Valyn blinked. He hadn’t expected the shaman to know anything about Ashk’lan, but then, the Shin had traded with someone. For all he knew, the eastern Urghul tribes had frequented the monastery before its destruction. The real question was how Long Fist felt about the monks. The fact that Ashk’lan, perched above the eastern steppe, had never been destroyed spoke volumes. Valyn took a deep breath, then plunged.

“No. We killed the men who killed the monks.” He nodded contemptuously toward Balendin. “His Wing. And others.”

Long Fist raised an eyebrow. “Your own men. You killed other Annurians.”

“Traitors,” Valyn amended, anger at the memory shoving aside fear and caution both.

“And your brother? He is dead?”

Valyn hesitated. “No.”

“My comrades,” Balendin said, shrugging as he spoke, “were more zealous than skilled. As you can see, I’m no friend of Valyn, his family, or his empire.” He smiled slowly. “Which could make me very useful to you.”

The leach wasn’t even trying to disguise his treachery, which, Valyn had to admit, might well prove the shrewd decision, given the frayed relations between Annur and the Urghul. The horsemen might respect the monks, but they loathed the empire. If Long Fist were looking for an ally, who better than a Kettral-trained leach, one with an intimate knowledge of Annur’s military?

“As I recall,” Valyn said, turning to face Balendin, “it was you yourself who underestimated my brother, who nearly died at his hands.” He nodded toward the leach’s shoulder. “How’s that bolt puncture?”

“Healing nicely, thank you for asking,” Balendin replied. “As for your brother, I’m looking forward to cutting out those fancy eyes of his the next time we meet.”

Long Fist seemed half bored, half amused by the exchange.

Gwenna, however, rounded on Valyn, eyes ablaze. “Are we going to keep talking?” she demanded. “Or do you want me to kill him?”

It was an implausible threat. Balendin snorted, but he took half a step back all the same. He’s nervous, Valyn realized, tasting the fear on the air. Normally, the leach would have been feasting off Gwenna’s rage, bathing in the power that came from her emotion, but drugged as he was with adamanth root, her fury brought him no strength.

“Stand down, Gwenna,” Valyn said. He wanted Balendin cut to pieces as much as she did, probably more, but he didn’t intend to make a spectacle of his Wing in front of the Urghul chieftain.

“Why?” she demanded, glaring at him, then jerking her head at Long Fist. “So we can please this bloody son of a bitch? When we finish Balendin, we ought to start on him.”

Valyn tensed, ready for some sort of retribution, but Long Fist just raised his brows.

“Such hatred,” he said. “Before you kill a man, you should be sure he is not your brother.”