I have a strong belief that where we live greatly influences who we are and how we view the wider world. The people ofBehren are quite different than To-gai-ru, and both are different from those people I met, Aydrian Wyndon included, from the kingdom north of the mountains, Honce-the-Bear. And by all accounts, the fierce barbarians of Alpinador are far removed from any of the other three human races.

Many people confuse the implications of these differences, though, for in truth, we all share a similar hope for our lives, that of improvement for self and community, for a better world for our children, for the continuation of our ways. Many people use the differences of the four cultures, exemplified by variations in appearance, to demean another race, and thus to elevate themselves. Even with my profound hatred of the Behrenese Yatols who conquered my homeland, I must try not to do that. I must try to recognize that their beliefs are the result of different experiences in a different land. Societies, like individuals, develop in response to the world about them, to the realities of the climate and the environment, the dangers and the joys they can find.

For the To-gai-ru, I prefer the old ways, the culture that evolved in response to the realities of the steppes. I believe with all of my heart that the old ways are the better ways - for us.

For we are a product of our culture, and our culture is, in great part, a product of the land around us. The people of To-gai are nomadic, because our survival is dependent upon the animal herds; whereas the people ofBehren are settled, for the most part, in city enclaves. Their cities, all on fertile grounds, are often separated by miles of barren, blowing sand, and thus, their travels are limited by the harsh environment. Many of the characteristics that define the two races, To-gai-ru and Behrenese, are results of those different lifestyles. The To-gai-ru are riders, the finest in all the world, hunting on strong and swift ponies; we love our ponies as brothers sharing a journey.

The To-gai-ru are archers, the finest in all the world, using great bows from horseback to bring down the beasts that bring us shelter and food. Because our lifestyle is so intertwined with the fruits of the steppes, we revere those beasts. We thank them for that which they give to us. We understand the delicacy of the land about us, the balance that must not be disturbed if our culture and our people are to survive.

The Behrenese, in contrast, more often ride the plodding camels that carry them across the great expanses of desert dunes. They farm more than hunt, for their land provides little game. They fashion and practice with weapons meant for war, not for hunting. There is a different mind-set necessary for a culture based on farming, I think. The Behrenese harvest and hoard; they do not live day to day, as do my neople They look to that which will increase their yield and their wealth, rather than merely reveling in the simple joys of existence. As they huddle deeper within the cities and farms, as they fashion the land more and more to their specific needs, they lose sight of the greater world about them, one that thrives on diversity.

And as they hoard, they covet, and greed feeds upon itself. They remove themselves from the natural pleasures and beauties, and replace these honest joys with created necessities: wealth and dominance. Only in assembling hoards of useless wealth do the Behrenese leaders, Yatols mostly, justify their existence to themselves. Only by building great burial mounds, filled with glittering jewels and sculpted artifacts, and built on the broken bones and backs of slaves, do the Behrenese leaders seek to assure their stature in the netherworld.

How they have lost their way! A presiding Yatol might have a treasury of golden goblets, too many to inspect or to hold, while his people live in squalor outside the crafted walls of his home - walls that he must construct for his own defense because his people live in poverty.

A To-gai-ru chieftain who so hoarded the wealth would be put out by his tribe - if he was fortunate.

A nomad cannot build such defensive walls.

The hierarchy of Behrenese society established itself, Yatol to peasant, and the wealth ofEehren was long ago divided among the leaders, though they are in constant strife attempting to redistribute the specifics. But as a whole, that wealth total is settled, and so to elevate the whole, wealth and class, the Behrenese needed to look beyond their own borders. With To-gai-ru serving as slaves, even the peasants ofBehren are uplifted; and with To-gai ponies to sell to Honce-the-Bear, the kingdom increases its overall wealth.

So their useless treasuries will grow.

So their tombs will become larger and more elaborate, filled with\ more wasted jewels, and built upon more broken bodies.

It is a simple fact of my life that I hate the Behrenese. But I must hot err, as I spoke of earlier, in confusing the society with the individual, I hate the culture that has grown in the desert kingdom, the culture that has felt a need to invade my own land and enslave my own people. I hate the Yatols who did not turn away from this murderous and heinous course, who instead claimed this conquest as their religious right, the true path of their god. Greed and arrogance go hand in hand, it seems.

I hate them, and I will free my people, or will die in the attempt.

