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Sefi is not surprised. She accepts my respect with an open palm to show she holds no weapon agai
nst me. “Njar ga hir, grár. Hir ganga ni hallr.” She nods to the White who stands behind her clutch of Valkyrie. “Xenophon said you knew our ways. Fótr heill?”
“Sorry? Nagal’s a little rusty.”
“Limb is healthy?”
“Seems like.” I wiggle the appendage. “Surprised you sprung for fleshtech. Not cheap. Suppose I should thank you for that.”
“It is a gift.” She shrugs. “My court is large from long war. I welcome all. Including you, Scarhunter.” She says the title fondly and tilts her head. “Your body wanted death. Your heart is not pure. It became silent three times. Narcotics weakness.”
Valdir makes a sound of disgust and lies down on the ground beside his mate to comb his hair. He looks like a bloody Frankish painting.
“Valdir thinks you are stupid to use zoladone.”
“He is stupid,” Valdir says.
Sefi sets a hand on his shoulder. “He thinks that I am stupid to waste wind on you.” She spares a smile for Ozgard. “But I know weakness in your kind does not mean broken. So tell me, why kill passions with zoladone?”
I glance at Aja’s razor.
“Makes life’s flow a bit smoother.”
“Poor little man,” she mocks. “Life is meant to be felt. Else why live? Valleys make the mountains.”
I nod to Ozgard, who has strayed back to the training square to examine the blood on the stone. “That fellow right there’s high as a cloud. He seems to be living just fine.”
“Fool’s comparison. God’s Bread fills warrior with heat of gods. Spirit Berry opens mind. Lets one hear Aesir. Zoladone makes warrior cold, narrows mind. Makes machine man. Vile.”
“And Fever Cloud?” I ask. “Your berserkers love that.”
Her face darkens. “Berserkers are no more. Fever is an evil I do not accept. It makes men savages. We are not savages.” The only other Color on the knoll besides Obsidian is a lean White in midnight robes. It’s a logos. I thought they were all killed by lynch mobs. Bald, childish of face, the White could be thirty or eighty years old. You never can tell. Their skin is the color of raw chicken. Their eyes the color of milk. A large diamond is embedded between the eyes to signify their class. If anyone’s on a permanent zoladone high, it’s that mammalian computer. I don’t point out the hypocrisy.
“With Spirit Berry, Ozgard sees god’s hand upon your shoulder,” Sefi continues. “He is responsible for the breath you draw. You crashed in a scrapland. Scavengers found you. There were Brothers of the Ice amongst them. They are known to Ozgard and offered you to me.”
Well, that’s a turn. “And the wee warlords. Must have cost you a fortune to outbid the Sovereign.”
“My respect was payment enough to them.”
“Syndicate must have loved that.”
“They attempted to substantiate their claim,” the White says. “The Unshorn disabused them of that notion.” Whatever malice Valdir Unshorn feels for Ozgard, he seems to trust the White. He nods to the advisor like an old friend.
“So if the kids are your hostages, and we’re here…” I murmur.
“Wards,” Sefi corrects.
“Sure. Then I take it to mean I’m not on Barca’s menu…”
“Why would we fix you to kill you? That would waste money. You have not hurt Alltribe.”
“I completely agree. But…ain’t you allies with the Sovereign and House Barca?” I’ve never heard of the term “Alltribe” before, but one thing at a time. “Hell, till that kid started talking, I thought you were still the Reaper’s heavy air cav.” By glancing around at the faces of her warriors, I can tell that’s old news, but still raw, particularly for the males. World changes fast. Was it Wulfgar’s death? Or something else? If they aren’t allies, then my errand for the Sovereign has probably been perceived as a double cross. Which means Volga is likely dead back on Luna. I need zoladone. The ache inside nearly makes the knees buckle.
“So I’m thinking I’m alive for a reason,” I say. “It ain’t gratitude for this little boon. It ain’t fidelity for an old Scarhunter. I’ve been thoroughly reminded what you lot do to thieves.” I glance at Valdir. “So maybe tell me what this is all about.”
Sefi surprises me by standing.
“Come, Mr. Horn. There is something I would like to show you.”
