Two more ragged breaths and he hopped the fence on his left and the fieldstones piled up next to it and struggled up a fallow field of knee-high grass.

The tall grass pulled at his feet. The slope sapped his strength. But neither seemed to slow Sabin.

The woods stood only a few paces away.

Talen glanced back to see Sabin reach out with his long tattooed arm for Talen's hair.

River loved Talen's hair. Loved it long. And at that moment he wished he'd never listened to his sister and her stupid appraisals of men.

Sabin grabbed a handful of Talen's hair. He yanked, brought Talen up short, then backward to the ground.

Talen scrabbled to his knees, but Sabin kicked his side and knocked the breath right out of him.

He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. By the time his body finally remembered it had lungs, the rest of the men were rushing up the hill.

Sabin kicked at Talen's face, but Talen curled up and the blow glanced off the back of his head.

Someone struck him with a staff. Another kick caught him in the hip.

Talen tried to get up and lunge out of the circle, but before he could get his legs, one of the tanner's boys landed a blow to Talen's head that dazed him and knocked away all sense of balance. He turned, falling, and saw a sea of men.

Someone kicked him in the back and the pain made him gasp. Someone else went for his neck.

Talen brought his arms up to shield his face.

"Where's that rope?" one of them shouted.

Talen tried to roll over.

"Out of the way!" someone shouted.

"Now you'll get it, half-breed," a man said.

The blows lessened and then stopped. Talen glanced up.

Sabin stood above him, lifting what must have been a forty-pound fieldstone the color of fresh liver.

He raised it high, preparing to crack Talen's head like a nut.

BOUNTY.

T.

alen rolled away, trying to escape Sabin's stone.

"Hold!" someone shouted.

A horse snorted.

Talen tried to dart through the legs of the men surrounding him and was flung back to the ground. He froze, cringed, waiting for the crushing stone. But it did not fall.

"Twenty stripes, Sabin," a man said. "I swear it!"

Talen glanced up. The men were not looking at him. They were looking at the bailiff of Stag Home who sat upon his dappled gray horse, glaring at Sabin. It was he who had been the rider bearing down on Talen from the other direction.

Sabin hesitated, and then, almost in defiance, he dropped the stone perilously close to Talen's head.

"That," said the bailiff, pointing at Sabin, "has just made you my riding horse."

The bailiff was not a large man. But he was strong and fearless in battle. His face was shaven close, which revealed three scars where a bear had tried to take off his jaw. But it was his eyes, as pale as the horse upon which he rode, that fixed Talen's gaze. Those eyes had scared Talen as a boy. He had thought the man was full of evil. His father had convinced Talen otherwise, but, faced with those eyes, Talen could never maintain his certainty.

The bailiff directed that hard gaze at the other men. "What is this here? Why are the fields empty?"

"There are Koramite Sleth about," someone said.

Sleth? Soul-eaters?

Sleth were those who had given themselves over to Regret, the one Creator of seven who, when he'd seen what he and the seven other Creators had wrought, recognized that it was flawed and despised the work of his hands. To the men, women, and children who came into his twisted power, he gave horrible gifts-unnatural strength and appetites, odd growths and manifestations of beasts, and the power, with a touch, to steal Fire and soul. The stories of Sleth and the hunts the righteous led against them were legion.

Had Talen heard that right?

"This one ran like a monster," one of the men said.

"Yes," said the bailiff. "But it appears you caught him anyway."

Talen looked up at the bailiff, but a wave of pain and nausea slammed into him, and he was forced to turn and vomit into the grass. He hurt everywhere.

"Get up," said the bailiff.

Talen gagged once more, spit. He took three breaths to steady himself. He was dizzy and shaking.

He got to one knee. Something was running out of his nose. He wiped his face with his sleeve expecting blood, but it was nothing more than snot. There was a ringing in his ears, and he didn't know if he could stand.

But he did know one thing: he would not show weakness. Not in front of these men.

Two more breaths. He could barely open one of his eyes.

