Traitors Gate

11

At Argent Hall they told Joss that Captain Anji had last been seen at Storos-on-the-Water, where a training camp had been set up. At Storos-on-the-Water they told him Anji had ridden back to Olossi, to his main encampment, and here Joss and Scar flew. It was difficult for Joss to make sense of all the new building around Olossi, especially since the lower town had been so badly damaged in last year's battle. More walls were going up beyond the inner city, like the rings of an onion, and beyond the reconstructed Crow's Gate there was yet a new walled neighborhood, men and women raising walls and gates. Farther afield, West Track was spanned by staggered checkpoints out to the limit of Joss's vision.

Two mey from the city, fields formerly used as pasture had been walled off and divided into quarters like one of Kotaru's enclosures, two lined with neat rows of tents for barracks and storehouses and two wide-open fields for training. Joss circled as men paced through drills below. Dust puffed under their feet. Their enthusiastic shouts filled the air. They were two cohorts at least, and he spotted a third cohort riding a mey away to the south along the skirts of the Lend, on some kind of training race. How had Anji gotten so many horses? A watchtower sentry flagged him, and he pulled an answering flag and sent Scar down.

A sergeant — the Qin called them 'chiefs' — came out to greet him respectfully, a sober man whose name he could not recall. 'Captain Anji went to fetch the mistress out in the Barrens. A full turn of the moon has passed since the birth. He can safely greet the baby, make sure it's healthy, not tainted by demons.'

Joss blinked. 'Newborn babies can be tainted by demons?'

'Hu! Surely you Hundred folk know that, Marshal! Demons leave a particular kind of blemish, sickliness, deformities. Don't you rid yourselves of demons?'

'Rid ourselves?'

'Kill them. They're a danger to the tribe.'

The word did not at first register; then Joss lifted a hand in a warding gesture, surprised to find himself trembling. Kill? 'I should have been present, for I stand as uncle to the child. Best I go quickly.'

If not too late.

He flew to the Barrens, but in the settlement now being called Astafero, he learned that the captain's party had taken ship. It was not until his questioning elicited a great deal of commentary about the darling baby and how the captain had carried the child his very own self onto the boat that the edge of anxiety softened. Weariness hammered him; he staggered to Naya Hall and commandeered a cot in the darkest corner of a tent barracks. Of course Anji would have done no such horrible thing. Nor would Mai ever have allowed it!

How long he slept he did not know, but he was roused by Siras sticking his head past the curtain slung up to give privacy.

'Greetings of the day, Marshal. I mean, I should say, Commander. A bold and bright Wakened Wolf it is, even if you look more like a resting-day festival cake the worse for being nibbled raw by hungry mice.'

Joss rubbed sandy eyes. 'What in the hells are you doing here, Siras? You don't even have an eagle.' The young man grinned so wide that Joss blinked, thinking there was too much light in this dim corner. 'She came back, did she?'

'While you were flown north to Clan Hall, Commander. They sent me here to Naya Hall to get a bit of retraining, me not having been in harness for over a year.'

Joss sat up, blankets twisting around his torso. He'd had the sense to strip before falling onto the cot, although he had no clear memory of having done so. His clothes were, as usual, scattered every which way on the ground. 'Aui! My mouth is like a swamp. How early is it?'

'Midday. You slept an entire night and half the day. There's a dram of cordial waiting for you in the mess tent along with porridge, if you want it.'

'Aren't you on duty?'

'Arda assigned me to you.'

'Seeing as you know how to handle me.'

Siras's grin popped again. 'Something like that. Let me shake out your clothes, Commander. There are scorpions around here. No one leaves their gear on the ground.' He tossed him a clean kilt. 'There's a trough out back, if you want to wash.'

Joss wrapped the kilt and found his way to a roofless enclosure where a trough was filled with clean water. The enclosure was rigged with canvas for a modicum of privacy. He dipped in a

bucket and dumped its contents over his head. The cold braced him for a second round. This time, as the water gushed down his bare chest, from behind came a burst of giggling. He spun to discover four women of varying ages peering in where there was a gap in the canvas walls. Two wore reeve leathers, and the other two — the hells! — there were four others, each carrying a basket or buckets.