But I must not err. I do not hate the Behrenese subject, the poor peasant caught up in the whirlwind of Yatol furor.

I must remind myself of that through every step of my journey if I am to remain true to the goal. I must remind myself of that through every battle and conquest, or I am surely to have my heart shattered and my purpose perverted to that which I most despise.

Chapter 10 Kin and Kind

Brynn wandered the hills and valleys of the southern slopes of the Belt-and-Buckle Mountains for nearly two weeks before finding a pass that would take her down to the grassy steppes. The going was easy, though, with plenty of food and cold, fresh water to be found, and no monsters or animals threatened her step.

The only battle she knew during those days and especially those nights was the one that continued to rage in her heart and mind. She had lost Belli'mar Juraviel, who had been her truest friend for the last decade of her life. She had escaped where he had not; she had run away while the dragon had burned him, or eaten him, or just crushed him flat to the stone.

Still, the young ranger knew that she had been given no options, that by the time she had awakened far below the dragon's lair, Juraviel was already long dead. And she knew, in her heart and in her mind, that her present road was the correct one, the one that would be expected of her by Lady Dasslerond, and by Juraviel himself. Her life's goal was not to avenge her dead friend, or even to return to his people to report his death.

No, Brynn Dharielle's life's goal lay before her, spread wide on the grassy fields of To-gai.

And so it was with a heart both heavy with sorrow and light with antici-pation that Brynn made her way, day by day, step by step, with the sights and smells of her beloved To-gai thickening about her.

On one splendid morning, the young ranger awoke to the soundxof thun-der, and it came not from the sky, but from the ground below. Eagerly, Brynn crawled to the lip of the plateau where she had camped, looking down upon a grassy lea set among the mountain stones. A herd of pinto ponies, brown and white and black and white, charged about the field be-low her, agitated.

Brynn looked around, but saw no sign of any predators in the area, and no sign of any men. She studied the herd more closely and realized that the mares and the foals were running about mostly to stay out of the way of sev-eral agitated stallions.

Brynn nodded her understanding. One of the younger stallions was likely challenging the dominant male. The woman propped herself on her elbows and watched the spectacle unfold before her.

She soon discerned that there were three stallions involved in the ruckus. A large old male, scarred by many bites and kicks, was chasing two others in turn, warding them away. He was the leader, obviously, and the largest of the three - Brynn put him at fifteen hands and near to eight hundred pounds. He was more brown than white, showing only a few splotches about his thick torso, as was the second of the stallions, who seemed to be the primary challenger.

But it was the third of the group that truly caught Brynn's eye. She fig-ured him to be the youngest of the three, and he seemed to be spending more time keeping out of the way than in mounting any real challenge to the dominant male. His legs were white, his splotches rich brown and out-lined with a lighter shade of brown. His mane was white, with a black tuft, and his tail black, and showing a white tuft; unlike most of the others in the herd, he had not the single blue eye, but a pair.

He seemed to Brynn to be a smaller version of Diredusk!

The young ranger bit her lip, hoping that the small pony wouldn't be too badly injured in the ruckus.

The dominant male rushed at him, and he lowered his ears and head, ducking away in submission.

Or at least, he seemed to be, for as soon as the dominant male swung back to deal with the more aggressive challenger, the small pinto spun about and bit him hard on the rear flank, and when he turned to respond, the smaller horse bolted past, running in between the dominant male and the other challenger, leaving both startled and rearing, their forelegs clap-ping together hard.

The little pony cut a sharp turn and barreled back in, and it seemed to Brynn as if he hesitated, as if he was studying the ongoing battle to deter-mine which of the others was gaining an upper hand! Then he went in hard and fast, kicking and butting the dominant male, who was clearly getting the best of the challenger, and by the time the smallest of the three ran out the other way, the two opponents were back on equal footing.

Soon after, the small pinto came in hard again, this time making a run at the challenger, who had gained the upper hand, and then a third pass, where he clipped both horses, who were fighting evenly at that point.

"Clever runt," Brynn whispered with a chuckle, for she knew that this was more than coincidence. This pony was doing all it could to drag the fight between the larger horses out for as long as possible, and she under-stood that the clever pony meant to wear them both down and win the day!

And soon after, it happened just like that, with the small pony running ff first the dominant male, then the exhausted and battered challenger. 3 ?And so enjoy the spoils," Brynn whispered, as the pony turned its atten-tion to the mare that had started it all.

