With a sigh, he rose and walked out to confront them. They shrank back to the edge of the trees, where an unbroken fence of thorn at just that spot made them hesitate. One was taller, one shorter. He caught the gaze of the shorter man.

The flood of images and thoughts never got any easier to absorb. A man might as well be kicked and beaten, for all that the surge of emotion bruised him.

Gods! Is that a ghost, or a demon? I wonder how she tastes, and if she cries when—

The power we wield over others brings us power. Take pleasure, take pain, take life, and you’ll gain strength. Otherwise, you are the victim.

And why should I be persecuted, eh? The Daped clan lied about me cheating them and shamed me in front of the entire village as the hot sun burned and burned

“Stop!” The man’s shrill voice rang in the quiet dawn. He tossed aside his spear to fumble with his bow, loosed an arrow that spent itself harmlessly in the dirt.

“The hells!” cursed his taller companion, loosing an arrow in reaction, so careless that the missile wobbled to earth. Then his gaze was caught.

As reward, they give me more coin. With the coin, suck more sweet smoke. Need the coin. Need the smoke.

The bay mare snorted. The gray mare trotted into view from around the far edge of the thorn tree fence. She halted, looking things over with her usual pragmatic consideration. She was even-tempered, but not a horse to mess with. She stretched her neck, then partially opened her wings and charged.

“Shit!” The shorter man lost his anger and his courage, and tossed his bow aside. With his short sword he hacked into the thorn, yelped as the thorns tore at him although no more sharply than his own sour thoughts.

“Eh! Eh!” The taller one stumbled in his wake, too muddled to make his own decisions.

The envoy shuttered his eyes. He let the taste of the breeze moisten his parted lips. He let the scents drifting on the air tickle his nostrils. Others hid in the brush, six in all, a cadre on the hunt.

He heard whispers pitched too low for ordinary ears to hear.

“. . . Can’t face him . . .”

“Sniveling whiner. No wonder they keep passing you over for promotion. Harbi and I will go.”

“Let’s just get out of here.”

“Then he’ll move on and we’ll have the hells of a trip tracking him down again. Or you want someone else to get the prize money and the promotion? A chance for the lord’s favor?”

“I’m not going back out there. Those horses are cursed demons.”

The girl rose. She walked over to the spent arrow and fallen bow, picked them up, examined them with a frown. The envoy caught a glimpse of dark cloth where the men peered out through green branches.

“What is that? A lilu?”