I felt a surge of pride and belonging as I took in Droko, and all the men who’d come to my aid. I realized, in that moment, that I wasn’t an outsider after all. I fit in the caves, in this group, just as Archie and Droko did.
“Shaman,” I said, moving to take a knee. But with a spear in one hand, a sword in the other, and a crowd around us, I could hardly do so without accidentally jabbing someone. I settled for a respectful nod. “Eli is hurt. I know the infirmary is for orcs, but—”
Droko strode over to Eli, casually grabbed his injured arm, andyanked. It happened so quickly, I had no chance to stop it. Eli cried out in pain and his knees sagged…but the shaman quickly righted him. “There you go.” Droko gave a curt nod. Eli swayed. “My younger brother was always wrenching his shoulder from its socket. Go have Archie tie that arm down—it’ll take a few days to heal. Or maybe more. Or less. I never know with you humans. Now, see to the prisoners, Kof, and make sure all their weapons are accounted for.”
24
Kof
I had my men bind the wrists and hobble the legs of the Lost Clan and herd them to the prisoner stockades. Some were defiant and earned themselves a beating. Others simply shook their heads in resignation as they were bound, as if they’d never expected anything better. But Eli had been spared this fate…thanks to Droko sending him to the caves.
It was dawn by the time I was through dealing with the Lost Clan, and I found the shaman conferring with Ul-Rott by the commons. The chieftain was in high spirits. He must have had a good dinner.
“And there’s the shaman’s captain who saved me from the cursed stag,” Ul-Rott said grandly as he gestured for me to approach.
I’d thought this whole curse business was through, but I could hardly correct the chieftain.
He said, “Even the half-naked human tried to warn me. Just goes to show the lengths Trawg went to in hiding his shame fromall of us.” The chieftain turned to Droko. “So, shaman. How do you propose I execute all these enemies? My headsman fell in the hobgoblin skirmish and my best archer is dead. In fact, my experts are dropping like flies—”
Human or not—having given some sort of warning or not—Eli was still Lost Clan in everyone’s eyes. And before Droko suggested anything that couldn’t be taken back, I blurted out, “But what if there’s an archer among The Lost Clan? Or a quartermaster?” Or even a headsman, though I didn’t suggest that. Ul-Rott would probably gain too much pleasure from having him behead his fellow clanmates.
Ul-Rott looked at me as though he hadn’t even realized I was capable of speech. Too many times had I held my tongue when I should have spoken. Now my words held no authority.
Thankfully, Droko agreed. “Wehavelost many good fighters. And we shouldn’t tempt my father to break the treaty between our clans.”
I hadn’t even thought about the Two Swords clan tromping across the frozen river. But their deer would be filled with Wrack, just the same as ours. And their winter just as bleak.
Ul-Rott huffed in frustration. “Why do you always lay these strange ideas at my feet? I’d rather just be done with it.”
“You are the chieftain,” Droko said diplomatically. He’d learned that much growing up in a chieftain’s household. “And the Red Hand is strong.”
At the moment, his tone added. With the implication that once winter took hold, things might be very different.
Ul-Rott said, “If this were a simple skirmish between clans, we’d negotiate some warriors from their chieftain and be done with it. But the Lost Clan has no chieftain.”
I said, “This is your clan. Your rules.”
It was bald flattery, but the chieftain accepted it nonetheless. “The full moon rises tonight. I’ll give my decision then.”
We all watched Ul-Rott stomp off into the crowd. I shifted my grip on the sword, the weight of it finally dragging at my arm. I’d hauled it all day without thinking, but now it felt wrong in my hand.
It wasn’t mine to carry.
In front of the honor guard, I proudly presented it to Droko hilt-first. “Your father’s ancestral blade—the one stolen from him by the Lost Clan.”
“Truly? I’ve never seen it with my own eyes.” Droko turned the blade to check out the impractical jewels in the pommel. “This should’ve gone to my brother…but since he got my intended wife, I suppose it’s only right.” He bestowed a nod of satisfaction on me. “Good work, Kof. I can always rely on you.”
But how could I take pride in my shaman’s praise, I realized, when the Lost Clan hadn’t been the only ones to steal from him? The gold collar hidden in my leather armor felt even heavier than the ungainly sword.
I stepped closer, the collar burning against my skin.
“Shaman,” I said. “There’s something—”
But Droko was busy with the sword. He twirled it once in his grip, gave it a testing swing, and smiled like a man who’d just reclaimed a piece of himself.
I opened my mouth to speak, but shut it again, saving the words for his ears only—at a time when they might actually be heard.
25