Goh, these arrogant Mokaddian garlic-eaters. This would go to the Koramite Council. And the Council would take it to the Shoka lords. He was within his rights-every one of these men should pay! And that thought was enough to take the edge off the flood of tears pushing up within.

Talen stood. He almost toppled over, but then his dizziness seemed to recede.

Two other horsemen rode up from the village and joined the bailiff. One was the bald Fir-Noy he had seen at the gate. His black beard and eyebrows were even bushier than they had first appeared. His Mokaddian wrist tattoo with its boar's tusk had been extended up his forearm, showing not only his clan, but also the military order to which he belonged. The other Fir-Noy was a small man, a messenger. He rode a horse that was lathered and blowing from a long gallop.

The bearded Fir-Noy shifted on his saddle and the leather creaked under him. "We tried to find you, Zu," he said to the bailiff. "There's been a Sleth hunt, and it appears that things have taken a turn for the worse."

The bailiff turned. "A Sleth hunt?"

The messenger eyed Talen, then addressed the bailiff. "We identified the parents of the abomination pulled from the river. Yesterday, our forces closed in on Sparrow, the Koramite master smith of the village of Plum. But things did not go as planned. His two hatchlings escaped. And then some Sleth spawn came back and slaughtered a family in the village."

Except for the buzzing in Talen's head there was dead silence. Sleth, he thought. What are these men doing wasting their time chasing me? They should be out- Then his brain processed that last statement. There were Sleth among the Koramites, among Talen's people.

"We have reports," the messenger continued, "that they were spotted in this district. A Koramite girl and her blind brother." He turned to the men. "There's a sizeable bounty for any who bring them in, dead or alive. A miller's annual wage."

The reports of Sleth that sailors brought this spring had given him nightmares. A Sleth wife taken in Mokad who had filed her teeth into sharp fangs-they'd all thought it was to make her more fearsome in battle. But the hunters discovered the true reason when they broke open her smokehouse and found the bodies of four men hanging, butchered and half cured.

And that was just this year. There were stories of Sleth stealing your soul away, then walking about in your body. Sleth growing horns, growing gills so they could swim in close and drag unsuspecting fishermen into the watery depths. Sleth were forever stealing sisters, wives, and husbands to use in unnumbered abominations.

If these men thought he was associated with Sleth ...

Or was this simply another Fir-Noy scheme?

He realized it didn't matter at this point. If these men thought he associated with such evil, then his life floated like a piece of duff over a bonfire.

"What are you doing here?" asked the bailiff.

"Trading for chickens, Zu," said Talen. "That was my crime."

"Then why did you run?" asked the Fir-Noy.

What a stupid question. "It's hard to tell," said Talen. "I'm usually quite solid when facing a charge of Mokaddian villagers."

Of course, stupidity was bred into the Fir-Noy. Their clan was forever trying to stir all the others up to push the Koramites into the sea. It was probably this man who started this whole thing.

Sabin clopped Talen on the head and sent him reeling to his knees. "Respect your betters."

Talen steadied himself and stood again. The right side of his rib cage pained him. He took in a large breath, expecting to feel the sharp pain of a broken bone. There was a twinge, but it didn't feel like it came from a break.

He looked at the bailiff. "I'm sorry, Zu. Let me restate."

"No," said the bailiff. "There's no need to restate." His face was full of a pent-up anger. "There soon won't be any chickens, Talen. There will be nothing for you Koramites. You squander opportunity after opportunity, your race. You can't keep yourselves clean, can you?"

"Zu," said Talen. "All I did was come for layers. And these men, without provocation, set upon me."

"You ought to press him," the Fir-Noy suggested. "Who knows how wide their network is? And think about it. I'm told this skinny thing is a half-breed. But not just any old mongrel. This one's connected to high places, given special treatment. I'm told Argoth is going to adopt him into his family and give him a chance to earn the wrist of a Shoka man." He spat at Talen's feet. "This one can walk about and spy without being given a second glance."

