Free The Heroes by Joe Abercrombie

can kill when you please. Anyone I call my friend … let me know before you give ’em a messy death. I’d hate for you to slaughter Prince Calder by accident.’
    Stranger-Come-Knocking looked around. ‘You are Calder?’
    That awkward moment wondering whether to deny it. ‘I am.’
    ‘Bethod’s second son?’
    ‘The same.’
    He slowly nodded his monstrous head, long hair swaying. ‘Bethod was a great man.’
    ‘A great man for getting other men to fight for him.’ Tenways sucked his rotten teeth and spat one more time. ‘Not much of a fighter himself.’
    The giant’s voice had suddenly softened again. ‘Why is everyone so bloodthirsty this side of the Crinna? There is more to life than fighting.’ He leaned down and dragged up his cloak between two fingers. ‘I will be at the place agreed upon, Black Dow. Unless … any of the little men wish to wrestle?’ Golden, and Ironhead, and Tenways all took their turns to peer off into the furthest corners of the stable.
    Calder was used to being scared out of his wits, though, and met the giant’s eye with a smile. ‘I would, but I make a point of never stripping unless there are women present. Which is a shame, actually, because I have an almighty spot on my back that I think would quite impress everyone.’
    ‘Oh, I cannot wrestle with you, son of Bethod.’ The giant might even have had a knowing smirk of his own as he turned away. ‘You are made for other things.’ And he threw his cloak over his scarred shoulder and stooped under the high lintel, the Carls swinging the doors shut on the gust of wind that blew in behind him.
    ‘He seems a good sort,’ said Calder, brightly. ‘Nice of him not to show off the scars on his cock.’
    ‘Fucking savages!’ cursed Tenways, which was rich coming from him.
    ‘Greatest warrior in the world,’ scoffed Golden, though he hadn’t done much scoffing while the giant was in the room.
    Dow rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. ‘The dead know I’m no fucking diplomat, but I’ll take the allies I can get. And a man that size’ll stop a lot of arrows.’ Tenways and Golden had themselves an arse-licking chuckle, but Calder saw beyond the joke. If the Bloody-Nine was still alive, maybe a man that size might stop him too. ‘You all know your tasks, eh? Let’s get to ’em.’
    Ironhead and Golden gave each other a deadly glare on the way out. Tenways spat at Calder’s feet but he only grinned back, promising himself he’d get the last laugh as the ugly old bastard shambled into the evening.
    Dow stood, blood still dotting the ground from the tip of his middle finger, watching the doors as they were closed. Then he gave a sigh. ‘Feuding, feuding, always bloody feuding. Why can no one just get on, eh, Calder?’
    ‘My father used to say, “Point three Northmen the same way, they’ll be killing each other before you can order the charge.’”
    ‘Hah! He was a clever bastard, Bethod, whatever else he was. Couldn’t stop the warring, though, once he’d started.’ Dow frowned at his blood-daubed palm, working the fingers. ‘Once your hands get bloody it ain’t so easy to get ’em clean. The Dogman told me that. My hands been bloody all my life.’ Calder flinched as Splitfoot tossed something into the air, but it was only a cloth. Dow snatched it out of the darkness and started winding it around his cut hand. ‘Guess it’s a bit late to clean ’em now, eh?’
    ‘It’ll just have to be more blood,’ said Splitfoot.
    ‘I reckon.’ Dow wandered into one of the empty stalls, tipped his head back, rolled his eyes to the ceiling and winced. A moment later Calder heard the sound of his piss spattering the straw. ‘There … we … go.’
    If the aim was to make him feel even more insignificant, it worked. He’d been half-expecting them to murder him. Now it seemed they couldn’t be bothered, and that pricked at Calder’s pride. ‘Got any orders for me?’ he snapped.
    Dow glanced over his shoulder. ‘Why?