Traitors Gate

30

With Atani braced on her hip, Mai watched Priya hoist a scant bundle of possessions across her narrow back.

The woman smiled gently. 'I will come every day, Mistress, in time to say the dawn prayers with you,' she said in the steady voice Mai had come to depend on. 'It's just O'eki and I would like a little cottage of our own.'

A hundred words wished to flood from Mai's tongue, but she held them back. Atani frowned thoughtfully at her, catching her mood.

Don't leave me.

You are the one I depend on.

What if you decide never to return?

She had to smile as Priya took her leave, departing through the garden gate, which Chief Tuvi closed and barred and latched behind her. He exchanged a few words with the guard on duty. In the fading light, he ambled over to Mai. He touched a finger to Atani's soft, dark cheek, offering with both hands to take him, but the baby turned his face into Mai's taloos and gripped his mother more tightly.

'He's afraid you'll take him away, too,' muttered Mai.

Tuvi rubbed at the corner of an eye. He scuffed a boot on the gravel walkway. He took in a deep breath of the garden, still blooming because it was watered: the sweet haze of purple-thorn, now fading as the last flowers withered; the slightly bitter taste of tallowberry in its neatly trimmed ranks.

'You can hire a night nurse,' he said. 'Or purchase one.'

'No one I can trust,' said Mai. 'I will bring Miravia back from Astafero.'

He whistled softly, a falling note.

Was he blushing? 'Do you like her, Chief?'

He sighed.

'Neh, never mind. I would never have said anything if all that hadn't happened, and that awful Keshad hadn't blurted out all those things, like he has only to wish something and it must be true. I don't like him!' She wiped her running nose with the back of her hand, and sniffed. Because Priya had gone.

'It's just down the street,' said Tuvi. 'A room in a block with a small courtyard. A hundred steps will bring her here.'

'She's free to do as she wishes.' It's just she hadn't thought Priya would desert her. For half of Mai's life, Priya had been a constant presence, the one comfort she could rely on.

'Mistress?' Sheyshi padded out into the garden, carrying a lamp. 'Are you coming in? Did that wicked woman desert you?'

'She did not desert me, Sheyshi. You aren't to say so. Priya and O'eki have every right to set up their own household. I'm just fortunate they have agreed to continue in my employ, for I am sure I don't know — what I would do — without them-' The words choked her. Atani reared back to stare at her, looking perplexed.

'But Mistress-'

'Sheyshi,' said Tuvi, his tone like a slap, 'go inside now. We'll want to eat as soon as we come in.'

Sheyshi fled, taking the lamp with her. If only Sheyshi had been the one to go, instead of Priya!

'Oh, Tuvi-lo.' She let the tears flow, and after a while the tears were all shed and she pressed Atani's precious body against her as he patted at her wet cheeks with his chubby little hands and tasted the moisture that coated his tiny fingers. 'I'm ready to go in. You won't leave me, will you?'

'Hu! A question not to be asked. Come, Mistress. Dinner awaits.'

'I'm not hungry!'

'Of course you are.'

How awful she was even to think of poor Sheyshi in that unpleasant way, because Sheyshi had nowhere to go and no one to go with. It wasn't her fault she so lacked charm and warmth that not one of the Qin soldiers — those who hadn't yet chosen wives from among local women — had expressed the least desire to consider Sheyshi, young as she was, for a wife.

'It's done,' she murmured, 'and done for the best.'

'If you say so, Mistress.'

'Priya has the right to desire freedom, just as you or I would.' She shifted Atani to the other hip and crunched over the gravel to the porch. After mounting the steps, she kicked off her sandals and entered the lamp-lit audience chamber with its painted screens depicting rats dressed in human style and going about their daily lives: flying kites, throwing pottery on wheels, planting a rice field, rowing in a reed-choked channel of water while fishing.

A murmur of male voices caught her ear. Atani turned, caught by the same lilt, and her heart galloped ahead of her. She walked through the crane room, past the half-open door that looked onto the tiny altar room where Priya had promised to pray with her at dawn, and slid a closed door aside to step into the blazing lamplight of the dining chamber. Its doors were opened wide onto the innermost courtyard, her private sanctuary. On the porch stripping off his riding gloves stood Anji, attended by Toughid, Tohon, and a pair of Qin soldiers whose faces were hidden in shadow although she recognized Chief Deze by his thin frame.

'Anjihosh!' Chief Tuvi strode past Mai, across the matted floor, and out onto the porch. 'You have surprised me!'

'Is that disapproval I hear?' said Anji with a laugh. He tapped Tuvi on the shoulder with the back of a hand, affectionately, but already he had looked past him, his gaze meeting Mai's with a look that stopped her in her tracks. His expression was unfathomable, intense, possessive. Disconcerting.

Heat rushed through her. 'Anji,' she said, her mouth dry and her cheeks flushed.

Atani strained away from her, arms reaching toward his father as he babbled, 'badababa.'

Anji gestured, and Toughid took his riding whip and gloves. He hastily pried off his boots. In all his dust from his travels he crossed and in full sight of the men loitering on the porch he embraced her and kissed her full on the mouth, deeply, hotly, his body pressed against hers and already quite obviously aroused. Her own feelings spiked abruptly, but she could not forget the presence of his men. He abruptly pulled away and took the baby into his arms. And he laughed. His face was flushed and red; he had what appeared to be a burn along one cheek, blisters whitening along a reddened patch of skin in the early stages of healing.

'Anji! You're hurt. Your hands!'

His hands were wrapped in bandages of linen.

'It's nothing.' His voice was hoarse as he examined her. He bent his head to kiss Atani not once but a dozen times, the baby chortling as he smacked his lips to kiss his father back.

'We'll eat,' said Anji. 'Bring Keshad.'

'To the meal?' asked Tuvi, stepping into the dining chamber.

'I'll need a complete report from him. We depart for Astafero at dawn. Little enough time to learn what I must. I'll rest afterward.' The look he turned on Mai did not promise rest.

'Sheyshi,' she called, knowing her color was still high and that every man there could see it on her. The cursed girl wasn't there.

'Where is Priya?' Anji demanded impatiently.

She found words, clipped and short. 'I have freed my slaves, Anji. Priya and O'eki have taken a household just down the street. They will not be here in the evenings, but have taken on a day hire with us.'

Whatever passed in his thoughts he deliberately did not speak, so she could not tell if he was angry or bemused. 'I see.'

'I'll see what's happening in the kitchens. I thought Sheyshi-' To stumble over Sheyshi's dereliction of duty would only make Mai's householding abilities look suddenly suspect. Had Priya and O'eki done so much of the work that made the household run smoothly? Had she never noticed?

Where had that idiot girl gone?

Mai concealed her pounding heart and trembling hands by going to the side table and pouring water into the basin so Anji and his officers could wash before they ate. She poured too hard; water spattered along the polished wood. A droplet hung from the rounded corner, then separated and vanished into the mat. Exquisitely attuned as they were to Anji's mood, his officers

washed hands and faces in silence, following the custom of the Hundred, while Mai tossed down additional pillows around the table so there was one for each man and, of course, for herself.

The men unbelted their tabards and quilted silk coats and tossed the gear back out onto the porch for tailmen to tend later. For some reason, Toughid carried a small traveling chest, no longer than his forearm and heavily chained, into the chamber and placed it against one wall. The others set their swords and knives beside their pillows and settled cross-legged around the table, Toughid joining them. There was, at least, tea to be poured, and enough cups. As they drank, she escaped out of the chamber and stumbled into Sheyshi, standing right behind the door with an empty tray in her hands, mouth slack and eyes unfocused as if listening.

'Sheyshi!'

She started so badly she dropped the tray. Mai caught it before it hit the floor, then grabbed Sheyshi's sleeve and tugged.

'I beg you, Sheyshi! Hurry!' She bit down her irritation, for the young woman could not help what she was. 'Is the food ready?'

Sheyshi stammered as though a pack of amorous wolves were snapping at her heels. Mai composed herself as they hurried through the house, and when they reached the kitchens it was easy enough to calmly and smilingly designate portions and servers and return with a platter of dumplings as an appetizer.

She paused outside the closed doors of the dining chamber, tray in hand, leaning forward to listen. Inside, Anji was interrogating Keshad in that thorough way he had of uncovering each least detail, the one you thought wasn't important but which as it happened was the most important of all.