The young ranger was still chuckling as she packed up her gear and be-an her day's march. She kept looking back, though, at the clever little Something about him - and it was more than the resemblance to Diredusk - made her feel a connection to this one.

She was still thinking of the pony the next day, while walking through a wide canyon along the lower trails, when she heard the thunder of the run-ning herd. Brynn quickly moved to the rocky wall and crouched behind a boulder.

The horses entered the canyon behind her, running hard, running scared, and an ensuing roar, low and rumbling, explained it all to the woman.

A mountain cougar, and not far away.

The horses thundered past; they weren't in much danger, Brynn knew, as long as the trail was open before them, and unless the great cat was already up above them, ready for the spring. The young ranger ducked lower and instinctively clutched the hilt of her fine sword. If the cat couldn't catch the horses, it might settle for a bit of human flesh...

She saw it, then, running along the rocky wall behind the herd, moving so smoothly across the uneven rocks that it seemed as if it was cruising across an open field. It was losing ground but stubbornly continuing the chase, ears flat and great legs pumping, adjusting perfectly to the uneven ground.

Until it saw Brynn.

The cat froze so quickly, so quietly and completely, that it seemed to melt into the brownish gray stone behind it. Brynn held very still, locking her stare on the spot until she was again able again to mark the large and pow-erful cat. And it was a big one - Brynn estimated its shoulders at over four feet, which meant that one of its paws would more than cover her entire face. While it didn't seem so formidable compared to the young ranger's last foe, that horrid dragon, Brynn knew well the dangers of the brown mountain cats, for her people had often encountered them in the summer months, when their travels took them north to the foothills, and often wi disastrous results. Many To-gai-ru had been buried in these foothills.

But Brynn was no normal To-gai-ru and had been trained in ways supe-rior even to the best of her people's proud warriors. She resisted the urge to rush back around the boulder, knowing that any sudden movement on her part would surely bring the cat flying in - and it was not too far away for a single great leap at her.

No, she had to let the cat move first, to trust in her abilities to react properly.

The passing moments seemed all the longer because the woman didn't dare even draw breath.

The patient cat stared down at her, measuring her, and Brynn noted only a very slight, but very telling, movement: the cat subtly shifting its weight from hind leg to hind leg, tamping them down for better footing.

"Do not do it," Brynn whispered under her breath.

Even as she spoke the words, the great cat sprang, flying down from the mountainside at her. With reflexes honed to near perfection, Brynn fell into a sidelong roll, angling her dive around the boulder so that the cat could not easily adjust its course toward her after landing. She came up in a de-fensive stance a few feet away, the mountain cat standing atop the boulder, eyeing her with slitted eyes. Head low, back legs settling for another charge, it gave an angry roar that shook Brynn to her bones.

She pushed her thoughts into her sword, then, and fire erupted along the blade.

The cat roared again, and shrank back, but only for a moment. This one was hungry, Brynn knew, and angry.

It came on with a suddenness that would have had almost any other war-rior caught flat-footed, too fast for most to bring the fiery sword across in any semblance of defense. But Brynn was a ranger, and was so attuned to animals that she instinctively knew the spring was coming before it had even begun.

She spun back and to her left, sword coming all the way around as she completed the circuit to swat at the passing cat's rump.

The cat cut quick, turning right around and leaping, this time high, for Brynn's head.

She fell forward and to the ground, and while she didn't have the time to turn her sword about to stab the cat as it flew above her, she did manage to punch out hard with the pommel, thumping the cat in the belly, and to push out with her newfound gem-studded bracer, forcing those deadly rear paws aside.

And as she did, the woman's eyes widened with surprise, for a pulsing white light, bent and rounded like a shield, came forth from that bracer! As she regained her footing, she tapped her sword against it, and sure enough, it was a tangible thing, a shield of some kind of glowing energy. She wanted to inspect it more, but she had other matters to attend.

"Go away!" she yelled at the beast, as it turned again, and as she fell to her standard defensive stance.

This time, the clever cat stalked in.

Brynn stabbed at it, but it ducked back, then came forward, up on its hind legs, forelegs swatting.

Brynn worked her sword back and forth, batting the claws, stinging the cat with fire. But then it leaped, suddenly, and Brynn had to dive aside, and she felt a burn in her shoulder as one claw raked past. Her roll interrupted, he lay on her back and clutched at the wound reflexively, but had to let go nd punch out, and try to bring her sword to bear as the great cat fell over her, all muscle and tearing claws and biting teeth.