Cursed if the oldest didn't start singing a famous line from the tale of the Reckless Farmer — she could not help but admire his plough so straight and strong — and one of the reeves, because unencumbered, sketched the accompanying gestures with her hands, nothing fancy in her execution but everyone knew them and, truly, the entire song was so obscene…

'Heya! No loitering!' The reeves and hirelings scurried away, chortling and singing snatches of song. He was scorched he was blushing so hard as that gods-rotted trainer Arda sauntered up to the gap and looked in.

She rolled her eyes. T should have known it would be you.'

'The hells, Arda!'

She laughed as he checked to make sure that the kilt, now damp and clinging to his' hips, thighs, and groin, had not slipped. 'Don't pretend you don't enjoy it. So. You've become acting commander of Clan Hall. If you can bear to get dressed, Kesta's here. She brought a Qin soldier found at Copper Hall. You know anything about a Qin scout gotten all the way to Nessumara?'

'That'll be Tohon.' His embarrassment sloughed off as quickly as the desert air sucked away the moisture on his skin. 'That's unexpectedly good news.'

Siras appeared with his clothes, and he dressed and met Kesta and Tohon in the mess hall. The reeve and the scout were talking like old comrades as they measured cups of cordial.

'Careful, Tohon,' he said as he came up. 'Kesta can outdrink every reeve I know.'

The scout rose to greet him in the Qin manner, forearm clapped to forearm, like two rams bashing.

'Ouch,' said Kesta.

Joss winced and sat, rubbing his arm, as Tohon grinned. Siras set down a tray laden with cordial and porridge and slid in beside Joss, staring wide-eyed at the Qin scout.

'So they found you, eh?' Joss asked.

'So they did,' said Tohon with a friendly nod at Kesta. 'Picked me up at Copper Hall. Hu! That was a thing to see, I'll tell you, the way that river got so wide and then split into so many tiny channels. I've never seen — what is it you call it?'

'Ocean,' said Kesta.

'Plains of water. What a sight! Then we flew a few circuits around the delta, to observe the army's positions. I'd say they mean to attack along the two causeways. Not sure that's wise, myself. Good archers — or reeves from the air — could pick them off as they march.'

'What of the others who were with you, Tohon?'

Kesta replied. 'We were able to strike a deal with that gods-rotted festering old Silver to place the other people from Tohon's party and the children they'd rescued on one of his vessels, sailing for Zosteria.' Her glare resembled that of an eagle. 'It's a cursed dangerous thing for reeves to be owing favors like that. Not just to a Silver. To anyone.'

'Does he want something besides coin?'

'He wants a lass from Olossi,' Kesta said sourly. 'I'm supposed to haul her to Nessumara.'

'I wasn't consulted about this!'

'Copper Hall agreed. Then told me to do it, since I was flying down here anyway. Can we refuse?'

'Eiya! I suppose we're committed now. What the Ri Amarah do is no business of ours, and he did help us get Tohon's party out of the reach of the army.'

'Where does the Star of Life army come from?' asked Tohon.

'Walshow,' said Kesta.

Joss shook his head. 'I think it started in Iliyat with Lord Radas, who expanded his influence north into Herelia first and then expanded into Teriayne and the highlands and set up a major base in Walshow. You don't know this, Tohon, but the region of Herelia has been closed to us reeves for twenty years. We no longer know what goes on there. It's all of a piece, isn't it?' He shook his head as that troublesome pain began its familiar throb in his temples. 'Bit by bit Radas has been placing his traps, eating the land, and surrounding us. And us never noticing because it came on so slow. What fools we've been!'

His voice had raised, but only a pair of hirelings loitering at the big tent's entrance turned to look as he grabbed his cup and downed the cordial in a gulp.

'It's strong,' warned Kesta.

As the taste stung in his throat, he started to hack. 'Too… late!'

'Best you eat some porridge, Commander,' said Siras. Cursed if the lad didn't sound like an old auntie cajoling a stubborn child.

Tohon regarded Joss steadily. The Qin scout was perhaps ten years older than Joss, and his years had weathered him more. 'I'd like to reach Captain Anji, Commander,' and so would you, I wager. He's gone by ship for Olossi.'

'I need to meet with Arda and the senior reeves, and then I'll fly you over the water. We'll wait for the captain in Olossi.'

'That would suit me.'

'It would suit me as well, for Scar will need a hunt and a rest.'

'Joss,' said Kesta, 'I want to see that Arkest gets released for a hunt. Do you need me?'

'No. I'll fill you in on the rest when we are back at Clan Hall.'

She left.

