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the fang, young man.”

Lucian held it out, but the old man made no move to take it. He extended his palm, which became wrapped in an aura of blue light. Lucian’s eyes widened at the unexpected streaming of magic, but the man was not attacking him. He was drawing the fang toward him – slowly and carefully, so that it landed bottom-side down. Once he grasped it, he inspected it all around, before giving a curt nod.

“Unspoiled,” he said, approvingly. “They often bite themselves before the moment of death. It’s as if they know why we hunt them.”

He nodded at one of the guards, who took the fang and ran back toward the gate.

“Hey,” Lucian said. “That was mine.”

“Are you saying you wish to have your gift back?”

Gift? Now, Lucian was in an awkward position. It would look bad if he asked for it back. And what would he do with it, anyway?

“It’s yours,” Lucian said. “Now, I need—”

The man held up a hand, cutting him off. “Talk less, son. You’ll dig less holes that way.”

He nodded to his guards, who seemed to relax a bit. The only one who didn’t was the tall, lead guard, who stood closer.

“The gate guard told me you killed two wyverns,” the long-haired man said.

Lucian nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“But I only counted one fang.”

“I left the rest for the one who helped me.”

The old man seemed to stiffen at that, and his face became strangely sad. “Serah, you mean.”

“Yes.”

He gave a chuckle. “She made out like a bandit, then. She probably followed you to see how the fight would go, expecting you to fall and take your things. She must have been very desperate to do that.”

“I had nothing to take. I think she was just trying to help.”

“She would do that, too. If she felt the inclination.” The old man scrutinized him. “Your story will be verified, of course. Our scouts have already reported the landslide at the Snake Pass. Now, you didn’t happen upon these dead wyverns on the way down here, did you?”

“Of course not,” Lucian said, hotly. “I killed them myself.”

“Not an easy thing to do, that. Our greatest warriors have trouble with even one wyvern, though you rarely find one on its own. The husband and wife always hunt together.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“I’ll tell you what,” the old man said. “The truth will be known in time. Until then, I have a cot and a hut for you. And yes, three square meals a day.” He held up a finger. “On one condition.”

Lucian arched an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“Two conditions, actually. That your worth is tested by becoming one of my watchmen.”

The men around him stared at their leader in shock, the big guard even shooting Lucian a scowl. The old man carried on, regardless.

“And the other condition is that you take a bath and shave that god-awful beard.”

Lucian couldn’t help but smile. “Done. And done.”

“Very well. Then welcome to Kiro Village. There is one last thing: our Elder of Medicine needs to check you for signs of fraying. But you don’t have the look of a fray to me.”

“Elder,” the black guard said. “Is it really wise to give one so young so much responsibility as a watchman, especially given the dubious nature of his story?”

“If he’s lying, then that will become obvious quite soon, and in an embarrassing way, I imagine. Any man who can take down two wyverns and live to tell the tale should wipe the floor with any of my warriors.” The leader shot a glance at the guard. “Even you, Captain Fergus.”

Fergus’s face became a mask of anger, while his meaty hand tightened on his shockspear. No, Lucian did not like that. Not at all. But he didn’t want to correct the Elder.

“Come,” the Elder said. “My name is Ytrib, the High Elder of Kiro.” He turned to Fergus. “See that he’s fed and kept separate for now. In two hours, he can give his Accounting.”

Accounting? Lucian didn’t like the sound of that. But it wasn’t as if he had a choice.

Fergus clenched his jaw, but in the end, nodded his head regally. “Of course, Elder Ytrib.”

When Elder Ytrib turned back for the gate and the other guards followed, Fergus held back for a moment, staring daggers at Lucian. “I’ve got my eye on you, Off-Worlder. Perhaps he believes your story, but I’m not so easily swayed.”

“You can verify my story yourself. Go to the Snake Pass and you’ll find the wyvern bodies on the rocks.”

“I need not do that,” Fergus said, with a dangerous smile. “As captain of the Kiro Watch, I’ll be personally responsible for your training. I doubt you could last five minutes against even the least of my warriors.” He eyed Lucian disdainfully. “You have the look of softness about you. And soft men don’t survive Psyche long.”

With a smug expression, he turned and marched back toward the gate, where the other guards were waiting to escort Lucian.

Lucian sighed. Things just couldn’t get better without getting worse.

6

Lucian walked through the gates of Kiro Village to find something far from expected.

These were no mere cave-dwellers. There were buildings, several dozen of them straddling two sides of a deep, underground stream. Most of those buildings were of mud-toned brick, but there were also larger tents and pavilions, as well as hollowed spaces and tunnels in the cavern’s sides. Fires and torches lent an orangey ambiance, though that light was not enough to completely conquer the gloom. In the cool, damp air wafted the aroma of roasting meat and spices, setting Lucian’s stomach to growling. The stream ran the length of the cavern, deeper into the mountain, its source apparently a spring. The village lay on both sides of that stream, on various cliffs and tiers, connected by a bewildering network of platforms, ladders, boardwalks, and rope bridges. A particularly long rope bridge connected both sides of the village that were separated by the stream.

At the very back of the cave was a

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