He found them at the top.
Two men, crouched behind a low fold of rock, watching the spring below. One was speaking to the other in a quiet, old dialect a southern tongue, full of consonants that common speech had worn smooth centuries ago. The other was nodding.
Kael moved.
He came up behind the second man without a sound. He brought the shadowsteel blade up under the man’s jaw.
“Don’t move,” Kael said in common. “Don’t call out. You call out, I cut his throat first and yours second. Tell your friend to put his hands flat on the stone.”
The first man went very still. He hadn’t turned around. He couldn’t see Kael. But he’d heard the voice and understood the cold metal, and he wasn’t stupid.
He put his hands flat on the stone. Then he turned his head, slowly.
He was older than Kael ex
