All Things Begin - The Anmah Series Book 1

“Ga’briyel, stop doing that and talk to me.”

“I have nothing more to say, Father. I am going, and there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

Jarda ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

“What did your mother say about this?”

“She was as happy about it as you are, but even that is not going to change my mind.”

Ga’briyel continued filling his saddlebags without even a glance at his father, for he knew that if he saw the devastation on Jarda’s face one more time, he just might change his mind, and he did not want to do that.

“Then Dinton and Tero will go with you.”

This time it was Ga’briyel who sighed, but it was in frustration. He whirled around and scowled. “This is my fight, General! Not yours, not Dinton’s, and not Tero’s! No one’s but mine! It was my people they slaughtered!”

Jarda returned the scowl and stepped close to his son. He had to look up almost a hand to meet his gaze, but General Mistri had lost none of his authoritative demeanor over the last fifteen years, despite the strands of gray in his dark hair.

“You forget yourself, Captain,” Jarda said slowly. “I am still your father, and I am still your general. If I so choose, I can force you to stay, and you know that.”

Ga’briyel held his father’s stare for a moment, but then he dropped his eyes. “Yes, sir, I know that.” He took a step backward, sat on the edge of his bed, and raised his eyes once again to Jarda. “You have to understand, Father. I do not want anyone to get hurt because of me. I will be safe, but I cannot be responsible for someone else.”

Jarda sat down beside him. “So, does that mean you are going to be alone all your life? Someday you will have to have people around you, and you will run the risk that they will get hurt or die.”

Ga’briyel frowned. “Not until I am finished. I may die again in the next few years, perhaps several times, but I do not care. I will not stop until every Asabya is gone. I will wipe them from existence.”

Jarda studied his son. Violet eyes were shining with the power of his conviction, and Ga’briyel’s hands were clenched tightly in his lap.

“Regardless of what you want,” Jarda said, “Dinton and Tero will go with you.” He held up a finger when his son opened his mouth. “No arguments. It is either that or you stay here. Take your pick.”

“Why must they come?”

“Because it is not good for a man to be alone for too long. We all need companionship, and if I let you leave by yourself, I know you will not seek it out. You are already good friends with Dinton, and he will give you someone to talk to. Tero has more experience with people and combat than you do, and he knows a lot of the world. Listen to him and to his advice. He is a wise man.”

“Fine,” Ga’briyel said with a huff, “but they had better understand that this is my responsibility, and they will do as I say.”

“It will be so, I promise. They already understand that.”

“Come in, Mother,” Ga’briyel said as he stood, just before a knock sounded on the door.

“I will never get used to that,” Jarda mumbled as he joined his son.

“What?”

“You knowing who is there before you can see them.”

“I am still getting used to it,” Ga’briyel said with a smile.

The door opened, and Elise stepped into the room. Her gaze fell on the half-filled saddlebags, and her eyes filled with tears.

“You are really going?”

“Yes, Mother. I have to; you know that.”

“No, you do not have to, Ga’briyel. You want to. You could stay here, study with Ma’ikel, and—”

“And the Asabya would be free to terrorize people,” Ga’briyel interrupted her. “They will be free to raid and to destroy and to kill. I cannot allow them to do so any longer.”

Elise shook her head sadly. “I am sorry that is your choice, my son. Just remember that revenge often hurts the one who takes it more than the one on whom it is taken.”

Ga’briyel said nothing as he turned his back on his mother and carefully placed four small, leather-bound books in the saddlebags on top of his clothes and the traveling rations he had procured from the palace kitchens. He stiffened slightly when he felt her hand on his shoulder.

“Just promise me you will be careful.”

He barely controlled himself enough not to laugh at her. Instead, he turned to her slowly. “Careful of what, Mother? Dying? Getting hurt? What?”

“Losing yourself. Becoming someone I know you are not.”

Ga’briyel frowned. He knew she meant well, but he did not see how he could ever do that. He was Sainika, an immortal warrior, and nearly his entire life had been spent training to fulfill that role. Now, at twenty-one, he was the finest fighter anyone in Torkeln had ever seen, Ma’ikel included. He had mastered hand-to-hand combat by the time he was eight, and it was at that time that his father had introduced him to the sword and the bow. He was twelve when the only thing that would challenge him was multiple opponents and at fifteen, only Ma’ikel and Jarda would fight him in any capacity, weapons or not. Everyone else was afraid of getting hurt and with good reason. It had been almost five years since anyone had managed to breach his defenses, and more than once in that time, Jarda had come home bruised or bloodied or both. If Ma’ikel had not been Anmah, he would have been dead many times over.

