not understand. As for the rods, Abarsis was mistaken as to what I wanted done
with them. If you are finishing your first mercenary’s commission, then give
them to One-Thumb. Tell him they are for his benefactor. Then it is done.
Someone of the Sacred Band will seek you out and pay you. Do not worry about
that. Now, if you would honour Abarsis, dismount.’ The struggle obvious in
Tempus’s face for control was chilling, where nothing unintentioned was ever
seen. ‘Otherwise, please leave now, friend, while we are yet friends. I am in no
mood for living boys today.’
So Hanse slid from the horse and stalked over to the corpse stage-whispering,
‘Mouth me no swill, Doomface. If this is how your friends fare, I’d as soon be
relieved of the honour,’ and flipped back the shroud. ‘His eyes are open.’
Shadowspawn reached out to close them. ‘Don’t. Let him see where he goes.’
They glared a time at each other above the staring corpse while a red-tailed
hawk circled overhead, its shadow caressing the pale, dead face.
Then Hanse knelt stiffly, took a coin from his belt, slid it between Stepson’s
slightly parted lips, and murmured something low. Rising, he turned and strode
to his stolen horse and scrambled clumsily astride, reining it round and away
without a single backward glance.
When Tempus had the bier all made, and Abarsis arranged on it to the last glossy
hair, and a spark nursed to consuming flame, he stood with clenched fists and
watering eyes in the billows of smoke. And through his tears, he saw the boy’s