Harbend hurried through the streets. Something had happened in the royal castle the day before, something, he suspected, that intruded on his revenge. There was little he could do about it. Alone he was helpless. He needed swordsmen but Ri Nachi wasn't the place to buy them.

Neritan Hwain had solved that problem for him. Not by doing anything but by sharing information. Somehow the death of his uncle hadn't been an accident. The entire main line of his clan had been killed, as had his father and brothers.

He would carry out the vengeance for them later, but for the moment he planned to make the most of his sudden rise in power. Clan leader. Duke as they called it in the Midlands and the northern empire.

Vast riches waited for him home in Khi. That was an unnatural word. Khi hadn't been home for many years. Now it was again, by definition. And home held armed men. Thousands upon thousands of armed men. From his clan only he could field an army larger and better equipped than the entire kingdom of Ri Khi. Not that he intended to, but a few hundred men jumped here with the help of Khar Escha would allow him to finish what he had started.

After that he would have to bring the killing all the way to Khi. For a different reason, of course, but killing just the same.

Getting to Khi wouldn't be too hard on the khar, but Harbend wondered how much he would have to pay for the jump back.

Two or three hundred men should suffice. At least if he included several mindwalkers and a few magehealers. He firmly trampled the tiny voice inside him that protested against using Escha like a common mercenary. For each need a resource, for each resource a price. Escha could name his, and Harbend would pay.

He'd reneged on one principle though. When the wagons arrived in Ri Nachi he sold his goods, horses and even the wagons. That lost him money he should have made in Verd.

He even paid his drivers enough to travel back to Keen in style, which cost him even more, but he didn't want to leave a stain on his reputation in Keen. Reputation was also a currency. Last he ordered a letter of money so that Arthur would be paid in full, with a small interest to cover the risk he'd taken.

When all was done he waited for Escha under the jump tower south of Ri Nachi. He arrived with that sad smile he carried on his face these days, and after a short nod he jumped them both onto the tower. There he rested briefly before gathering enough of the power for Harbend to marvel, and they jumped.

#

"Gone home? What do you mean with gone home?"

Neritan sighed and smiled. "Duke Garak has unfinished affairs. To set them in order he had to go home first."

Karia shrugged. He admired Gring for trying, but silently he suspected that the caravan chief was a lost cause.

"Gring, if she says he's gone, he's gone. There's nothing we can do here, not with Khar Escha gone with him."

"He was a good man. I would see him saved yet."

Karia bowed. "Was, Gring. Was. He's lost in his world of revenge, and he's become powerful as well. He'll use that power to finish his revenge. I'm sorry, but I believe he ate his soul even before we came here."

"But..."

Karia dared interrupt her despite her size. They were enemies no longer. "Leave be. Save those who can be saved. There's war brewing to the south, I've heard. Erkateren starves. Please, honour Nakora's memory among those still living."

The golden mage smiled knowingly and he turned to her. "And you stay out of my head. I hold you in lower esteem than a gherin. Whatever honour you once held you lost it all. Return to your true home before you destroy more lives!"

"Despite what you believe we are not evil," she replied.

"I know, just uncaring. That's where honour comes in," he said in turn. Just because they lived forever they thought they knew everything as well. Well, she was wrong.

He turned to the khraga. "Gring, are we done?"

She looked back. Soft, brown eyes in a sea of black fur. "I thought you would return home now. You have paid your sentence."

Karia smiled back. He even made an effort to show as much teeth as possible. "I think not. It will be a long time before I return to Belgera, if ever. They worded my banishment kindly, but it's for life. My men could, of course. One or two will, I reckon, but not all."

"You are a strange one. I value your friendship, Karia Graig."

Behind them Neritan's smile turned smug, but Karia let it be. He'd steered Gring from the impossible. It hurt a little to desert a good man, but Harbend was no longer a good man. He would have to save himself.

"So do I," he replied and laughed. "What would I do without it?"

Gring grunted a question.

"Oh well, I like you as well," Karia said and sauntered down the stairs and back out on the streets of Ri Nachi again.

Behind him Gring's heavy steps muted her growl a little, but only a little. He laughed again.

#

They made good speed south. Close to the Roadhouse, or what was left of it anyway, Karia released two of his men from their oaths, and they watched the pair ride up the mountain road on their way back across the Sea of Grass to Braka. A mere season earlier Gring wouldn't have given them much of a chance to make it all the way, but now she wondered. The halfmen nomads would do well to leave them alone.

She slung her bow across her shoulder and took the first steps in another direction. Erkateren. What did it look like? Another nest of halfmen?

Unworthy thought! Another thing to learn from. Halfmen differed among them just as much as humans did. Karia had proven that, as had Rahak. Besides she remembered the time when Harbend had found himself forced to order the execution of traders on their way to Braka. As early as that a clear division between those from Erkateren and those from Ri Khi had become visible.

Were those differences the reasons halfmen loved their wars so much? Were they perhaps the reason they too often killed without honour?

She grunted, kicked a small stone off the road and walked on. Erkateren then. Another place, and one people called home. Like Rahak did.

His insistence to join her had surprised Karia, but she felt the signs already. Soon she would be in season. She was certain both his followers would put up a mock fight for the right to mate with her, but they were just followers.

Karia wouldn't understand, but he would respect her need when the days came. Another reason to give him an equal amount of respect in return, and his men.

Somewhere far to the west a taleweaver she had promised to protect had to fend for himself, but it was in a place where her kind weren't welcome, neither as humans nor as mindwalkers. She couldn't go there, but walking through Erkateren, and maybe Vimarin, giving whatever help they could, she could come closer. If the brewing wars spread, like wars had a tendency to do, Arthur was certain to follow. Taleweavers were drawn to events of change.