“I am Sainika, Mother. How could I become something else?”

“Someone else, Ga’briyel, not something.” Jarda spoke softly. “No matter what happens in your travels, remember who you are.”

“I do not understand.”

“Do you remember the day Ricard and the others were flogged?”

“Of course.”

“Do you remember what I asked you?”

“You asked if wanting revenge made me a cruel person.”

“And what was your response?”

“That I did not want to be cruel.”

“Is that still the case?”

“Of course it is. But you told me that wanting revenge was not the same thing as being cruel.”

“The wanting of it is not. Even the taking of it does not have to be, but you have to be very careful not to cross the line between justice and cruelty, my son.” Jarda clasped his son’s arm. “I understand your need for vengeance, I do. But make your vengeance quick and painless. Anything else would be cruel.”

Ga’briyel nodded, but he could not keep out the thought that the Asabya had not had any hesitation about being cruel to his people. He looked at his father when he felt him squeeze his arm.

“You are not them, my son. You are Anmah, not Asabya. Do not become like them.”

“Are you reading my thoughts now?” Ga’briyel tried to jest, but Jarda’s eyes were stern, and the young man sighed. “I know what you are saying, Father, and I will do my best.”

“Good. Dinton and Tero are waiting for you in the stables. If you are going, now is the time." Ga’briyel’s eyebrows rose, and Jarda smiled. “I was never going to let you go alone, my son. Surely you realize that.”

Ga’briyel returned the smile. “I should have, yes?”

“Indeed you should have. Come on, I will escort you there just to make sure you do not try to run off without them.”

If it had not been for the levity in his father’s voice, Ga’briyel might have been offended by his words. As it was, he buckled his sword belt and quiver around his waist, whipped his black cloak around his shoulders, slung his great ash bow across his back, and picked up his saddlebags and bedroll. Then he turned to his mother.

She was crying silently, and he reached out his free hand and pulled her into a hug. “Do not cry, Mother. I will be fine, and I will come back to you soon; I promise.”

Her arms wrapped around him, and she whispered. “What is soon to you, my son? A year? Two? Ten?” She stepped back, pulled his head down, and placed a kiss on his forehead. “No matter how long it is until I see you again, I know you will make me proud.”

“Always, Mother. I love you.” Ga’briyel hugged her again and then walked out of the room. He heard his father follow after giving Elise a few comforting words. In his mind, he saw Jarda kiss his mother once and turn toward the door.

Without turning around, Ga’briyel spoke. “Do you think I will ever have that, Father?”

“Have what?” Jarda lengthened his stride until he was walking side by side with his son.

“What you and Mother have. That kind of love.”

Jarda placed his hand on Ga’briyel’s shoulder. “I sincerely hope so, son. To live life without love would be awful, especially for a life as long as yours will be.”

No more was said until the two reached the stables. Captains Dinton Sekara and Tero Rabina were standing beside their horses, waiting for them. Dinton’s animal was a blue roan mare named Shala, and Tero’s was a chestnut stallion named Klynn. Between them was Ga’briyel’s stallion, Kumar, saddled and ready to ride. Kumar’s sire was Gorshan, Jarda’s horse, and the two horses could not have looked more alike—midnight black giants who held themselves as stiffly and as proudly as their owners.

The two captains snapped to attention and saluted when Jarda entered, and he returned the salutes. Ga’briyel glanced at Dinton as the latter dropped his salute and fought back a grin. Ga’briyel dropped his head to hide his own smile. As much as he had wanted to be alone on this journey, he was glad that his father had chosen his best friend to accompany him. Captain Rabina was another story. The man had a decidedly forbidding look on his face as Ga’briyel passed him to place his bags and bedroll on Kumar. When he had done so, he turned back to his father.

“Thank you, sir, for allowing me to do this. I know it is not what you would have chosen for me, but it is what I must do.” He placed his fist on his heart and bowed his head respectfully.

“Oh, for Yisu’s sake, Ga’briyel, come here,” his father said softly as he held his hands out. Ga’briyel stepped forward, and Jarda clasped his shoulders. Ga’briyel returned the gesture. “I will miss you, my son. Remember what I told you, and take care of yourself.”

“I will, Father. And I will return soon, I promise.”

