"I'm well enough," said Lewan.
"Not afraid of spiders, are you?"
"No."
"Don't let the webs worry you," said Sauk. "Nothing too dangerous in the lowlands. The big monsters stick mostly to the mountains, especially this early in the year."
"I've been living here for several seasons," said Lewan.
The half-orc grinned. "You know this country better than me. That what you're saying?"
Lewan shrugged. "I don't know you."
Another fit of trembling hit Lewan. He clenched his jaw and fists to quell it. The half-orc laid a palm against his face. Lewan flinched back.
"Just checking for fever," said the half-orc. "I mean you no harm."
Lewan snorted despite himself.
"Truly," said the half-orc. "You have nothing to fear from me."
"Then let us go." "Us?"
"My master and I."
"Can't do that," said the half-orc. "You and Kheil are needed, whether he'll admit it or not." "His name is Berun."
The half-orc rolled his eyes, then returned his attention to their path. "He never told you?" "Told me what?"
"Your master… Berun"-Lewan heard the sneer in the word, though he couldn't see the half-orc's face-"used to go by the name Kheil. Kheil was once the best assassin west of Kora Shan. Some of the most powerful houses in Faerun paid vast amounts of gold or favors for Kheil's services. Our master, the Old Man of the Mountain, most often specialized in quiet killing. Trained most of his men to make murder look like an accident. But Kheil was… special. Kheil was used when a message needed to be sent. Kheil didn't just kill. He slaughtered-and liked it."
"I don't believe you."
The half-orc chuckled and brushed a thick web from across the path before plunging onward. "Believe what you want. Kheil and I were more than comrades in arms. We were brothers."
"You're a half-orc."
"Dam yeluk ufrum kahutat naw."
"What?"
"A saying of the orc tribe where I grew up. It means, 'Blood is thicker than milk.' Means that brothers in blood"-the half-orc raised his right arm and flexed so the muscles of his forearm pushed up an old scar across his wrist — "are closer than brothers who shared the same mother's milk. That was Kheil and me."
Lewan scowled and looked away. Just off the path, a fat brown spider sat on a magnificent web larger than a knight's shield. Even as he watched, a moth hit the web, stuck, and began to struggle frantically. The spider skittered down, stopped, and watched a moment as the moth's struggles tangled it’ further, then it struck. It didn't bother Lewan. Killing was part of life. The moth would nourish the spider. In a few more tendays, her eggs would hatch, and her body would nourish her young. Struggle and death was part of living, but what Sauk was talking about-no other way to say it. It was murder, plain and simple.
"When I was fifteen," the half-orc continued, "about your age, eh? I killed my father's son. A good fight. He died well. But I did not mourn him. Hated him, in fact. Might have even danced on the ashes of his pyre had I not left him to rot by the river. But Kheil, I would have died for. I did kill for him. More than once. When I saw him taken that night in the Yuirwood, it was the blackest night of my life."
"My master," said Lewan, "isn't like that. He's not a… a murderer."
The half-orc laughed, but kept it low and quiet. The wood pressing in on them seemed to call for silence. "Not now, maybe," said the half-orc. "This… Berun isn't the brother I knew. What do you know of him?"
"Know of him?"
"You seem damned determined not to believe me," said the half-orc. "Right now, I could tell you the sky is blue and we're walking in the woods, and you wouldn't believe me-because you don't want to. Even though in your heart you know it's true. So if you're so sure your precious master isn't the killer I know him to be, tell me why. You can't have known him more than nine years. I knew him far longer than that."
Lewan looked over his shoulder. The path had gone straight for a while, and he could just catch sight of Berun, still at the end of the line between the three men.
"Berun saved my life," said Lewan.
"Now there's a tale," said the half-orc. "Do tell."
Lewan took a deep breath. Years had dulled the edge of the pain, but these were memories he still didn't like to dredge up. "Raiders-outlaws out of the Ganathwood-hit my village. Killed my parents. Took me captive. They were almost back into their territory when Master Berun and his own master came upon them. They attacked the raiders. Saved my life."
"Your master and one other killed a whole band of raiders?" The half-orc smiled. "Sounds like a killer to me."
"That was justice-those bastards had it coming!" said Lewan, a bit of heat rising in his voice. "Not murder. The raiders deserved death. Deserved worse! Berun and his master didn't kill for pleasure or profit. They killed to save me."
"Killing is killing. The why… now that is something else."
The only other time Lewan had seen his master kill another person-a Tuigan outcast from his tribe who'd turned to banditry-Berun had taken no pleasure in it.
"It's the why that makes a murderer," said Lewan.
The half-orc turned and smiled down on him. "Like me?"
Yes, Lewan started to say, his mouth open, but instead he said, "I don't know you."
"I have killed for coins, boy," said the half-orc. "More times than I can remember. And I've killed for pleasure, hunting and slaying those stronger than me, more powerful. But my cunning won out, and I'm still breathing while they're rotting. Killing's part of life. Shy away from it, and you stand a good chance of being one of the rotters."
Lewan looked away.
"You ever killed anyone?" said the half-orc.
Lewan was silent a long time. Again, the pain of memories drained the color from his face. When he was sure he had control of his voice, he said, "I'm a hunter. My master taught me well."
"Meaning you've killed deer and rabbits. Maybe even a bear."
"I've killed three bears."
"But never a man? Never prey with weapon in hand and cunning in heart?"'
Lewan scowled and looked away.
"I'll take that as a no," said the half-orc.
Walking at the rear of the column through the woods, Berun only caught occasional glimpses of Lewan. But each time he did, the boy was listening to Sauk. Berun scowled.
"Your boy is fine," said Val, who walked beside him.
Berun turned his scowl on the blond man.
"You look ready to chew rocks," said Val. That insolent smile again.
What Berun would have given to remove that smile with a few punches. Barring that, he'd have given his next three meals for the path to narrow again so that Val would walk behind him and not be so eager for conversation. The man's incessant chattering was bad enough. Combined with the raw pain in Berun's ribs and the dull fire in his shoulder from the beating he'd endured last night, Berun felt ready to kill. He hadn't hurt this bad in a long, long time, and he hadn't been another's prisoner since… never. Berun had never been a prisoner. Kheil had died a prisoner, and Berun had been reborn a free man.
And here he was held captive by Kheil's old life.
"The boy your son?" said Val.
Berun looked away.
" 'Cause he don't look like you," Val continued. "Looks like a Murghom. Mulhorandi, maybe. His mother a Murghom?"
Berun slowed down, hoping Val would walk ahead, but one of the two men walking behind them jabbed his short sword into Berun's back. "Move it! No lagging."
Val's smile widened. Berun knew he could have easily bested these three, even snatched one of their blades and disappeared into the forest before the other men could do anything about it. But Sauk not only had Erael'len, he had Lewan. And there was the tiger. Berun knew that to beat the tiger, he'd have to think like a tiger. Don't rush. Wait and let your prey give you the best chance to attack. Conserve your strength and wait.