She fended frantically, got in a hit or two, then just rested the flat of her fierv blade against the neck and head of the cat, holding it back, pushing it out to arm's length so that those powerful claws could not get a firm hold, and she worked her pulsing shield all about, fending them further.

With a growl of protest, the cat retreated, and Brynn threw herself right over backward, moving lightly back to her feet.

The great cat circled to her right, seeming unsure, and stung, though not badly wounded.

Brynn went on the offensive, seizing the moment to rush forward, work-ing her sword in an overhand slash rather than her customary straight-forward stab to accentuate the flames and perhaps chase the cat off.

It did skitter back, dropping low on its front legs, ears flat, mouth open in a winding screech of protest and outrage.

Then the cat came forward and Brynn leaped back, and then she charged again, and the cat, after a moment, reversed its charge, retreating one stride, then turning back toward her.

Neither dared follow through, each respecting the other's formidable weapons.

Brynn had no idea of how this might end. She couldn't try to run away, obviously, for the cat was far too swift. And apparently she couldn't scare the beast off.

The cat came on again, this time more forcefully, and Brynn had to con-tinue her retreat, step after step, her sword slashing back and forth before her to keep the determined beast at bay. It roared all the while, and in the tumult, Brynn was caught completely by surprise as another form, the largest of all, entered the fray.

The small pinto pony cut between the combatants, head lowered and forelegs kicking at the surprised mountain cat. The cat leaped away and the pony reared and whinnied mightily.

As it came down to all fours, Brynn, hardly thinking, wasted not a sec-ond, grabbing its mane and leaping astride its strong back, and the pony jumped away.

On came the mountain cat, springing and roaring.

Brynn didn't have her seat well enough to control her mount, but the pony needed no guidance. Ducking its head low in a full gallop, it went left and then right, then left again, putting a bit of ground between it and the pursuing cat, and then it ran full out and straight on, angling for an area of fallen logs and boulders.

Instinctively, Brynn started to tug the horse to the side, to avoid the rough ground, but the pony would not be deterred. In it charged, and Brynn found her balance just in time before the pony leaped the first boulder, gave two quick strides, and soared over a log that was propped up by stones on one end. There weren't two strides before the next hurdle, though, and the footing was bad, and so the pony came down and went right back up on its hind legs, not quite releasing into the jump, but rather, giving a short hop and then a second to clear the way.

Like a rabbit, Brynn thought. Looking back, she saw that the pony's choice had proven correct, for the mountain cat had gone around the first boulder and had then lost ground ducking under the log. Now, coming past the last obstacle, the cat bolted, but the pony had already gained its mo-mentum and was in full stride.

The mountain cat kept up with it for a few more strides, even managing a swipe at the pony's hind leg, but it could not hold the pace.

Brynn and the pony came out the other side of the canyon at a full gallop, and when the woman finally managed to look back, she saw the mountain cat standing there, staring back in obvious frustration.

The pair rode on for some time, and Brynn did little to guide the pony. She sat comfortably, her legs hardly pressing its strong sides and her hands gentle on its snowy mane, for she knew instinctively that the pony would not throw her. As a child, Brynn had seen many horses taken in and broken for riding, and so she understood just how extraordinary this entire en-counter had been. For the pony to come back anywhere near the mountain cat was amazing, and for it to stop and then allow Brynn to climb atop its back was even more so.

Still, there were many stories about such encounters, such immediate bonding between rider and mount, scattered among the legends of the To-gai-ru, a people intimately tied to the marvelous horses of the steppes.

Finally, convinced that the mountain cat was long gone, Brynn shifted her weight back a bit and gave a gentle tug on the pony's mane, whispering into its ear, ?Ho."

The pony eased down to a stop and Brynn slid off. She came around the front, scratching the side of the pony's face, looking into its smooth blue eyes, and seeing intelligence there. ?Thank you," she said, and she kissed the pony on the nose. When she backed up a bit, the young stallion tossed his head a few times, up and down.

Brynn smiled and scratched its ears again. ?Where are your friends?" she asked quietly. ?Did they send you back to defend the rear?"

The pony nickered and lowered its head to the grass, munching content-edly. Truly, it seemed in no hurry to be off to rejoin the others.

