"So that's why you were willing to promise Kelthys you'd wait," Brandark said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"Aye." Bahzell agreed. "It was in my mind as how Krahana's lot would be after coming here, to be finishing what they'd once begun. And, truth to tell, I was minded to meet them here, with the other lads from the Order and Himself's protections in place to be giving us an edge. But now I'm thinking that if they'd been minded to be coming this way, we'd already have been after seeing them." He shrugged, then frowned. "And since it seems they'll not be coming here, then it's no choice I have but to be going there."
"And once we ride out of Warm Springs, we'll be leaving its protection behind us," Brandark said, nodding slowly. "That's why you're so unhappy you didn't try to stop Kelthys from calling in his wind riders after all."
"Aye, for it's not just a matter of the protections here that we'll be leaving behind," Bahzell said somberly. "I've no way of knowing just what sort of 'champion' Krahana may have been after sending here. For aught I know whoever-or whatever-he is, he may have been after summoning up his own version of a protected a circle from her. And if that's the way of it, Brandark, then I've no way at all, at all, of knowing what those as try to cross it may find themselves facing."
"I understand that, Bahzell," Brandark said quietly. "But you have to understand that there's not a one of us-not me, not the Order's lads, and not Kelthys and his wind riders-who hasn't thought long and hard about this. You may not know what we'll find, and we certainly can't know, until we've done it. But it's not as if all of us don't know that going in."
"Brandark, this is nothing a man should be facing out of friendship," Bahzell said, speaking just as quietly as Brandark. "Tomanâk knows I've never had a friend so close as you've somehow gotten. I'll not embarrass either of us by pounding what that friendship's after meaning to me into the ground. But this I will be telling you, Brandark Brandarkson-there's naught in this world I'm wanting less than to see you riding north beside me."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Brandark said levelly, "because you don't have much choice about it."
"Brandark-"
"Just what makes you believe you have the right to tell me, or anyone else-including Kelthys and the other wind riders-what we have the right to face? You're a champion of Tomanâk, Bahzell. We all know that. And we all know that facing Krahana is the sort of challenge Tomanâk chooses His champions to face. We know the brunt of it is going to fall on you and the other lads of the Order, and that nothing we can do will change that. And so what?"
"And so it's not making any sense at all, at all, for the lot of you to be running up against the like of Krahana. If Hurthang and Gharnal and I have it to do, then what's the sense in risking others alongside us?"
"Are you going to try to tell Walsharno that he can't go along? If so, then you've just spent the last four days wearing the seat out of your breeches and pounding your arse flat for nothing!"
"Well, as to that," Bahzell began, "Walsharno is after-"
"Don't start any circumlocutions with me, Bahzell Bahnakson! You're not leaving him behind because you know he wouldn't stay, whatever you tried to insist upon. And, in the second place, because the two of you each know exactly what the other is thinking and feeling-really thinking and feeling."
The shorter hradani held his massive friend's eye almost defiantly in the lamplight streaming out of the manor house windows to throw their black shadows across the veranda. And this time, it was Bahzell who looked away.
"You know he wants to go . . . and why. And it's not just because the two of you have bonded with one another. He wants to go because he hates and despises and loathes Krahana as much as any of us. Because he wants vengeance for the herd he grew up in before he left for the Bear River herd. And because it's his right-his right, Bahzell-to choose to fight evil when he sees it.
"Well, that's my right, too. And Kelthys'. And the right of the other coursers, and of the other wind riders. All that good men have to do to allow the Dark to triumph is to do nothing to stop it when they find it before them."
Brandark stopped speaking and drew a deep breath, then chuckled with something approaching his normal insouciance.
"I hope you took notes, Bahzell," he said lightly. "Because unless you did, I doubt very much that you'll manage to keep it all straight later. And also because you're not going to hear me getting that sloppy and emotional very often."
"No," Bahzell said softly. "No, that I'm not." He looked back up at the stars again for several endless seconds, then inhaled deeply, nodded to the nail-paring moon, and slapped the Bloody Sword lightly on the shoulder.
"All right, little man," he rumbled. "You've the right of it, when all's said. And even if you hadn't, Tomanâk knows you're nigh as stubborn as a Horse Stealer."
"Please!" Brandark gave him a very pained look. "No one, this side of a Sothōii or a lump of granite is as stubborn as a Horse Stealer hradani! It's a law of nature-a physical impossibility. It's a well known and clearly demonstrated fact that nothing short of six solid inches of skull bone can produce your genuine Horse Stealer stubbornness. I refer you to the treatise by-"
His tone of lordly superiority disappeared into a sudden squawk as two shovel-sized hands plucked him easily off the veranda, despite his own two hundred and seventy pounds of solid muscle and bone. He flailed wildly as he sailed through the air, but it was a relatively short journey which ended in a tremendous splash as he alit far from gracefully upon the surface of Lady Sofalla's fishpond.
"So tell me again just why you're here?" Sir Fahlthu Greavesbiter growled, glowering suspiciously at the man in front of him.
"Because Lord Saratic told me to be," Darnas Warshoe replied with a shrug.
"Let's try this again," Sir Fahlthu snorted. "I know Lord Saratic assigned you to ride with my company. And I know you're supposed to be some sort of expert guide and scout. I even know that Lord Erathian is supposed to've personally asked for you because of your knowledge of the Bogs and Glanharrow generally. But, d'you know, Master 'Brownsaddle,' I don't quite believe that that's all there is to it."
"And why shouldn't you believe the truth?" Warshoe asked patiently.
"Because I've known a great many guides, and a great many scouts, Master Brownsaddle. A lot of them have carried bows, and some of them have carried crossbows. One or two of them have even carried arbalests. But you, Master Brownsaddle, are the only scout I've ever met who carries both a Sothōii bow and a hradani arbalest at the same time. I can't help wondering why you do that. I mean, a man can fire only one bow or one arbalest at a time, unless you possess even more hidden talents than I believe you do."
"You know," Warshoe said, "I do believe that I somehow managed to overlook that, Sir Fahlthu. Thank you for bringing it to my attention."
Cassan's agent snorted with obvious amusement at the absurdity of the knight's suspicions, but it was an amusement he wasn't particularly close to feeling. Fahlthu was obviously brighter than he'd assumed, and Warshoe wondered if he was also brighter than Saratic and Sir Chalthar had assumed. If so, that mistaken estimate might have unfortunate consequences over the next couple of weeks or so.