The Tiger and the Wolf by [email protected] Page B

damage: trophies of a
different sort of combat. ‘You lay with the Malikah?’
‘Only because you were too scared of her.’
‘Not my type,’ said Asmander, and then he grinned, shaking
his head. ‘Where did that come from?’
‘She appreciates a strong man. They don’t seem to have any
around here.’
‘And you?’
Venater shrugged, then winced ruefully. ‘These things are
known: beware a woman as strong as you are. I never ended a
night with so many bruises. Are the Horse finally finished talking?’
Asmander had seen the Society delegation gathering, and he
shrugged. ‘Something’s happening, anyway.’
The pirate growled. ‘I never thought I’d find a people who
talk more than you River Lords do. We should just take one of
those boats and go.’
‘And then you’d paddle? Or would that be just me pressing
on the oar upstream, all the way to the Crown of the World?’
Asmander asked him wryly. ‘No, they know the back of the
Tsotec, and we do not. And they will sell us fit clothing for
the cold, once we are there. All lives interweave, as the Snakes
tell us.’
Venater spat to show exactly what he thought of that but,
soon afterwards, Eshmir the Horse Hetman was approaching.
‘We’ve exhausted the hospitality of the Laughing Men?’
Asmander suggested brightly. ‘No more chuckles; they want us
gone?’
Her expression was awkward. ‘Something of the opposite.’
Seeing the tense anticipation that descended on him she was
quick to add, ‘Not trouble, but they have invited you on a hunt.’
‘Me?’
‘Others as well, but the Malikah very much wishes for you to
run with her hunters.’
‘She wants to see the Champion,’ Asmander divined.
‘I am sorry,’ she confirmed.
‘Why?’
‘You do not seem to wish to show it. Since leaving Atahlan,
you have not Stepped . . .’ Her face was a study in concentration
as she tried to navigate the hidden reefs of Sun River custom.
‘It is not for play,’ he told her. ‘Most certainly it is not to impress . The Champion of the River People is a shape not lightly
taken. But for a hunt? Yes, a hunt is serious business. It is fitting.’
Her relief was palpable. ‘I was not sure . . .’
‘We are a complex people in the Nation and we care about
many things,’ Asmander said softly. ‘But the Champion knows
what is important in life. And sometimes that makes living with
the cares of people difficult. Especially the Patient Ones.’
    The Laughing Men hunted many types of prey, singly and in
packs, but the great prize of the Plains was the wild aurochs.
They had been tracking a solitary bull for days before the hunt,
an old beast without a herd, yet strong and aggressive enough to
warn off even lions. Now it stood in the chest-high grass, brooding and chewing, lifting its great head at every flight of birds or
change in the wind. Looking on it, Asmander had the sense that
the beast knew well what was to come, and welcomed it. The
soul in that hulk of a body wished to move on with honour, and
preferably with some blood upon its horns.
    Venater did not care for the hunt, but the possibility of
Asmander making a fool of himself was eternally attractive, and
so he had come – with the Hetman and a handful of the Horse
Society – just to watch. A good score of the Laughing Men were
there too, half a dozen of whom would hunt alongside the
southerner. These were the young and the strong, four women
and two men, their skin fresh painted with streaks of white and
gold.
    ‘How do I look?’ Asmander asked, grinning. He had the same
adornment, the colours particularly striking against his darker
skin.
    ‘Like a badly decorated pot,’ the pirate replied. ‘All you need
is a little red, but that’s what those horns are for.’
The Malikah sent a stern glance towards him and, to
Asmander’s astonishment, Venater fell silent. The entire venture
was almost worth it just for that.
‘There was a tribe, once.’ The ruler of the Laughing