The stallion gave the defiant one short shrift. :Enough!: he said, but the effect on the other Companion was as if he’d been struck between the eyes with a hammer. He literally dropped to his knees, as the others winced. :You, Jasker,: the stallion said, more in sorrow than anger. :What you and yours have endured is no excuse. What happened to these others is no excuse either. You should have learned that by now.: The stallion swung his head around, and again Alberich felt the full force of his gaze. :You, Alberich—Chosen of Kantor—have you, yourself, ever brought harm to a single soul of Valdemar?:

“Not unless bandits they were, and with a band of brigands riding,” Alberich said truthfully. “Claim I cannot, that my men and I did not make it so that others freed were, to come against your folk—but never a Valdemaran I touched, nor did any of those under my command.”

:So I thought.: The stallion turned his attention back to the errant one, who had all but shrunk into a mere pony beneath that gaze. :Well.:

It was very clear that the defiant one was the target of a scathing lecture. He was not to hear what the stallion said to the other, but it made the formerly defiant one shrink even further. And if something the size and shape of a horse could have been said to “slink on its belly,” then that was precisely what the Companion did—toward Alberich.

:I beg your pardon,: the young one said—whispered, rather.

:I can’t hear you,: the stallion rumbled, like a storm on the horizon.

:I most humbly beg your pardon and ask your forgiveness—: came the humiliated response. :Chosen of Kantor, I acted vilely. I am unworthy.:

:I should say so!: Kantor snorted, ears laid back, and teeth bared. :Arrogant little beast, I should—:

:Kantor!: the stallion said warningly.

But Kantor only raised his head and looked the other in the face, with no sign of the profound shame they displayed. :I only said that I should, Taver. I should thrash this little cretin around Companion’s Field twice—but I won’t. I won’t ever. Because I’m stronger and a better fighter and it would be no contest between us, so long as it was a fair fight, and not a case of a mob against one—:

Somehow, the other’s head drooped even lower.

:Kantor, I beg your pardon, too,: came the sad voice—if a voice in the mind could sob, Alberich sensed that this one was on the verge of just that. Alberich decided that enough was enough.

For whatever reason, this boy—and it might look like a horse, but it acted like a boy—had a grudge against all Karsites. Apparently he had decided on his own that Kantor had been deceived or subverted.