Joss set into the porridge, so hungry he thought he would faint if he did not eat, and his head was swimming from the effects of the cordial. 'Siras, find Arda and the senior reeves.'

'Yes, Commander!' The young man chased away the hirelings who had lingered by the entrance to stare.

This time of day, it was warm under the canvas even though the changing season brought a cooler tinge to the air. Tohon calmly ate his nai porridge as Joss dug into a second bowl. Hitting bottom, he sat back.

'Tohon, is it true the Qin kill any newborn babies among them who are tainted by demons?'

'Hu! A strange question to ask.'

'I beg your pardon. Perhaps I'm being rude.'

'It is something we don't commonly speak of, that's true, although it's known to all. Demons are dangerous creatures. Still, my youngest son never rode as a soldier for having a twisted foot that he was born with. The elders of our clan said at his birth that he was demon-tainted. We ought to have killed him, but he was such a beautiful child, quite the most beautiful of any born to my wife and me. She loved him for that twisted foot, because she knew it meant he would have to stay close by her. Not that he can't ride as well as anyone, it's just walking that he'll always do with a limp. In the end we lost one boy to the wars and another

rides in the east with the army still, so it's hard to say if he'll live or die, if he'll ever marry and sire children. And our daughter, of course, her we lost to the water spirits and my poor wife of grief soon after. So I'm not sorry for having taken the risk of sparing the other one.' Abruptly he looked up at Joss, his gaze steady. 'You saw Zubaidit, Kesta says, but what about Shai?'

Joss shrugged. 'She said he walked with her into the army's encampment. That's all I know.'

Like most of the Qin, Tohon was not a demonstrative man. He merely nodded, but Joss suspected deeper currents ran beneath.

Arda walked briskly into the mess tent, followed by Miyara, the reeve who, with Joss, had witnessed the birth of Mai's child.

He greeted both women, then turned to Miyara. 'The baby got off safely?'

'Atani?' Her smile lit her face. 'A sweet child, very small, mind you, but healthy. He was feted with a feast and songs, very proper, although done in the Qin manner. I don't mind saying that they eat terribly strange food.' She glanced at Tohon. 'Begging your pardon, ver. Just not what we are accustomed to.'

Tohon had a genial smile. 'Hard to offend me, verea. Food is food, different in different lands. As long as I'm not hungry, I'm content.'

Both the women studied him with that look women got, Joss had observed, when a man surprised them in a way that pleased them. It was different from an admiring stare for good looks or an attractive body.

An older male reeve hurried in, puffing as though he'd been running. 'Heya, Arda! I got the flag. Marshal Joss!'

'Etad. Greetings of the day to you. Please sit down.'

'I will. You're back from the north. What news?'

Siras entered with more cups and a pitcher of cordial. After he'd poured around, Joss leaned forward on his elbows. 'I've agreed to stand as commander over Clan Hall until the emergency has passed-'

'Or we're all dead,' said Arda with a snort.

'Or we're all dead,' agreed Joss, 'or some other calamity befalls us. In any case, I'm asking you three as representatives of Naya Hall if you'll accept Verena as acting marshal of Argent Hall for now, and with you, Arda, and Miyara and Etad to stand for Naya Hall as a daughter hall to Argent Hall.'

'That goes against tradition,' said Miyara, 'although in the tales-'

'Yes,' said Joss, 'we already discussed appointing an ordinand or a hieros.'

Miyara chuckled. 'There's some appeal in the latter. Yet in days like this, with that which ought to face upward facing downward, maybe a fawkner as marshal is not such a bad thing.'

Etad nodded. 'Rena stuck it out through the months we suffered under Yordenas. She never truckled to him or his lackeys. Yet neither did she beat herself bloody trying to go against them when it would have done no good.'

Joss knew Arda cursed well because of all the years they'd served together at Clan Hall. He could see a grin forming on her face.

'And also,' she began, 'since your mention of a hieros naturally brought devouring to mind-'

'Don't say it!'

She laughed and did not say one word about who had tumbled whom and what had transpired after. He plunged into a discussion of how soon the Naya Hall reeves should start being sent out on patrol with more experienced reeves, and how else they might be used to free up experienced reeves for more difficult tasks, and how Clan Hall was going to attempt to create larger units for coordinated ventures.

'Reeves were never meant to be soldiers,' said Joss, 'nor is it anything I wish for, but we can't exactly ask that army's leave to come stand for judgment at our assizes. Nor can we stand aside and do nothing.'

