Don Bassinghtwaite - The Binding Stone

The pale man frowned slightly and turned his gaze on the kneeling hunter. "Ashi, your obedience to my instructions is a credit to you, but you must show respect to Medala. She has my favor-and the favor of the powers of the Dragon Below as the first of a new line of servants."

"Yes, Dah'mir," said Ashi. Singe saw her big frame cringe. "I mean, yes, Revered!" Her fingers darted to her lips and her forehead in some sort of ritual sign. Dah'mir's eyes flashed.

"Have a care, Ashi! Your service has been outstanding, but there are limits to my patience." He reached down a hand and helped Medala to her feet. The green robes that the kalashtar wore were filthy. Dah'mir spoke a word of simple magic and passed his hand in front of her. The dirt fell away. He took Medala's arm and led her back to the campfire. Medala's face shone with adoration.

Through all of it, Dandra hadn't moved except to follow Dah'mir's movements.

Groaning, Singe forced himself off the ground and back to her side. There were a few fragments of meat still crushed in his palm. Woodenly, he held another up to Dandra's lips.

I have plans for the wizard and I don't want him damaged beyond use. Singe's belly twisted with more than his hunger-and, he realized, with more than fear for just himself. If Medala was the first of a new line of servants to the Dragon Below, what were Dah'mir's plans for Dandra?

"Leave off, outclanner," Ashi growled. Singe flinched around to stare at the hunter. The big woman was rising, anger on her face-but anger that was, thankfully, not directed at him. She held out a flask. "Her body needs water more than it needs food. Leave off trying to feed her and see that she drinks."

Singe hesitated, then took the flask. Dandra took the water more easily than she took the food. As she drank, Singe glanced back at Ashi. The hunter was glaring at Medala and Dah'mir as they sat by the fire. An idea slid into his mind. He let it brew for a few minutes, turning it back and forth in his mind. After a moment, he said, "Ashi?"

She looked back at him and her mouth curled, the pale rings in her lip catching the light of the fire. "You have nothing to thank me for, outclanner. Dah'mir placed me in charge of you and I do my duty to the Bonetree."

"I wasn't going to thank you," he told her. "You're holding us prisoner, you've kicked me in the stomach, and I think there was a promise to tear out my guts with your hands."

Her teeth clenched. "Dah'mir has forbidden that."

"I'm glad to hear it." Singe drew a deep breath and said, "In Zarash'ak, the things you said about Geth…"

"I meant them. He was a good enemy- rond e reis, fierce and tough. He didn't deserve to die as he did. Take comfort that he probably drowned quickly."

Singe closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "You're a woman of strange honor, Ashi."

"You don't understand the Bonetree, outclanner," Ashi said harshly. "Our ways are simple. If an enemy deserves my respect, I will give it to him. Death in combat is honest. Murder, torture-those are the weapons of the weak."

"You cut off Natrac's hand."

Her eyes flashed and she lunged forward, slapping him sharply. "Don't make me forget my duty," she seethed, then sat back. "Vennet cut off the half-orc's hand. It was a shame to me."

"You didn't like Vennet," said Singe. Ashi shook her head. Singe paused, then added carefully, "And you don't like Medala either."

She stiffened for a moment before grunting, "The falling man finds the ground. What of it? My duty to the Bonetree comes before anything you can say, outclanner."

"But not a duty to the powers of Khyber? You're hiding something from both Dah'mir and Medala, Ashi."

The hunter froze.

"For all that you insist on calling me 'outclanner,' you know my name," Singe murmured. "You know Geth's and Natrac's. I think you know her name, too." He pointed at Dandra. "But I've noticed that you do the same thing Dah'mir and Medala do-you call her Tetkashtai."

"Medala gave us Tetkashtai's name before we began the hunt," Ashi said stiffly.

"Still, you haven't told Dah'mir or Medala that you also know her by another name. And you didn't exactly jump to tell Dah'mir about that orc."

It had been Fause who'd let mention of their mysterious ally slip to the green-eyed man. Singe had glimpsed anger in Dah'mir's face at mention of the orc's interference, though he'd acted as if it was nothing. The wizard looked up at Ashi. "Why are you holding back?"

Ashi glared at him. "Perhaps it makes me happy to know something that they do not," she said. "We are taught that Dah'mir is all-knowing and infallible, one of the favored servants of the great powers of the Dragon Below-even speaking his name out loud is forbidden among the clan. But when he set Medala, an outclanner, above his people, I doubted. As I doubted when he set Hruucan to lead the hunters after I was sent to follow you."

"So you know that Dah'mir isn't infallible," said Singe. He leaned forward. "And if he wrong about one thing, it might be that he was wrong about something else."

Ashi's eyes narrowed. "I may not like Medala, outclanner," she said, "but if you're trying to turn me against my clan, you will fail. And Dah'mir is the heart of the Bonetree clan. I may doubt, but from the day we're born, we're taught to revere him!"

"From the day you're born?" Singe blinked and twisted to look at Dah'mir. The man had a strangely ageless quality about him, but he was no more than decade older than Singe was himself. "Ashi," he said in mocking disbelief, "maybe you were taught that way, but think-your parents wouldn't have known Dah'mir as anything but a young man!"

Ashi snorted. "Now you're the one who's wrong about something. Did you think Dah'mir was some trickster-priest taking advantage of our beliefs?" She rose. "He created the Bonetree. He has shaped and guided the clan for more than ten generations."

For a moment, Singe gaped at her. "What-? How?"

"He's favored by the Dragon Below," said Ashi. "Do you need to know more?"

She turned away as Singe sat back, stunned, his nascent plan of exploiting her dislike for Medala shaken. Ten generations, he thought in wonder. Elves lived that long, and dwarves sometimes too, but even they carried their years in their face and eyes. Dah'mir was neither elf nor dwarf, and his acid-green eyes were as bright as a youth's. One of the undead might exist unchanging for so long, but the undead didn't bask in the light of day as Dah'mir did.

"Twelve bloody moons," he breathed. In all that Dandra had described, he had never thought that they might be facing someone so ancient! Was that the secret of his unnatural presence and his power over the kalashtar? What other secrets, he wondered, lay behind those acid-green eyes? He looked around Ashi.

She was standing less than a pace away, her eyes raised to the sky and the rising moons. Singe followed her gaze-and drew a sharp breath.

Silhouetted against the silver glow of the night sky, circling down to land near the campsite, was a heron, its legs dangling and its long neck folded back on itself. The bird landed beyond the firelight, but he could see that its feathers were black and greasy, When it cocked its head, its eyes flashed green. Singe saw Dah'mir glance toward the bird and give an almost imperceptible nod.

Ashi took a fast step back to Singe and Dandra. "Don't move, outclanner. As you value your life, don't move!"

Bonetree hunters burst out of the night all around the campsite, screaming and howling their battle cries. Knives, spears, and clubs flashed. The cultists who had come from Zarash'ak leaped to their feet instantly, stumbling over each other in frightened surprise. They weren't unarmed, though, and they snatched up weapons quickly. Confusion surged across the campsite as they met the hunters' unexpected attack.