Several hours later, Athlone and Bregan returned to the guest huts with three new horses. Lord Athlone was pleased with the deal, for the trader had taken the three Khulinin pack horses in an even exchange for three Calah horses. Athlone knew the trader had gotten the best deal, because the clan horses had better breeding and training and only needed a little rest and food to be back in shape. Still, the Calah horses were sturdy, strong, healthy, and available. Even Bregan had not been displeased. He had chosen a black gelding with long legs for his mount.
It was dusk by the time Athlone and Bregan had settled and fed the horses and made their way to the huts. Both of them were hungry and looking forward .to the evening meal. By the unwritten clan code of hospitality, it was the chieftain’s duty to feed his guests. If the guest was a visiting lord, then he and his escort were always invited to share the host chief’s meals. Thus Athlone fully expected an invitation to Caurus’s evening meal awaiting him when he returned. But when he inquired about it, Piers shook his head.
“My lord,” the healer replied, “there is neither food nor a message from Caurus. We are as good as forgotten.”
“This insult shall not be ignored,” Athlone snarled. He slammed his sword and scabbard on a cot beside him. “Remove your weapons,” he told his men. “We are going to the hall to eat with Lord Caurus. All of us.” He waited impatiently while Sayyed and the warriors left their swords, bows, and daggers on the cots. Slowly the chief brought his temper under control. It would not help their problems if his fury got the best of him.
When everyone was ready, he nodded once to his men and turned to Gabria. She was standing by the fire dressed in her long skirt and over-tunic. He was surprised to see she was wearing the armband he had given her and carrying her jeweled dagger in a scabbard under the sash of her skirt.
“Caurus may not feed you if I come,” she said. Her words were spoken half in jest, but her eyes were shadowed with worry.
“Caurus will have no choice,” Athlone retorted. He crossed his arms, and his lips curved upward in a harsh smile. “I’m sure he has done this deliberately to show his anger at me for bringing you to his treld. The clans will never learn to accept magic-wielders if we let chieftains like Caurus get away with these insults.”
Gabria looked at his face, and for a moment she saw something there she had never noticed before. That cold, calculating smile was exactly like his father’s. Lord Savaric had been a deliberate, controlled, cunning man who had often harnessed his anger to fire his actions. He had always sought for ways to turn difficulties to his advantage.
Gabria sighed to herself. Athlone was going to need every scrap of his father’s wiles and self-control tonight.
The treld was peaceful as the travelers left their hut and walked down the path toward the hall. The sun had dropped below the hills, leaving the plains to the approaching night. The smells of cooking food and wood smoke mingled in the treld with the usual smells of animals and people.
As the party approached the chieftain’s hall, Bregan took the lead and the other hearthguard warriors gathered around their lord. Piers, Khan’di, and Sayyed drew close to Gabria. Without asking to enter, they walked past the startled guards and strode under the flapping yellow banner above the doors into the large stone hall.
Lord Caurus, his wer-tain, a few hearthguard, and several bachelors were grouped around a long, wooden table near the center of the hall. Caurus’s wife, Lady Maril, and two girls were busy serving the men from a platter of roast meats and a kettle of stewed vegetables.
The entire group fell silent as the Khulinin chief and his companions entered the hall. Lord Caurus, for once, went very pale.
“Forgive me, Caurus,” Athlone said, his voice amiable. “We seem to be late.”
There was nothing for the Reidhar to do, short of openly insulting the Khulinin, so he accepted the party’s presence. With an ill-tempered look and a grudging gesture, Lord Caurus ordered the bachelors to another table and had places cleared for Athlone and his party. Lady Maril hastily set eating knives and plates for the guests and poured wine. The Reidhar warriors did not utter a word.
The serving girls brought more meat and vegetables and laid out baskets with thick slabs of bread. Gabria thought the meal would have been quite good if the silence and tension had not been so palpable. As it was, she found it very difficult to ignore the hostile looks of her hosts. Even Lady Maril, who sat beside her lord to eat her meal, remained grimly quiet.
Finally, the silence became too much for Lord Caurus. He pushed away his platter and said to Athlone, “I heard you found some spare horses.”
Athlone continued to eat for a few minutes before he answered. “Ah, yes. A trader from Calah had a few strong horses he was willing to part with. Unfortunately, he only had three. The rest of the stock we saw was quite poor.” He took a bite of bread and did not bother to look at Lord Caurus.
Caurus colored slightly and leaned back in his carved chair. “Your horses seem weary. You have been traveling fast?”
Athlone nodded. “As fast as we could.” He was not going to give this ill-mannered boor the satisfaction of an easy answer. He gestured to a girl for another helping of meat.
“Your business must be urgent.”
“Yes,” the Khulinin chief replied casually.
“Where are you going?” Caurus pressed.
“Hunting.”
At the other end of the table, Sayyed choked back a laugh, and Caurus turned fiercely on him. “And you, Turic, what are you doing with clansmen?”
The young tribesman stood up and bowed. “I am Sayyed Raid-Ja, son of Dultar of Sharja. I am traveling the Ramtharin Plains to compare the hospitality of the clans.”
“And you, Pra Deshian,” Caurus rapped at Khan’di.
“Where are you going?”
The stocky nobleman raised and lowered his eyebrows as if he had just been asked a stupid question. “With them,” he said, waving his hand at the table in general.
“I see.” Caurus twisted his mustache in anger. His expression was thunderous, and white showed around the edges of his mouth. He felt it was bad enough that the Khulinin had come without warning, stampeding through his camp with their sorceress in tow, and now they wouldn’t even tell him about their journey.
“By the way,” Athlone broke in pleasantly, “we still need a few supplies. Trail food. A new water bag. Grain. Some leather to repair our tack.”
“To go hunting,” Caurus said sarcastically.
Wer-tain Gringold suddenly slammed his eating knife on the table. “Lord, I wouldn’t give them a used horseshoe.”
“We don’t need horseshoes,” said Bregan as reasonably as he could manage.
The wer-tain turned to the Khulinin beside him and studied Bregan for a moment until a flicker of recognition lit in his narrow eyes. He curled his lip. “It’s a good thing your chief is only going hunting. With you as a guard, he’s going to need better luck than his father.”
“Bregan!” Athlone’s voice cut like a whip across the silence and stopped the warrior in mid-lunge.
The wer-tain chuckled as Bregan forced himself to sit down again.
“Now,” Lord Athlone said to Caurus, “about those supplies.”
Caurus scowled. “We have little to spare. This has been a bad winter.”
Khan’di looked amazed. “A bad winter? We didn’t know. I’d heard you had a prosperous summer last year, since you weren’t involved in that unpleasantness with Lord Medb. Besides, the weather has been quite mild this season.”
Athlone raised his hand to forestall the Reidhar chief’s angry retort. “Caurus, look. We need those supplies badly. I cannot tell you exactly why or where we’re going because your treld is too close to the caravan road. Word can spread fast, and we need the element of surprise. Just know our mission is very important. If we had not needed new horses so badly, I wouldn’t have bothered you.”