Brynn knew that she couldn't push this budding relationship, though she dearly hoped that the pony would remain with her. She didn't have a rope, and even if she did, she wouldn't use it on the pony after it had just saved her from that difficult battle!

No, she wanted the pony to become her mount, her friend and ally - even more so, she understood, because she now felt so alone, with Belli'mar T raviel and Cazzira gone. But it would have to be a friendship of mutual agreement, and on that note, it was all up to the pony.

Brynn petted the pony again for a few moments, then sighed and turned about and began deliberately - if not too swiftly - walking away.

Her smile could not be contained when she realized that the little pony was walking behind her.

An hour later, Brynn came upon a small lea, sheltered by rocks and by trees and decided to make camp under the boughs of some thick pines, with plenty of grass about for the pony.

"Well, what am I to name you?" she asked, and the pinto looked at her as if it understood her every word. ?So clever and such a hero, and here I thought that you were the runt of the herd!"

She smiled as she finished and looked into the pinto's blue eyes know-ingly. When she was a young girl, she and her mother used to play many word games, nonsensical and simple fun, and one song in particular stood out to her as she looked upon the beautiful pony, a rhyme that she and her mother had made up about another smallish horse, the runt of the clan's herd. Brynn could not completely remember the rhyme, but she did re-member the word, ?runtly," that her mother had used to both describe the horse and fit lyrically into the song.

"Runtly, then," Brynn announced to the pony. ?I will call you Runtly!"

The pony threw its head up and down, several times.

Brynn knew that it had understood, and she couldn't have been more delighted.

The young ranger and her pony spent the next several days together, sometimes riding the lower trails, but more often just walking, with Brynn leading the way and Runtly plodding along, seemingly contentedly, behind. The weather remained mostly clear and chilly, for though they were moving lower in the foothills, the season was pushing on.

All the while, Brynn tried to get her bearings, looking for some landmark - the jagged, peculiar face of a mountain, perhaps, or a winding stream - that would jog her childhood memories and give her some idea of where a tribe of To-gai-ru might be encamped. She knew that the season was somewhat late for any of the tribes to be so close to the mountains, and so she was re-lieved indeed when she saw a line of thin smoke, marking a camp.

She climbed onto Runtly's strong back and urged the willing pony along at a swift pace. Goose bumps showed on her bare arms, and her mouth went dry, her hands damp, at the thought of seeing her people again for the nrst time in more than a decade, for the first time since becoming an adult. She grew more nervous with each passing stride and had to remind herself over and over again that she was well prepared for the meeting. The louel'alfar had trained her in many of the arts that her people held dear, and had gone out of their way to tutor her, often using her own language and not their singsong tongue.

It occurred to her, then, that the elves had not similarly treated Aydrian concerning language. Brynn never recalled Lady Dasslerond, nor any of the others, speaking to Aydrian in the tongue common to the folk of Honce-the-Bear, but only in the elven tongue. That struck her as odd indeed and, for some reason she did not understand, set the hairs at the back of her neck on edge, but she couldn't pause and ponder it just then. Aydrian's road out of Andur'Blough Inninness was years away, she believed - not knowing that the young man, barely more than a boy, was even then in fast retreat from Dasslerond's captivity - while hers lay right before her, right under that line of gray smoke, perhaps.

She bent lower and urged Runtly along, soon cresting a ridge and pulling the pony up to a stop, her smile wide.

And fast disappearing. For there below her was not a To-gai-ru encamp-ment as Brynn remembered them, with deerskin tents set about in a rough circle around a large cooking pit, with horses running free in the fields all about and watchers guarding those fields from high vantage points, pro-tecting the herd that was so vital to the To-gai-ru survival. Brynn had even suspected that she might encounter a watcher up there on the northern ridge.

There was no watcher. There were no horses running in the fields, as far as Brynn could tell. And no tents!

The settlement below her was not the temporary encampment of To-gai-ru, but a true settlement, with permanent structures, and even a trench-and-wall barrier surrounding the whole of it. There were houses fashioned of wood and clay, with sod roofs. They were connected by cleared pathways, roads, all centered around a wide town square. Directly across that square from Brynn stood the largest structure in the town, a long and tall building with a sloping roof constructed of inter-locking beams that formed a row of X's, front to back, and with small tow-ers, minarets, at each of the four corners.

It was a distinctive design, and one that Brynn would come to mark well and despise in the days ahead.