Jarda shrugged. “It will be as it will be. No one can predict the future; not even you.”

Ga’briyel nodded once and then mounted Kumar, attaching his quiver and bow to his saddle and adjusting his sword so that it was easily accessible. Dinton and Tero swung into their saddles, and all three saluted Jarda, fists on hearts and hands on swords.

“May Yisu go with you and bring you back home,” Jarda said, returning the salutes, and then he stood and watched his son ride away.

The three rode through Torkeln’s streets in silence until they reached the south gate. Dinton and Tero were about to pass through when Ga’briyel stopped.

“Stop skulking in the shadows, Ma’ikel, and come and say what you have to say.”

The Anmah stepped forward with a smile. “I never skulk. I simply wanted to see if you knew I was here.”

“Of course I did. Why would you doubt it?”

Ma’ikel shrugged. “No doubt, just a test.”

“You and your tests. Yes, I knew you were there, before we left the stables. Just as I know that you are not as relaxed as you seem. I can feel your worry, and it is not necessary.”

“I am not worried about you, Anmah. I am worried about them.” Ma’ikel gestured to the other two men as he stepped close to Kumar and held his bridle. He dropped his voice so that only Ga’briyel was able to hear him. “Never forget that when they die it is permanent. Never take unnecessary risks with their lives.”

“You never know, they may be Anmah as well.”

“Are you willing to gamble that they are not?”

“No, of course not.” Ga’briyel dropped his eyes and bowed his head respectfully. “I did not mean to jest, Siskaska. I will remember what you say.”

“Good.” He held out his hand and Ga’briyel leaned down and clasped his forearm. “Yisu be with you, my friend.”

“Thank you, Ma’ikel. I will see you soon.”

Ma’ikel chuckled. “Soon. Relative term for us, is it not?”

Ga’briyel smiled as he sat up straight in his saddle. “It is at that.” With that, he heeled Kumar and led the others out of the gate.

“What was that all about?” Dinton asked him as they passed the line of people already waiting for the gates to open for the day. It was barely first light, but Ga’briyel had wanted to get an early start.

“He was reminding me that you can die while I cannot.”

Dinton laughed. “Did he think you had forgotten?”

“No, he was just reminding me.”

“It is a good reminder,” Tero said solemnly, the first words he had spoken that morning. “For all of us.”

“Yes, it is,” Ga’briyel said, frowning, and then his violet eyes gleamed. “It is good to have you with us, Tero.”

“I suppose that depends on why I am here,” the older man said. “Is it to help you or to keep you out of trouble?”

“My father probably thought it is a little of both,” Ga’briyel said, “but I want you two to know that I do not expect you to help me take revenge on the Asabya. They are my problem, not yours.”

“In that you are wrong, Ga’briyel,” Dinton said. “They are everyone’s problem.”

“Not in the same way.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“For you to deal with the Asabya, it would be justice. For me, it is revenge, and I guarantee that your justice and my revenge could not be more different.” Ga’briyel did not want to elaborate, so he kicked Kumar into a trot and tried to put some space between himself and the other men. They were not about to let him, though, and they quickly closed the distance between them.

“You cannot leave it there, Ga’briyel,” Dinton said with a frown as he guided Shala next to Kumar. “What is going on?”

When Ga’briyel stayed silent, Tero said, “We have a right to know, Captain Mistri. A right to know what we are getting ourselves into.”

Ga’briyel reined Kumar in to a stop, and the others turned their horses to face him. “Does a captain question his general, Tero? No. Although we do not wear the uniform of the Guard right now, think of me as your general. This is my responsibility, and you are here to follow me and do as I say. If you cannot do that, you can turn around, go back to Torkeln, and inform General Mistri that you cannot continue under those orders. Do I make myself clear?”

The older man frowned deeply for a moment, and then he bowed his head respectfully. “Perfectly clear, Ga’briyel. I will do as you say.”

“Good.” Ga’briyel heeled Kumar forward, and as he passed his friend, he said, “That goes for you, too, Dinton.”

“Understood.”

Tero and Dinton glanced at each other behind Ga’briyel’s back, and he saw it clearly, but he chose to ignore it. Instead, he looked back at them. “Coming?”

“Absolutely,” Dinton said quickly, and he kicked Shala into motion. Tero followed a heartbeat later, but Ga’briyel did not miss the slight hesitation before he did so.

