Lords of Grass and Thunder by Curt Benjamin Read Free Book Online Page B

at his brother, but he couldn’t quite make sense of what Bekter wanted from him. He’d heard Tayy’s answer, however; it seemed easiest just to repeat it. “Unhurt. Yes, of course.” He’d rather be dead than owing a life debt to the man he planned to murder. But he couldn’t tell Bekter that. As the lethargy of near-death passed off him, he realized it wasn’t really true either. Better the prince had been in his place, and Qutula’s own shot missed—how unfortunate!—but being alive was always better than being dead.
    More of their companions had joined them, Mangkut and Duwa adding their worried questions to Bekter’s. Altan, last to arrive, uttered only a muttered curse as he examined the dead beast. Silence descended quickly, however. They seemed to be waiting not just for the obvious explanations but for some outburst of gratitude—effusive thanks, praise for the hunter’s keen eye and steady hand. Death had brushed Qutula too closely for manufactured emotions, however, and his real ones were scarcely fit for public display.
    When the silence had stretched beyond enduring, Jumal took a step closer to the bear and examined the fletching on the arrow.
    “A fine shot, Prince Tayy. And a fine trophy. Look at his face.” He pointed to the scar on the creature’s muzzle. “He’s fought men before and won. He would have killed Qutula, surely.”
    His laugh edged with the danger averted, Tayy responded with bravado. “Better to face a bear than to suffer the wrath of my uncle if I had lost a guardsman within shouting distance of his own tents.” He might have meant any of them gathered there, but they all understood the implication. Mergen would not suffer the loss of his blanket-son easily.
    You’re wrong, Qutula thought. That bear’s teeth and claws would have freed my father from the troubling presence of a son he has never wanted. But the fizz in his blood of life or death was calming. He was starting to think more clearly again. He might use this to his advantage.
    “My prince.” He dropped to one knee in front of his father’s heir and bowed his head, though it was a hard thing to do with the imagined weight of the prince’s booted foot upon his neck. “I owe you my life. Let me stand between you and your enemies, let my breast be your shield and my arm be your defense.”
    A ruse, Qutula thought, as the emerald green bamboo snake painted on his skin bit deep. But pain hot as a brand burned straight through his heart.
    “You have always been my strong right arm.” Tayy blushed, and tugged at his sleeve. “Now get up. We’ve been friends too long for so much formality.”
    Qutula blinked the sweat from his eyes, saw guilt trouble the prince’s brow. Interesting. He could use the day to his advantage. Qutula would not sully the bond of an anda with a false pledge, but Tayy must surely take him up now as closely as a sworn blood brother. There would be many opportunities to keep his promise, with less risk of discovery. He remained on one knee, therefore, pressing his advantage.
    “I would be first at your side,” he insisted with a pointed glance at Jumal, who with the rest of their companions had set themselves to the task of butchering the great beast for its hide and meat. “I would offer my own breast to the arrow meant for yours, my throat to the tooth bared at your throat.” To allay suspicion. The lady was not pleased with him, however. Blood pooled in his vision and he felt a damp trickle from his nose.
    Someone squelched a snicker. Qutula had been thinking about the bear, trying to control the pain his lady sent him at his apparent betrayal. He’d forgotten the damned dogs. It wasn’t Tayy who had to worry about the bared tooth. He couldn’t stand and he was making a laughingstock of himself in the eyes of the prince’s followers, and his own. Tayy seemed not to notice, however, only studying with concern the sudden flush that had suffused his features.
    I’ll explain, he