Varg’s eyes narrowed. Several seconds of silence passed before he spoke. “Then you would face me. I lead my people. I am responsible for them.”

Tavi nodded slowly. “I thought you’d say that.”

Nasaug let out a low, rumbling growl.

“Peace,” Varg rumbled, glancing over his shoulder.

Nasaug subsided.

Varg turned back to Tavi. “Where and when.”

“Our forces must leave in two days,” Tavi said. “Is that time enough to prepare such a thing?”

“In addition to what is already under way?” Varg asked. “No.”

“Then we will meet as soon as you have made preparations. Single blade, open field, until one falls.”

“Agreed,” Varg said.

The two exchanged another barely detectable bow. Tavi took several slow steps back, never turning his eyes from Varg. Then he turned, made a gesture with one hand to his companions, and started back the way he had come.

Rumors were already flying among the Canim. Hundreds, if not thousands, of them came to stare at the Alerans as they returned. Though the mutter of basso voices speaking Canish was never a friendly, soothing sound, Tavi imagined that their general tone was considerably uglier than any he had heard before. He walked through the crowd of towering wolf-folk, his eyes focused ahead of him, his expression set in a clenched-jaw snarl. He was peripherally aware of Kitai at his side, of Max, Crassus, and Schultz at his back. They were all walking in time with him, boots striking the ground at the same time—even Kitai, for once.

The Canim did not try to stop them although Tavi spotted a large mob coming their way as they reached the edge of the camp, led by half a dozen ritualists in their mantles of pale human leather. He tracked it from the corner of his eye but did not alter their pace. If the Aleran party appeared to the Canim around them to be fleeing, it could trigger an attack—and no matter how powerful the individuals with him might be, they were only a handful of people, and there were hundreds of Canim around them. They would be torn to pieces.

Tavi went back through the broken gates and past the two guards there, both of whom were on their feet again and looking surly. Neither met Tavi’s gaze or attempted to challenge him, though, and the ritualist-led mob was still a hundred yards off when Tavi went through and started back up the hill. It wasn’t until they were out of range of a Canim-thrown stone or spear that he allowed himself to begin to relax.

“Bloody crows,” breathed Schultz, from behind him.

“Crows and bloody furies,” agreed Max. “Did you see that group with the ritualists? They’d have jumped on us in a heartbeat.”

“Aye,” Crassus said. “That would have gotten ugly.”

“Which is why the captain broke the gates on the way in,” Kitai said. “Obviously.”