Silence prevailed for about half an hour, but then, slowly, the three men began to talk, Ga’briyel and Dinton more than Tero, but even the latter relaxed a bit and entered into the conversation.

They rode until about an hour before last light, eating their midday meal in the saddle, and then Ga’briyel turned them into the trees surrounding the road. He unerringly led them through the forest for about fifteen minutes before stopping in a clearing crossed by a small stream. Halting Kumar, he slid from his back and began to remove the tack. Setting it aside, he pulled a curry comb and brush from his saddlebag and proceeded to brush down the horse. Dinton and Tero followed his example.

“How did you know this place was here?” Dinton asked as he groomed Shala. He had been born and raised in Torkeln, and, except for patrols around the city, he had never left it. The Palace Guard rarely went far away; they were needed to protect the king. It was only because of Jarda’s friendship with Tomas that the three of them had been allowed to leave.

“I passed through here on my way to Torkeln,” Ga’briyel said.

“Oh.” Dinton said nothing else, but he glanced at Tero when Ga’briyel’s back was turned.

Ga’briyel sighed. “Just ask it, Dinton.”

“Ask what?”

Ga’briyel looked at him as he began rubbing Kumar dry with some grass. “The question that is running around your brain right now.”

“I do not know what you are talking about.”

With a frown, Ga’briyel turned to Tero. “What about you? Why do you not ask it?”

“How should I know what he wants to ask you?”

“Because I saw the look he gave you. You obviously have the same question.” He finished with Kumar and let him graze and water himself. The horse was well-trained and would not wander very far. After putting away the comb and brush, he folded his arms across his chest and stared at the two men with him. He let his eyes flash brightly, and, sure enough, Dinton looked away uncomfortably, and even Tero looked uneasy. Neither said anything, however. “Fine, keep wondering about my trip across the mountains, then.” He turned from them with a smile on his lips.

He had immediately known what Dinton’s question was. He did not know how, but when he was emotionally close to someone, they could only rarely keep their thoughts to themselves if he wanted to know what they were.

“How did you know?” Tero asked suddenly.

Ga’briyel grabbed his flint and steel from his bag before turning back to them. He cocked his head and studied the stunned looks on his companions’ faces, the smile still on his own.“You, Tero, I cannot read; at least not very well unless I focus. Him?” He gestured to Dinton. “He is an open book to me. Same as my mother and my father.” He looked at Dinton and shook his head. “You should know that by now, my friend.”

Dinton chuckled. “You are right; I should. You have always seemed to know what I was thinking.”

Ga’briyel shrugged and started to collect wood for a fire. “That is because I did.”

Eyebrows went up, and Dinton asked, “Care to explain that?”

“Let us get last meal started first. Then I will answer any questions you have. All right?”

Dinton just nodded.

Shala and Klynn were now grazing along with Kumar, and the three men set about getting the things they would need for last meal. Ga’briyel started the fire, and the other two worked together to make a stew. As they worked, Dinton kept glancing at Ga’briyel, and the latter had to shut off his mind to keep the flood of pictures at bay. Tero simply worked silently and efficiently until the iron pot was hanging over the flames. Then the three settled down around the fire.

“So, this reading minds thing,” Dinton said, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back against his saddlebags.

“I do not read minds; well, not exactly,” Ga’briyel said, imitating his friend’s position. “When I know someone well, it is more like their thoughts project themselves into my mind in pictures. I cannot hear anything, but I have yet to fail in my interpretation of the images. My parents cannot keep anything from me if I chose to use my ability, and neither can you, Dinton. Tero’s thoughts are a little murkier, but every once in a while, I see something clearly.” He smiled and looked at the older man. “Like right now; you do not believe me.”

“You did not have to read my mind to know that, Ga’briyel. One look at my face probably told you.” Tero scoffed before picking up a stick and starting to whittle it.

“All right, then, proof. Is that what you want, Tero?”

“Proof would be good.”

Ga’briyel went silent for a moment, fixed his violet gaze on the older man, and concentrated. He had known Tero for a long time, but he had not gotten to know him very well. The man was twenty years older than Ga’briyel and was not exactly known for his openness. The young Anmah opened his mind and let Dinton’s thoughts fade to the background as he focused on Tero. It did not take long before he smiled again.

“A new sword, your dog, and…iced berries? Really, Tero? You like them that much? I will have to get you some for your next naming-day.”

Tero gasped and shifted away from Ga’briyel.

“How did you do that?”

Ga’briyel just shrugged. “I honestly do not know. I have been able to do it since I was six. I have never figured out how.”

