Kaz was unnused to being flush with money; but Pythas had insisted that the group had earned more than the tenth of the proceeds of what they brought back that Harkon tentatively suggested.
“You earned it with your dedication and cleverness in what you chose to bring,” said Pythas.
“Well, the coins are part of the wealth of the temple, as are the scrolls,” said Kaz. “We might merit a finders’ fee....”
“And the temple appreciates your efforts,” said Pythas, firmly.
He organised the sale of sets of the coins, which, as Evgon had predicted sold to collectors for far more than the value of the metal, and Pythas was glad to take a reduced rate, for half a dozen sets, from a wily merchant trader, who would get more for them by selling them in other cities.
Kaz found herself with Svargia and Lelyn, exploring the city, in search of dinner. Rynn had opted to stay at the temple. Svargia took her friends into an inn called ‘A Taste of the Steppe.’ Here Svargia ordered a red-coloured soup with dumplings in it, and a side-dish of fried flat pies filled with heavily spiced meat and vegetables which she called ‘shibureki’. Kaz enjoyed the sour soup, or ‘baash’ and found that the dumplings were stuffed with spiced meat. Lelyn ate a little more cautiously.
The waiter looked hard at Kaz, and then spoke excitedly to the proprietor in his own language.
Kaz went to settle up.
“No charge,” said the grizzled, one-eyed proprietor with a broken nose. “You rescue my cousin from slavery; you never pay in my shop.”
“But we like your food and will come back,” said Kaz. “And we freed the slaves because we don’t believe in slavery. Listen! Let me pay, but you will always give a meal and a bed for the night for a trógling... or any other runaway slave, and send me word?”
The proprietor considered.
“This I accept,” he said. “You believe in freedom as we freemen of the Steppe – what you call the Great Plain – do. You are honorary members of my tribe, the Wild Falcons, you and your companions.” He held out a hand, and Kaz clasped wrists to seal the pact. He smiled. “But you and your companions will accept a dish of honey-cake with cream.”
“We would be pleased to do so,” said Kaz.
They were just finishing up the sweet treat when a pair of obvious adventurers swaggered in.
“Hey, Crooknose, some steppe firewater to drown my sorrows,” said the woman, small and petite, and looking smaller next to the hulking plainsman at her side. “Some bastards killed my cousins Kyros and Lethos.”
“Your cousins were common bandits set to rob a band of people on cult business and unarmoured after withdrawing from combat to clean up,” said Kaz, recognising the adventurer, Polia. “Don’t even begin to make heroes of them; they called battle on what they thought was a soft target. We weren’t.”
“You! You’re nothing but a jumped-up slave of a trogling!” said Polia. “You should be afraid if you ever get separated from your friends; I’ll avenge my cousins.”
“It’s trógling. Not trogling. I didn’t realise you were a coward, that it takes you and your big bodyguard to take on a single trógling.”
“I can take you anyday!” sneered Polia. “I’ve fought and defeated darkling in single combat!”
“And?” said Kaz.
“Take it into the arena out back,” said Crook-nose, the proprietor. “And no interference from you, Vulk; I know your sort.”
The big plainsman scowled.
“You back city softies against a man of your people?”
“These are my clan-kin for reasons you don’t have a right to know, outlaw,” said Crook-nose.
Others who were eating in the shop, including other plainsmen followed through to the back, where there were benches round a rough arena.
“Settling matters by brawl or arms is very much our way,” said Svargia. “Are you happy to handle the pintsize peril?”
“Yes, I’ve seen her fight,” said Kaz. “I’d better remove my ring of protection for fairness, I assume she’ll doff her armour.”
“You leave it on until or unless she takes her armour off,” said Svargia. “Which I wager she won’t.”
Polia did not remove her armour. Kaz shrugged, and did not take off her ring of protection.
“Kinswoman I have some armour, but I do not think it would fit well...” said Crook-nose.
“Then I will have to defeat her speedily,” said Kaz. She was afraid; the human was fast and well trained, but Kaz was betting her life on the adventurer having the ethics of most adventurers in resting on their laurels and not training for the two hours every morning that the Alethosi did. Doubtless Polia worked out, but not with the same gruelling efficiency the temple considered necessary, and which Harkon had kept up with them when travelling, their bathing truncated to steam baths under Svargia’s instruction under their canvas tenting, when short of anywhere to dip properly.
