Sentinelspire - Mark Sehestedt [11]
"Ragh ala, Taaki," said Sauk, calming her. He looked down on Berun. "She remembers you. Still doesn't like you much."
Berun stepped aside to give the spearman room to get up-and to put the half-orc between him and the tiger. "She never liked Kheil," he said. "She doesn't know me."
"Hunters know their own," said Sauk. He turned away, and the tiger followed.
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Berun kept a careful eye on the underbrush and treetops as they walked. Perch was close but keeping himself hidden. In the early evening with the shadows thick, it was easy for Perch to stay out of sight. Not once did he show himself, but Berun knew he was there all the same.
The loss of his tail hadn't really hurt Perch. It was a gift of his species-the tail snapped off to distract a predator long enough to get away. Given proper nourishment, he'd grow a new one soon enough.
They walked less than a quarter mile, to a place where an offshoot of a stream fed a reed-choked pool. Sauk and his men made their camp just where stream met pool, so they were surrounded by water on two sides. Full dark had fallen, and Sauk's men busied themselves building fires.
Taaki padded off into the woods, and Sauk motioned for Berun to sit opposite a small fire from him. The half-orc seemed grim, his brows low and his jaw tight. Berun knew that he had probably spent their walk going over their conversation, getting angrier with each retelling in his mind.
Berun sat and put his unstrung bow across his lap.
Sauk glanced down at it. "A fine weapon. You always hated the bow," said Sauk. "Called it a coward's weapon. You liked to get in close for the kill, see your prey's eyes as the light dimmed. One of the things I liked about you."
Kheil had once said those very words-and meant them. Berun said, "I don't kill for pleasure."
"You seemed ready to kill Gerrell down by the water. And you've been hunting Taaki for days."
"Your man was about to kill me-or so I thought. I was hunting Taaki only because I thought a beast had come out of the Khopet-Dag. She's been killing sheep, you know. Took a shepherd. And the hunters sent after her still haven't been found. Had I known it was Taaki, I-"
"What?" said Sauk, heat rising in his voice. "Turned tail and hid in the woods, hoping I'd go away?"
Berun looked into the fire. The barb struck. He'd been thinking those very thoughts after sending Lewan away.
"I believe you," said Sauk. "You told me Kheil died. I didn't believe you. Didn't want to. Thought perhaps my brother had returned by some miracle. Now I see that I was a fool to hope."
Lifting his gaze from the flames, Berun looked up and said, "Kheil is dead. I am Berun now."
"Berun, sworn of the Oak Father," said Sauk, his upper lip lifted in a sneer. "A damned leaf lover. A blight beater."
The world came into sudden, sharp focus. Even the sounds of the stream and men talking as they went about their business seemed clear, every ripple of the water and companionable jibe distinct. Berun recognized the sudden awareness in him for what it was. Anger. He'd been holding a lid on his fear since seeing those letters scratched in the boot print. Fear that Kheil's old life was catching up to him after nine years of trying to bury it. But Sauk's casual curse of the Oak Father and his servants had lifted that lid off his fear, and here in the nighttime camp, Berun found himself filled with anger. No, not anger. Pure, cold rage. Nine years! Nine years of burying the past, and here it was again, spitting in the face of all he now held precious.
"You never answered me," said Berun, his voice careful and controlled. "What do you want? Why this ruse to draw me out here? 'A fool to hope.' Please. You didn't go through all this for a reunion. You want something. You said Talieth found me. Did she send you? Are you still her father's favorite lapdog?"
The rest of the camp had gone quiet halfway through Berun's speech. Every man now stood watching, some sitting paralyzed with bits of food held before