we get back to camp I'll whomp up a poultice to keep off infection."
"Whomp," Thend muttered as he pressed the cloth against his wound. He felt as if the world was whomping him. "He didn't have to bite me."
"I think he was marking you," Morlock said. "So he would know you again, if he saw you."
"He meant it as a favor?" Thend demanded, pointing at his wound with his free hand.
"He did the same thing to himself," Morlock pointed out.
"So that I'd recognize him?"
The crooked man nodded.
"I hope I never have to."
The crooked man nodded again.
They climbed back up out of the rift, each wrapped in silence and his own thoughts.
"What was it?" Roble asked, when they returned to the little camp. No one had gone to sleep yet; they were all standing there, waiting.
"A Khroi, bound by the spiderfolk," Morlock replied. "When he got loose, he bit Thend," he added, as Naeli's eyes strayed to the bloody rag Thend was pressing against his neck.
"Whenever my children go somewhere with you, they get hurt," Naeli snarled at Morlock.
Thend dreaded what would come next. Morlock would explain what had really happened and Naeli would focus her rage on Thend. When he was no more than nine she had run off into the woods to save her daughter from the Bargainers and the Whisperer in the Woods, and he hadn't seen her for more than six years. Now the Whisperer was dead, they had been reunited and Naeli apparently intended to take up where they had left off: with Thend as a nine-year-old. He resented her long absence; he resented her assumption that he hadn't grown or matured during the time when she'd abandoned him. But no matter what he thought about her, there was something in his mother's black burning eyes that could turn his knees to jelly. He braced himself for the worst.
Morlock shrugged and said, "What's that smell?"
"If you think you can shrug this off-" Naeli began threateningly.
"Shut up, you stupid moron," Thend shrieked. "I cut the thing loose and it bit me. Morlock got it off me. It's my damn fault, now leave me alone! I mean him," he ended lamely.
Naeli looked again at Morlock, then moved over by Thend. She moved his hand from the wound and examined it. "It's not serious," she conceded. "But it might have been. He should have stopped you."
"He said not to," Thend whispered. Thinking back, he wasn't sure that was true, but it was close enough.
"He should have stopped you," his mother repeated in a voice that was loud enough to be heard by everyone there. "Part of taking care of a child is telling him no and making it stick."
This was so fearfully unjust to everyone, just everyone in the world, that Thend couldn't even speak. And Thend wasn't a child, even if he wasn't a man yet. If he never made any of his own decisions, how would he ever become a man? He felt he would have been in a better position to make this case if his face wasn't covered with tears and snot, so he let his mother lead him off to have his wound cleaned and bandaged, but he was seething inside with unshed fury. And his skin crawled whenever she touched him.
"What's that smell?" Morlock asked again.
"You really want to know?" Roble asked. "I thought you were just putting Naeli off."
"I really want to know."
"A sort of cat-beast attacked us while you were over the hill. Actually, there was a regular pack of them, but when Bann speared one they all seemed to be frightened of its blood: it's got a pretty pungent stink, as you noticed. Anyhow, then they ran away."
"Where's the corpse?" Morlock said.
Roble pointed at the west end of the camp. Morlock didn't stir from where he was standing but, looking over at the body, said, "A snake-leopard. We must move at once."
"They're not so fearsome," Roble protested. "And if-"
"Why, Morlock?" Naeli called over, interrupting.
"They are the skirmishers of the spiderfolk. Look!"
Naeli and Thend went together toward the dead snake-leopard. It was hardly leopard-sized, somewhat larger than the predatory tree-cats in the woods surrounding Four Castles. But it wasn't really a cat: instead of fur it had the mottled scaly skin of a lizard, and its mouth hanging open displayed the forked tongue of a snake as well. Its slashed throat dripped greenish yellow blood. Wading in the blood were pale bugs, eight-legged like spiders, lapping up the still-warm fluid with long dark tongues.
"Those are newborns," Morlock said. "They grow taller than Roble. And they prefer red blood. The adults will be here soon, led by the snakeleopards."
"We'll put a pad under your backpack's strap," Naeli said to Thend. "That'll be a better bandage than anything we can tie on."
Moments later, they were on the move, headed east.
The Kirach Kund: a trench dividing the longest mountain range in the world into two unequal halves. The Whitethorn Range lay to the west, running all the way through the Wardlands to the perilous seas off the Broken Coast. The Blackthorn Range lay to the east, running beyond knowledge-some said it went to the eastern edge of the world. At the heart of the Blackthorns lay a kingdom ruled by the dragon-taming Khroi.
Everyone feared the Khroi, and when they decided they had to cross the mountains (Thend was never sure when they had decided that, or why) Morlock recommended that they follow the western edge of the Kirach Kund. The Khroi feared the spiderfolk, and something about the mountains themselves, though Morlock never said what.
Now they were fleeing from the spiders toward the Khroic side of the pass, and Thend knew they were nearing it when they topped a rise and saw, smoking in the valley below, the outstretched form of a dragon.
This was alarming at first; even Fasra, who hadn't a lick of ordinary sense, looked concerned. But the dragon was obviously dead: a big steaming trench had been eaten out of its side; most of the smoke came not from the dragon itself, but from a smoldering fire its blood had started in the valley's thick grayish grass.
There were no Khroi in sight, but lurking in the fire was a great wolflike beast, and surrounding it were a group of full-grown spiderfolk, attempting to drag it out of the fire with their silken threads. The fire withered the threads and the spiders dared not approach closer. But they, and their pack of snake-leopards, surrounded the fire: the wolf couldn't easily escape.