One of the cloaked figures reached up and tugged back its cowl. Ergund’s face emerged, helmeted for battle. In the failing steppe light, he looked pale beneath the metal, but determined.
“We haven’t come to murder you,” he shouted. “If you’d just—”
“Yeah, we have.” Now Alrag shook off his hood as well. He, too, wore a helmet, a little more ornate than Ergund’s, with a low horsehair crest. “He’s too fucking stubborn to bow out gracefully. Anyone can see that.”
“It doesn’t have to—”
“Yes, it does, Ergund.” Ershal’s quiet tones from beneath one of the other cowls. He did not unmask. “Alrag’s right about this. There won’t be any half measures.”
Egar forced down his surprise, and a little unlooked-for hurt.
“Hello, little brother. Didn’t expect to see you here. I thought better of you.”
“Yeah, well we all thought better of you, too,” Ershal snapped. “Once upon a time, when it still looked like you deserved it. Seven years we’ve given you, Egar. Seven fucking years! And what have you done with our fealty? You pissed it away, man. Made us the laughingstock of the Majak, made our family the laughingstock of the clan. You’re not fit for the mastery. That’s the truth, and everybody knows it.”
“Everybody, huh? So what happened to Gant? He break a leg getting on his horse? Or has he just not poured as much tavern courage down his throat as the rest of you?”
Ershal put back his hood. Of the three brothers, he was the only one who had chosen to ride bare-headed. “We’re not drunk,” he said calmly. “And Gant will not involve himself in this, but he will approve the outcome. He knows as well as anyone, the mastery must pass to safer hands.”
Egar stared back at him, unmoving.
“You do know you’re going to have to kill me,” he said.
“That choice is yours.” Ershal held his gaze. “But you have left us no choice at all. The shaman is right. If we don’t act, you’ll bring the ruin of the Gray One on us all.”
“The shaman, eh? Been listening to that dried-up old buzzard, have you? You
“We’ve been vouchsafed a vision,” shouted Ergund. “You profane the names of the Dwellers for all to hear. You snub the respected men of the clan as if they were hirelings, so you can rush back to your yurt, get pissed, and shove your prick into whatever teenage slut takes your fancy. You barely bother to honor the rituals, you drink and brood and sit alone instead, or you get out of your face and stumble about all night telling everyone how fucking wonderful it was in the south, how much you miss it, how
“Jealous much, Ergund?”
“Hey,
Egar snapped a glance at Alrag. Their gazes locked.
“And you, brother. Do I get to hear your list of complaints, too?
Some hallowed boundary I’ve overstepped in your eyes as well, is there?”
Alrag shrugged. “I don’t care who you fuck. You’re in my way.”
It was like a cowl thrown back from everything, the truth of the moment exposed and grinning skullishly at them all. The mask of talk peeled off, discarded somewhere in the quiet. The chill of what had to be done stood waiting.
Ergund must have felt it more than the others.
“Listen, Egar. It doesn’t have to be like this. You can walk away. Just give up your weapons and your horse. Give an oath on father’s cairn that you won’t come back. They’ll take you as far as the mountains and turn you loose.”
It was almost worth laughter—Egar made do with a thin grin. “Is that what they told you, Ergund? Is that how they got you saddled up for this?”
“It’s the
“It’s a fucking lie. It’s not even a very imaginative one.” Egar nodded at the hooded, silent sword carriers. “These men? They’ll slit my throat as soon as you’re over the horizon, just to save themselves the ride. I’m surprised they even agreed to show up before you had me disarmed. I hope you haven’t paid them in advance.”
A couple of growled oaths from the freebooters—one of them cleared his sword from its straps, leveled the blade one-handed at Egar. But his mount skittered a couple of steps at the movement and ruined the gesture. His voice came across young and tense.
“You shut your fucking mouth.”
“I think I’ll wait till you come over here and make me.” Neither the clanmaster nor his Yhelteth warhorse had shifted more than a statue. Egar saw the sword tremble as the mercenary worked to hold its weight out horizontally. Saw the tip waver and grinned into the blank shadow under the hood. “Son, you have been misinformed. Did they not tell you who I am?”
