Karsa’s swing cut through practice sword then neck. A head thrust from Havok sent the youth’s decapitated body sprawling.

I lost a cousin in such a manner. Ridden down by a Rathyd. Ears and tongue taken. Body strung by one foot from a branch. The head propped beneath, smeared in excrement. The deed is answered. Answered.

Havok slowed, then wheeled.

Karsa looked back upon the village. Bairoth and Delum had done their slaughter and were now herding the women into the clearing surrounding the village hearth.

At a trot, Havok carried him back into the village.

‘The chief’s own belong to me,’ Karsa announced.

Bairoth and Delum nodded, and he could see their heightened spirits, from the ease with which they surrendered the privilege. Bairoth faced the women and gestured with his sword. A middle-aged, handsome woman stepped forward, followed by a younger version – a lass perhaps the same age as Dayliss. Both studied Karsa as carefully as he did them.

‘Bairoth Gild and Delum Thord, take your first among the others. I will guard.’

The two warriors grinned, dismounted and plunged among the women to select one each. They vanished into separate houses, leading their prizes by the hand.

Karsa watched with raised brows.

The chief’s wife snorted. ‘Your warriors were not blind to the eagerness of those two,’ she said.

‘Their warriors, be they father or mate, will not be pleased with such eagerness,’ Karsa commented. Uryd women would not—

‘They will never know, Warleader,’ the chief’s wife replied, ‘unless you tell them, and what is the likelihood of that? They will spare you no time for taunts before killing you. Ah, but I see now,’ she added, stepping closer to stare up at his face. ‘You thought to believe that Uryd women are different, and now you realize the lie of that. All men are fools, but now you are perhaps a little less so, as truth steals into your heart. What is your name, Warleader?’

‘You talk too much,’ Karsa growled, then he drew himself straight. ‘I am Karsa Orlong, grandson of Pahlk—’

‘Pahlk?’

‘Aye.’ Karsa grinned. ‘I see you recall him.’

‘I was a child, but yes, he is well known among us.’

‘He lives still, and sleeps calm despite the curses you have laid upon his name.’

She laughed. ‘Curses? There are none. Pahlk bowed his head to beg passage through our lands—’

‘You lie!’

She studied him, then shrugged. ‘As you say.’

One of the women cried out from one of the houses, a cry more pleasure than pain.

The chief’s wife turned her head. ‘How many of us will take your seed, Warleader?’

Karsa settled back. ‘All of you. Eleven each.’

‘And how many days will that take? You want us to cook for you as well?’

‘Days? You think as an old woman. We are young. And, if need be, we have blood-oil.’

The woman’s eyes widened. The others behind her began murmuring and whispering. The chiefs wife spun and silenced them with a look, then she faced Karsa once more. ‘You have never used blood-oil in this fashion before, have you? It is true, you will know fire in your loins. You will know stiffness for days to come. But, Warleader, you do not know what it will do to each of us women. I do, for I too was young and foolish once. Even my husband’s strength could not keep my teeth from his throat, and he carries the scars still. There is more. What for you will last less than a week, haunts us for months.’