"You should have killed the other one too. The son."

The balding red-headed man spoke to me while I was tying the charger close to the other mounts. The two men were sitting on the side of the road, where I had left them. They hadn't moved since I had cut their bonds. The younger one sometimes looked at me oddly, and I had seen them talking in a low voice when I had left them to go and get the stray horse. I didn't answer, and settled for petting the beast, which had been made nervous by the noise and the smell of blood. I had missed the company of horses. I brushed the warm muscles and the velvety muzzle, let myself be lulled for a while by the deep breath. The dapple gelding had been reluctant at first, but I had spoken to him in a soft voice, and bribed him with bread. As I twisted the charger's reins around a stunted juniper tree, my nostrils filled with its animal scent, the fleeting memory of Ulrick's horses came to me. Berda and Pike. I wondered where they could be right now. I hoped they were both fattening up in a friendly stable.

"You let a dangerous enemy go. The Furk don't forget, and that goes for their puppies too. This one won't rest until he gets his revenge." I came back with a shrug and sat down next to the two men to open the purses I had stolen from the dead. "He wouldn't be the first," I said in an even voice as the coins clinked as they fell on the stone. "I have his name, but he doesn't have mine. I'll live with that." The middle-aged man wanted to move closer to me, but at two spans I harpooned him with a cold stare and he didn't move any further. "He will find your name. On this side of the mountains there are not so many men with Carm's triangle on their cheek. If you let him live, you'll have to sleep lightly for the rest of your life." The wind had taken hold of my interlocutor's beard - which was quite unattractive -, chestnut-colored hairs in which white streaks like mountain snow were tangled. He had no moustache, a bulbous nose and a fleshy philtrum, and sweat glistened in the folds of his skin. I didn't like his insistence or the way he was trying to manipulate me and decided to set the record straight. "You don't give a damn about me, lord, there's no point in trying to convince me otherwise," I said without looking at him. "I'd say you've already gotten away with it today. I didn't kill him and that doesn't suit you, I got that. Get over it and stop busting my chops." I then spat on the road and with my fingertips set about separating the gold from the silver. In truth, my nonchalance was feigned. I knew that he was right.

Hearing me rebuke his companion like that, the young man let out a clear and spontaneous laugh and slapped him several times on the back. The latter frowned, his face crimson. At first glance, by virtue of his age, I had naturally assumed that the older man was in charge. It now appeared that I was mistaken. The young man got up and stretched and walked absent-mindedly to the edge of the precipice. I followed him out of the corner of my eye. "That was a nice shot," he said in a jovial voice, as if he hadn't witnessed the shaking and desperate carnage that had just taken place. "He was the only one who wasn't moving," I lied darkly. I still couldn't believe I had hit the lord's steed, and I might as well have killed one of them. The man laughed again. " Indeed," he chuckled. Then he turned around and spread his arms exaggeratedly. "And what do you intend to do with us, warrior, now that we are in your power?" I stared at him warily for a while, but his question seemed sincere, and though I found his casual attitude quite confusing, he seemed eager to make conversation.

"You're not in my power," I replied slowly. "You're free to go whenever you please. But it will be unarmed and on foot, just like the other, until I know who you are. I have neither the time nor the inclination to hold you for ransom, if that's your concern. If that was my intention, I wouldn't have untied you in the first place." The young man cracked a big smile. "You're honest as well as fearsome, and those are two qualities I appreciate in a man." I chuckled, a little taken aback, and I don't really know why, but I held back from pointing out where he could stick his approval. Since he had an easy, playful manner, I just shrugged again, and divided the change I had sorted into two separate purses. I hadn't taken any jewelry from the dead, for fear that it might be identifiable by someone else, but I had taken off a few gems, and with the coins I thought I had collected enough to live on for decades without ever being in need. Still, there was no joy in that thought. The Vals had made me too disgusted with gold for that.

When I was done, the young man came and crouched down in front of me, swayed on his heels and scanned me with his eyes. He had the body of a fighter, with the natural confidence of those who have never lacked anything. He was sizing me up. On the defensive, I turned to keep his partner on sight. "The circumstances are a bit peculiar," he told me, "but I don't think that's reason enough to forget our manners. We should introduce ourselves." He had laughing eyes of a very light, almost golden brown, and an expressive mouth, permanently twisted into a half-smile that I didn't understand at all. "You first," I hissed through my teeth, and my interlocutor smiled kindly before taking a deep breath. "Lord...", the red-faced man said, but the other one forced him to remain silent. "I know what I'm doing, Connor." I raised an eyebrow, as the young man turned his attention back to me. "I'm Aiden Corju, eldest son of Nawd Corju and heir to Wadd. My companion is the councilor Connor Goodarm, and I apologize for his distrust. We're both very grateful to you."