Her eyes scanned the structure for a bit, but were drawn away, to the side, to the second-largest structure in the settlement, long and wide and low, and with several fenced-in areas about it. A stable, she knew, for more than a dozen horses milled about those corrals, and even from that dis-tance, she could hear more whinnying from within.

Her mouth open now, with shock and with anger, Brynn just shook her head helplessly.

It took her a long, long while to muster up the strength to prod Runtly down the slope to the settlement. As she neared the gate, Brynn noted that there were many Behrenese about, wearing their typical light-colored robes and turbans, and more than a few suspicious expressions turned her way.

The To-gai-ru who saw her looked on with equal curiosity, but with expres-sions that showed less sinister undertones.

Brynn feared that wearing her surcoat and her armor, and particularly the beret and that fabulous sword hanging at Runtly's side, might have been a mistake. Perhaps she should have stripped off the pilfered items and bagged them, coming in as a simple To-gai-ru wanderer.

"Too late now," the young woman said with a shrug of her shoulders, and she pushed Runtly forward at an easy, unthreatening pace.

"Halt!" came the expected cry from one of the four guards standing about the gate area.

Brynn shifted back and gave a slight tug on the pony's mane.

The four guards, Behrenese all and with one of them, a woman, wearing the distinctive overlapping scale armor of the Chezhou-Lei, came forward. The three common Behrenese soldiers looked a bit nervous at first, but quickly settled beside their mighty Chezhou-Lei companion.

The female warrior regarded Brynn gravely, then grunted at one of her companions.

"Who are you?" the man said immediately, and obediently, Brynn thought.

"I am Brynn Dharielle," she answered honestly, for she could think of no reason to hide the name she was best known by, though it was not her true name.

"From where have you come?"

Brynn shrugged and looked back over her shoulder at the mountains. ?From there, the foothills."

The To-gai-ru quickly translated to the Chezhou-Lei, and the mighty warrior regarded Brynn even more closely, her dark eyes narrowing. She said something in the Behrenese tongue, which Brynn did not understand.

"What village do you call home?" the translator asked. ?And what tribe?"

"I was of Kayleen Kek," Brynn answered, again honestly. ?But that was many years ago."

"And now?"

"Now, a wanderer."

The man tilted his head, as if not understanding.

"A wanderer," Brynn said again. ?Surely you have encountered To-gai-ru wanderers, in this season, in this region near to the mountains." The man still didn't seem to catch on, and Brynn worked hard to suppress her smile. In Behren, there were nomads, mostly desert bandits riding from oasis to oasis, and in To-gai, wanderers - as they were called, for they were even more nomadic than the tribes - were even more common, and much re-spected among the tribes. Wanderers were the information bearers, inform-ing the tribes of news from other encampments and often guiding the hunters to areas with better game signs. Brynn remembered well the excite-ment among her friends whenever a wanderer approached Kayleen Kek.

"You are young."

"Not so young," she answered. ?But I am tired and desire a warm bed this night, and a fine, cooked meal."

The Behrenese translated to the Chezhou-Lei woman, and she paused for a long moment, then nodded at the man.

"Dee'dahk would not turn you away, Brynn Dharielle," the man ex-plained. ?If the Ru will have you, then enter.

But be warned," he added grimly, staring hard at Brynn, ?Champion Dee'dahk will tolerate no inso-lence from any under her watchful eye."

Keeping her face devoid of expression, revealing nothing that could be viewed as threatening or mocking, Brynn slipped down from Runtly and straightened her clothing, then pointedly untied the sword and strapped it about her slender waist. Dee'dahk was watching her every movement, she knew, and so she tried to appear a bit clumsy, at least.

"You can stable your horse inside," the Behrenese soldier continued. ?Bargain the price as you desire. For your lodging, you will have to seek out among the other Ru, but expect that my master, Yatol Daek Gin Gin Yan, will wish to speak with you."

Brynn held her ground for a long moment, digesting the names and the tone, trying to make some sense out of the obviously huge changes that had come over her homeland. So, there was a Yatol here, and a Chezhou-Lei? Was every ?village" like this, under close scrutiny?

She started forward, Runtly stepping easily behind her, but she stopped suddenly and turned to her pony.

She scratched his face and neck and pulled his ears and whispered to him comfortingly, then she turned him about and gave him a smack on the rump, and the pinto trotted off for greener grasses.