“How well do you need to know someone for it to work?”

“I can see some things after only a few days with a person, but it takes moons to really get much from them. Which is good for me. I cannot imagine what it would be like to see everything that everyone around me was thinking. Besides, I can turn it off when I want to. I really do not need to know what you two are thinking about all the time.”

“That is good to know,” Tero said with a frown. “I would hate to have to curb my thoughts around you.”

Ga’briyel laughed. “Do not worry. I have learned only to use the ability when necessary. For instance, my father has asked me to help him a few times when he thought someone was not being truthful with him. Although I do not need to see thoughts to know when someone is lying. I can feel it.”

“As well he should have,” Tero said, returning to his whittling. “A general should use every resource available to him.”

Dinton had listened to this exchange in silence, stirring the stew occasionally, but now he said, “So, Ga’briyel, tell us about when you found this place.”

Ga’briyel frowned, and Dinton was about to tell him to forget it when the Anmah spoke, his eyes flaring brightly.

“How much do you know of where I came from?”

Dinton glanced at Tero and answered, “Not much. I know that you came from a village in the Kedara Plains and when you were six, you somehow made it to Torkeln where General Mistri found you and took you in as his son. That is about it.”

“And you, Tero, do you know anything else?”

“No. I have heard rumors, but that is all.”

“What kind of rumors?”

The man cocked his head and studied Ga’briyel for a moment. “I have heard that you discovered you were Anmah when you woke from the slaughter of your village by the Asabya, although it took a few more deaths for you to fully understand what had happened to you; that you died several times on your journey, and that there are only a few more ways left that you can die.”

Ga’briyel looked at him in surprise. “All of that is true, although I would say there are more than a few ways I have not died yet.”

“How many times have you died?” Dinton asked.

“Twelve.”

Dinton gulped. “You have not died in the last fifteen years, so you are telling us that you died twelve times between your village and Torkeln?”

Ga’briyel nodded as he watched his friend. He did not need to see his thoughts to know what he was thinking now. The emotions that flitted across his face said it all. Shock, disbelief, sadness, and awe were among the strongest.

“How long did the journey take you?”

“About four moons.”

“Three deaths per moon? How did you handle that? You were only six, for Yisu’s sake.”

“The first three happened in my village after the attack by the Asabya. The rest happened during my trip across the mountains.” Ga’briyel spent the next half hour or so telling the men of his deaths. By the time he finished, the stew was ready, and the three men ate in silence for a while. Then Tero spoke.

“I have a question for you, Ga’briyel. Why are not there thousands of Anmah in the world? If you all live forever, should there not be more of you? As far as I know, there are not even hundreds, much less thousands.”

Ga’briyel smiled. “I asked Ma’ikel that when I was ten. It was then that he told me there are only two ways for an Anmah to die permanently.”

“You can die?” Dinton said incredulously.

“We can. One way is if we choose to do so, and only if it happens by our own hand. Ma’ikel said that most Anmah get tired of eternal life after a few centuries and kill themselves. The other way to die is at the hand of another Anmah. According to Ma’ikel, though, that has never happened. Also, a new Anmah is not created as often as people seem to think. Apparently, I am the first Anmah to appear in more than two hundred years.”

“How many of you are there now?”

“Ma’ikel says there are one hundred forty-three Anmah scattered across Duniya. Ma’ikel is the oldest at three thousand, six hundred and eighty-eight years old, and the next oldest is only a little less than a thousand years old. Most Anmah are three to five hundred years old.”

“Why would they choose to kill themselves?” Dinton frowned.

“Think about it,” Tero said softly. “Seeing everyone you love die over and over and over again. I cannot imagine I could deal with that for very long.”

Ga’briyel nodded. “That is one reason. Another is sheer boredom. After a few hundred years, an Anmah will have pretty much done everything and been everywhere. The only reason Ma’ikel is still around is that he has made the compiling of the history of the Anmah his life’s mission, and, since new things happen in this world every day, he says his mission will never be completed.”

“How does he know what happens in the world?” Tero asked. “I happen to know that there are Anmah as far away as the Mahasagara Ocean, and that is over a thousand leagues from Torkeln.”

“He has got a system of messengers—Anmah, humans, birds, you name it—and he gets reports just about every week from someone.”

“That is amazing.”

“It is,” Ga’briyel agreed. He looked at the other men. “Any more questions?”