'How many soldiers?'

'I counted five hundred and thirty-seven.'

'All Qin?'

'All.'

'Do you know whose clan they serve?'

'They originally served under a Commander Beje.'

'Ah. And the rest of the party?'

'There are forty-three males, all gelded, none Qin. I can't know about the women, as all go veiled except the exalted lady.'

'How can you be sure that some among those who are veiled are not men?'

'Hiding in the company of women? Perhaps. It would surprise

me, having traveled in the empire. The men would sooner kill themselves than stoop to being mistaken for women, and the women would be killed for mixing with men. A foul place, if you ask me.'

'I did not ask. Numbers?'

Keshad did not sound the least cowed. 'Of women? Hard to say. At least forty?'

'A household,' remarked Anji in a tone that made Mai shudder.

Better to take action than stew in a brine of unexamined fear.

She pushed aside the door with her foot and entered briskly, setting down the tray. She washed, then murmured the ritual prayers to the Merciful One for the blessing of food, then seated herself on the pillow the Qin had carefully left for her at the central place at the table. The smell of sweat and horse was strong but not unpleasant. She offered dumplings and they fished them off the platter as Keshad, standing off to one side, shifted from foot to foot like a man whose skin itched but he could not scratch it.

'Master Keshad,' said Mai, meaning to be polite but with an edge to her voice she could not disguise, 'if you are hungry, please bring a pillow and join us.'

'My thanks, verea,' he said, answering curtness with equally clipped words, 'but I will remain here.'

Anji glanced at her. She shook her head minutely, and he snagged a second dumpling from the platter, wolfing it down. She was forcefully aware of his raised hand, his hips shifting as he changed position on the pillow; the way, when Atani grabbed onto his tunic with a chubby fist, he smiled at the baby and settled him on his left thigh within the crook of his left arm so he could eat more easily with his right. He glanced at her frequently, and there was a hungry sheen to him that made her feel he was holding himself in check by sheer will. No wonder the Hundred folk named their goddess Ushara, who presided over love, death, and desire: the Devourer.

Sheyshi led a train of four servers into the room. Mai served out soup and arranged platters, and herself ate. Atani sat contented on his father's lap and made a gruesome face when Anji got him to sip at the caul-petal soup and then coughed out the sip all over the best-quality silk of Anji's undertunic, which was an exceptional shade of heavenly blue. The officers laughed indulgently, and the baby looked all around the table, smiling at

their attention, his little face very bright, and so as they ate he was passed from lap to lap, gurgling and babbling and being coaxed to try first another drop of soup or a lick of barsh or a bit of sweetened porridge or a flake of tender fish. Anji asked no more questions of Keshad. When they had eaten their fill he walked out to the porch with Tuvi while the officers dandled the baby. Keshad remained standing motionless, brooding, in his corner. Captain and chief consulted while Mai gathered up the platters and bowls and spoons and piled them neatly on trays. She called in Sheyshi, waiting right outside, to take them away.

'Sheyshi,' said Anji, coming back in with the chief at his heels. 'Call the other hirelings to take the trays. You may take charge of Atani, although I think his uncles wish to spoil him for a while longer this evening.'

The uncles had the ability to chatter on right past this transparent speech. Keshad smirked, and even Sheyshi's gaze flashed from Mai to Anji and back to Mai. Heat scalded Mai's cheeks as she pretended she was rising of her own accord to walk to her husband. Anji hooked her elbow; with a grasp of iron. Without a single word of parting he walked her out of the dining chamber and through rooms to the private chamber where none dared follow.

She shook her arm out of his grip. 'I feel shamed! You summoned me just like a — a-'

He slapped the door shut behind them, swept her off the floor, and deposited her on the mattress, dropping down beside her.

'I have seen death,' he murmured. 'My death. Your death. Atani's. Any of us. As long as we live at the mercy of the cloaks who hold power over us, we are vulnerable. Mai.' His voice scraped as though, like his face, it had been damaged, but it was only emotion that made it raw.

She gazed up, not that she could see him in the darkness, only the weight and shadow of him. So much of him she knew through physical touch, not through sight. She tasted tonight a quality in him she did not recognize, and yet his need — at this moment rough, aroused and desperate — was familiar to her. It called to her own, rising in part because she had missed him and in part because his sharp desire flattered her.

She captured his hands between her own. 'How did you hurt yourself?'

'That is not a tale for this night, plum blossom. All in the

course of battle. It will heal.' He lowered his weight onto her and kissed her throat, her jaw, her lips; his breathing quickened. 'I'm afraid of what it means, that your mother has come.' 'Not for this night, my heart,' he whispered. 'Tomorrow is time enough to face what will come.' His voice took an edge, command rather than request. 'Hush.'

She knew then, right then, because it was betrayed by his tone and by the way he impatiently began to tug at her clothing and pull at his own quite heedlessly — he, who never hurried, who was always in control — that he too was afraid.

Kesh was a merchant, and he knew better than to cede any bargaining advantage by showing too much eagerness too early in the process. So he waited through the interminable meal while the captain — quite uncharacteristically — looked ready to devour his wife right there in front of everyone and finally hauled her off while the officers pretended not to notice. Talk about poor market tactics!

The cursed baby did entertain the soldiers, it was true; for such a ruthless pack of wolves, they were as soft as porridge when it came to the child. The baby was very handsome and astonishingly good-natured, as long as he was the center of attention and being held, fed, pampered, and feted. Hard not to be content when your every need was fulfilled at the least hint of displeasure. He was a great deal like his father, Kesh decided; it was easy for Captain Anji to be so calm and even-tempered when the truth was everyone always did everything he wanted. Kesh had heard a rumor in the market that the captain had beaten his wife in public when he'd discovered her coming out of the temple of the Merciless One, and while folk in the market had argued whether such a scene was likely to have happened or ridiculous even to contemplate, Kesh believed it. Outlanders had peculiar ideas about what could be owned; he'd seen enough appalling behavior in the south to believe anything of them now.

So the trick was to figure out how to direct the captain's cosseted temper and Mai's resentment to his advantage, to win Miravia.

That Miravia remembered him, had bothered to learn his name, had given him hope. That she had scorned his kindness by refusing his aid troubled him. He could not interpret such behavior. He was accustomed to women who openly said what they wanted, or did not want.

'Keshad!' Chief Tuvi's voice cracked over him.

The hirelings were snuffing the lamps. While he had stood there brooding, the dining chamber had cleared, the officers had dispersed with their weapons and gear, and he'd been left like a lackwit in the shadows.

'We'll be departing early. Make sure you're ready.'

Kesh furiously watched the man amble out of the chamber holding the last lamp, leaving Kesh in the cursed darkness. Did the chief wish to marry Miravia? Was he counting on Mai's support for his suit? Would Miravia choose loyalty to Mai over the impassioned pleading of one sorry man?

Aui! He had so little time to convince her he was worthy of her, although compared to Chief Tuvi he brought nothing to a marriage except his undying devotion. He'd stood on the auction block; he'd clutched his little sister to his side, devoted to her as well, but that devotion had not spared Zubaidit from being sold to the Merciless One's temple while he'd been dragged off to serve as a slave in Master Feden's household for twelve long years. Devotion was not porridge. You could not survive on it.

The compound was a large one, easily sleeping a hundred or more people. Kesh had been allotted a pallet in the warehouse along with two grooms and a man who swept and cleaned, but after persistent complaints about their snoring and farting, he had finally been given permission to install himself, his accounts book, and his coin chest in the counting room, like a night watchman. O'eki, Mai, and Chief Tuvi held the locks to the compound's wealth and accounts books; Kesh just rolled out a thin mattress at night and slept with his small coin chest as close beside him as he might one day hope to embrace a loving wife.

He retired there now, with a single lamp to accompany him. He knew to a vey how much he possessed, but he counted it again anyway. Two hundred and nine leya, and two cheyt. It was a substantial sum for a young man only one year removed from the debt slavery that had eaten his youth. Was it enough to set up as a merchant, rent rooms, feed the children that would result from their bed…

He wiped his brow, thinking of the way the captain had stared at his wife all through dinner. Whew! Arousal stirred in his body. Thinking of Miravia, he could not think. The thought of touching her was like a delirium. He sat with his hands caught in the strings of coin and tried to calm his breathing, but it was no good. He shut his eyes.

