The man wearing a red and blue sash was young. His dark chestnut hair had been shaved two-finger's width on either side above his ears. Over each of those shaved lines was a single braid that had been twisted together with colored threads matching in color with the sash he wore. There were two stripes painted on his left cheek, a thicker one in red and a thinner one just under it in blue. He was clean-shaven, like all young Shakshi men were, with a strong jawline that spoke of years of hard training in combat, matching the outlines of his harshly chiseled, massive figure. His deep-set eyes—a piercing shade of green—were intense, unyielding. The khumar of Kamara, also wearing a zikh, looked like a seasoned warrior who spent most of his days wielding that massive axe on his back to hack off limbs.

And Nazir...

Nazir looked like some vengeful spirit you didn't fuck with who'd just been thoroughly and deliberately fucked. Which wasn't at all far from the truth, if one had seen the exchange of looks between him and the man who'd done it before shit started raining from the sky. Khodi might as well have thrown a spear at Nazir and it would have resulted in something a whole lot less complicated.

The more he thought about it, the more he'd wanted to shoot the arrogant prick who was standing, still straight-backed and overly proud, between the five zikh-clad warriors that had escorted him up to the slope. Khali, however, had chosen a place by Nazir's side, away from his brother. Hasheem would have done that too if he were in the boy's position. It was better to be seen as far removed as possible from the idiot in white given the circumstance. For the first time since they'd met, he felt a little sorry for the boy.

There were twenty paces between the two parties. Each group formed a half-circle on opposite sides of the big rock on the slope, facing each other with their khumar at the center, flanked by a similar number of warriors in a mixture of white and gray robes. All were still mounted, except for Khodi and two of the men who'd brought him out that now positioned themselves on either side of the chief's son.

Hasheem looked around, noted the number of bows that had been drawn on both sides, each already fitted with an arrow, and realized that Nazir was about three bows short in comparison. It would have helped if he also carried an extra set of arrows, but Hasheem, being the only one not in white or gray and without any real skills in particular as far as everyone was concerned, had been considered both unimportant and unqualified to guard the khumar and therefore left uninformed of these protocols. In other words, he was a useless figure on that plain except if they needed a runner to deliver a message.

A message containing news no one wanted to hear, he thought with a frown. It wasn't an easy thing to swallow, and Hasheem found himself grinding his teeth once more at the lightness of his quiver. He'd been used, or cheap, and sometimes even offered for free in exchange for a favor or two, but never useless. There was a price to the comfort anonymity offered, and he might have to pay for it that day.

On the ground next to the khumar of Kamara was the body of the gray who'd fallen. He'd been laid carefully on his back, his limbs arranged neatly on a saddle cloth that had been spread with obvious care. Now that they were closer, Hasheem could see the young man's face more clearly and realized he couldn't have been much older than he was. His hair was a shade or two lighter than that of the khumar and had been shaved in a similar fashion. There were also colored threads in his braids, Hasheem saw for the first time, swearing more profusely in his mind now that he could guess what those meant.

"The boy was my father's favorite nephew," said the khumar of Kamara with a voice as harsh as his features and the confidence of a man used to issuing commands. "His death will be answered for appropriately as a member of the kha'a's family. I await your proposal, Nazir khumar."

Hasheem held his breath as he listened. There was to be no time wasted here. No subtlety needed. The negotiation was going to be short and quick and decided right where they were, as though it had been a matter that could be easily settled. Only everyone on that slope knew how high the price would be if some kind of an agreement couldn't be reached that day.

Next to him, Nazir sat his horse as lightly as a feather, his expression a neat, terrible one in contrast with the other khumar's loud and near-barbaric appearance. A ghost and a demon, Hasheem thought, watching the two khumars, both terrifying in their own way. It was difficult to tell which one of them would win if they ever fought, and he wished it wouldn't come to that.

"His death," Nazir said, his usually silky-smooth voice now thin as a blade, "was an accident and no fault of ours."

"An accident," said Baaku, "that could have been prevented had your rider retreated as he should have."

"An accident," Nazir repeated crisply, "that could have been prevented had you observed your time of arrival more carefully." He paused, raising his chin a little higher. "As you should have. For this, I, too, await your proposal for compensation."

It occurred to Hasheem then, that Nazir had never had an intention to compensate for any death that occurred on the plain that day from the very beginning, and had made it clear just now that all the blame was to be placed upon the Kamara's early arrival to the hunting ground.

'Always negotiate from a position of strength,' had been one of Dee's many lessons. The risk attached in this, however, was much too high in Hasheem's opinion to be using that tactic. On the other hand, Nazir was their future kha'a with the entire kha'gan's reputation to uphold. He couldn't afford to be seen as a leader who was afraid to go to war.

"Unless, of course, it was intentional," Nazir added silkily, despite the directness of his words and what they implied.

Silence slammed upon them like a hammer. From below, the sound of death and slaughter grew suddenly louder as if to offer a taste of what lay just around the corner should they decide to go in that direction. Baaku Khumar sat still on his horse, his face unreadable as he stared at Nazir, contemplating his next course of action, measuring the other man as he did. The men on both sides shifted on their saddles, holding their breaths as they waited for a response that would soon dictate their fate. Hasheem realized, amidst the crippling tension that permeated thickly in the air, that this was where the road forked for the Kamara. To admit to the mistake was to show incompetence and to bend to the Visarya. Deny it and Nazir would have no choice but to consider the act deliberate and a declaration of war.