They were thoughtful. They had good ideas, and they laid them out sensibly. They understood how bad things were in the north, and how what was bad would overflow to flood them. He was relieved when they had said all there was to say for the moment. He and Tohon went to the parade ground and he whistled down Scar and got him harnessed while the Qin soldier watched. Joss was restless; he needed to do something, to do more.

Zubaidit had walked into danger just as Marit had that day more than twenty years ago when she'd been killed by outlaws. It was the Hieros and Captain Anji who had loosed Bai on this impossible mission to kill Lord Radas. Aui! She'd gone gladly enough. She wasn't his to fret over. Even so, he could not stop thinking of how sweet she was to hold in his arms. Yet when he

remembered kissing her, he fell also into erratic flashes of memory of nights fireside with Marit, only a blanket between them and the earth. Had he really been so young once? Such a cursed innocent fool? Would he ever stop dreaming of her, seeing her trapped in the body she'd worn then, the body and spirit he had loved in a way he could never hope to find again?

Scar chirped interrogatively, catching his mood. Joss tugged on the last hook and buckle and stepped out to join Tohon.

'You're brooding,' said the scout.

'So I am. I like to be aloft.'

'Hard to stand and watch,' agreed Tohon. 'A man gets used to riding on at the break of day. Comes to think that movement and noise is where life is, when after all there's life in stillness and quiet, too.'

'Wise words, my friend. Listen. We'll have a pair of days to wait, and I am sure you will want to report immediately to whichever chief commands the militia camp, but if you don't have to go there straightaway I might as well let you know I'm thinking of taking a turn out to the temple of the Merciless One first.'

Tohon grinned. 'Don't mind if I do. No hurry for me. I don't belong to the captain's regular troop.'

'You don't?'

'No. I was transferred over to Captain Anji's command in the Mariha princedoms. Before that, I served Commander Beje.'

'Ah.' There was a useful piece of information, all unwittingly spilled. But after all, did a man as canny as Tohon ever reveal anything he did not mean to? Hard to know.

'Need we bring gifts or fripperies or coin to the temple?' Tohon continued.

'Neh. It's shameful to offer coin for what's freely given.'

'Then how do they live, there in the temple?'

'Folk offer tithes to all the temples. Every young person who has celebrated the feast of their Youth's Crown serves a year as apprentice in one temple or another, and their family pays a tithe to feed and clothe them. A few serve longer, in the manner of debt slaves. A very few serve their entire lives.'

'Like Zubaidit,' observed Tohon.

'Why do you say so?' asked Joss sharply. 'Her contract was bought out.'

Tohon stroked the straggle of hairs that served him as a beard. That part of the contract paid for in coin. But surely it's easier to

count sheep on a distant hill grown dense with snowflower bushes than to measure the extent of a person's service to a god.' His gaze was easy but his understanding keen. 'She's already taken, my friend.'

Joss flushed. 'I didn't say-'

Tohon chuckled. 'Not in words. But I can judge the lay of the land pretty well.'

Joss scratched behind an ear, a nervous habit he thought he'd lost as a child. 'You traveled with her a fair way. Did she ever — ah-' The hells! He sounded like a love-struck youth! Wheedling after any mention of the object of desire. And her almost young enough to be his own daughter had he married and begotten a child by the age of twenty, as most folk did. As Tohon no doubt had done.

'It's true we talked about many things and many people. She's a cursed interesting woman to talk to. But she never once mentioned you.'

'I'm put in my place.'

'Maybe. But I thought it strange.'

'You thought what strange?'

'That she never once mentioned you, for you're an important man whose acts all of Olossi has reason to be grateful for. It either means she never thought of you at all, or that she thought of you enough to deliberately not speak of you.'

After three days slogging in the mire — he lost two men to sand traps and one to snakebite — Arras pulled his men back to the main encampment at Saltow and left them to clean their filthy gear while he and Sergeant Giyara, in all their mud, reported to Commander Hetti.

'We probed as well as we could.' He stood in the sun, because he dared not smear with mud the commander's fancy rug. 'Barriers have been erected on the eastern causeway in four spots.'

'That won't be a problem.' Hetti lounged on a field couch under an awning. 'The question before us is how are we to defend the perimeter once the city is ours? How impenetrable are the wetlands?'