Voices yanked him awake from a slumped doze over the open chest. He banged down the lid just as the door to the counting room was opened from within the compound. Toughid came in first, a small chest hanging off his back like a quiver. He placed himself between Kesh and the captain, who entered with Chiefs Tuvi and Deze.

Anji wore an elaborate robe of best-quality green silk embroidered with sea creatures emerging from white silk thread wavelets. Kesh had never seen him without his hair neatly packed away in the Qin topknot; tonight it was merely tied back with a ribbon, hanging down his back. His hair was as thick and black and lovely as his wife's, and almost as long.

Kesh was as suddenly uncomfortable as if he had walked into the captain's private sleeping chamber to find him in bed with his wife.

'So,' said Anji to Kesh, with his men looking on like executioners, 'my mother has offered to give you my wife.'

Anji was not armed, but the other three were; indeed, they looked as if they had slept in their clothes, if they had slept at all. Kesh had certainly not mentioned the matter, but his stupidity in blurting out the truth to Mai when they had been arguing over Miravia had tramped back to trip him up. Unless he could think very quickly indeed. Timidity would win him nothing now.

'Your mother insists you deserve a wife worthy of your consequence, as a man of elevated birth,' Kesh said. 'Son and brother of emperors, grandson and nephew of vars. That's what the Qin call their rulers, is it not? I suppose among you outlanders, who are eager to make such distinctions among families, you might care about such things. Here in the Hundred, of course, a person's suitability is measured by clan connections and the individual's own skills.'

'You do not deny the offer was made?' asked Anji so easily that Kesh felt the knife already at his throat, although no one touched him.

'How can I deny it, when it is true? Her words surprised me as much as they do you, Captain.'

'Her words do not surprise me at all.'

That look might scorch walls! But the captain muted his anger as quickly as an incoming wave washes away a piece of sea wrack on a sandy shore: no longer in sight, it yet remains trapped in the watery expanse.

The time to bargain was upon him.

'Your mother is a formidable woman, Captain. Mai is a treasure that any man — any clan in Olossi — would be pleased to acquire as, I believe, you acquired her back in that dreary desert town that had nothing more than a well and a stable and a herd of sheep, and one very beautiful young woman selling fruit in the marketplace.'

Chief Tuvi rested a hand on Anji's arm as the captain tensed, but Keshad kept talking.

'Indeed, your mother offered me both women — your wife, and Miravia. So tell me, Captain. It's a good offer. Why should I refuse it?'

'I'll kill you,' said Anji as Tuvi actually took hold of the captain's arm.

Although Kesh was shaking, with the coin chest wedged against his knees as a most hideously inadequate shield against the captain's coiled fury, he knew he was about to win this negotiation. Because the one thing Anji had not said, which Kesh had indeed expected him to say, was that his mother had no say in the matter of disposing of his wife.

'Will you kill your mother, then, as well? She seemed most insistent that you could not remain married to — not that she recognized it as a marriage, mind you — an inconvenient merchant's daughter.'

'Anjihosh,' said Tuvi.

'Captain,' said Toughid.

'My lord,' said Chief Deze, 'this man's blood is not worthy to stain these fine mats.'

If the captain had been wearing a sword, Kesh figured he would be dead by now. But Anji wasn't, and he had enough pride not to grab for another man's weapon.

The flame hissed softly. Anji breathed harshly. Kesh barely breathed at all. Slowly, Chief Tuvi released his grip on the captain's arm.

Anji fisted his hands, as if to punch Kesh; opened them, as if wishing to strangle him; at last found a spot of stillness within which to slaughter Kesh with his stare. 'What do you want, Keshad?'

Kesh glanced at Tuvi, but the chief remained impassive. 'I want Miravia.'

'Do you want to acquire her as you would a slave?' said Anji with a caustic laugh. 'Would that make her come willingly to you,

when you know she remains Ri Amarah in her thoughts and ritual, even though her family has abandoned her?'

Kesh indicated Tuvi. 'I want no other claim put in my way.'

Anji looked at the chief, but the chief shrugged. It wasn't negation; Tuvi had never said if he wanted, or did not want, the young woman; his gesture was a refusal to be roped in.

'If she eats my rice,' Kesh went on, 'then I want permission to leave Olo'osson. To ride elsewhere-'

'Into the teeth of the enemy?' said Anji. 'Reckless, to be sure.'

'There are other quiet valleys and market towns in the Hundred where we can make a peaceful life.'

'Maybe there are now. But we're fighting a war. You cannot be sure those quiet market towns and valleys will remain quiet and unmolested. I have no doubt the soldiers of the enemy's army would be quite eager to plow Ri Amarah ground, for the novelty of it.'

Kesh leaped up, charged past the chest, and lunged at Anji. His feet were kicked out from under him and he landed flat on his back with the wind knocked out of him, and Anji's hand wrapped around his throat and his knee dug into Kesh's chest. Kesh sucked air, but he didn't struggle.

The cursed man grinned, the more frightening because he hadn't loosed his grip on Kesh's throat. 'You've got stones, I'll give you that. I take it this was your effort to negotiate from a position of weakness.'

Anji knew exactly how much pressure he was applying to Kesh's throat and chest, as if he'd threatened, or even killed, men this way before.

'So you will listen to me now, Keshad. The only reason you are not dead is because I owe a debt to your sister.'

Zubaidit!

'Yes, that's got you thinking at last, hasn't it?'

'Prob'… dead… now…'

'Perhaps. Obviously I have more confidence in your sister than you do. She has a rare gift. You ought not to value her so low. You ought to value her, in her own way, as highly as I value my wife. Listen very carefully, Master Keshad.'

The mat pressed into his back. Anji's breath was sweetened with mint; his eyes were dark, and his black hair had slipped over his shoulder to brush against Keshad's shoulder as intimately as might a lover's.

'Mai belongs to me. Do not think to play this game, to go behind my back and make bargains with my mother. This is your only warning. I can kill you as easily as I breathe, and I will if you do anything to attempt to separate Mai from me. As for the other — who Miravia marries is no concern of mine, although Mai may have something to say about her wishes in the matter. It is with Mai you must negotiate, not with me, although I admit you might have preferred to negotiate with me knowing, as I am sure you do, that compared to my wife I do not know how to bargain at all. Indeed, Keshad, you might have learned this about me before you attempted it. I don't bargain, because I don't have to.'

He let him go, rose to his feet, turned away.

He paused, then turned back. The finely embroidered hem of his best-quality robe brushed Kesh's body as if to remind Kesh that he himself wore everyday-quality linen, the most he dared afford.

'We leave from the harbor at midday. I expect you in attendance.' He bared his teeth wolfishly, and Kesh shuddered. 'You are still my slave, Keshad, until such time as your sister returns alive, or we have proof of her demise in the course of her mission.'

'We might never know!'

'So we might,' agreed Anji with a lazy smile. 'You might wish to consider what that eventuality would mean to you.'

He gestured, and with his officers left the counting room. Kesh heard him speaking as they went out the door. 'Now, I will speak to O'eki and Priya. Given the situation, best if I go to them-'

Chief Tuvi shut the door and barred it from the far side without a parting glance. Kesh sat alone with his lamp and his coin. His heart burned, but his mind counted a colder price.

Anji would kill him; the man did not make idle threats. But if Anji was preemptively attacking Keshad to make sure he did not go behind Anji's back, surely that suggested that Anji feared his mother might manage to get her way despite Anji's wishes. In the light of the lamp, with his entire fortune contained in a chest that, like a heart's feelings, can be opened and perused by one who holds the key, Kesh saw better the shadows in the room. It was true he might negotiate with Anji's mother, betray Anji and Mai both, to gain Miravia.

Did he want to be that kind of man?

Miravia did not belong to him. Nor did he want her to, not in

the way his labor had once belonged to Master Feden, or Zubaidit's body and spirit belonged to the temple she served.

He had made a story in his heart about their mutual passion, but it was only a story. He could not help desiring the face he had seen, the woman he had so briefly spoken with among the scattered cord and ribbon of the marketplace. Maybe it was only lust that drove him; maybe it was the lure of the forbidden; yet perhaps a true spark had leapt between them, promising a deeper bond.