“Just one,” Dinton said. “It was the Asabya who killed your people, right?”

“Yes.”

“And that is why you want revenge; I get that, but my question is this: What kind of revenge are you thinking about?”

Ga’briyel’s brow furrowed, and his eyes glowed in the darkness of the night that was now only lit by the dying fire. “I will wipe them from existence, just as they did to my people. When I am finished, the Asabya will only be a memory.”

“All of them? What about the women and children?”

“Did the Asabya spare me? My mother? No! They slaughtered us all! They showed us no mercy, and I will show them none!”

“Ga’briyel--”

“Enough, Dinton! I told you that they were not your concern, and they are not! You do not have to help me; I am perfectly capable of carrying out their destruction by myself.”

“But…children, Ga’briyel!”

“I was a child! I was six years old, and I had a sword driven through my chest! My four-year-old sister Emili was crushed! My sisters, Pala and Ema, were eight and thirteen, and Alabart was fifteen! They all had their bellies split open, but only after my sisters were raped! My friends were trampled, beaten, and stabbed to death! The Asabya did not spare the children of Desa, and I will not spare their children!”

Ga’briyel stood up abruptly and stalked to the stream where he knelt down, placed his fists on his knees, and bowed his head.

Dinton watched his friend carefully and dropped his voice. “Do you think he will really do it, Tero?”

“What? Kill children? I do not know. I know he says he will now, but actually doing it is different. He is angry, and I understand why, but I hope that he comes to realize that children should not be punished for the sins of their fathers.”

“I never knew…” Dinton heaved a sigh. “I never understood what he went through before he came to Torkeln. I have always been amazed by him, but now? Now I am in awe of him.”

“I would never tell him this, but so am I. Most adults would have lost their minds if they had to endure his trials, and he was just a small boy when those horrific things happened to him. I cannot even imagine what it was like.”

Dinton looked back at his friend who had not moved. “I am sure there are not many who can.”

“I am sure there are none who can,” Tero said, pulling his blanket roll from behind him. “He is unique, Dinton, and I am afraid that his uniqueness will force him to be alone much of his life.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because no one can understand him. Not only what has happened to him, but also how he thinks, how he lives. You know as well as I that there has not been a fighter like him in anyone’s memory. General Mistri and his wife have done their best to instill a sense of compassion and humanity in him, but I have a feeling that if he is not careful, his warrior side will override that part of him, and he will lose himself to the fighting.”

“Well,” Dinton said, rolling himself up in his blanket, “hopefully he can find someone who will make sure that does not happen.”

“Someone like a woman?” Tero chuckled.

“Exactly. A good woman could ground him and keep him from losing himself.”

“Ga’briyel Mistri and a woman. It is not easy to picture.”

“Oh, I can picture it just fine. There were plenty of girls in Torkeln who would have cut off their right arm for a night alone with him. He is a good-looking man, you know.”

“I know that. I also know that it never happened. I have never even seen him talk to a girl. His time has always been spent with his training and his books.”

“True, but that does not mean it cannot ever happen.”

Tero chuckled again and settled himself on the ground. “Well, may Yisu make it happen. It would do him good to have someone in his life.”

No more was said, and it was not long before the two men fell asleep, knowing that Ga’briyel would take the first watch.

He was, indeed, wide awake. He had shamelessly watched Dinton’s thoughts, and he was disturbed by them. He knew the girls in Torkeln were interested in him, of course, but he had ignored them. He had always been too busy training and studying to be interested in girls, but now he thought back to the comment his father had made that morning. Did he want love in his life? Would a woman who loved him keep him from turning into someone he would not like? Is that what his mother had meant? He did not want to lose his compassion, but Dinton’s questions about the Asabya children had caused him to do exactly that, and he had responded without thinking.

As he knelt by the stream, he pictured a little girl’s face in front of him and asked himself if he could really cut her down. He closed his eyes and once again he saw the slaughtered bodies in his village, and he wondered if he could really inflict that kind of destruction on women and children, even if they were Asabya. He sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes. What he had said to Dinton was in the heat of the moment, and now that he was calm, he knew that he could not do it. He could not kill a child just because of who his father happened to be. If he could, that would make him no better than the animals who had killed his people, and he was better than them.

With another sigh, he hauled himself to his feet and walked slowly back to the fire. He looked down at the sleeping men and then sat down, wrapped his arms around his knees, and stared into the glowing coals.

He was still there when the sun rose the next morning.