Dee'dahk immediately exploded with a stream of agitated words.

"That is not allowed!" the Behrenese translator shouted at her. ?The horse will be brought in!"

"This is their land as much as ours," Brynn explained.

"This is the land of Yatol Daek Gin Gin Yan!" the man screamed at her. ?The horse will be brought in!"

Brynn considered it for a moment, telling herself repeatedly that this was not the time to start a fight. She understood that the Behrenese would in no way harm Runtly - a To-gai pony as fine as he would be far too valuable for that! She gave a short whistle and the pony stopped and looked back to re-gard her. A second whistle turned Runtly around, walking back at his own leisurely pace.

"Then I expect that I shall not be staying here for long," Brynn explained when the pony reached her, and she started toward the open gates, Runtly right behind. She didn't bother to return the glare that Dee'dahk was cast-ing her way.

She reminded herself again, many times, that her duty to her people now jo gain information, to learn all that she could about the present state of affairs in To-gai The time for fighting would come soon enough, she knew.

"You are a bit young to be a true wanderer, are you not?" an old woman, Tsolona, said to Brynn that same night, when she joined most of the village adults in a common room set off the village square, in full view of the dis-tinctive and huge Yatol Temple.

"Not so young. And older than I appear in experience, if not in years."

"Ah ? said Balachuk, the woman's companion, a wrinkled and leathery old man whose eyes remained as bright and sharp as those of any twenty-year-old. ?And where is it that you've been wandering?"

Brynn smiled as she considered the depth of her forthcoming answer. She wanted this discussion to go completely the other way around, with her asking the questions about To-gai, and not the To-gai-ru interrogating her. She had found no trouble in getting lodgings; several To-gai-ru families had offered to take her in at the cost of a few tales, and she had accepted the in-vitation of this very couple. One Behrenese man had offered, as well, and Brynn had almost accepted, thinking that she might garner much informa-tion about her enemies by becoming a confidant of one of them. But then she had looked into the man's eyes and had seen the truth of his intent, though his wife would be in the same house.

"Along the mountains, mostly," Brynn answered slowly, very conscious of the fact that a pair of Behrenese men were sitting at a table not too far away and were listening somewhat more than casually. She knew that she was being watched wherever she went, as the leaders of the town tried to learn as much as they could about this strange woman and her unusual equipment. Brynn looked at the two men out of the corner of her eye, and added, loudly enough for them to hear, ?And under the mountains."

The old couple looked to each other in surprise, and others about the im-mediate area of the large room shared that expression. The whispers began almost immediately, and within a few moments, Brynn found herself sur-rounded by folk, To-gai-ru mostly, but even with a few Behrenese, all wait-ing to hear her tales.

And so she told them - the part under the mountains, at least, though she kept out any mention of Juraviel and Cazzira. Every face screwed up with confusion as she told of the dwarf city, for the To-gai-ru and Behrenese alike had little knowledge of powries, and every eye went wide indeed when Brynn told her tale of the great dragon and its hoard of treasure.

She played it to maximum effect, dramatizing her words by standing and even mimicking some of the battle actions as she described the fight. At one point, she cried out, ?So I thrust my new sword against the great beast's leg!" and spun to the side as she did, stabbing out with her bare hand, and taking delight, along with all of the others, in the way several of the audi-ence leaped back, one even giving a shriek.

All the while, though, Brynn subtly glanced at the two Behrenese, who were still sitting at their table, still pretending, unsuccessfully, to be ambiva-lent about the newcomer or her tale. They were hearing her words, she knew, and marking them well, and likely, they'd be speaking with Yatol Daek Gin Gin Yan before Brynn's scheduled meeting with him the next morning.

"They say you are of Kayleen Kek," one man to the side remarked.

"Long ago," Brynn replied, and simply hearing the tribal name evoked memories of her carefree childhood days.

"A fine tribe!" another man offered, and many about nodded and sounded their accord, and at that moment, Brynn knew that she had come home. The tribes of To-gai were not often friendly with each other, and were of-tentimes at war. But there was a mutual respect among them, and an under-standing, in the greater scheme of the world, that they were all one people, the proud To-gai-ru.

The one disconcerting expression that Brynn saw came to her from Bara-chuk, who seemed a bit confused, even suspicious.