Almost two years ago he had trudged over the Kandaran Pass north back into the Hundred in possession of a treasure to buy his sister's freedom from the temple. Things hadn't worked out the way he had planned. But he had said something one day, high in the mountains, while speaking with another traveler, a man who appeared to be an envoy of Ilu:

It matters what path a man takes as he walks through the world.

He finally comprehended what those words meant. Miravia was the one who would have to decide. She was the one he had to negotiate with.

In the breath of gray lightening just before dawn, Anji woke Mai. His hands knew her body very well, and he was determined to arouse her. He was always a careful lover, as if her pleasure mattered more to him than his own.

She captured his bandaged hands against her flesh. 'Are you making up for last night?' She tried to make her voice light. 'I received little enough pleasure from it, except perhaps to think it relieved you of some terrible anger or grief.'

He had his eyes shut, savoring touch. 'My apologies,' he murmured, kissing her. 'I was overwrought. I lost my head.'

'That's not like you, Anji.'

'No.' He cracked an eye, measuring her. 'Must we have this conversation right now? I was just beginning my attack. I have my strategy completely planned.'

He hooked a knee between her legs, using his body's weight and strength to provoke her. At the feel of his body pressed against her, the familiar flash of desire flooded her. She could sense he knew in the way he shifted, in his smile, in the way he shut his eyes to savor her pretended resistance.

She remained stubbornly immobile. 'What will happen now that your mother is in Astafero?'

He sighed heavily and opened his eyes, body relaxing. 'That's done it. How can you possibly speak of such things in our bed, Mai?'

'Because we have privacy here, and therefore none of your officers are standing within a sword's length of you.'

He looked away from her, toward the closed doors, and she released his hands, not that he couldn't have freed them at any time. At once, taking advantage, he rolled on top of her.

'Now, plum blossom. Listen carefully, We will travel together to Astafero, by ship.'

'Not by eagle? You seem to be in haste.'

'No, not by eagle, although events move quickly elsewhere and I do have need of haste. I need a full honor guard to attend me, to show proper consequence. I will present you to my mother. We will see what events have transpired — beyond the obvious startling news of my brother's death and my cousin's ascension to the imperial throne. I must know what has driven my mother north to the Hundred to find me.'

'What if your cousin wishes to kill you, Anji? Isn't your claim to the imperial throne more legitimate than his?' Even to contemplate such a fate — Anji becoming emperor in that dreadful place! — made her want to weep.

He kissed her, as if to seal the thought away, unspoken and thereby rejected. 'I do not wish to be emperor in Sirniaka. I am too much a son of the Qin to wish for that now. Nor would they want me, because I am no longer one of them.' He had much of his weight resting on his arms as he addressed her. 'But it cannot be ignored that my cousin may wish to have me killed. My mother would not for an instant be party to such a desire. But they may have sent agents with her to accomplish the task. Yet she will know that also, and be on the alert for it. She is no fool. Also, it seems she is accompanied by over five hundred Qin soldiers out of Commander Beje's command.'

'Commander Bejel The one we met in Mariha.' His first wife's father, who had thanked Anji for saving the clan's honor. 'He's the one who saved your life by warning you that your own Qin uncle had agreed to have you killed, to seal a treaty with your Sirniakan half brother.' Spoken aloud, the words fell like knives.

'So, you see, plum blossom, I have allies. We are not alone.'

'But what of the war here, Anji? You were gone for days,

scouting in the north, and I have heard not one word of what you saw and what you decided.'

His gaze narrowed, as it did when dark thoughts troubled him. 'War is coming. That's all I can say.'

'Sengel did not come back with you. You've left him to prepare the way.'

'You know how I trust him. Now. Have we discussed these matters in a satisfactory way, enough to put your fears to rest for the moment?'

'My fears to rest? Anji! We speak of assassins. Of a coming war!'

'Little enough time for pleasure in the face of these difficulties. May we continue?'

'No.' She watched his surprise at her bald refusal, and in that brief startled release of his vigilance, she rolled him over so she was on top. She smiled, because what else could she do? He would ride away soon enough. She had him for so short a time. 'But now we can.'

The bed was only a respite. He did not linger afterward. He washed and dressed, called for and dandled the baby on his lap while Mai, seated behind him, combed out his hair and twisted it up into its topknot, bound with gold silk ribbons, very festive. When she had finished and he was presentable, he left for the militia encampment with his officers. She nursed Atani and then, according to Anji's specifications, supervised packing up for a journey while Sheyshi fussed over which silks to bring and which to leave behind.

Priya and O'eki's arrival surprised her.

She kissed Priya, while O'eki went to supervise the closing down and sealing up of the counting room.

'I am leaving for Astafero.' She dared not beg Priya to come with her, because she did not want to beg, and yet she could scarcely bear to go without her.

'The captain asked us to attend you,' said Priya, indicating a traveling chest, two covered baskets, and a pair of scuffed old saddlebags stuffed to bursting.

Mai touched Priya's arm, shy of contact because she did not know how to treat a woman she had once called 'slave.' 'Did he ask you, or command you?'

'I do not mind, plum blossom.' Priya kissed her on the cheek with dry lips. 'These last few days have been difficult for you.'

T have been selfish. If you do not wish to go-'

'We are going, Mistress. Let it be.'

The harbor was busy, the town abuzz with messengers, gossip, commerce, and nervous anticipation: the army was on the move, leaving Olossi with a scant guard to protect itself should the worst happen and the attack into the north fail. The folk of Olo'osson were gambling, having offered up their young men, their horses, and significant supplies. They had only one chance.

'Should I have chosen a welcoming gift?' whispered Mai to Priya as they watched two low-slung cargo ships being laded with a remarkable amount of cloth and other fineries. Mai stroked Atani's back anxiously until the baby wriggled to show his discomfort, his dark eyes drawn down very like his father's when Anji was trying to hide annoyance. T have to make a good impression. Why didn't Anji say something to me?'

'There the captain comes,' said Priya, squeezing Mai's elbow.

Atani squirmed, hearing hooves, a sound he evidently associated with his father. He reached, spotting his father among a cadre of thirty-six riders. A cadre of foot soldiers marched behind.

The horses would be going with the army. Anji dismounted. He greeted Mai first, then kissed Atani and handed him to Chief Tuvi. He greeted Priya and O'eki with respect, acknowledged the others with a glance, even the silent Sheyshi. At Anji's look, Keshad actually took a step back, bumping into one of the hirelings, who muttered a curse. Many folk had gathered to watch, as Hundred folk commonly did, for any activity or interaction that occurred in public was meant to be watched, discussed, and commented upon.

'I forgot to bring a welcoming gift for your mother,' Mai murmured.

'She would accept no such gift from you.'

'How am I to greet and converse with a woman who has already tried to get rid of me?'

'Listen, Mai.' He glanced back at Atani, content in Tuvi's arms, then bent his gaze toward her as they walked up the gang plank onto the deck. 'She is my mother. She raised me. She saved my life at the cost of her own freedom. I owe her respect and obedience, as all Qin sons respect and honor their mothers. Anyhow, until I know what has brought her here, I can make no plan. You must follow my lead in this.'

The same tension that had troubled his visage last night before

he had devoured her settled heavily on him, making him seem a different person than the uncomplicated Qin captain who had plucked her out of the marketplace and carried her off to distant lands. But perhaps he had not changed at all. Perhaps this man had always been masked behind the other one, thickly chained like the little chest Toughid carried slung over his mount's hindquarters. Now and then this other man escaped, and however much she loved Anji, she was not sure she liked that piece of him very much.

Shai tracked sixth Cohort for four days before he spotted Zubaidit. He was hiding in a stand of pipe-brush overlooking a stream, and cursed if she wasn't wearing a sergeant's stripes and leading the rearguard along the bank, striding along in that easy way she had. Her soldiers were quiet and disciplined, but they were also in a hurry. For four days Sixth Cohort had been marching toward Nessumara.

Shai pitched a stone into the water. The plop caught the patrol's attention. Then he ran the other way, across a weed-ridden field. He favored a leg, pretending to limp.

'Get him!' That was Zubaidit's voice. 'Capture him alive.'

Had she recognized him just from his back?

