A horseman coming alone, with seeming consummate confidence, from the northeast
Aurvesh? A man of weapons. He kept his mount pacing easily, while his calm gaze remained on the two men before Fulcris. He never glanced at Fulcris at all.
An experienced man of weapons, Fulcris thought.
“Just interested,” the quiet voice said equably. “No blow’s been struck but his arm just started leaking. Got yourself a man with a recent wound, hmm. Two of you. You calling him opponent or quarry?”
Abder of the green tunic said, “Huh?”
Homespun said, “Listen, you-“
And then he had to back a couple of paces, because the big-dun colored horse paced right in between him and Fulcris. Fulcris was on the horse’s left. The mounted man stared down at homespun. Abder tried to be unobtrusive about backing two more paces.
“Came here to ask a favor. You with the caravan?”
The two men exchanged a look, homespun having to turn a little because his companion had backed farther away. Homespun looked back up at the interfering newcomer.
“Naw. He is.”
“Mind if I tock with him, then?” He had said “talk,” but part of his accent was that the aw sound came out as short o.
Abder moved away from his companion. His arm hung straight down; the one with the sword in it. Homespun exchanged stares with the nosy newcomer a while, then glanced at Abder. He was surprised to see that the latter was several paces behind him and well to his right.
“Huh! Leaving me alone, huh, Ab?”
“Pardon us,” the mounted man said, “while we lock.” On Fulcris’s side the newcomer’s left hand moved in a little waving gesture.