Kaz waited, on high guard, unmoving, every muscle relaxed for drill.
“Frozen with terror, trog?” sneered Polia. “You can beg my pardon, and maybe I’ll let you be my slave.”
“I don’t believe in slavery,” said Kaz. “You have a nasty reputation.”
Polia gave a short, ugly burst of laughter.
“I don’t let anyone push me around,” she said.
“No, nor do I,” said Kaz. “But you let it tip over into bullying others. I fight for the oppressed, the downtrodden, those who need a champion. You fight only for yourself.”
“Too damn right,” said Polia. “No point looking out for others, they don’t care.”
She came in hard, and low, thrusting; but Kaz’s sword tumbled in an arc to parry the thrust to the belly. Kaz did not have time for a follow-up stroke as Polia recovered and came back in slashing at Kaz’s unarmoured arm. Kaz parried neatly with an economy of movement, and, with a little serpentine twist came back to attack, her sword clanging on Polia’s armour.
The small human leaped back, and her sneer slipped.
“You are quite good,” she said.
“And yet, not Glyph-lord,” said Kaz. “You’re a fool, you know. Your attitude was bound to attract attention, one day, and the only reason that you have not been killed by a Glyph-lord of a martial cult is that it reflects badly on such to take on an amateur like you.”
“Amateur! We’ll see who is an amateur!” yelled Polia, coming in hard and fast. Kaz concentrated on parrying, and keeping to small movements.
Kaz hid a smile. The human was angry and was attacking using fury to fuel her attacks. Kaz kept fighting small, everything she had learned from her formal training and from Alethos when he had been inside her mind coming to the fore. She used a neat little parry with a follow up twist that disarmed Polia.
Polia stared.
“Do you yield?” asked Kaz.
“Fuck you!” yelled Polia. She dived for her sword. Kaz let her reach it, going back on guard. And then, Polia was charging in. Kaz continued fighting small, her sword weaving with the speed of a striking viper. Polia looked clumsy in comparison. She charged in again, with an overhand sweep towards Kaz’s head. Only Kaz’s head was not under the sword as Kaz stepped to one side, ducking under the blade and thrusting her own sword into the opened armpit of her opponent, severing the shoulder tendons.
Polia fell backwards in a swoon of pain and shock.
“If you can afford the spells to fix it, learn better manners from it,” said Kaz, wiping her sword and sheathing it.
“Aren’t you going to finish me?” demanded Polia.
“I don’t need to,” said Kaz, absently casting enough healing on her opponent to staunch the flow of blood.
She turned and walked back to her companions, leaving the big man, Vulk, to scoop up Polia and bear her off, presumably to the houses of healing.
“We cleaned up on side bets,” said Svargia. “After our tithing, your share is almost ten Solosti.”
“People have more money than sense,” said Kaz.
Kaz was not expecting Vulk and Polia to walk into the Alethos temple a few days later. She did not break off her practise, in which Harkon was pressing her hard. Polia and Vulk stood, watching.
“Enough,” said Harkon. “I think you have it now.”
“Thank you, sword-brother,” said Kaz, formally, becoming aware of being under the scrutiny of outsiders. “What can I do for you, Polia, Vulk?”
“I pay my debts,” said Polia. “You had me at your mercy; you could have killed me, but you spared me and gave me enough healing to enable me to be fully healed. I still don’t know why, though.”
“Why would I kill you? You were an annoyance, and had, I fancy, misunderstood the treachery of your cousins. I kill where I have to,” said Kaz.
“I might have become an implacable foe for having been humiliated.”
“I think you were not humiliated; you were beaten partly by the better warrior and partly by yourself,” said Kaz.
“What do you mean?”
“You lost your temper. You have no self-discipline.”
“I can’t be having with all the rules the cults have, but I came to offer myself as a worshipper of Alethos, to repay my debt.”
“No, thanks,” said Kaz. “We have a word for people who have no self-discipline; we call them ‘losers.’”
“Why? What’s the point of all the rules?”
