Despite the chill on the afternoon air, the shaman wore a sleeveless tunic of bison hide. Dozens of necklaces ringed his neck, leather thongs threaded through bone, some short, some long. They shifted and clacked whenever he changed position. He wore his blond hair long, but instead of tying it back, in the fashion of the Urghul warriors, he let it hang free in a pale cascade reaching halfway to his waist. A poor tactical decision if it came to a fight, but Long Fist didn’t appear worried about a fight. He nodded as Valyn and the others approached, not a greeting, but a gesture of satisfaction, the smile revealing a perfect row of white teeth, the upper canines of which looked to have been sharpened.

“So,” he said, spreading his hands wide, as though inviting Valyn to sit at a bountiful feast. Only there was no feast. Nowhere to sit.

“What did they do?” Valyn asked, jerking his chin toward the bearers of the makeshift throne.

Long Fist raised an eyebrow. “They were brave,” he replied.

Valyn shook his head. “And for some reason you didn’t like that?”

“Quite to the contrary,” the chief replied, running a finger along the ribs of the kneeling man, “their bravery pleased me greatly, and so I have extended them this honor.”

Valyn blew out a long, ragged breath. “Remind me not to please you.”

Long Fist shrugged. “You are a soft man from a soft world. You would not understand.”

“Oh, I think I get it well enough. It makes you feel strong to hurt others. People like you aren’t so uncommon.”

“On the contrary,” the shaman replied, showing his teeth in a predatory smile. “People like me are extremely uncommon, and this,” he said, gesturing to the bent and bloody bearers of his seat, “is not for me. It is for them.”

“What horseshit.”

Long Fist turned to Huutsuu. “Perhaps you would attempt to enlighten our guest.”

She nodded. “You worship weak gods, and so you are weak. All peoples have the gods they deserve.” As though that clarified anything.

“We worship civilized gods,” Valyn replied. “I’ve studied your history, your worship. It is bloody and savage. Bestial.”

“Civilized,” Long Fist said, holding a hand before him, palm up, as though weighing the word, feeling its heft. “Savage. Like a horse with blinders, you see only what your language allows you to see. This is the danger of relying too heavily on words.”

“The words represent things,” Valyn replied. “Law. Prosperity. Peace.”

The chief shook his head, bemused. “More words. More confusion. Consider your law—what is it except a shield for the weak?”

“That’s the point. We protect those who need protection.”