I snorted exaggeratedly, to show that I wasn't really impressed by the revelation, which wasn't entirely true. Aiden was an unusual name for a brownian nobleman, but I seemed to remember that the Corju from Wadd had sometimes mixed their lineage with the dukes of Lema. In front of me, my interlocutor was waiting with a very encouraging expression. While common sense dictated that I should keep quiet, I finally gave in to his conquering smile. "I don't have a name or lands," I replied calmly, "but you can call me Fyss, it's the first name I ever had." Against all my expectations, Aiden Corju grabbed my bloody hand and shook it firmly. I didn't resist him. "In my life," he said, "I've never been so happy to meet someone. Now I'm very thirsty and hungry, and if you don't mind I'll go and see what's left in my saddlebags." I nodded slowly. He smiled again - gods! he never stopped smiling - and then went off in the direction of the horses. I juggled with the two clanking purses for a while. I had killed a lieutenant and robbed his men. When I would find Brindy, we would have to leave the primacies, I was more and more certain of that.

While the former captives were eating in the shade of the cliff, I was busy sorting out the belongings of those who had died on the road before the blowflies came, which would be soon because of the iron scent of blood. Although the temptation was great, I wasn't going to take the pieces of armor for myself. Each one had been custom-made, which I could have managed, but they would raise too many questions: usually, a tramp like me didn't walk around with the value of a small village on his back. I had found my bronze dagger a few spans from the thicket. I would have liked to trade its chipped edge for a steel dagger, but the ones I had recovered had chiseled scabbards, carved hilts, and one even had agates embedded in the guard. The blade with which I had skewered the veteran's skull was the plainest of the three, but I had broken the tip when I killed him. I reluctantly decided that the contrast between my appearance and that of the daggers would attract unwanted attention as surely as a shining helmet or riveted chain mail. For the same reasons I decided not to take the swords, but with less regret: I had been trained to use a dagger. Despite their perfect quality, these blades were twice as long and I didn't like their weight in my hand. The only items I allowed myself to retrieve were the shield the front-runner had strapped to his saddle (which had miraculously withstood the jolts of the dying mare), the same man's furry boots, and the gloves of the young nobleman whose face I had crushed with a helmet. Reinforced at the palm, I liked their style, and I figured that they would be useful to me, if I didn't want to rip my hands on the woven string of my crossbow.

The two waddan men watched me as I robbed the dead, sitting next to the horses. If there was contempt etched on Connor's shiny face, Aiden watched my comings and goings with a thoroughly shameless curiosity, laughing and commenting on my actions as if I had been a troubadour. I ignored him, without taking offense. The two men had exchanged many words during their meal. Now they seemed to be waiting for me. I wasn't sure what to make of their presence. On one hand I couldn't help but hold them responsible for what had happened. Objectively they had nothing to do with it, but I was pretty upset and the anger of battle had not yet subsided. On the other hand, they were distracting me from the killing and I think that, despite my acrimony and desire for solitude, I was aware that it was for the best. Their presence didn't make me feel better, of course, it was just the opposite. I didn't belong to their world. I didn't think with their codes, nor with their language. The triangle had erased the common fragments that had perhaps once existed, replaced them with a single, obsessive and ferocious logic. The fact that they were different was enough to dictate my behavior. I didn't know them and, even if I had freed them, I didn't trust them any more than I trusted the ones I had killed earlier. Since I had already shown weakness by letting Oliv Furk go, I could no longer afford to lose face in front of them. They forced me to stay tough and on my guard and that was a good thing at the time.

I returned to the horses when I was done with my own package. "Fyss!" shouted Aiden, raising his hand as if I had been an old friend. "When do we leave?" Next to him, the counselor Goodarm had stood up to rummage through his saddlebag, and I noticed for the first time that he was limping more than I was. "What do you mean?" I asked flatly. Aiden scratched his chestnut hair. "I want to know if I should get ready now, or if we still have time to rest a little." I grinned incredulously. "Do as you please. What makes you think we'll travel together?" My voice was sharp, because I had spent time with the men and beasts I had slaughtered, and I was full of bitterness and anger.

