“Nothing to worry about,” the beastmaster said. “Just a cub missing her mother.”
“What happened to the mother?”
“Who knows? The hunters who sold her to us did not say. A goruk might have gotten her. Or a peibasa flock. Perhaps one of her own kin wanted her territory. It matters not. Now the cub is here, and she is fed and safe.”
I had no idea what was making that disturbing noise, but I knew what a goruk was. That beast was about twelve feet long and weighed close to twenty-five hundred pounds, with a body that resembled a giant sloth and overly long limbs armed with steak-knife-sized claws. The goruks were excellent climbers. They scaled near-vertical surfaces. Unlike a sloth, they were fast and carnivorous, and their mouths would give anyone nightmares.
The peibasas weren’t much cuter either. They were about eight feet long and looked like velociraptors sheathed in owl feathers. They stood on four legs equipped with talons, had long necks and vicious teeth, and they flew around on oversized wings. The peibasas hunted in packs. Whatever the mother of the cub was, she had to have been large, because they usually went for sizable prey.
“Do you think the hunters might have killed the mother?” I asked.
“It would take many great hunters. The men who sold her to us were few and not that great.”
We passed by a cage. The man inside it grinned at me. I took another step.
Wait, what?
I stopped and leaned back to look.
The man from the Garden. What the actual fuck?
He sat on the floor of the cage, one knee bent, foot planted on the floor, his arm resting on his knee. No cloak this time, just a jerkin, pants, and boots, all in charcoal gray. He was lean and long legged. His light brown hair looked a bit disheveled, and a short brown beard traced his jaw. He’d been clean-shaven in the Garden, and I was pretty sure a man couldn’t go from smooth jaw to a beard that full in two weeks. And it did not match his eyebrows.
He was smiling at me like a happy wolf panting in the forest.
I pointed at him.
“That one is not merchandise,” the beastmaster said.
“He is an intruder,” the guard told me. “We found him in the courtyard in the middle of the night.”
Aha. “But he didn’t steal anything.”
“He didn’t. We found him before he could try,” the guard confirmed.
Crap. I’d worked too hard on making friends with Clan Harzi. I would need them later. I had to fix this right now.
I turned to the beastmaster. “This man is dangerous.”
“Him?” The beastmaster eyed the man in the cage.
“He is more than he seems. You caught him because he wanted to be caught. I don’t know what his purpose is, but it’s not good. He’s a lord. Killing or detaining him will bring trouble to the clan.”
The beastmaster sighed.
“Why should we believe you?” the guard asked.
“No one allies with a clan just for a mordok,” the beastmaster said. “She will want more from us. If we are harmed, she cannot benefit.”
“You are wise, nura.” I bowed my head.
The beastmaster sighed again. Harzi culture dictated that thieves were to be made example of. More, he had broken into their clanhouse, which insulted them and damaged their reputation. They couldn’t just let him go. They couldn’t keep him either.
“You said he wasn’t merchandise, but may I buy him?”
The beastmaster raised his thick eyebrows. This was the best solution to the problem. The clan would profit from his presence, which would wipe away the black eye on their honor.
“The price will have to be fair,” the beastmaster warned. We both knew it was another favor to the clan, but proprieties had to be observed.