He stumbled on purpose, hoping to make the inevitable fall go more easily, but the soldiers hit him across the back with their staffs and piled on, grinding his face into a desiccated thistle. He inhaled bristles and grit.

'He's got a knife.' They took his weapons.

He heard her voice. 'Have you caught yourselves a gods-rotted outlander, lads? There's a cursed good reward for bringing in out-landers.'

'Not fair,' complained one of the men, 'just because those three were close enough to grab him.'

'I could take the whole cursed reward and forget about you lot. But I'll divide the reward and my bonus evenly between the entire cadre and give you three who tackled him a bit extra for your trouble. I'll take the knives and his staff meanwhile. Any complaints? No? Let him up.'

The pressure on his back eased, and he spat out dirt. Cautiously, he rolled to sit.

Zubaidit wore soldier's garb and, around her neck, an eight-pointed star hammered out of tin, the mark of the army. Leaning

on the staff they'd taken from him, she studied him, but the way she was looking at him made him cursed uneasy.

'Get rope,' she said. 'We don't want to lose him. Not with so much coin at stake.'

'What do we do with him, Sergeant?' asked one of the men as he brushed dirt off his trousers.

'I'll search him for other weapons. Then we take him to Captain Arras. Hurry up! We're trailing behind, you cursed lagabouts. I could march faster when I was a wee toddler. There've been reeve patrols sighted in this area. A couple of cadres were hit by attacks.'

'Wish I had an eagle.' The youngest scanned the sky with a wistful look.

'So you'd wish, until it ripped your head off,' said Bai with a laugh. 'Here, give me the rope. Get ready to march out. You three, scout ahead.'

She kneeled behind Shai and yanked his arms so hard up behind him that he grunted in pain. With his wrists tied tightly back, he sat there panting as she patted up his legs and torso.

'Cursed fool,' she breathed into the back of his neck. 'If you came deliberately, fist both hands.'

He fisted both hands.

She grunted, like an echo of his pain. 'Follow my lead.'

She fastened a lead line to his rope shackles, fastened his belt and small pack over her back, and handed the lead to a soldier. 'Six men on him at all times. Let's move.'

As they marched, he in the middle of the cadre and she striding along close by, she commenced a running commentary. 'Well built, isn't he? Are all outlanders so cursed well built, do you think? Look at those arms! Whew! He's got a cursed good chest under that shirt. Makes me miss my Devouring days, eh?'

'If you don't mind my saying so, Sergeant,' said one of the three women who marched in the cadre, a fine-boned woman who carried a bow like she knew how to use it, 'I thought the captain was after your ass.'

'I'll tell you, Taria, the best piece of advice I'll ever give you, is never ever milk a man who sits in authority over you. Not unless you have no choice. And unless you like wielding the whip, don't milk one you have authority over. Slaves are different, of course.'

'Why? You fancy this one? I can't say I think he's that cursed

handsome, but — whew! — you're right about his arms. Why don't we strip off his shirt and look over the rest of him?'

Zubaidit grinned. 'I wish we could sell him. But I suppose the cloaks will just take him away, since they're the ones who set the reward. Although what in the hells they want with outlanders I can't imagine.'

On they strode, as the soldiers tossed suggestions back and forth, ranging from the mundane to the obscene. The odd thing was that this group was not any different from any gaggle of militiamen, mostly youngish men with a few older men and the three women, all archers and, by their similar features, probably related. Zubaidit threw in comments now and again, but she retained an air of separation very like the chiefs among the Qin. It was a strong cadre; they were alert; they looked out for each other; they kept up the pace. They were very little like the first cohort of Star of Life he'd met. These soldiers seemed human.

They paused at the fringe of a woodland copse beside a shallow pool ringed by mulberry trees and a pair of fallow diked fields. The cadre set up a perimeter using a pair of fallen logs as a line of protection, and the three archers headed out around the woodland with a trio of scouts flanking. Shai was allowed to take a piss, with Zubaidit holding the rope, just far enough away that, within sight of everyone but with their backs turned so no one could see their mouths moving, they could exchange a few words.

He did not hesitate. 'I know how to kill Lord Radas. There are two precious vials of snake venom in the pouch. On a dart, the venom is deadly if it penetrates the skin. Even a cloak will fall if infected by the poison.'

'Cloaks can't die.'

'We have to strip the cloak off him while he's in a stupor.'

'Can it be so simple?'

'Not if the cloak knows what you intend. Then it's impossible.'

'Of course. They can always anticipate an attack.' She swatted him, hard, across the back of the head, and spoke in a loud voice. 'Aren't you finished? You're as slow as an ox!'

'And not as well hung!' shouted a soldier, as the others laughed.

'Has anyone checked?' asked another.

'Hush, now, you'll frighten off the game.' Zubaidit tugged Shai back into the midst of the cadre, and he sank down and rested his forehead on bent knees, abruptly so tired he could not keep his

eyes open. He'd shared the secret. She knew; she was still with him; they had their chance to complete the job.

May the Merciful One protect them!

He dozed, and was awakened when the hunting party returned with a half dozen birds and a plump yearling deer. At dusk they reached the cohort, which was settling for the night in a deserted village. The captain was a cautious man; he'd ringed the village with fires and a barrier hastily constructed out of boards torn from the cottages. They'd found a bag of nai flour to cook into porridge, enough for the entire cohort. Zubaidit's cadre fell to arguing over how much of their meat they had to share out among six hundred men, until she snapped at them to shut up. Then, with the three men who'd actually captured him, she sought out the captain.

He'd set up for the night in the council square, a roof over a square of benches screened on three sides by lattices grown with vines. He was sitting on a camp stool with his boots and armor off, relaxed in bare feet and loose jacket and trousers. Over the council hearth he roasted strips of meat on a metal rod over the fire. He rose as Zubaidit led Shai in.

All he said, after looking Shai up and down in the firelight, was a breath of a word. 'Ah.'

He sat again and bent his attention to the sizzling meat. They waited while the meat roasted, and afterward he pulled the strips onto a wooden platter and offered some both to Zubaidit and to Shai, although he did not offer to let them sit. Shai was so cursed hungry he burned his mouth by gulping down the meat while it was still too hot to chew.

The captain ate with the infuriating deliberateness of a man who is thinking hard and trying not to outpace himself. Zubaidit licked her fingers after; the captain watched her, realized he was watching, and looked away, right at Shai.

'Where'd you find this outlander, Sergeant?'

'Out lurking in the brush. I guess he panicked and started running. My men caught him. Here he is. I've told them they'll share out the reward. There was a reward, wasn't there? My cadre will be cursed irritated if they discover there isn't.'

His lips thinned. Was he angry? 'There is a generous reward.' He rubbed a clean-shaven jaw. He reminded Shai of the Qin, a fit man who carried himself confidently. He looked again at Shai, and his frown deepened. 'What in the hells am I to do with you?'

Zubaidit's eyebrows twitched; something in her expression made Shai uneasy, but he could not identify what it was. Was she uneasy?

'I thought you'd be glad of an outlander, Captain. Something to boast about at the next army council at Saltow. Or do you fear Commander Hetti will say be captured him and take the reward for himself? Isn't that what he always does?'

He cut another haunch of meat into slices and skewered them on the rod. 'Why do you care, Sergeant?'

'I'm ambitious, Captain, just as you are. I'd rather be loyal to one who shows loyalty to those he commands than to one like Commander Hetti, who takes what others have done and uses it to raise himself up. I couldn't help but notice after the failed attack on Nessumara, that it was your proposals for prosecuting the war that Hetti adopted as if they were his own. The very things the army went out and did, which got you no credit. I don't mind saying I want the reward I've promised to my cadre, and I want a chance for a company command.'

A female sergeant came forward with a kettle for tea and set it on a wire trivet over a bed of glowing coals raked off to one side. The captain glanced at her, an intimate look that reminded Shai of Anji's interactions with his chiefs. Her shrug was unfathomable to Shai, but the captain nodded.

'There are ways around Commander Hetti,' he said. 'So the question you and I must face, Sergeant, is do we really want a cloak to walk into our camp to claim this outlander, and meanwhile cut into our hearts and thoughts, as they will do. Are you willing to have your heart laid bare? Are you sure you will survive their scrutiny?'

T have nothing to hide!'