Aiden stammered as Connor stared at me. "Don't be a fool," the latter said. "You have just rescued the son of Nawd Corju. It goes without saying that you will accompany us to Wadd, where you will be richly rewarded for your service." I ran my hand through my hair. "I'm in the service of no one, councilor, and Wadd isn't on my route. You thanked me, but it was my life I was protecting. If those horsemen had passed in peace, you would still be on your way to Awv." I thought the counselor was going to choke. Aiden frowned for the first time since we met. "I don't understand," he said, his eyes staring and puzzled. "I can offer you a position if you prefer, or a pardon for your crimes, if it was in Wadd that they were committed." I shook my head. "No offense, but I'm not interested. I only want one thing in this world, and you can't help me get it."

There was a silence during which the stunned young nobleman seemed to look for his words, and then he finally laughed and raised his eyes to the sky. "You're a strange one, that's for sure. I've never met anyone like you." At his side, Connor was ranting. I spared him from an answer and Aiden looked at me more seriously before continuing. "Most henchmen would kill each other for a reward like the one that would be waiting for you in Wadd, but so be it. You've already been a great help to me, albeit accidental, and you don't want anything from me, which is very honorable, but it makes me embarrassed. Not only am I unable to pay the debt I owe you, but I would like to ask you for a little more of your time, for which I can offer you nothing but my gratitude. There was a battle near Rost, and we don't know the outcome. As soon as we were captured, the Furk took us by this road. We don't know where we are, and Connor's ribs are broken. We would need assistance to get home. I humbly request that you do us this favor."

I frowned as the counselor stamped on the spot, shaking his head. "It's unworthy," he said. "Unworthy to have the son of a primate beg." The man with the shiny face was starting to get on my nerves. "I didn't force anyone to beg me, counselor," I growled. " Coercion by force is a practice I leave to the inhabitants of castles and strongholds." The man opened his mouth to recriminate against me, but Aiden interrupted him. "Enough, Connor. I asked for help, and my tongue didn't fall out. This Fyss was courteous to us. He's not my liege, that I know of. In truth, he's under no obligation to pay any attention to my name, my request, or anything else, for that matter. So far we've caused him nothing but trouble."

I ruminated as I looked at Wadd's heir, because despite his presumptions and his aristocratic phrasing he was becoming more and more likeable to me. "I've just arrived from the north," I said, "and I don't intend to linger here. In my opinion, we're in the land of Amuber. It will be a few days before we reach their border, maybe even a week. What lies on the other side, I cannot know." I inhaled, biting my lips. "I'm willing to escort you until you're safe, but I will take no orders from you, and you will follow my directions without discussion." Aiden Corju nodded, and Connor Goodarm did the same, grudgingly. I wasn't sure why I had just agreed to their request, but either way it was a day I didn't understand. "You have my thanks, Fyss," Aiden exhaled in a relieved voice. "But you're wrong about one thing, we have only been riding for two days. The border is closer than you think." "On horseback, that's probably true," I retorted. "But we won't go on horseback. We have only war mounts here that are worth years of a soldier's pay. If the road's guarded by Hill, these beasts will mark us as conspirators or prey worthy of being robbed. Your armor is the same, it can only belong to rich guys. If you want, we'll bury them in the woods in a recognizable place. You can send your people to get them later. We can also do the same with the belongings of the dead."

I expected the counselor to argue or take offense again, but he just nodded. "I could use some help getting my hauberk off," he said with a grimace. Aiden hesitated for a moment, then put off his armor and assisted Connor. Meanwhile, I set about freeing the horses, stripped them of their saddles and sent them south. I kept the dappled gelding as a pack animal, intending to let him go when we left the cliff road. My two new companions set to work right away, gathering everything that would be useful for the journey. Aiden strapped two pairs of saddlebags to the mount, while Connor sorted out the food and equipment with a painful expression on his face. I assisted them a bit, but they were doing just fine without me, which I found encouraging. At least I hadn't joined nobles who were used to servants and couldn't do anything but give orders.

When we finished and were about to leave, I spat on the road as I noticed the three bodies I had piled up near the mound. I still couldn't believe it had anything to do with me. Aiden was leading the horse by the bridle, and he came to stand beside me. "This is strange," I said, as the breeze ruffled my hair. "I don't even know who they were, or why they died." "The lead man was named Somond," Aiden told me. "He was the nephew of the liege Furk, and the brother of Jon, the one who rode the white horse. He killed a shepherd early this morning in the foothills. I didn't understand the reason. Perhaps they wanted to leave no witnesses to their passage." Connor came limping up to us. "Maybe there was no reason. Maybe he was deranged and liked to kill and the others let him," he grumbled in his hoarse voice. "We'll never know. They were a fiendish breed, and I'm glad we're rid of them." I spat again, and then, without answering, set off down the stone path, with my feet shoved into a pair of new boots, a purse full of gold in the bottom of the haversack, and new troubles that weren't mine.