“But at least Prince Bahzell was also good enough to grant us all parole, Wind Brother,” a shorter, stockier Sothoii pointed out.

“Yes, Hathan,” Tellian agreed. “And I accepted his offer—which only makes those who would already have been prepared to be disgusted feel that the honor of all Sothoii has been mortally affronted, as well. They just can’t decide if they’re more furious with me for the ’travesty’ of my surrender or with Bahzell for the ’humiliation’ of his acceptance of it!”

“With all due respect, Baron,” Brandark said, nodding his thanks as he reached for the wine glass Hathan had filled for him, “I’d say let them feel as affronted as they want to feel as long as what you and Bahzell are up to manages to keep your people from one another’s throats. And speaking purely for myself, of course, and admitting that it’s remotely possible I might be slightly prejudiced, I happen to feel you did exactly the right thing, since any solution which left my personal head on my shoulders was a good one. Which, of course, only underscores the brilliance and wisdom of the people who arrived at it.”

Several of the humans seated at the table chuckled, yet their laughter had a darker edge. Tellian’s decision to “surrender” the unauthorized invasion force Mathian Redhelm had led down the Gullet to attack the city state of Hurgrum was the only thing which had prevented the massacre of the first hradani chapter of the Order of Tomanak in Norfressan history. It had also prevented the sack of Hurgrum, the slaughter of innocent women and children, and quite probably a new and even bloodier war between Sothoii and hradani.

Unfortunately, not everyone—and not just on the Sothoii side—had been in favor of preventing all those things.

It’s truly remarkable how frantically we all cling to our most treasured hatreds, Brandark thought. And even though I would have said it was impossible, these Sothoii are even more bloody-minded about that than hradani are.

“You may be prejudiced, Brandark,” Tellian said in a more serious tone, “but that doesn’t make you wrong. And at least the King seems prepared to go along with us for now.”

“For now,” Bahzell agreed.

“And while that’s true, we need to make as much progress as we can,” Tellian continued. “Perhaps we can actually manage to turn his acceptance into enthusiastic support.”

“It’s certainly to be hoped so,” Bahzell said. “And Father is after agreeing with you. I passed on your message to him, and he says as how, if you’re willing, he’s thinking it might be best for him to be sending another score or so of his lads up the Gullet to fill out my ’guards.’ “ The towering hradani shrugged, and his foxlike ears twitched gently back and forth. “For myself, I’d sooner not have any guards.”

“I’ve explained that before, Bahzell,” Tellian half-sighed. “You may not be an official ambassador, but that’s one of the roles you’ve got to play. And if you expect a batch of stiff-necked Sothoii to take you seriously as an ambassador, you’d better have a proper retinue.”

“Aye, you’ve explained it, right enough,” Bahzell agreed. “And seeing as how Father agrees with you, and he’s after being one of the canniest men I’ve yet to meet, I’ll not say you’re wrong. But it’s in my mind that if I was after being one of those of your folk as don’t think this is just the very best idea anyone ever had, then I’d not like to see a jumped up barbarian like me bringing in any more swords to stand behind him.”

“You’d need a lot more men than your father is talking about sending before you could pose any sort of credible threat to the Kingdom,” Tellian pointed out. “Again, Bahzell. You’ve got to play the part properly, and having your father send you the guards your position demands isn’t going to upset anyone who wasn’t already prepared to be upset with us. So for Toragan’s sake, stop worrying about it!”

Bahzell regarded his host thoughtfully across the table for several seconds, then shrugged. He still wasn’t certain he agreed with Tellian, and he was certain he wanted to do nothing which might make the Sothoii baron’s position any more precarious than he had to. But if Tellian, his father and mother, his sister Marglyth, and even Brandark were all in agreement, it was obviously time for him to close his mouth and accept their advice.

“Well, seeing as you’re all so set on it, I’ll say no more against it,” he said mildly.

“Tomanak preserve us!” Brandark exclaimed. “My ears must be deceiving me. I could swear I just heard Bahzell Bahnakson say something reasonable!”

“Just you keep it up, little man. I’m thinking it should make an impressive funeral.”

Brandark twitched his ears impudently at his towering friend, and another, louder chuckle ran around the table.

“If you keep threatening me,” Brandark said warningly, “I’ll have you trodden on. It won’t be that hard, you know.” He elevated his prominent nose with a disdainful sniff. “Dathgar and Gayrhalan both like me much more than they like you.”

“Oh-ho!” Tellian laughed and shook his head. “That’s a lower blow than that song of yours, Brandark! Coursers have memories as long as Sothoii and hradani combined!”

“I prefer to think of it not so much as a matter of remembered past grievances as a case of exquisite and refined present good taste,” Brandark replied. Then he shrugged. “Of course, the fact that they’ve spent the better part of a thousand years thinking of Horse Stealers as their natural mortal enemies might play some small part in it, I suppose.”

“Aye, that they have,” Bahzell rumbled. “And, truth to tell, I’m thinking as how I don’t blame them if it should happen as how they’re wanting to carry a grudge. At least they’ve been civil enough.”

The baron might have chosen to make a joke of it, but it hadn’t always been a laughing matter. And for many Sothoii—and coursers—it still wasn’t. The Horse Stealers’ “traditional” taste for horseflesh had always been grossly exaggerated—by themselves, often enough. Their habit of eating warhorses killed in combat had been the product of their bitter, unrelenting hatred for the humans who’d sought their extermination when first the Sothoii came to the Wind Plain—a case of striking back at their enemies in the way they knew would hurt them worst . They’d never made a practice of slaughtering live warhorses for the pot, however. That particular charge had been the product of Sothoii demonization of their foes, because the Horse Stealers had been right about how they would react. The Sothoii had regarded it as proof of the hradani’s subhuman, blood soaked barbarian status. For the coursers, however, it had been the equivalent of cannibalism. To the best of Bahzell’s knowledge, there’d been only two cases of coursers themselves being eaten in the entire bloody history of his people’s endless battles with the Sothoii, and the coursers knew that as well as he did. But as Tellian had just said, coursers had long memories. It was fortunate that they were at least a little less prone than humans or hradani to visit responsibility for the sins of the fathers upon the sons.

A little less prone, at any rate.

“Really?” Brandark glanced at him sidelong. “Are you saying you didn’t really need that doublet Gayrhalan tore to shreds … while you were wearing it?”

“Well, as to that,” Bahzell replied with a calmness he’d been very far from feeling on the day in question, “I’m thinking as how Gayrhalan was after being in a bad mood that day. And I’ll ask you to be taking note of the fact that he never drew any blood at all, at all. It he’d been so minded, it’s an arm I would have been losing, and not just a doublet.”

“That really is true,” Hathan agreed, and shook his head, grinning wryly at the memory of his companion’s fractious mood. “And it was at least partly my fault, too. I was a bit clumsy with my hoof knife that morning.”