David Weber - The War God's Own

"And a good afternoon to you," Bahzell rumbled, breaking the silence before it could stretch out too far.

"I am Sir Haladhan Deepcrag, cousin and Marshal of Mathian Redhelm, Lord Warden of Glanharrow," the burly young knight declared haughtily. His voice was abrupt and harsh, with a cutting edge which made the fingers of Bahzell's sword hand tingle. "Who are you, and by what right do you block our path?"

The older knight standing to Haladhan's left winced visibly. Bahzell glanced at him, then tilted his head, ears cocked, to consider Haladhan as he might have examined some new species of bug. He let the silence drag out once more, watching the young Sothōii's flush darken, then replied in deliberately calm tones.

"Why, as to that, Sir Haladhan Deepcrag, I'm called Bahzell Bahnakson, and if we're to speak of blocked paths, it's in my mind to be wondering just why it is you and your lot seem so all-fired anxious to be creeping down the Gullet in the first place." He showed strong, white teeth in what could have been called a smile. "I'm thinking there's just a mite many of you for a social call, and surely your Lord Warden wouldn't be so ill-mannered as to be coming to dinner without sending word ahead, now would he?"

"Sir Mathian is not answerable to such as you! " Haladhan spat. "He comes and goes as he will!"

"Does he, now?" Bahzell rounded his eyes and let his ears stand straight up. "Why, we've something in common, then, for so do I, as well." His expression hardened suddenly, and his voice deepened. "And just this moment, where I'm willing to be going is right here," he rumbled, and pointed at the ground on which he stood.

"Indeed?" Haladhan glanced about, then curled his lip. "If that's what you wish, I'm sure Sir Mathian can accommodate you. It looks a little stony for graves, but no doubt the buzzards will be glad for the feast!"

"No doubt," Bahzell said. "But I'm thinking you might be thinking hard and long before you've the making of a mistake your Lord Warden will be a long time regretting. I'm not so certain at all, at all, that Tomanāk will be pleased to be hearing as how he went and slaughtered an entire chapter of himself's Order."

" You? " Haladhan stared at Bahzell, then uttered a short, contemptuous laugh.

"Aye, myself," Bahzell agreed, and swept his hand to include Hurthang and Vaijon. "And my sword brothers, of course."

"You can't bluff us , hradani!" Haladhan spat. "I don't know where you found this traitor," he sneered at Vaijon, "but you're no more the Order of Tomanāk than I am!"

"Now that's where you're wrong, friend," Bahzell said softly, "and you'd best take me seriously. Aye, we're hradani right enough, the most of us-and Horse Stealers, for the most part, too. But we're also after being the Order of Tomanāk , sword sworn to him when he was after appearing himself in Hurgrum this month past."

"Nonsense!" Haladhan shot back, but there was just the tiniest edge of uncertainty in his tone.

"I'd ask you not to be questioning my word, truce flag or no." Bahzell's voice was mild enough, but his eyes weren't, and Haladhan shifted uneasily and stepped back a half pace without even realizing it. "I've no doubt you're finding that a mite hard to be taking in, yet it's true enough. And it's as a champion of Tomanāk I stand here, Sir Haladhan, to ask you and your Lord Warden by what right you're after bringing war and destruction to those as haven't attacked you… and who you've not declared war upon, either."

"I don't bel-" Haladhan began, then stopped. "You claim to be a champion of Tomanāk ," he went on in a slightly less caustic tone. "I… find that difficult to believe. And even if it were true, you have no right to question Sir Mathian's actions."

"I'm having every right there is," Bahzell told him flatly. "Both as a hradani, who's after seeing a hostile army marching against his folk; and as a son of Prince Bahnak of Hurgrum, who's a duty to guard his people; and most of all, as a champion of Tomanāk sworn to protect the weak and the helpless from those as think there's honor in murdering women and children while their own warriors are away."

Haladhan flushed, and his eyes fell for the first time. But he shook the moment off and summoned up a fresh glare.

"That sounds very fine, hradani, but Sothōii women and children have been murdered by hradani in their time!"

"So they have, and if you're minded to be keeping the slaughter going, you're a fool," Bahzell said dispassionately.

"Oh, no." Haladhan's voice was cold. "We have no intention at all of keeping the slaughter going . We mean to end it, once and for all!"

"Ah?" Bahzell cocked his head, eyes cold. "So this is what the Sothōii are after coming to, is it now? A pack of cowards and murderers-brave enough to be burning down farms and towns and butchering them as can't fight back, but only when those as might have protected them are safe out of their way!"

"How dare you talk to-" Haladhan began furiously, but Bahzell slashed a hand through the air, cutting him short.

"It's not after sounding so pretty put that way, is it now?" he asked softly. "It may be you'd not thought of it in just those words, Sir Haladhan Deepcrag, but just you be thinking on them now, for that's the truth of it. You may not believe me a champion of Tomanāk , but be that how it may, just you be asking yourself what Tomanāk would be saying to such as you and your precious Lord Warden are having in mind to do here."

"I-" Haladhan stopped himself, glaring at Bahzell, then spat on the ground. " That for you-and for Tomanāk , too!" he snarled. " 'Women and children,' is it? Well, nits make lice, hradani , and we've suffered your kind too long as it is!"

"I see." Bahzell gazed down at the furious young knight, then swept his companions with his eyes. "Hear me now, all of you," he said finally, his deep voice flat, "for I'll say this only the once. The lot of you can be turning around and marching back up the Gullet, and no harm done. Or you can be staying right where you are, and again, no harm done. But you'll not go another furlong down this trail without you come through us , and whether you're minded to admit it or no, we are the Order of Tomanāk . I've no doubt you can kill us all, for we're but his servants, and mortal enough, the lot of us. But you'll not find it so easy as you may be thinking, and himself-and the rest of the Order-won't be so very pleased to hear as how you've done it. Go back and show you've the sense to turn around, Sir Haladhan… or come ahead and see how many of your own will be dying with us."

He turned and stalked back to Charhan's Despair without another word.

"Well that was a masterpiece of diplomacy," Brandark remarked as Bahzell climbed down the inside of the wall. The Horse Stealer cocked an ear at him, and he shrugged. "Your voice does tend to carry, Bahzell. Tell me, do you think there was any incentive to slaughter us that you didn't give him?"

"As to that, I doubt he'd any need of incentive I might have been giving him," Bahzell replied. "And it was plain enough he'd no interest at all, at all, in talking his way to anything else. But he's not after being the commander of those lads, either, and he wasn't alone. I'm thinking as how that older fellow will be one as makes sure whoever is in command is after getting the whole tale. But if they're so set on slaughtering hradani they're minded to take on the Order to do it, then there's not an argument in all the world that I could be making as would stop them, now is there?"

"I suppose not," Brandark admitted. He stood gazing out over the wall, rubbing the tip of his cropped ear while the sun sank still lower and the shadows deepened. "I do wish I could hear how their commander reacts to your version of diplomacy when he hears it, though," he said finally.