She wasn't overly surprised, then, when, after many more tales, including many that Brynn at last coaxed out of the others, old Barachuk turned to her on the way back to the house, and said, ?I knew Kayleen Kek. I once traded with them and hunted beside them. I know of no family Dharielle."

Brynn noticed the gentle, but firm, way Tsolona put her hand on Bara-chuk's forearm, as if reminding him that Brynn was one of them.

Still, Brynn certainly understood Barachuk's concern. Kayleen Kek had not been a large tribe, numbering no more than three hundred, and with only twenty distinctive families. And in this day, under the harsh rule of Behren, there was reason for suspicion.

Brynn stopped walking, as did her two companions. She stared into Barachuk's sharp eyes. ?Do you know the family Tsochuk?"

The man assumed a pensive pose for a moment, then his eyes widened. ?Keregu and Dhalana," he started to say, hesitantly.

"And their daughter, Dharielle, who was spared on that evil morning when they were murdered, left to carry the image," Brynn finished.

"Brynn Dharielle," Tsolona breathed.

"You are that little girl?" Barachuk asked, then he nodded, scrutinizing her. ?The age is appropriate."

"Poor girl," said Tsolona, in a voice that was both sympathetic and strong, resigned to the harsh realities of life. She moved closer and put her hand on Brynn's arm in the same manner she had done to Barachuk a bit earlier.

Brynn shrugged and let it all go, holding her strong expression and pos-ture and refusing to allow herself to bring back that terrible image. There was no room for any show of weakness, here, no time to allow her pain to transfer into anything other than that simmering and determined anger that drove her on in her mission.

"I left Kayleen Kek, alone, the next day," Brynn explained. ?I know noth-in<r of the tribe - are they still traveling the steppes?"

"In a village, much akin to our own, I would guess," said Tsolona.

"Few follow the old paths," said Barachuk. ?To-gai has changed."

"Become civilized," added Tsolona, an obvious frustration in her snappy voice.

They walked on quietly, arriving at the small and unremarkable house a few minutes later. Barachuk waited until after they had settled before press-ing on. ?How did you survive? Which tribe took you in as their own?

And are they still up there, in the foothills?"

The tone of that last question and the glimmer in his dark eyes tipped Brynn off to Barachuk's feelings on that particular subject, and she knew then that she was among allies, among To-gai-ru who longed for the old ways, the customs from before the coming of the hated Behrenese. Relief accompanied that realization, for though Brynn could hardly imagine many of her people surrendering their identity to the conquerors in but a decade, she had indeed feared that very possibility.

"I was with no tribe," Brynn admitted. ?I was not even in To-gai. I trav-eled north of the mountains."

That widened her companions' eyes! The To-gai-ru were a nomadic people, but their travels had distinct borders, the mountains being one of them. Few To-gai-ru had ever traveled through them; fewer still, and none in memory, had ever returned.

"Your words are..." Barachuk started to say, but he stopped and just shook his head.

"Hard to believe?" Brynn finished for him. ?Trust me, both of you, if you knew all of my tale, your eyes would widen even more." As she finished, she reached into her pouch and pulled forth the powrie beret, placing it on her black hair. The two looked at her curiously, obviously not understanding.

For a moment, Brynn entertained the thought of drawing forth her sword and setting its blade ablaze, but she held back, thinking it wise not to reveal too much, even to this couple, whom she already trusted implicitly.

For they would likely talk, to friends at least, and Brynn knew that the Behrenese might well start evesdropping on Barachuk and Tsolona now, as they had already been observing her.

"It is the headpiece treasured by a race of mighty and wicked dwarves, called the powries," Brynn explained.

"Much of this armor that I wear is of powrie make, I believe."

"You befriended dwarves?" asked Tsolona.

"No."

"You warred with them, then. The spoils of battle?"

"No, I have never seen a powrie. This was taken from the lair of a much greater foe, in a cavern deep under the mountains. A creature so mighty that it could raze the land!"

The old couple looked to each other, a flash of amazement on their faces, but one fast replaced by a grin of doubt.

"And you killed this creature?" Barachuk asked.

"No, the dragon was quite beyond me," Brynn answered honestly.

"Ah, yes, the dragon," said Barachuk, seeming far from convinced.

Brynn nodded, holding her calm in the face of their obvious doubt. ?But I escaped the great beast, and with some treasures."

"Girl, you grow more curious by the moment," the old man remarked.

Brynn smiled, and let it go at that. She was tired, and had an important meeting the next day.