“Karee, forgive me. I have had honorable treatment among the Kindred, and I hope I have repaid it in battle. I cannot swear to repay it further by lifting a hand against my own kin.”

“They called you witch and nearly killed you!” Karee shouted.'Her voice cracked.

“Some of them knew enough justice so that I lived. A few more have been decent, all through the years. Even those who have scorned me—I am not one of the old gods from before the Wasting, who hurled down wrath on whole cities because some of their people had been evil.”

He looked at Chuhk. “Is it in your power to take my oath never to return to Blue Springs? It is true enough that I hardly have much to return to there.” Chuhk shook his head. “I would trust such an oath from you, but many would not. Also, what if you fell into the hands of other enemies of the Kindred? Any hint that you knew the slightest of our secrets and you would be praying for death in half a day.”

Djoh shrugged. “So be it. I thought as much, and I will not shame Karee or my kin by begging further.” He stepped forward, raising his arms. “Karee, try to find it in your heart not to hate me—”

“Djoh, any woman who hated you would be the greatest fool ever born under Sun—” she began. Lewee Half-Thumb’s face twisted. “He’s trying to

get her knife!” he shouted. His sword leaped clear and he sprang forward, snatching Karee’s belt dagger as he came. Karee was too surprised to stop him.

Djoh tried to leap clear, but his lame leg betrayed him. He stumbled over the pallet and fell, outstretched legs in Lewee’s path.

Lewee Half-Thumb crashed to the ground, tried to rise, and made a faint bubbling noise. His wide eyes held amazement more than pain. Then he rolled over, and Karee saw that he had fallen so that her dagger had vanished up to the hilt between his ribs.

Chuhk and Karee looked at each other, unable to look at either the doomed honorable Dirtman or the dying Kindred fool. Djoh drew their attention back to them by sitting up and rubbing his knee.

“Not that Lewee’s much of a loss, but—Karee, will you suffer for this?”

“Not if Lewee’s kin have your blood as the price for his,” Chuhk said.

“They will ask for a harsh death,” Burhl added, an unwholesome smile on his lips.

Djoh shrugged. “I’ve had twelve years of life since the Sacred Caterpillars were going to burn me alive. Maybe they haven’t been the best years, except for meeting Karee—” He reached for her again, and this time no one prevented the embrace.

When he had breath to speak again, he added, “I’ve lived better among the Kindred than I have most of the time in Blue Springs. Perhaps it’s a kind of justice that my death come among you.”

“Djoh—” Karee could not force more than his name out of her tight throat. It felt as if her dagger had been thrust into it, instead of into Lewee’s chest.

“Karee, I’m going to give you an order, for the first and last time . . . since you can’t do anything to me for giving it. I want my last memory of your warrior’s face. Don’t weep for me.”

It was an order that she could not obey. When the guards Chuhk summoned appeared, Karee was so nearly blind with her own tears that he had to lead her from the tent.

She was ashamed of her lack of self-command, but there was one consolation. She did not have to see the guards binding Djoh.

The mosquito whined savagely in Djoh’s ear. He had given up wincing at such assaults. They merely made the leather thongs binding his hands to the post cut deeper. The thongs were so tight that blood had already joined the sweat on his hands, to attract the insects.

At least the snakes and day insects had vanished with the sun. Djoh had listened with his ears to the clansmen—he could not quite bring himself to call them the Kindred anymore—chanting their farewells to Sacred Sun.

He had tried to listen with his mind to anyone with mindspeak, in the hope of learning what death would be his. He had to listen with not only little skill but much caution, lest he convince someone besides Karee and Djimmi that he had true mindspeak.

It was just conceivable that evidence of his mindspeak powers would alter his fate. More likely it would put the clansmen even more on their guard than they were already, or even hasten his death. Lewee’s kin would point out that if Dirtman Djoh didn’t need to flee to warn Blue Springs, the sooner his mind and body alike were forever still, the better.

In their place, Djoh realized he would have thought the same. Even if his mindspeak did not hasten his death, the extra guard placed on him would make his one chance of escape impossible.

From his listening, he had learned two things. One, that the clansmen were far more concerned about any lingering Zhampayunsburk scouts than they were about him. The second, that he was staked out here not because that had some ritual meaning, but because the clansmen couldn’t agree on what else to do with him.

No doubt they would eventually think of something sufficiently unpleasant, given time. With help from the one friend Djoh might still have in the camp and a great deal of luck, they would not have that time.

Djoh was still cautious as his mind searched among the horses. Some of them had mindspeak as powerful as Mountain Wind’s. Few would dare disobey the stallion, but their thoughts might tell their riders more than Djoh wished them to know.

“Dirt Brother? I sense danger and pain. Is it yours, or another’s?”

The stallion’s mental voice was unmistakable. Djoh briefly retold the day’s events and described his situation.

“Though they are my brothers, I say the two-legs have used you shamefully. They owe you much, yet seem unwilling to pay.”

“Will you spare them that shame?”

“How?”

“Free me and carry me beyond the reach of the scouts.”

“How am I to free you, Dirt Brother? We are battle comrades, and this much I owe you. But I have four legs and no hands to hold an iron stick.”

“You have teeth.” In fact, given a choice between Mountain Wind’s bite and that of a prairiecat, Djoh would not have known which to chose. The stallion could certainly kill with his teeth as well as with his hooves, if not as swiftly as a cat like Iron Claw.

“Those teeth may well cut more than your bindings.”

“I will take that chance.”

A long silence, broken only by the whine of the mosquitoes. Djoh felt sweat trickling into his eyes.

Then:

‘I take a chance too, Dirt Brother. Do you mean to return to your own folk?”

Lying in mindspeak was not absolutely impossible if one was very gifted and trained for many years. Djoh was neither. Besides, Mountain Wind was right about what battle comrades owed each other. One of those things was the truth.

“I do. But no word or deed of mine will put your two-legged brothers, your mares, your children, or anything else that is yours in danger. When I tell of the strength of the Kindred, I think those in Blue Springs who mean to fight will think again. If they do not offer peace to Clan Marshul, I will urge it upon them.”

That was the truth. Djoh didn’t expect to get much of a hearing, except possibly from Kahrl and a few people who valued their own skins above everything else. Odd allies, they would be—the crippled witchboy, the war leader, and the cowards. But if it kept the fire and the steel away from Blue Springs, it would serve its purpose. Then his last duty to the town would be finished and he could go wherever he wanted—if there was any place for him to go.

“Are you chief over Blue Springs, that you can be sure they will listen to you?”

Djoh mentally damned the horse’s sharp wits, and heard the reply:

“Would you not ask such a question, if your mare Karee might be in danger from me?”

When Djoh had stopped laughing at the idea of Karee as a mare, he once more had to admit that the stallion was right.