Silver Horn looked up and nodded as they entered. The only other acknowledgment was Mad Bull, Eagle Eye's uncle.
"You planning on letting all the cold air in, or just some of it?"
Stormbrow gave a start and quickly shut the door. Mad Bull grunted and went back to the turanga board with Windsong, the Shado of their caste. From the look on his face, Mad Bull was losing. Turanga was a new game to the Steppe People, learned from the settlers in Letega, but many enjoyed the mind-stumping strategy. Not so many were skilled enough to defeat Windsong, who was renowned for his mental prowess. Of course he was of the Sha, which seemed to Stormbrow as an unfair advantage. Not many would be comfortable pitting their skills against such, but no one intimidated Mad Bull. Still, by his scowl it was easy to see that he was not winning.
Stormbrow sat near Silver Horn and White Wolf, though not so near to take part in the conversation. He knew it was only because he and Eagle Eye brought the man in that they had been allowed to join their elders. Stormbrow tried to catch the gist of the conversation as Silver Horn spoke.
"Have you seen any of these akhkharu?"
The elderly chieftain shook his head. "I have not, not in all my years. But I know of them. I know of braves that have been taken in the night by unseen attackers who leave behind no tracks. Only the body is there, cold and lifeless. I know of no such beast that does such a thing."
"They are the canchu," Cold Wind Blowing said. His hair was nearly as ashen as White Wolf's, but his body belied his age, still taut with lean muscle. "Many do not truly believe they exist, but I do. They are said to come at night and feast on the souls of the strongest warriors. To see one is to die. No one has lived to tell about them."
Silver Horn's eyes grew distant. "I believe I have. Something attacked us at the foothills of the Dragonspine. It was stronger than any man and changed appearance at will. I was only able to slay it with the aid of Nyori."
The men murmured at the feat. Stormbrow exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Eagle Eye. This Silver Horn was indeed a man ripped from legend. Peacemaker of nations and slayer of terrible creatures. Stories said that he slew the last of the piasa, the serpentine monsters that breathed fire and hoarded treasure. Small wonder he could slay one of the mythical canchu.
"We have heard of a Shama crossing the Steppes in the company of Nahguals, or wolfrunners as you would call them," White Wolf said. "One of them was our own. His name was Ironhide."
Marcellus lowered his eyes. "Then I am afraid I must be the bearer of ill tidings, for Nyori's escorts were slain in the passes of the Dragonspine."
The men murmured again, this time in respect of the dead. Stormbrow's heart was heavy. Ironhide was well known in the caste, a man of wisdom and quiet strength.
Windsong looked up from the turanga board. He was the youngest there besides Stormbrow and Eagle Eye, yet his long flowing hair was white as freshly fallen snow. It had not been so until he came back from his time with the Sha. "I spoke with Ironhide before he left for Halladen. I warned him to beware of that place. The Eye had become shrouded. Shortly after he left, it was blinded. I do not know what happened at Halladen. I feared for our brother."
Marcellus frowned in thought. "Halladen — that means 'Hidden City,' doesn't it? Nyori said that is where she came from. I hope to return her there on my way to Kaerleon."
"You cannot bring her there." Windsong's voice was adamant. "I cannot tell you much of Halladen, for it is for the Sha. But there is much danger there since I lost contact with the Eye. Better to slay her now than to take her into that darkness."
Marcellus appeared startled. "She is in that much peril? What is this Eye that you speak of?"
Windsong's youthful face grew stern. "It is of the Sha. We are forbidden to speak of it."
White Wolf held up a gnarled hand. "We will let the subject rest. But heed Windsong's words, Silver Horn. If you wish, you can let the Shama remain here. We will watch over her."
Silver Horn hesitated, then shook his head. "I do not doubt your ability to protect her, but she has insisted on accompanying me to Kaerleon. I am in heavily in her debt and have sworn to keep her safe. If there is no safety in Leodia, there is no safety anywhere."
Mad Bull frowned. "I mean no disrespect, but that would be foolish, Silver Horn. Your people are full of superstitious fear. They will regard the Shama as a sorceress, and her life would be in jeopardy anyway."
Silver Horn met Mad Bull's intense stare evenly. "Do you doubt my ability to protect her?"
The lodge grew silent at the challenge.
Then Mad Bull laughed, slapping his taut belly in his mirth. "By the Taevisa, I meant no disrespect. But see reason, man. You are one, and you have a long trek across wilds full of scout parties and marauder bands before you get to your homeland. On top of that, winter approaches. No one doubts your hardiness as a warrior, but the Shama is an agent of peace. There is no need to put her in harm's way."
Silver Horn smiled in return. "I appreciate your concern. Just remember that this Shama survived in the Dragonspine and saved my life as well. I will speak with her and see what she wishes to do, but I am quite certain that she will insist on accompanying me."
White Wolf gave a sage nod. "To aid in slaying a canchu must mean that she is powerful indeed. Surely it was your good fortune to cross paths with her."
Silver Horn was silent a moment. "I would not call my fortune good. I only know that I must return to Kaerleon." His eyes flickered like steel lightning. "I hope to exchange our grunnien for fresh horses and be away at first light if I can. I am sorry I cannot stay longer, but my soul is bent on returning home and seeing if my family is unharmed."
White Wolf spread out his hands. "Then let it be so. We will provide you with provisions for your journey as well as an escort of warriors that will take you as far as Letega. May your trek home be swift as the arrow, and the Taevisa guide you safely. But be wary, Silver Horn. The Sha are certain that a tempest approaches. Not of wind and rain, but of men. When such a tempest is unleashed, it is a terrible thing. Let us smoke for a while and think things over."
As the pipes were produced, Mad Bull turned to Stormbrow and Eagle Eye. "You have been honored enough. We will smoke now."
The young men reluctantly stood and bowed their heads to their host. Silver Horn spoke as they made their way to the door.
"Well met, young warriors. Perhaps one day the honor will come again."
The next morning Stormbrow rose early, but not early enough to see Silver Horn and Shama Nyori depart. Silver Horn had been right about the Shama. She had insisted on coming along. At first light they were away as fast as their new horses could carry them; swift as the wind and silent as shadows.
Interlude: Cully
Outside it rained, though really what fell was more like soft ice, spattering against the ground and the tile roof of the Silver Horn Inn. Cully Golder shuffled about, cleaning his tabletops with a weathered towel. The work was needless, for his maids had already seen to it before they retired, but the fact was he was bored and restless. The weather made his right leg swell, and the best thing for it was to walk a bit.
The common room of the inn was not overly large, but enough to handle the average party comfortably. Twenty or so round tables were set spaciously apart, though only two were occupied by five Mandru who had come in late from the Steppes to barter their hides. They were of the Hanathu caste, bearing the characteristic face paint in yellows and reds. Their bodies were sure to be painted as well, but heavy fur-trimmed coats obscured any glimpse. Unlike most Mandru their hair was mostly fair — tangled cords of red and tawny brown, and the Hanathu sported beards as well. They sipped mulled wine and ate roast chicken and potatoes as they murmured in inaudible conversation. A fire crackled in the hearth at the end of the far wall. On the other side was a large tapestry depicting a man with a silver horn in his hand facing off against an entire army of Mandru warriors.