Darkfire: A Book of Underrealm by Garrett Robinson

not so much as flinch at her approach. But after she had stayed silent beside him for a while, the bowyer finally turned.
    “You have never killed a man before?”
    “Nor a woman,” said Loren. “And nor will I.”
    “A curious rule. Not one often found in those traveling the nine lands.”
    “Yet it is mine, and I will not break it.”
    “You loosed arrows at the satyrs easily enough, when they threatened us.”
    “Those were beasts. Not men.”
    Albern fixed her with a hard glare. “They speak in their own tongue, and in the tongue of men. Have you learned their language? For Tiglak took the time to learn yours. They craft tools and weapons of war, no different from us.”
    “But … but they are not human, ” said Loren, confused. “They are goat-men.”
    Albern shook his head. “Many evil men have left scores of dead in their wake, and roused great armies to slaughter countless more, all by saying their foes were less than human. Tis a dangerous attitude, no matter your foe.”
    “You are joking,” said Loren. “Do you not kill animals for your meals? I see little difference.”
    “The day my cattle can plead for mercy, I will stay my blade from their throats. You may think on this further, or not, as you wish. But you did not come here to argue your conscience with me, I suppose.”
    “I … did not,” said Loren, though in truth Albern’s words troubled her greatly. She had not thought to look at the satyrs in such a way, and now her heart was troubled that she did. “I saw you fighting yesterday, with your bow. I have never seen someone shoot in such a way.”  
    Albern smiled and looked down at his boots. “Aye, those in Selvan often say I have skill with a bow, though in my homeland I am no great marksman.”
    “You do not come from Selvan, then? Whence do you hail?”
    “I am a man of Calentin, as your Mystic companion could probably tell you. There we learn the bow from a young age, for our land is hard and alive with danger. We do not use them to slay our enemies from across the battlefield, firing long shafts from on high with longbows. There you must learn to protect yourself from a few feet away, and in the blink of an eye.”
    “Would you teach me?” Loren had not meant to state it so plainly, but could not stop herself from blurting the words. “I want to shoot like that.”
    Albern frowned. “A poor skill it seems, for one determined not to kill.”
    “More than humans may pose a danger. And I do not mean the satyrs. There are bears and lions in the world, and tales tell of other animals far more dangerous. Besides, often I hunt. Being able to shoot so quickly would be a powerful skill when searching for food, especially if the prey spots me and bolts.”
    “That is why you wish to shoot, then?” said Albern, smirking. “To fetch your dinner?”
    Loren’s cheeks burned. “If you do not wish to teach me, you may simply say so.”
    Albern resumed his watch, surveying the mountains. “I am hired as a guide, Loren, not an instructor. I have concerns aplenty without spending time to show you my warcraft.”
    There came a soft plink, plink, upon the ground. Loren’s eyes fell toward the sound. Albern, too, looked down, to see three gold weights at his feet. They raised their eyes to find Jordel standing nearby, two fingers still buried in his purse.
    “I can pay more, if you think it fair. Not often will she have the chance to learn from one of the famed archers of Calentin.”
    Loren flushed and nodded her gratitude. She had not thought the Mystic was listening, but had to remind herself that Jordel often saw and heard far more than he let on.
    Albern stooped to gather the coins, then stuffed them into his cloak pocket. “Tis a fair enough payment, though I cannot watch and teach at once.”  
    Jordel fixed Loren with a strange look. “I will take the watch. For I would much like to see Loren learn this skill. And besides, I have exhausted my own student for now.”
    Loren