'Maybe I do have something to hide,' said the captain, gaze sliding smoothly to Shai.

Merciful One! Shai recognized him: this was the captain who had waited in attendance on Hari outside Toskala. He'd arranged for Shai to get smuggled out of camp.

He knew Shai knew; Shai knew he knew. But if he wasn't going to say anything, then Shai sure as the hells could keep his mouth shut. He had a job to do, whatever it meant for him in the end. A good soldier rides into battle without flinching. His comrades depended on him, and beyond all things, he must never let them down. That was the Qin way, and whatever else the Qin were -

conquerors of the Golden Road and the Mariha princedoms — they had taken in and trained a hapless seventh son like Shai. He owed them something.

The captain shook his head with a sigh. 'Unfortunately we can't rid ourselves of the outlander now. Everyone has seen him.'

'Why would we want to rid ourselves of him when we have standing orders to bring in all outlanders and gods-touched-?'

'Never mind. We can send a message to Lord Commander Radas, sealed and for his clerk's eyes only. Be sure you have nothing to hide, Sergeant. For if you do, you'll be dead.'

'I'll be dead anyway,' she said with a Devouring smile that made the captain wince and then laugh ruefully. 'We'll all be dead someday, Captain. Won't we?'

'The cloaks say otherwise,' he said softly. 'Don't you believe them, Sergeant?'

Bai's smile, in response, frightened Shai, for there was something implacable in it. Even the captain flung up his chin, looking startled, but her' posture altered as she thrust out a hip in a provocative stance that reminded a man of how bodies might grapple. Shai broke out in a sweat, recalling his grappling with the actress Eridit in the rocks, months ago now, barely more than a dream. Yet what a dream!

'I serve where I am bidden,' Bai said, the words like a promise.

The other sergeant's gaze tightened, watching this display. She nudged the captain.

'Don't,' he said to Bai, 'for we agreed there'd be none of that. As for the other, you're right. I don't like to think of Commander Hetti gathering to himself the harvest of what my cohort has sown, as he'll do if I don't act.'

'I know what I want,' agreed Zubaidit. 'This outlander will help both of us get what we seek.'

The Qin troop arrived at the shore of the western Barrens after a two day journey over waters so smooth that even Anji had shown no sign of seasickness, although Mai had thrown up twice and given up on any food except nai porridge. A company of riders leading extra horses waited where the ships were dragged up onto the strand. Qin led the ranks and local men filled out the rest of the company, many of whom were growing out their hair to twist up in topknots.

This impressive cavalcade clad in black tabards provided their escort as they rode to the gates of Astafero. The dusty colors of the Barrens leached Mai's heart of courage, but she knew how to keep her expression placid and her hands from trembling. As long as Anji was beside her, she could face down anything.

Folk gathered at the gate; guards lined the wall walk, their spears adorned with rippling banners in the wind that blew down off the mountains. It was so hot that her mouth parched, making it difficult to swallow. Yet the bright colors worn by the local women pleased her eye, and the people who lined the main avenue leading up through town, waving banners and ribbons, sang a greeting. Their smiling faces and strong voices heartened her. Whatever Anji's mother might think of her, she had allies here.

At Anji's insistence, she rode beside him. He understood the protocols far better than she could; he had been raised in an imperial court until the age of twelve and afterward sent to his uncle's court as a prince, even if after all that he had ridden in the Qin army as a mere captain. And yet had he been a mere captain? Had she misunderstood his rank? Or had his uncle the var all along been suspicious of his nephew? Clearly, his uncle had been willing enough to rid himself of Anji, given the chance.

Had Commander Beje's only motivation been to repay the favor Anji had shown Beje's clan by not dragging the clan's dishonor — his first wife's abandonment of him — through the var's court? Or did Beje covet other allegiances? Mai remembered old Widow Lae who had been hanged in Kartu Town for her treachery against the Qin. Where had her grandson gone? To whom had he been conveying her message?

Anji glanced at her; his hands were light on the reins, but his eyes were tight. She nodded coolly in return. He smiled, a flash that might have been loving encouragement, or anticipation of a cruel triumph as he forced his mother to accept a humble merchant's daughter as his wife. She looked ahead.

The porch wrapping around the big house had been extended, and whole sections around the side screened off with canvas. Even in the few weeks since Mai had last sailed to Astafero to see Miravia and to coax Uncle Hari out of the valley and down to the assizes that one time, the house had been changed: whitewashing

on the walls, curtains screening the windows, pillars wrapped with elaborately painted but half finished floral scenes. In addition to all this other decoration, the big house had been festooned with banners in the Qin style, a rainbow of colors: bold scarlet, sun gold, heavenly blue, bone white, mist silver, festival orange, night black, rain-sodden green, and a sighing purple that reminded her of Uncle Hari when she had last seen him flying away from Astafero's assizes. How well the assizes had gone! She drew strength from the memory. ^

A figure was seated in an ornate chair placed on the high porch as if the entire settlement of Astafero had been built to display and enhance the seated person's authority.

'Be brave, plum blossom,' murmured Anji. He carried Atani in a sling against his chest, the baby facing forward and looking around with his usual delighted expression, as if to say: All this! A parade for me! Not that Atani could possibly understand what was happening, or the import of this procession and what it suggested. When the Qin had taken over rule of Kartu Town, the city fathers and lords had processed to the fort in a show of humility. They had come to the Qin, not the other way around. So Anji approached his mother.

Attendants lined the plank walkway, sheltered from the sun by a new slate roof constructed over what had once been wings of canvas. Miravia stood on the lower steps, below the other attendants. Besides the kitchen women standing at the leftmost corner of the porch, Miravia was the only visible woman. Their gazes met across the gap, but Miravia did not descend to greet her. She glanced past Mai, searching for someone else, then selfconsciously adjusted the scarf that bound her hair. Realizing what she was doing, she lowered her hand.

Anji signaled the troop to a halt, dismounted, and handed his reins to a groom. He beckoned to Mai. Tuvi dismounted and came to hold her horse. Swinging down, she paced as in a dream to Anji. He unwrapped the baby from his sling and handed him to Mai. To clasp the plump little fellow gave her courage. She had a piece of Anji that his mother did not.

They approached the porch and ascended past a silent Miravia.

The woman was seated in a lofty chair of bright blue silk embroidered with dragons in a darker blue thread; these intense colors set off her gold headdress and the gown with its draperies that flowed around her. She had a broad, bold face, no beauty but

certainly handsome in the Qin way. She was not as old as Mai had thought she would be; her skin had a few wrinkles but no blemishes; her hands looked strong and capable, her shoulders were unbowed. She stared fiercely at her son — a man she had not seen for almost twenty years — and spared no glance for his wife and son.

Anji kneeled to touch her right slippered foot with his right hand, then brushed his fingers against his chest and his forehead before he looked up at her.

'Honored Mother.' He did not grovel. His pride elevated him. Whatever his true feelings were, he kept them reined in.

No one spoke as the mother examined her son. If joy or memory or tears welled deep in that steel countenance, Mai could not perceive them. She took her time looking him over, much — Mai supposed — as Anji had carefully examined Atani when he had first held the little boy. Banners snapped; ribbons fluttered. Hooves shifted as horses grew restless. The sun blazed on Mai's back, but her body shielded Atani within its shade.

'You look well enough, my son. Not handsome, I am afraid. But you have grown up strong and fit.' Nothing frail about her voice! Or her first line of attack, cutting straight for a vanity he did not, in fact, possess. 'Possibly you're even competent, if the reports I have heard are true.'

Mai was abruptly glad he had made no gesture commanding Mai to bow and scrape as he had done, for even fixed on her son, his mother's gaze had the biting remoteness of a desert adder's. Mai was pretty sure she could not bring herself to show obeisance to a woman who refused to show even one drop of affection for the son whose life she had saved years ago, a child she had not seen in twenty years. Yet she must be strong enough to welcome the woman's overtures, should they ever come.

'I am come from Sirniaka, Son. Your half brother Azadihosh is dead. I do not regret his death, or his family's slaughter, since it was his people who wished to kill you when they took pride of place in the palace. So do the gods work, in cutting the throats of those who forget that fate has a hand on every knife. Your cousins now hold the throne and its power. I am released from my prison and return to comfort you, Son. I do regret the many years we have been forced to live apart.'