It was true Uncle Argoth and Da had recently talked about marrying Talen to a Mokaddian. It wasn't necessary for him to be adopted into a Mokaddian family to do so. But it would smooth the process. However, there were some Shoka who thought it a scandal. Even among the Shoka of Stag Home there were still a few who still wondered how Talen's mother, a Mokaddian of some station, could willingly debase herself and foul her offspring by marrying and mating Da, a full Koramite. There were those who saw her untimely death as a confirmation of that poor choice. Nevertheless, Uncle Argoth was determined to make him a full member of the clan, wrist tattoo and all.

"Are you spying?" asked the bailiff.

"Zu," said Talen, "I mean no disrespect, but what would the purpose of such spying be? I have no idea what this is about."

"Don't feign ignorance," the Fir-Noy growled.

"I am what you see," Talen said to the bailiff. "Nothing more."

"He's lying," said the Fir-Noy. "Take him and press the truth out."

The bailiff turned to the Fir-Noy. "This is Shoka land, not Fir-Noy. Your news has caused trouble enough. I won't let it bring murder to my fields."

"Killing a Koramite isn't murder."

"It is here," the bailiff said.

The Fir-Noy licked his fat lips and shook his head in disgust, but he made no reply.

Talen addressed the bailiff. "You know my family. Surely, you can't think I am one of them."

"I can think anything I want," said the bailiff. "I stake my reputation vouching for you and your people. But your actions have begun to stain me."

"No, Zu. Not mine. We carry no stain." The bailiff knew knew him. Da had given his boy a foundling wildcat. He'd taught the bailiff himself a better way of drawing his bow. And, in return, the bailiff had invited Da on many a hunt. Surely, the bailiff's vision would not be clouded with Fir-Noy rubbish. him. Da had given his boy a foundling wildcat. He'd taught the bailiff himself a better way of drawing his bow. And, in return, the bailiff had invited Da on many a hunt. Surely, the bailiff's vision would not be clouded with Fir-Noy rubbish.

The bailiff looked at Talen as if he were weighing him.

"I find no cause to accuse this boy," the bailiff finally said. "Not today."

Talen bowed in gratitude. "Zu, you are clear-sighted and wise."

"Then prove me right. Packs of bounty hunters will begin to stalk these woods. But if a Koramite were to bring the hatchlings in, that would say something, wouldn't it."

"Yes," said the Fir-Noy. "It will say that Koramites, like crows, feed on the carrion of their own kind. It proves nothing."

Anger flashed up in Talen. Fir-Noy did nothing but pick and feed on the work of others. He knew he should keep his mouth shut, but he couldn't help himself. The words were leaping out before he knew what he was saying.

"Well, Zu," said Talen, "at least we're willing to make something useful of our carrion; it appears the Fir-Noy simply let theirs parade about full of maggots and stink."

Anger flushed the Fir-Noy's face, and he kicked his horse forward to get at Talen.

Talen cringed, but the bailiff grabbed the Fir-Noy's reins and pulled the horse up short.

"He'll take that back!" said the Fir-Noy. "I won't stand for this, Shoka land or no."

The bailiff turned to Talen. "This is the last time you can expect protection from your own stupidity. Apologize!"

"Yes," said Talen. "Of course." He faced the Fir-Noy and stood as tall as he could muster. "Zu, I've been knocked half out of my mind. I apologize. Such untruths are only given voice by fools."

"Rot," said the Fir-Noy. Then he wrenched the reins away from the bailiff. "Your territory lord will hear about this."

"I have no doubt," said the bailiff.

The bailiff turned to Talen, his pale eyes sending a trembling up Talen's back. "There's going to come a time, Talen, when there will be no one to hold such men back. And the Koramites will be purged. It might be already too late. Now, you tell your da I expect him to order the Koramites in my district. I expect assurances. And know this: we'll be picking over every rock and stone. And by the Goat King's hairy arse, we'll make no distinction between those who harbor hatchlings and those who practice the abominable arts. Now go."

Talen nodded. "Thank you, Zu." He began to walk back down the slope. "Excuse me," he said, trying to get past two of the men to go back to the bridge to fetch his cart.