'We didn't penetrate to the worst areas. Where you think there's firm ground there's a sucking mire, and where it looks unstable might well be the only safe path. I lost three men, in a

cautious foray against no resistance. We have no local coopera-tors, but we'll need guides to be effective. Or we'll need to kill any locals who do not cooperate with us, so they can't use their knowledge against us. Still, it could be impossible to track them if they retreat into the swamps.'

'Dirty, too.' The commander was a stout man no longer in fighting trim. He had a bottle of wine on hand and no cups, nor did he offer drink to Arras or the sergeant. His attendants were sour-looking men content with their idleness. There were a pair of painted women, too, of the kind who trade sex for jewels and coin. 'We'll take command of the locals in the same way we took command of Toskala. Assign hostages to every company. That'll keep the rest in order.'

'Toskalan hostages?' Arras glanced around the bustling camp, with folk he had thought were camp followers or hirelings hard at work: cleaning harness, husking rice, pounding nai, braiding rope, hauling water and wood; the endless round of tasks necessary to keeping a soldier ready to move.

'You were assigned none?'

'We were not. We do everything ourselves.'

'Ah. Your companies reached Toskala late. You've what-? Three hundred men?'

'Three companies, Commander. We're slightly understrength, having only three hundred and nineteen. I could absorb new recruits.'

'I've only myself to offer as a swordsman,' said the commander with a genial laugh as his gaze flashed to the young women, who pretended to smile. No doubt Commander Hetti had fallen prey to the aging man's need to see himself as a youthful contender in the other ancient art of swordcraft.

'Have you made any attempts to recruit dissatisfied locals, Commander?'

'Eiya! We've enough trouble with them scuttling in at night and stealing our chickens!'

'Have you? We've recorded no such depredations in our encampment.'

T suspect those cursed Toskalan hostages are turning a blind eye to the pilfering or even helping it along, if you take my meaning. We haven't been able to catch them at it, nor will they squeal on each other. They're a gods-rotted sullen lot.'

Since Arras could think of no reason why a hostage ought to be

cheerful, he said nothing. Sergeant Giyara scratched at a welted hand, where in the mire a clinging vine had scraped its barbed tendrils over her skin. He flicked a glance skyward: as always, an eagle floated very high up, keeping an eye on the camp and their movements. Only dusk drove the reeves down to their halls.

'I'll have my clerk assign a cadre of hostages to your command,' Commander Hetti went on. 'See they're not killed. If they're dead, they're no use to us, eh?' The commander laughed at his own joke, and his attendants and the two young women laughed with him.

'I have a more extensive report to give, Commander. And maps we've drawn of the land we reconnoitered. Some thoughts-'

'I'll send a sergeant to take your report. Meanwhile, take two days' rest for refitting. Expect to move out at dawn on Wakened Ox.'

'Isn't Wakened Ox the same day the gates were opened in Toskala, last month?'

'Good fortune, don't you think? Lord Radas likes that day. Meanwhile, keep your eyes open for outlanders and gods-touched, as before.'

'Why this interest in outlanders and gods-touched?'

'Cursed if I know or am likely to ask. If you find any, even slaves, bring them immediately to me. Also, I'm looking for a cadre of volunteers-'

A shriek lit the air like fire. Shouting rose from one corner of camp, and men rushed to see what was happening.

Commander Hetti fluttered his hands in the direction of his attendants. 'It's those cursed thieves again, I'm sure of it. Go see-' His words were drowned out by a larger outbreak of noise, a real brawl breaking out.

Arras had no desire to have any of his men volunteered for whatever task Commander Hetti had in mind, so he cocked an eye at Giyara, and she nodded.

'At once, Commander!' he said, loudly enough for the words to penetrate. He and the sergeant moved off. It seemed half the soldiers were running in that direction, maybe bored from having sat in camp for too long awaiting the knife in the dark whose blade would open Nessumara for them. Now he heard voices shouting wagers, and encouragement.

'Ten vey on the fat one!'

'Eiya! Don't give up, you wine-sodden wretch! Keep pushing!'

'Think they're betting on a fist fight?' Giyara muttered, with the twisted grin she used when she found any situation darkly amusing.