For all the sentiment of the words, her voice did not quiver. Still, incredibly, she managed not to look at Mai or the baby.

'Why did they let you go?' he asked. No pretty speeches; no joyful embraces. They got straight down to business. 'Once a woman is brought into the emperor's palace, she is released only by death.'

'Not even then,' she said with a curt laugh, 'for the white robes capture her spirit in their blessing bowls and confine it forever to the jar of misery that is all the afterlife they will permit women.' Her smile held bitter victory. 'Your cousins feared what might happen if they attempted to have me-put down like a broken horse. My brother betrayed me when he sold me to the emperor in exchange for border trading rights, but he made sure the Sirni understood that my life and honor must never be tarnished. However, your cousins released me to act as their emissary.'

Her gaze flicked to Mai, like a blow: comprehensive, swift, and meant to make Mai flinch. Mai found her market smile and fixed it on like paint. The baby gurgled and reached one sweet little hand toward his father, babbling, 'Baba. Baba.'

'What business could my cousins have with me?' Anji asked as he smoothly took the baby out of Mai's arms and settled the silk-swaddled bottom on his upright thigh. He glanced down at the crowing infant. 'Hush, sunflower,' he said fondly.

Atani hushed, gazing raptly at his father.

The old woman's gaze tightened in exactly the way Anji's did when he was annoyed.

Mai felt her smile pinch toward a smirk, and she battled it back to the innocuously pleasant face she wore when men tried to grope her or women to cheat her. It was the face she had perfected through years of dealing with her hated Uncle Girish. Merciful One grant her open-heartedness! How could she have taken such a powerful and instantaneous dislike to a woman she did not even know?

The woman rose, and in rising displayed the smooth weave and magnificent embroidery of her gown. The silk was astoundingly rich and cunningly embroidered, a veritable treasure house of fabric. This was emperor's silk, not for the likes of a girl born to an insignificant sheep-herding clan in a dusty desert trading town.

'Your cousins are not unaware of the difficulty your existence poses to them. You have a legitimate claim to the imperial throne.'

'Which I forswore by leaving the palace. By going into exile, I became as one dead to the imperial court.'

'Dead to the court, but not dead in your physical form. The former is one style of death. The latter is more permanent. Naturally your cousin fears you may change your mind and choose to live. But your uncle, my brother, the var, might take it amiss if you were to die at the new emperor's hands.'

'My uncle, the var, ordered me killed. Were you unaware of the bargain he made with Azadihosh?'

'I hear whispers, as must any woman in the palace who values the life of her son. My brother desired an easy path into the rich trade offered by the border towns. Your half brother Farazadihosh was desperate. He was newly come to the throne. He suspected his cousins meant to contest him, and he knew they commanded better and more numerous troops than he did. He sought an ally. Your uncle my brother sought advantage.'

'And my life was the piece on the board my uncle was willing to sacrifice. Did that part of this tale escape you, Honored Mother?'

She brushed a hand over his head in an intimate manner, touching his topknot. 'Of course it did not escape me. Do you think it was chance you survived?'

'Commander Beje gave me the opportunity to escape with my life.'

'Did this surprise you?'

'It did, I admit it.'

Her disapproval flowed hot like the sun. 'It should not have. Your wife is Beje's daughter, a woman of suitable rank and noble lineage. I arranged the marriage myself through Beje's wife Cherfa when I sent you back to your uncle, the var, for safekeeping. Serpent and snake that he proved to be — my own brother! Hu! He had betrayed me beforehand by sending me to that terrible place. I should have expected nothing less from him. Naturally, in later years, when whispers reached my ears of my brother's further treachery, I turned to Cherfa again. She told Beje to aid you.'

'I never saw Beje's wife, although he mentioned her,' said Anji. 'I will say that Commander Beje behaved in all ways honorably toward me.'

'He is our ally. The soldiers he sent me are for you. He hands them over to your command.'

'Mine? Hu!' He blew out breath between his teeth, swiped a finger along his beard as he considered this unexpected harvest.

'Certainly I have no complaint of Commander Beje. However, I am no longer married to his daughter. She ran away into the west with a demon.'

'Hu! I had not imagined Beje and Cherfa could sire a weak-minded female. Still, she may yet be alive.'

'To me she is dead.'

She brushed his topknot again and this time found a corner of wrapped ribbon a hair out of place and tweaked it to fall into line. 'Too much pride is a weakness, Anjihosh.'

'Call it what you wish. I was married to her at one time. Now she is dead.' He hoisted Atani and, finally, rose; he was taller than his mother was but not enough for his height to intimidate.

His mother cut off his attack before he could pursue it further. 'Come inside, Anjihosh. We will drink a proper greeting.'

Her gesture commanded him to accompany her — into the house without taking off his boots! He could not refuse his mother, yet to walk with her forced Mai to walk behind.

Mai thought probably her ears were flaming red from anger, but she would not let her anger rule her. Miravia's clear gaze met hers. Mai gestured as the thought bloomed. Miravia mounted the steps to fall in beside her. Let Miravia stand for her allies, all the women and men in Astafero and Olo'osson who respected her as a woman of means.

Side by side, they walked behind Anji into the house that had once been hers and which was now transformed with all manner of fabrics and low couches and a slumbrous perfume of smoky incense that made her want to sneeze. Sirniakans evidently did not sit on pillows like civilized people. They raised themselves up on low couches, as if they could not be bothered to keep their floors clean by keeping people's dirt-laden shoes off the fine mats.

They tromped barbarically across the mats into an inner room whose doors lay open to receive light from the private central courtyard of the house. The doors to the outer audience chamber slapped shut behind them. In the courtyard, under the shade of the inner porches, sat about twenty women, from sweet-faced girls to wrinkled crones. One quickly covered her face with a wing of pale blue silk shot through with silver cross threads. The others hid their mouths behind their hands and measured Anji through sidelong, coy gazes.

He was the only man in the chamber.

Anji's mother seated herself and indicated that Anji must sit

opposite on a couch facing both her and the courtyard. He remained standing until Mai reached him. He nodded toward the couch; when he sat, she sat beside him. Miravia slid in to kneel gracefully on the floor by Mai's legs, her back a solid comfort. She turned a little, and Atani smiled boldly at her and allowed himself to be passed into Miravia's arms.

Mai settled her now-empty hands in her lap, palms up and relaxed, in the manner of the Merciful One's bounty. She'd faced worse in Kartu Town's market, haggling over peaches. The women examined Mai more boldly than they had examined Anji. She did not flinch. Let them look! She knew her own worth.

Anji's mother clapped her hands. Slaves scurried out from whatever shadows they'd been skulking in to lay out cups and platters around a silver teapot. Out of this pot steaming hot water was drawn and poured into a ceramic blue teapot to rinse it, and the rinse water sluiced into a brass basin. Blackened leaves were sprinkled into the pot, water poured over them, and the teapot sealed with a lid. The aroma was powerful and very fine.

Two cups only, so finely wrought they seemed as thin as paper, sat on the low table.

Anji washed his hands out of the brass basin, his expression so collected Mai knew he was plotting as he wiped his hands dry. He grasped the teapot's handle, filled one cup a third of the way, the other to the full, and finished filling the first. After setting down the teapot, he picked up one cup with both hands and offered it to his mother. She took it, not hiding her smile, meant to announce her victory.

Anji picked up the second cup with both hands and offered it to Mai.

The attendants gasped, hiding faces behind veils of cloth or concealing hands.

Mai took the cup but kept on her placid market face as she met the older woman's steady gaze. So. Now they would stare in the manner of wolves waiting for one to submit to another. Mai would not look down. Neither would Anji's mother.

'Bring me a cup,' said Anji, his tone so clipped it shocked Mai into looking at him.

A cup was brought. He poured for himself. He drank first, and then of course both women must hasten to drink as the women on the courtyard whispered, like leaves stirred by the rising wind off a coming storm. Anji drained his cup and set it down. His mother

finished likewise, and Mai took a final swallow and set hers next to Anji's.

'You are being stubborn, Anjihosh,' said his mother. 'I see that has not changed.'

