"I can get you there then," the gnoll said, "if you're ready to run. My pack does not ride."

Cale nodded and said, "We'll keep up, Dreeve."

The gnoll smiled as though he didn't believe it.

"Payment," he said, and held out his hand.

Cale shook his head.

"You're paid when we're there," he said. "Not before."

Dreeve snarled, clenched his hand into a fist, and slammed it on the table.

"Half now," the gnoll demanded.

"None now," Cale said and dared the gnoll with his eyes to challenge him. He did not.

Dreeve glared at Cale and said, "How many in your pack? All old, like him?"

"Three. Myself and two others," said Cale. "Not him."

Dreeve growled, and his eyes narrowed in satisfaction.

"Nine in mine, human. All warriors."

Cale stared at him, as cold as Deepwinter, and said, "Numbers are not strength, Dreeve."

The gnoll either laughed or snarled, Cale couldn't tell. But either way, the deal was done. Cale took Riven by the arm, as though to assist him, and rose.

"We'll meet you and your pack after sunset on the road outside of the western gate," Cale said, "an hour outside of the city."

"We will be there, human. Night's darkness is good time for my pack."

Cale smiled without mirth and said, "Mine too."

Riven chuckled as they walked out.

CHAPTER 15

PACK HUNTING

That evening, Cale, Riven, and Jak walked through the torchlit western gate of Starmantle. Even at night, the city's gates stood thrown open. Two lax guards in scale mail and armed with spears watched the comings and goings with disinterest. They didn't even bother to ask the trio their business.

Inns, taverns, farms, and tilled fields lined the road in the area immediately outside of town. After only a short while of walking, though, the buildings and worked earth gave way to uninhabited scrub and intermittent copses of gnarled ash. Selune was waring and nearly new, and though her tears still glittered in the sky, they provided little light. Looking into the star-flecked night sky reminded Cale of the sphere that he still carried, the sphere that had set him on this course. Cale had left his family and home and found himself on a dark road beside Drasek Riven, who served the same god as he.

Fate was a fickle bitch, indeed, he thought. That, or Mask was more calculating than he could comprehend. Either way, Cale supposed, he was where he was.

For each of them, Cale had purchased bedrolls, road-tack, and two waterskins. The added weight in his backpack felt awkward. It took him the first half-hour of the trek to adjust his balance.

Jak's halfling blood allowed him to see the best in darkness, so he took a point position ten strides or so in front of Cale and Riven.

After about an hour, Jak waved them to a stop.

"Just ahead," he softly called back to them. "Nine of them."

"We see you too, humans," Dreeve called out from ahead. "And have for some time. Come forward. Your halfling scout sees no better in the night than the blindest of my pack."

Growls and high-pitched yips greeted Dreeve's taunt.

With nothing else for it, the three fell back into line together and walked forward.

"It's strength they respect," Cale said to his comrades in a hissed whisper. "Let's set the rules early. I'll lead."

Jak and Riven nodded, and spaced themselves for combat.

The gnolls stood gathered in a loose group, watching them approach. They carried no torches, for they obviously saw well at night.

Each towering member of Dreeve's pack wore a ring mail shirt, had a bow slung over a muscular shoulder, and carried an axe larger than Jak over its back. They yipped and snarled amongst themselves as the trio approached. Crude tattoos, earrings, and leather vambraces were common.

Even among his own kind, though, Dreeve's height and musculature caused him to stand out. He took a step forward and made a cutting gesture with his hand. The rest of the pack fell silent.

"Humans, I feared the night frightened you away from our deal."

At that, the other gnolls yelped with laughter. Cale feigned a smile while he scanned the pack. He picked the gnoll standing to Dreeve's right, the second largest of the pack, and stalked up to him. He let his smile fade.

"Amused?"

The other gnolls' laughter fell silent instantly, replaced by surprised grumbling. Ring mail chinked as stances were shifted. Beside Cale, Dreeve watched with a grin.

" 'Ware, human," Dreeve said. "Gez has tasted of manflesh before."

The big gnoll, Gez, stared Cale in the face and said, "Step back from me, human, or I'll tear out your throat and take your gold. The pack will have the scraps of your flesh."

Cale needed nothing further.

He took a step back, drew his blade, and said, "A threat from the mongrel son of a cur bitch? Try what you say."

Gez snarled and jerked his axe off his back, eyeing Cale all the while. The big gnoll looked to Dreeve, who barked something in his native tongue. The gnoll looked back to Cale, grinned, and howled into the moonless sky. The rest of the pack, excepting only Dreeve, began to yip in excitement.

Cale waited, balanced on the balls of his feet. Gez obviously surpassed him in strength, but probably not in skill.

At least Cale hoped not.

The gnoll's hackles stood on end, making him look bigger still. He crouched low, snarled, and advanced.

Cale waited, waited ...

The moment Gez reared back his axe to strike, Cale exploded into motion.

He lunged forward, feinting with his long sword at the gnoll's throat. Surprised by Cale's speed, Gez stumbled backward and attempted an awkward parry with his axe haft. Cale pulled the stab up short and slammed a heel-kick into the gnoll's knee. Gez let out a pained yelp. His leg, backward jointed like a dog's, buckled. He managed to thump Cale in the ribs with his axe haft, but before he could regain his balance and bring his axe head to bear for another stroke, Cale spun a close half-circle around him and landed a reverse elbow on the back of his neck. The gnoll groaned and toppled to all fours.

Cale had his blade at Gez's throat before the gnoll could rise.

Gez snarled, "I'll kill you, hu—"

Cale cut off the threat by pressing his blade edge against the gnoll's throat—hard.

"Another word and I bleed you out here and now."

The gnoll, breathing hard—whether from exertion or shame, Cale couldn't tell—said nothing further. The rest of the pack went into an uproar, howling, snarling, gesturing violently at Cale. Dreeve tried to maintain order but failed. Another gnoll, tattooed and missing several teeth, stepped forward from the pack with violence in his eyes.

Before that gnoll ever got his axe off his shoulder, Riven had sabers at the creature's throat and Jak had a short sword at its groin. The gnoll froze in his tracks, eyes wide. Cale would have sworn the tattooed creature was holding his breath.

The rest of the gnolls fell silent except for some muted growls. None drew weapons.

Cale, Riven, and Jak had made their point.

Cale eyed Dreeve first, then the rest of the pack in turn. Dreeve returned his gaze with a mixture of anger and respect.

Cale said in a tone fat with the calm promise of violence, "Any one of you breaks our bargain, any one of you makes a move against any in my pack, and it goes ugly for every one of you. Understood?"

Dark eyes found the road.

"Do what we've asked," Cale added, "and you'll all get paid."

With that, Cale removed his blade from the prone gnoll and let him stand. The creature eyed him hatefully but his hackles lay flat. The other gnolls chattered at him with what Cale took to be laughter.

Dreeve advanced on Cale threateningly, but Cale held his ground.