As if to experiment, Baaku urged his horse forward a step, and in doing so triggered an almost simultaneous response that resulted in thirteen arrows being pointed directly at him at execution range. It was answered just as swiftly by sixteen more being trained at Nazir from the opposite side, every single one of them aiming for a swift kill.

Hasheem swallowed as he forced himself to remain still, knowing that it would only take a twitch of a horse or the slightest movement of a hand to initiate what could only be called a mass slaughter by that rock. Neither khumar would make it out of that place alive should a single arrow were to be let loose, and then both kha'gans would have a perfectly good cause to go to war.

Nazir sat calmly on his stallion, seemingly oblivious to the number of arrows that surrounded them. His eyes remained fixed on Baaku, who returned the gesture with no less conviction to assert his ground. After a suffocating moment, an understanding seemed to pass between them, and Nazir's lips curled up a little into what appeared to Hasheem a ghost of a smile.

"Stand down," said Nazir, to which the bows were promptly lowered if not with the same enthusiasm as before. "I'm sure we can settle this in a more civilized manner, or can't we?" He added.

Baaku khumar stilled for a moment, and then signaled his archers to do the same. They did so as commanded, though not with any less hostility on their expressions. The arrows on both sides were still nocked to their bows, ready to be fired in the split second that they were needed.

"Your explanation, Baaku khumar," Nazir demanded. The question had to be answered, whether or not the bows had been withdrawn.

Baaku simply shrugged this time. "Gazelles can be unpredictable," he said lightly, as though it had been the most common mistake in the world.

Nazir considered the reply calmly for a moment before offering a reply, "So can a man."

It was difficult to tell which man he was referring to and the double meaning didn't escape the other khumar's notice, judging from the way Baaku was grinning hearing it.

"Still, a mistake that offends must be answered for."

Nazir nodded. "Concerning both pride and punctuality, I'm sure."

"The moment we entered the valley, the ground was ours," said Baaku, holding himself broad and tall as he did. "It was an intrusion to remain in the field and theft to shoot and kill our gazelles. For these offenses, we have the right to kill on sight or capture to exact the punishments we see fit. For causing the death of a member of the kha'a's family," he paused, as if to make the point absolutely clear, "that is death to one generation of our choosing."

Hasheem drew a breath and glanced at Nazir. A generation would mean Khali or their parents on top of Khodi. Between a boy and a chief, there was no doubt which generation the Kamara would choose. Losing a chief would put the camp in a period of vulnerability and subject the kha'gan to possible attacks. They could lose both men and territory from this single incident if Nazir couldn't negotiate them out of this.

Nazir, however, seemed wholly unaffected by the proposal.

"The way I see it, the valley was still ours at the time of your arrival," he said. "When you entered the field, you intruded on our ground and were deliberately preying on our gazelles. I could have shot your cousin and every single one of your warriors and it would be well within our rights. His death is your own doing, not ours."

Baaku sneered at that, his white teeth flashing as he did. "That may be true," he replied, "but you forfeited your right to the ground when you sounded the retreat, and he shot our gazelle after, not before. Take the matter to Citara if you want. The White Tower will say the same."

It would all come down to this fact, of course, Hasheem thought bitterly. Khodi's action had been more than just a show of defiance toward his khumar, but also a breach of protocol from the Visarya side that was going to put the entire kha'gan at risk.

Nazir's expression turned grim for a moment, and then it was replaced by a smile that could chill one's bones.

"Oh I can take the matter to Citara, but then you will also forfeit your right to the hunting ground for at least five years for breaching protocol. You know this," said Nazir calmly. "Try me again, Baaku. What retribution do you seek?"

The sneer faded quickly from the other khumar's face as he realized too late the consequence of his own threat. The prospect of losing the rights to the hunting ground altogether wasn't a risk worth taking, considering how important it appeared to be for the Shakshis. Hasheem found himself breathing again at that. For all his subtleties, Nazir knew very well how to aim a knife at a man's throat.

"My cousin's life must be honorably compensated," Baaku replied after a moment of consideration. "A member of the kha'a's family is worth at least five men of equal rank. I expect them to be delivered before Raviyani is over."

That would be five Grays, Hasheem thought. Five young men—or boys—from the kha'gan put to death or subject to torture. It wasn't a big number, but no matter who Nazir chose it was going to create some bitterness towards the ruling family, and then conflict from within the kha'gan would follow. The easiest way to befall cities and empires was to rot it from the inside out, he'd learned that from his mentor a long time ago. A smart move by the Kamara, if only a little too bold.

Nazir listened and nodded. "Or one White warrior who is also the eldest son of our chief. It is a reasonable compensation and should be acceptable," he paused and then added firmly, "in the eyes of Citara."

Khali stirred a little at that. A small distance from him, his brother was still standing with his back straight as a spear, showing no trace of a man who was about to be offered to the enemy to do with as they pleased. Then again, he was one of the White Warriors, men who were expected and trained to kill themselves before capture to protect the secrets of the sacred city. He would have been prepared for this. Still, Hasheem wondered what would happen to him if he were to be taken, and decided that it was better he didn't know. A life for a life was the best Nazir could do to control the damage Khodi had caused, and they could only hope the Kamara would agree to it.

"It is," Baaku replied though with obvious agitation. It was clearly not what he'd hoped to accomplish but after such a threat from Nazir, they, too, had damage to control. "We'll take him."

"That will not be necessary," Nazir said crisply, his eyes fixed straight ahead on Baaku, and nothing else. "Khali!"