White Road

his mouth with it as he struggled up to his feet. Somehow he’d managed to keep agrasp on Sebrahn, if not his sword. Right now Sebrahn was the more important of the two.
    “If your tayan’gil makes that noise again we will kill you all,” the man called back to them.
    Noise?
Seregil thought.
If that wasn’t his killing song, then what in Bilairy’s name was it?
Something about the man’s accent caught Seregil’s attention again, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
    The same voice called out, “Put down your weapons.”
    Alec drew his bow and let fly in that direction. It was made clear once again that their attackers could see somehow; an answering shaft narrowly missed his head.
    Alec ducked, then yelled, “You’re a poor archer, you cowardly bastard!”
    “You would do well not to offend those who hold your lives in their hands, ya’shel.”
    “What Aurënfaie ambushes another, except ones without honor?” Seregil called back hoarsely. “What kind of man hides behind magic rather than face his enemy?” That was said tongue-in-cheek, of course. He attacked from cover any chance he got. But the taunt had the desired effect.
    A rider came forward on a white horse, keeping his distance. Seregil recognized him by the wolf-face mask he wore under his fur-lined hood. “So you didn’t die, that day.”
    There hadn’t been time during their last meeting to get a good look at him. Seregil now saw that he sat tall in the saddle and held a long sword in his right hand, pointed at the ground for now.
    The man ignored him, looking instead at Alec. “Yes, I can see that you are the one, Ireya’s bastard child.”
    “What did you say?” Alec’s voice was low and dangerous.
    “Bilairy’s Balls!” Seregil murmured, putting all the pieces together, including the archaic way the man spoke. “They’re Hâzadriëlfaie.”
    Other riders appeared on their white mounts, surrounding them. Seregil counted only six, but he thought he saw more through the shifting snow. “What do you want with us?” he demanded. He couldn’t see anyone’s face; they all worethose masks with the slotted eyes, but each of a different animal or bird.
    “Put your weapons down,” Wolf Face ordered again.
    “Why should we?” Alec retorted angrily. “You’ll kill us either way.”
    The man said nothing, but two archers appeared beside him on foot. One wore the fox mask Seregil had seen last time, and the other was wearing a lynx mask. Both had arrows set to their bowstrings.
    “Can I at least have your name, friend?” asked Seregil. “I always like to know who’s trying to kill me.”
    Wolf Face turned his way. “I am not your friend. You are nothing to me. Neither is your Tírfaie companion. No man who willingly keeps such low company matters to us.”
    “I think he just insulted both of us,” Micum muttered.
    “This Tír is my friend,” Alec shot back. “And this Aurënfaie is my talímenios. If you’re so superior, why are you afraid to show me your face? Where’s your honor?”
    The tall man didn’t take off the wolf mask, but he pushed back his hood. His long dark hair was streaked with grey.
    “How do you know my mother’s name?” Alec demanded.
    “I knew your mother well, before she betrayed her people,” Wolf Face told him.
    “Are you the ones who hunted her down?”
    “Her own kin took care of that. I hunted your father, and you. It seems to be my destiny. And now I hunt your tayan’gil.”
    “Tayan’gil?”
    “That little one.”
    Seregil had heard something like that before.
Tayan
was a word the old grandmothers sometimes used. It meant “white” or “silver”—he couldn’t remember which. And
gil?
He knew that one as well as he did his own name; it meant “blood.” White blood? Silver blood?
    The leader pointed to Sebrahn. “The Tír magic can’t hide him from us. But you must realize that, now that it’s wearing off.”
    There was no running now, and even if they could, it would mean leaving Micum behind. That pretty much narrowed their options down to one.
    He held up his free hand, hoping Alec wouldn’t shoot him next. “If we give you the tayan’gil, will you let us go?”
    He could tell from the corner of his eye that Alec had turned to him, and for once he was thankful he couldn’t see the expression on his talí’s face.
    Wolf Face didn’t answer, just waved a hand to someone Seregil couldn’t see through the snow. The strange sound was very loud this time. It was