He pushed through the crowd, men giving way when they saw the lime-whitened horsetail epaulets marking his rank. A circle had formed around open space where two men, one beginning to spread into corpulence and one trimmer but clearly drunk, were grappling, locked in a swaying attempt to topple the other man. There was a woman, of.course, egging them on in the way of the vain woman who likes to see men fight over her. She was tall and lean and not the handsomest female he'd ever seen…

Then she moved, dropping into a crouch to look not at the fight but at something going on lower to the ground. He marked the supple way her body flowed, her complete command of her limbs. Whew! There was a woman worth grappling with.

He nudged Giyara and with a flick of his chin got her looking in the same direction; she caught his intention at once.

'Trained fighter, but not my type. I can see she might be yours, though. She's not outfitted as a soldier.'

'Hostage? Hireling?'

'Spy?'

He pushed Giyara into the second rank of the crowd so he could watch without being spied. There the woman went, shifting backward until he lost sight of her.

He tapped the sergeant's arm. 'You stay here.'

He circled around until he saw, in the gloom, the ranks of wagons piled with poultry cages, all the birds asquawk as if a fox had come raiding. It was easy to miss the noise beneath the roar of the agitated crowd; easy to ignore a pair of dark shapes lifting a pair of cages from the rearmost wagon.

He strolled up. 'You've got permission to secure those, eh?'

One of the figures — a thin youth clad in nothing more than a kilt — shrank back, but she turned to confront him as bold as you please, having set the two cages on the ground at her feet.

'Who are you to ask?' Her voice was low and assured.

He grinned. 'I'm called Captain Arras. You're not a soldier.'

'I'm not.'

'A spy, perhaps?' He set a hand on his sword hilt.

She rubbed her chin, head cocked to one side. 'It's sure I'd admit it if I were.'

'Heh. I'd say you were one of the hostages out of Toskala, but you don't talk like them.'

'I don't, it's true. Not that it's any of your business, but I was married into one of the mat-making clans in Toskala. I'm from the south. I guess the army thought my husband would miss me if they hauled me away.'

'Do you miss your husband?'

She spoke with the posture of her body, playing to his obvious interest. 'He's young and energetic. I have no complaints of how he's treated me since we were wed.'

'But some complaints of the army, I take it. Why are you stealing chickens?'

'Do you suppose our masters feed us properly?'

'You could get whipped for stealing.'

'So I could, but I don't like to see my comrades suffering.'

'You're young to take on so much responsibility, knowing you'll take the brunt of the punishment. Where'd you serve your apprentice year?'

'Where do you think?'

He laughed, lifting his chin to make the question a command. 'What's your name?'

'Zubaidit.'

'Tell you what, Zubaidit. You collect a cadre of hostages, hard workers and decent folk, and bring them along to my company. I'll see you and your people are decently fed and cared for as long as you do your work and cause me and my soldiers no trouble.'

'That's a generous offer, of its kind. What will you ask for in return?'

'It's true I like a good workout at the Devourer's temple, same as any person, but I'm not one of those who uses the power he has to coerce folk into sex. I like that you're not afraid to talk to me, although I've caught you in the act of stealing, for which I could certainly see you and the lad whipped had I a mind to it. Or force you into my bed to spare you the welts.'

'So you'll pull me along to work for your company and hope to persuade me by other means? I've a husband, as I've mentioned.'

'Many a woman has a husband, and many a man a wife, and the tales repeat what observation tells us: that the Devourer acts as she wills, and folk will find pleasure as they are driven by her will acting within them. What's your point? If you're worried you

might conceive a child for his clan not of his breeding, then there are ways to make sure no child is sown in fertile ground. As every hierodule in the Devourer's temple knows.'

'You've made your plan of attack plain!' She laughed, and he wasn't quite sure whether she found him attractive or ridiculous, but anyway she wasn't recoiling. 'How do you know I'm fashioned that way?'

'I know how you're fashioned.'

Behind them, the fight was breaking up. She set a fist on one hip, the angle emphasizing her shapely torso, the fit of her sleeveless vest, the curve of her hip over loose trousers belted up so the hem lapped just above her ankles. She knew he knew. It was just the first skirmish in a longer battle.

'Put those chickens back,' he added, 'and I'll speak with the captain you're assigned to right now.'

She gestured, and the youth set the cages back on the wagon. Out of the darkening night, a pair of soldiers strolled up on camp duty.

'Got a problem here, Captain? The hostages are forbidden from congregating around the supply wagons. They're all gods-rotted thieves.'

'There's no problem,' said Arras.

After looking over the young woman and her mute companion, the soldiers walked on up the line of wagons.

She gestured after them. 'So we are at your command, Captain Arras.'