'I came, obediently, as soon as I heard you had arrived in the Hundred, despite pressing events elsewhere that need my immediate attention. You are of course welcome to set up your own household here, if you do not wish to return to the empire or to the Qin. With what message do you come as an emissary from cousins I have never met, do not wish to meet, and who must by the custom and law of the empire seek my death?'

She folded her hands on the glorious silk of her gown. 'I bring this message: Remain in exile, never to set foot in Sirniakan or Qin territory again, and they will not trouble you.'

'Why should I believe they are willing to allow me live unmolested when there have been several attempts already on my life?'

'If the red hounds pursued you, it was by the directive of your brother Farazadihosh. Your cousins were too busy raising an army and fighting their war to trouble themselves with you.'

'But now they do trouble themselves with me. The offer is too generous for me to believe it honestly meant. Surely you cannot believe they harbor no grievance against me, Honored Mother. Why is it you agreed to act as their emissary?'

'Because my first duty, my only obligation, is to keep you alive, Son. They know that. I know that. You know that. No other person will protect you as I have protected you and will — indeed must — protect you. Am I not correct, Anjihosh?'

He bowed his head. 'You are correct.'

'I assured myself that they meant what they said and that they were not attempting to betray you through my agency. Do you think I am a fool?'

These words were spat so sharply Mai winced, and although Anji's mother did not look at Mai, it was quite obvious by the way her mouth tightened that she had noticed Mai's reaction.

Anji held a breath longer than he ought, and expelled it as he gripped the teapot and poured a second round of tea into the cups. He did not wait for the women. He drained his cup and set it down hard on the table's polished grain.

'No more a fool than I am,' he said.

'We shall see.' She gestured, and the woman who had veiled

herself at their entrance rose like a puppet and walked with graceless stiffness — the poor thing was either terrified or haughty — to stand at the foot of the couch on which Anji's mother reclined.

'Remain in exile, never to set foot in Sirniakan or Qin territory again, and they will not trouble you,' Anji's mother repeated with a gloating satisfaction in her tone like that of a customer who feels she has gotten the better in a long tedious bargaining session. 'The bargain to be sealed by a marriage between you and their sister.'

The sister's eyes were all Mai could see; they were traced with a thick black line that emphasized their shape; her lashes were thick, her gaze exotic because it was all that existed of her. She might be beautiful; she might be plain. It was the mystery that excited.

'I have a wife,' said Anji.

'You have a concubine, Anjihosh. And very pretty she is, as I am sure you wish me to mention. The child is yours, I collect. A handsome boy.'

Her voice warmed as she deigned to examine Atani, who regarded her with the same equanimity as he regarded all people: he was sure they loved him. Hu! The woman could not be all horrid if she admired Atani.

'But a pretty girl of no rank or consequence is not the wife of a prince.'

'Mai is my wife,' said Anji.

'Furthermore,' she went on as if he had not spoken, 'you must marry in order to protect your life. My life. The life of your handsome son. Even the life of the pretty concubine is at stake.'

The sword thrust home.

His eyes flared, as though he had taken a blade to the gut, and he sat back as swiftly as if he'd been hit and flung an arm out as though to shield Mai from the blow. He did not quite touch her; he had more control than that. Yet the gesture betrayed him.

His mother smiled tightly. 'Keep your concubine if you wish. Beauty fades. Blood, however, never weakens. I will hold the baby now.'

She extended her arms; the many, gold bracelets she wore jangled along her sleeves, and they caught Atani's attention. The cursed baby went straight to her, as he went to everyone, and she seated him on her lap and let his damp bottom stain the magnificent silk and allowed him to wrap his chubby moist fingers

around the baubles as though they were humble wood toys. She knew how to hold a child, and he was an easy child to hold. Anji relaxed his arm; his shoulders eased; he smiled.

The woman, behind her veil, watched him, and then she looked at Mai, and Mai looked at her. If there was a message in the other's gaze Mai could not interpret it. After a moment, the other woman looked away, and perhaps that shuttering came from anger, or shyness, or fear, or loneliness. What manner of woman was she, raised in a women's palace apart from men and confined within walls her entire life? As remarkable as Mai's journey had been from dusty Kartu Town through the desert and the empire into the glorious Hundred, how much farther in every other way this woman must have traveled.

Would the other woman demand that her exalted rank be acknowledged, or might they become as sisters? Rich men in Kartu Town kept two wives all the time; Mai's own father had taken a pair of sisters. It wasn't impossible; women learned to live together. What choice did they have? It was better to live in harmony than to fight over scraps.

Yet what was she thinking? She need accept no scraps. She had her own household. Her own coin.

Anji's mother was watching her while pretending to dandle the baby. So Mai smiled at her, very prettily; she had learned to smile in the marketplace and in the Mei clan, where tempers and tensions had trapped so many others.

But not her.

She had escaped.

'You will wish to wash and rest after your journey,' said Anji's mother, handing the baby back to Miravia as to a servant. 'I have set aside rooms for your use, Anjihosh.'

T thank you,' he said, rising and offering a hand to Mai so she must rise as well. Miravia clambered hastily to her feet, holding the baby. 'I have urgent business to attend to at the militia encampment. There is a tent there set aside for my use. I will attend on you again.' His gaze flicked to Mai, and his lips pulled up in that way he had when he was content with his victories. 'In the morning.'

He offered a formal gesture toward the veiled woman. 'Cousin. My greetings.' Then he switched to a language Mai did not know and spoke at more length, although the cadence of the words remained formal and not at all intimate.

The woman did not look at him as he spoke. When he was finished, she replied to the floor. She had a woman's voice, not astoundingly beautiful and not croaking or harsh; just a voice. Impossible to say what manner of person hid behind the veil of formality and distance. Maybe that was the advantage of such covering: if you were clever, you could hide the truth and do what you wished because no one could suspect your actual intentions, your secret heart.

Yet Uncle Hari could look straight into her heart, could he not? No veil would protect her then. Imagine what it would be like to have an ally who could always warn you of the hidden intentions of those who might wish you harm!

'Mai,' said Anji softly.

She rested a hand on his forearm and looked first at Anji's cousin and then at his mother.

'Greetings of the day, verea,' she said in the Hundred style. 'Greetings of the day, Honored Mother.'

The arrow struck home, an ambush, if you wished to call it so. But oddly, as Anji's mother's eyes narrowed, absorbing the hit, her lips quirked as though she were amused.

'Mai,' repeated Anji.

Her ears were still flaming; she knew her color was high. She paced beside Anji as he led her out of the house whose construction she had overseen. She had boiled rice in those kitchens! She had strung canvas walls with her hirelings.

As they descended the steps, she muttered, 'It is my house.'

'You did well,' said Anji. 'Just think. Now you have another five hundred men to find wives for.'

'Will these soldiers stay in the Hundred?'

'They're under my command, plum blossom. Of course they will stay.' He strode up to Tuvi and clapped the chief on the back with a broad grin. 'Five hundred Qin soldiers. Think of it, Chief. Allow me a moment to gloat. Hu! I think we can actually win this war.'

Mai embraced Miravia. 'I missed you,' she whispered.

'Take me with you,' murmured Miravia into her ear. 'I beg you.'

'Come, Mai,' said Anji, taking the reins from his groom.

'Miravia will need a horse to ride,' said Mai to Tuvi. Then she turned to Anji. 'Will you marry your cousin? To keep the peace?'

He frowned. 'One war at a time. I have battles to fight in the north that will not wait.'

He mounted. Mai stepped into Tuvi's cupped hands and he hoisted her up into the saddle. The chief faced Miravia, whose blushes were easy to see. Was Tuvi also blushing? Did he care for her, or want to care for her, or was he simply overheated from the sun?

'I will take my son,' said Anji.

The chief took the baby from Miravia. As everyone waited for Anji to wrap the child's sling around his torso and Tuvi to get the baby snugged in, that cursed Keshad emerged from the lines leading a horse.

'If you will,' he said, his gods-rotted intense gaze fixed on Miravia as his color changed.

Miravia could barely look at him, but she accepted the reins and his help in mounting.

Chief Tuvi was still helping Anji with the baby, his back to them. Keshad slipped away into the lines. Miravia clumsily got the horse to move up beside Mai's mare. Anji signaled. The troop wheeled and, under the gaze of the Sirniakan slaves, headed down through town.

Anji was smiling, but Mai could not.

He had not said no.