“If I cannot persuade my kin not to fight Clan Marshul, I shall lead those willing to follow me out of the town'.” That would probably mean only Lilia and Kahrl’s children, if Kahrl didn’t feel he had to keep them around to reassure his followers. He had to try to save something from his town, if it would not save itself.

The silence this time was even longer. It was finally broken, not by mindspeak, but by the soft thud of plate-sized hooves. Mountain Wind trying to walk quietly would have been an amusing notion if the stallion hadn’t been doing it. Djoh’s hopes rose as the great horse loomed above him.

“Did anyone challenge you?” Djoh asked. He hadn’t been guarded at nightfall, but they might have placed sentries after he could no longer see them.

“Neither man nor horse nor cat. Now prepare yourself for pain, Dirt Brother and battle comrade. This will not be pleasant, if it is to be swift.”

That was a considerable understatement. Djoh’s lips were bleeding almost as badly as his wrists by the time Mountain Wind was finished, from biting them in order not to cry out. He had to bind them with strips of his shirt before he could even try to stand.

“I trust you have some ideas about what to do next,” came Mountain Wind’s thoughts. The idea of a horse being sarcastic was not one that would have occurred to Djoh before he fell among the Kindred, but no other word would do.

“There is a stream that leads out of the camp, where sentries cannot see who passes. Before we reach the end, where there are sentries, we shall climb the bank. I know a place for that.”

In mindspeak, he could not hide how he knew of that place. He and Karee had spent a whole afternoon there, making love as he had never dreamed it could be.

Mountain Wind’s reply held amusement. “It is a pity that you will not take us as your kin. You and the mare Karee would produce fine colts. It would be an honor to have your get riding mine against the enemies of the Kindred.”

“It is an honor that cannot be, my friend.”

“It seems not. And when we have climbed the bank? My scent will mask yours from men, but not from the prairiecats.”

“There is a pond of foul-smelling slime and mud just above the bank. I will smear myself with that. Prairiecats on the far Plains may detect the smell, but they will not recognize the smell of a man.”

“And I, of course, must endure the stench until we part company?”

“You don’t think you owe that to a battle comrade?” “One who perhaps saved some of my mares and colts? Of course. But one does not have to enjoy it!” The stallion lowered himself to give Djoh an easier mounting. “Enough talk, Dirt Brother. Let us ride, and may Sun take you safe where you wish to go.” Even better, may Sun tell me where that is, was Djoh’s thought as he gripped Mountain Wind’s mane.

A full assault by the army of Zhampayunsburk and Blue Springs together could hardly have made much more uproar in the camp than the discovery of Djoh’s escape. Lewee’s kin were hurling accusations in all directions from the moment of the discovery. Only

Chief Djimmi’s direct orders kept them from mounting up and riding out on Djoh’s trail as one warrior.

“If he is fleeing to friends, he may be planning to lead you into an ambush, by night, in country those friends know and you do not. If he is fleeing into the wilderness, the bears and the snakes can have him.”

The reply to that order stopped just short of outright defiance. It stopped there, because even Lewee’s angriest kin knew Djimmi’s wisdom in war. They also knew that to split the clan by disobeying their chief in a hostile land would not avenge Lewee. It would be far more likely to give the Dirtmen the chance to avenge Two Tanks.

At dawn, riders did leave the camp, on a trail grown faint but not cold past hope of finding. What might have come of the pursuit had it gone on, Sun only knew. The riders were only half a morning from the camp when they met men of Zhampayunsburk and another town in the north, called New Chikaga. These men fought as if they were the advance guard of a larger force, only retreating when most of Clan Marshul came up and forced them back.

By then, Djoh’s trail was lost past finding by any mortal creature. None of the prisoners taken that day spoke of his presence among the enemy, so it began to seem that he had indeed fled into the wilderness.

Lewee’s kin still had one arrow in their quiver, though. They demanded that Chief Djimmi mindspeak Karee at the deepest level, to learn if she had done anything to contrive Djoh’s escape.

If they could not have Djoh, they would ask for her.

Chief Djimmi knew that he might have to give her to them, if indeed she had helped Djoh. That was a fear he could not conceal, as he sat beside her in his tent while she lay down and tried to open her mind.

He hoped he could better hide another fear. He could not mindspeak someone at the deepest level and keep all of his own shields up. There were things he now knew about Djoh that it would be best no one else knew. They might make some people doubt the chief’s honor, and many doubt his wisdom.

The latter, Djimmi was now ready to doubt himself.

“I am ready,” Karee said. “Or as ready as I’ll ever be. Be warned, though. I won’t be a tame sacrifice to those leeches of Lewee’s kin. I’ll stand against their best warrior in a fair fight and let blood tell, but I won’t be butchered.”

“No one will ask that. By Sun and Wind and Steel, I swear it.”

“Then let us be done with the matter.”

Djimmi knew the moment when he was certain Karee had done nothing to aid Djoh’s escape. He could not keep a smile off his face.

He also knew the moment when Karee learned his secrets. Her smile might have been a twin of his, at least for a moment. Then the smile faded, her face twisted, and silent tears streamed down her face.

“You knew that he was your son, yet you permitted all that he endured? You would have seen him die without lifting a finger to stop it?”

“I am the chief of Clan Marshul, Karee. The clan’s good is what / must serve, before my own heart. Or yours. Once Djoh had refused to swear the Kindred oaths and made enemies of Lewee’s kin, what was there left for me to do?”

“You should have told him the moment you knew! You were a fool not to! To your face, and nowhere else, I say it. You were a fool!”

“Karee—Sun forgive me, but there is truth in that. I wanted to be certain, so I waited. It seems that I waited too long.” He had never spoken with Djoh about Blue Springs, as he’d wished. Why? Probably because he suspected the truth even then, but didn’t want to face the responsibility. A new son—and now lost!

For a moment Karee covered her face with her hands. When they fell to her sides again, the warrior had returned.

“It seems you did wait too long. Have we anything else to say to each other today—or any other day?” “Karee, if you disobey—”

“I care as much about Clan Marshul as anyone not its chief can. I will obey. But I will not forget!”

She stalked out, leaving Chief Djimmi to contemplate his own folly. Perhaps he should see that the whole matter was laid before the Undying Milo, when Clan Marshul returned to the Plains. Certainly Milo laid much importance on finding those with strong mindspeak. He would not be pleased to learn that this escape had prevented a marriage between Djoh and Karee, whose own mindspeak was stronger than most.

Perhaps Milo would suggest that Clan Marshul find a new chief—peacefully, so that its war strength remained intact, but soon. If so, Djimmi knew that he would not quarrel with such a verdict.

Yet one glimmer of hope remained. Would Djoh have any more luck finding a home among the Dirtmen now than he had before? As long as Clan Marshul remained on this side of the Great River, Djoh would know that he had a second home. With a little luck, the wandering Dirt Brother might find his way back to the Kindred.