'There's one thing,' he added, stepping up close enough to let his muscle speak. 'Don't ever mock me.'

She didn't shift at all. 'I don't mock, Captain. I'll tell you straight to your face what I think of you.'

He liked a dangerous, confident woman who wasn't afraid of him, and he was cursed curious about so young a woman married into a humble mat-making clan, come so far from her own people's home. What gave some folk that sense of confidence? Discipline. Training. And a more intangible quality, gifted to them from the gods.

Later, after he'd detached twenty-six hostages of her choosing from the cohort to which they'd been assigned, he went to speak to the quartermaster in charge of the provisions wagons. It was well into night by this time, but the quartermaster was still awake, supervising six clerks working by lamplight as they

administered the flow of provisions and supplies into companies refitting in preparation for the fall of Nessumara in four days.

'How can I help you, Captain?' the woman asked, looking him up and down to let him know she found him attractive. She was full-figured, about his age, competent and confident, but although he appreciated her interest, he could only think about Zubaidit. Aui! Where's there an itch, you must scratch. He could not tell if, like Nessumara, Zubaidit had already fallen and was just holding out for a few more days to prepare the ground properly, or if he'd have to endure a longer campaign.

'Captain?'

'A favor, if you will. You've records for the poultry wagons?'

'I do.' Clearly, she was the kind who kept accurate records. 'I've taken my day count earlier. I do another count at dawn, and then allocate birds according to those companies that have reached their week's turn for a meat ration. I can't change your company's ration, if that's what you're after.'

'I'm just curious. Any chance you could do another count?'

'Now?'

'Now.'

Sure enough, the count came up one cage short, a cage pilfered from the middle wagons, well away from the rear of the line where he'd been kept busy. Thoughtful, he strolled back to camp under a cloudless sky, swatting away the bugs, whistling under his breath. The stars shone like jewels cast across the heavens, as it said in the tale. He carried a lamp to guide his feet. One did need a lamp. It was so easy to stumble.

He grinned.

He had soldiers to drill, to make ready for Wakened Ox, because they would need rigid discipline even if all went smoothly, as such things rarely did. That first, then. He was a patient man. After the fall of Nessumara, he would have plenty of time to unravel the mystery of his hostage. One task at a time.

A whisper of wind stirred the air as a shadow passed over him. A horse, wings spread so wide they blotted out a length of sky, galloped low, dropping to earth. The cloak of the rider billowed behind, and Arras ducked without meaning to, feeling as if the sweep of that rider's eyes was a spear-thrust that caught him in the back. Fear ripped away the strength of his legs, and he dropped to his knees, panting.

How angry would Lord Twilight be when he returned to discover that Night had captured the outlander Arras had been tasked to protect? What if Lord Radas questioned him and chose to punish him for disobedience, even though he'd only been obeying Twilight's orders? How was an ordinary man to balance walking this edge, when it was not even his choice to do so?

He picked himself up, wiped off his knees. The day of Wakened Ox could not dawn soon enough. After Nessumara fell, he would ask to be sent forward with his cohort into the next assault of the campaign. Battle was a cursed sight simpler to deal with than Guardians.

Somehow, Joss could not be rid of folk speaking of Zubaidit. Late that afternoon he reclined on pillows in the pavilion of Ushara's temple as the Hieros poured rice wine into cups and with her own hands offered one to Joss and one to Tohon. The old woman and the two men sat alone under a roof wreathed with harvest flowers from jabi bushes. The scent was overwhelmed by the tart aroma of tsi berries being cooked down as they were every year in this season. A pair of older women — like Captain Anji's personal guards — hovered within sight but out of earshot, and there was a lad lurking in the bushes.

'Strange,' the Hieros was saying, indicating two ginny lizards who had crawled up onto the pavilion floor and were sizing up Joss with mouths gapped to show teeth. 'I'm not sure they like you, Commander.'

'Aren't those the pair that traveled with Zubaidit?' asked Tohon.

The old woman terrified Joss, but the smile she turned on Tohon would have melted a block of ice. She'd been stunning in her youth, no doubt of it, and was still handsome in the way of women who have kept their vigor along with fine bone structure.

'So they are. Most folk can't tell the difference, but ginnies are as unlike as any one person is from the next. What news of my hierodule, Tohon?'

The scout packed information into a comprehensive review of all he had said and done and seen. 'If you don't mind my asking,