“Let’s get this clear,” said Kaz. “I’m not talking about the rules for rules’ sake the Pollosi seem to like, which the Selenites have taken up with, and their fancy forms of stance for various circumstance; we don’t bother with ‘leaves falling in the wind,’ or ‘stick up the arse,’ but the rules to govern how you handle yourself in battle can save your life, or lose it. If I had been slightly less able, I would have had to have killed you. A waste of a life. I understand you had a hard early life, and I know about that. I escaped because I heard something I should not, and was to be on the menu. And, to be honest, you inspired me, because you are small, but considered a serious threat. Which you are, to street scum. But not to warriors. Because you learned enough to get out from under, and no more.”
Polia scowled.
“I can beat anyone else I’ve met,” she said.
“Because Pollosi aren’t supposed to muck around in bars, and Alethosi tend to keep ourselves to ourselves and not go looking for trouble,” said Kaz. “Your cousins and their friends came upon us after we had killed a bloodsucker and a number of zombies and skeletons, we were unarmoured and resting, and their first thought was to loot anything we had, and then loot the temple we had just been to some trouble to re-consecrate. We were unarmoured, I repeat again. And they killed the lad I had in my care. We did not find this amusing. Unarmoured, I point it out again, against an armoured bunch of adventurers. Because we can fight with self-discipline, and back each other up, not fight like undisciplined rabble who open themselves to a warrior whose brain is his or her major weapon. And you and your Lycoid friend are undisciplined adventurers.”
“Who says I’m a Lycoid, trogling?” growled Vulk.
“It’s trógling. And my nose tells me,” said Kaz. “It’s probably not as sensitive as yours, but I can smell the wolf on you and not the dead fur you wear to try to hide it.”
“And what are you going to do about it?” an ugly look crossed his face.
“Was I supposed to do anything about it?” said Kaz. “I’m no Knight of the Clear Starlight like that idiot whose finger you bit off, once. So long as you don’t go about spreading disease, it’s none of my business.”
“Only if I bite,” said Vulk. “And not always, then. He didn’t get any disease when I bit off his finger, one of his friends had the sense to cauterise it. He was in my face and it was close to full moon and I was in a bad mood.”
“Well, I could see the temptation for you at the time. You’re not going to bite any of us, are you, so why should we worry?” said Kaz. “Alethos accepts anyone who is prepared to abide by his rules. I doubt either of you could, but if you did and became initiated, he could gift you with removal of the chaos.”
“What if I like the ability to be a wolf?”
“Well, you’d have to be careful not to bite anyone, wouldn’t you?” said Kaz. “I assume you retain your consciousness as a thinking being?”
“Yes, I don’t become a mindless beast as some do.”
“Well, it seems to me that being rid of the ability to accidentally pass on diseases would be worth almost anything, but that’s my opinion. And you haven’t the discipline to become an initiate, anyway,” said Kaz.
“You watch me,” growled Vulk. “Polia and I are quite capable of following any poncy rules.”
“Well, in that case, I’d better find you quarters. At least you don’t have to worry about Evalla, who was an initiate when I joined up, until she was stripped of her initiateship and thrown out,” said Kaz. “I can’t stand people who are so precious that they resent others doing well, and feel as if they have to put people down all the time.”
“Evalla? I’ve met her. She’s hot air,” scoffed Polia. “And always complaining about people ganging up on her for some stupid trogling…” she stared.
“Trógling,” said Kaz. “It isn’t hard.”
“Trógling, then,” said Polia. “She didn’t need anyone to gang up on her,” she said. “She’s… are you saying you see me as being like her?”
Kaz shrugged.
“Yes,” she said. “You escaped from being bullied and became a bully. It isn’t pretty.”
A number of expressions chased themselves over Polia’s face.
“I… I try to get my retaliation in first,” she said.
“I think you see slights where none are meant,” said Kaz. “If you can learn to listen more than you speak, learn some manners and get on with other people, you might fit in. If not? Well, let it not be said that you were given a chance. You, too, Vulk.”
“I can stick with your rules,” said Vulk.
In truth, when Kaz went through the few rules of the temple, both were surprised at how few there were; and yet how rigorously they were obeyed, such as the stringent workouts, and the cleanliness routines after them.
“I don’t know if they can do it,” said Kaz, to Lelyn. “But I taunted her enough to give it a real try.”
“I’m not sure I welcome her in my dormitory in your old bed, but at least she’s polite in an abrupt sort of way,” said Lelyn. “If she can stay a tenday round, I imagine she’ll make it.”
