Vaylo Bludd didn't even glance in Jordie's direction. Addressing Guy he said, "You could have left of your own accord. Remember that Milkman. as my dogs bid farewell to your throat."

With a smafl motion of his knife hand, he commanded his beasts to stand. Hairs along Bram's neck flicked upright as the five dogs rose in unison and began to close the circle. Golden eyes glittering, fangs dripping, they snarled and grunted like pigs, Ride on! Bram wanted to shout to Guy Morloch. We're not here for this. We're just traveling through.

Then Guy's horse began to buck. The big black stallion kicked out with its back legs, throwing Guy forward in the saddle. Guy's head snapped back. His spear went thudding to the ground as he fought to keep his seat. Twisting the stallion's mane in his fist, he forced its head up. At the same time Jordie kicked his horse about face and charged the nearest dogs. They leapt back, shaking their heads so hard their eyes bulged. An instant later they sprang again. Sweeping his case-hardened spear in a half-circle, Jordie attempted to keep them at bay.

Leaping forward, the Dog Lord seized the fallen spear. With perfect violence he plunged the spearhead deep into Guy's foot. A choked cough puffed through Guys lips as blood gushed from the punctured leather of his boot. The dark liquid steamed in the frigid air and for a moment Guy simply looked at it, seeming more puzzled than shocked. His stallion, terrified at the prospect of being caught between the Dog Lord and his wolf, lowered its head, humped its back and unleashed a massive, twisting kick. Guy was flung from the saddle headfirst. His thornhelm flew from his head and went bouncing toward the snarling wolf. Guy landed hard on his buttocks, and quickly rolled free from the stallion's hooves. Liberated from its rider, the horse whipped its head from side to side, desperately scanning for an escape route. When it found the way to the west blocked by a single black-and-tan bitch it charged. The bitch moved a beat too slow and Bram heard the sharp retort of bone breaking as the horse overran the dog.

Jordie Sarson moved immediately to protect Guy but was brought to a halt by the four remaining dogs forming a block around his horse. As he tried to force his mount to ignore the slavering beasts, the fat arms-man charged him. Jordie danced back, swinging the spear point back and forth between the armsman and the dogs. Kept at bay, the young blond axman could do nothing as the Dog Lord hefted his spear over his shoulder and sprang forward to impale Guy Morloch.

"Stay your weapon!" Bram screamed. "Or I'll run your grandchildren through."

All heads turned to look at him. He was shaking uncontrollably, and the motion sent sparks of light bouncing off his watered-steel blade. Don't think of the sword now, Bram warned himself.

Forcing his chin up he met gazes with the Dog Lord. The man's eyes were black and full of fury. He was breathing hard and his gut fat trembled as he stilled himself. Bram watched the spear. Only when he saw the white-knuckled grip relax did he judge it safe to breathe.

Nothing in his fifteen-year lifehad prepared him for a momen like this.

Whilst Guy Morloch and the Dog Lord had been trading words, Bram had been watching the copse of blackthorns. The fact that both the Dog Lord and his annsman had moved away from the bushes had set him to thinking. Such a small but deliberate act. It occurred to Bram that they were trying to draw fire… but from what? Possessions? A wounded comrade? What exactly lay in the middle of the dense tangle of thorns?

So Bram had watched. When the Dog Lord had lunged forward to stab Guy Morloch's foot, Bram had spotted a movement. Immediately the motion stilled, but it was too late. Bram was known for his eyes. When riding out in company he'd lost count of the times when Robbie or someone else had turned to him and said, "Tell me what you see, boy." During the retaking of Dhoone, Robbie had waited to give the order to charge until Bram confirmed that only one of the Thorn Towers appeared manned. Even this very night it had been Bram who spotted the cloak thrown over the bush, Bram who was convinced he saw the gleam of eye whites deep within the shadow canes. Neither Guy nor Jordie had wanted to stop. They had a task to complete and were anxious to be done with it, Jordie was simply eager to return to the excitement of the Dhoonehouse where Robbie had created an atmosphere charged with gravity and purpose. Where as Guy had made no secret of the fact that he thought the task beneath him. Indeed, if it hadn't been for the fact that Robbie Dun Dhoone had asked for a personal favor, the Milkman would not be here this night, Guy Morloch was nobody's nursemaid. When Bram had forced a halt on the mud slope, stating his belief that someone was hiding in the blackthorns, Guy had punched a gloved fist through the rain. "We have no time malingering, boy. If we stop to investigate every shepherd taking a piss between here and the Milkhouse we won't be done until spring,"

Brain had nodded slowly, not expecting much else. He had used the time while Guy was speaking to study the bushes more closely. The cloak was brown as mud, but as the rain beat down on it some of the grime was washed away. After a few seconds he said, " I think the cloak is red."

It was enough to turn the party around to investigate. Red was the color of sunrise and sunset, raw iron and raw meat, eyes stung by woodsmoke and thoughts stung by anger. Red was the color of Bludd.

"Drop the spear," Bram shouted to the Dog Lord. His voice sounded small and puny to his ears, and it had clearly cracked over the word spear. To make up for it Bram stabbed at the blackthorns with his sword. "Now!"

The Dog Lord didn't move. Bram could see him thinking. The Bludd chief's portion of guidestone hung from his waist in a hollowed-out ram's horn sealed with a cap of crimsoned lead. His lore was suspended beneath it: three dog claws strung on a flax twine. Bram wondered about that. Three dog claws, yet the Dog Lord always commanded five dogs. Whenever one of the five died it was immediately replaced. Bram risked glancing over at the bitch that had been trampled by Guy's horse. The creature lay on its side in the mud. It was seizing, its chest and front legs jerking feebly as green mucus bubbled from its mouth. It would have to be killed, Bram realized. The Dog Lord would need a new dog.

"I canna set the spear down, lad," the Dog Lord said at last, "until matters are settled between us."

Bram was struck by how reasonable Vaylo Bludd now sounded. The spear he held was still clearly trained on Guy Morloch—one swift lunge and the Castleman would be dead—but something fundamental within the Dog Lord had changed. He was neither threatening nor threatened. His gaze did not stray once to the place were his grandchildren were concealed.

Bram had maneuvered his mare so he was almost directly above them. He could clearly see the boy and the girl, obviously brother and sister from their striking dark looks. They were shielded by a gray-haired Bluddswoman who clutched them tightly to her sides. The woman held a foot-long maiden's helper in her right hand, but Bram's new sword was four times that length and she had the sense not to engage him. Bram could see where one of the thorns had pierced her cloak at the shoulder. A perfect circle of blood was spreading through the wool. Seeing it, Bram recalled the tale told about Bluddwives: They would kill themselves and their children rather than risk falling into enemy hands. Something stoic and watchful in the woman's lined face made him believe she was capable of such an act.

Oh gods. What have 1 started? Bram felt the beginnings of despair. He wished suddenly to be gone, to ride away from the frightened faces of Vaylo Bludd's grandchildren and the jerking body of the dog, ride north as far as he could, past Dhoone and across the Rift Valley, right into the heart of the Want.