“Never, ever, do anything like that again, Simna! Not in my presence or before my eyes, or I swear by all that the Naumkib respect and honor that I will abandon you to your infantile foolishness and let you perish!”
Stunned, Simna lay on the ground, gaping up at his enraged friend. From the first moment of their relationship there had been disagreements, debates, and disputations. But always words, words. Never blows. The only violence had been verbal. Clenching his teeth, he sprang to his feet, the bloodied sword dangling from his right hand. In an instant he was standing with head tilted slightly back, chest-to-chest with his companion, his unwavering gaze burning into that of the herdsman. Seeing this, Ahlitah growled and prepared to spring forward, but Hunkapa Aub reached down to put a massive hand on the big cat’s rippling shoulder and restrain him.
The confrontation lasted only a moment, but to the tense pair of onlookers, one feline and the other only part human, it seemed the longest moment imaginable. Then Simna ibn Sind stepped back and, with slow deliberation, returned his reddened blade back to the scabbard on his back.
“You’re a brave man, Etjole Ehomba. Brave and bold and maybe, just maybe, even wise. I’ve seen you do remarkable, astonishing things. But if you think that makes me afraid of you, you’re wrong. Simna ibn Sind fears nothing living. Not soldiers, not giants, not even mystic and powerful sorcerers. And certainly not cattle farmers.” Reaching up, he touched the place on his cheek where the herdsman’s blow had landed. There would be a bruise there.