The man shrugged. “I wish only to pass. If you so desire, I will pay you a toll.”
“No,” Kane said flatly.
Le Loup Garou’s shoulders stiffened. “I offer you a gift, then. A red girl, still young and juicy. She claims to be a virgin, but with savages, who can say. I chose her for myself, but a man like you will appreciate her as much as I.”
“I don’t take gifts from scum.”
The man raised his voice slightly in anger. “I do not care for your manner.”
“Not many do. I’ve had complaints about it before.”
“For a single man facing many, you are being extraordinarily argumentative.”
Kane ignored the observation. In a soft, icy whisper, he said, “I’ve no more to say to you. Turn about and go. I won’t tell you again.”
Le Loup Garou snarled like his namesake. Quick rage flickered like a flame in his black eyes. Behind him, the Roamers peered at Kane, their inclination to chill him conquered by curiosity and apprehension about hidden guns.
Thrusting his head forward, Le Loup Garou growled, “I won’t tell you this againbe practical. Let us pass or you will die.”
Kane eyed the hollow bores of the rifles pointing at him, then tensed his wrist tendons. The Sin Eater unfolded, and the butt slapped into his palm. Casually he brought it into view, but he didn’t aim it. Le Loup Garou stared, gaping open-mouthed. He leaned back in his saddle, away from the handblaster.
“Chilling you may serve no practical purpose,” said Kane coldly, “but by God, you tempt me.”
The chieftain struggled to regain the composure he had lost at the sight of the Sin Eater. “I’ve seen blasters like that before, in the hands of sec men.”
“Sec men” was an obsolete term still applied to Magistrates in hinterlands beyond the villes. A low murmuring, in thick, hate-filled tones, passed among the Roamers. Magistrates were feared and despised all over the Outlands. To chill a Mag was the fondest hope of marauders like the Roamers.
Though he didn’t otherwise move, Le Loup Garou’s hand crept toward the tap-pistol hanging from his saddle horn. Kane swore silently. Regardless of what else was said, the chief intended to draw his pistol. He had no choice. If Le Loup Garou backed down in front of a sec man, his people wouldn’t forget and his position as their leader was doomed.
“I’m not a sec man,” Kane declared. “I told you what I was.”
Le Loup Garou’s hand continued to creep toward the blaster.
“This isn’t necessary.” A steel edge slipped into Kane’s voice. “Nobody has to die. Do as I say and ride out.”
Le Loup Garou’s hand stopped moving, his slitted black eyes locking on Kane’s. The tension suddenly went out of the man’s posture. His shoulders heaved in a dismissive shrug, and he half turned in his saddle toward the people behind him as if to say something to them.
Kane hissed softly in disgust. “Ah, shit.”
The chieftain’s attitude of resignation didn’t deceive him. As far as the human wolf pack was concerned, their leader had been challenged by a hated enemy, and failure to accept the challenge was tantamount to a death sentence.
Le Loup Garou swiftly twisted in the saddle, his hand darting for his blaster. At the same instant, Kane lunged around the base of the boulder. Only his steel-trap coordination saved him as three rifles exploded more or less simultaneously.
The balls gouged white scars in the rock, ricocheting away with high-pitched whines. Le Loup Garou bellowed orders, and the nearest Roamers dismounted, others heeling their steeds forward, jostling and bowling over their people on foot. Horses neighed, reared, throwing riders from their backs. The attack was so disorganized, so impulsive, that Kane almost laughed.
Leaning around the boulder, he saw savagely screaming Roamers swarming at him from both sides. He aimed and fired a triburst. The bullets impacted against flesh at 335 pounds of pressure per square inch. Shooting to wound with a Sin Eater was rarely an option. Even a bullet striking a limb resulted in hydrostatic shock.
The rounds he fired didn’t strike limbs. Three Roamers rushing forward in a shoulder-to-shoulder wedge absorbed the trio of 248-grain rounds with their upper bodies. They went down together, legs flailing madly in reflex motion.