Traitors Gate

33

Ushara's temple had not even a proper entrance court, just a high wall of rocks. The outer gates were canvas, and a youth sat cross-legged on a rough approximation of a rock bench illuminated by a lamp hanging from a tripod.

'Haven't seen you before,' the youth said to Keshad in the rude way kalos and hierodules often had, as if the goddess chose them for their impertinent speaking. 'We don't have a proper Heart Garden yet. Just so you know, the Hieros has come to detest you folk complaining about how things aren't so very nice out here.'

'You're grumpy this evening. Did I offend you somehow?'

The youth grinned. 'The Hieros has only been here for one month. You can't believe the things we've heard. Folk should be grateful we've been able to set up at all.'

'Why is that?'

'Eh, the captain didn't want the the temple here at all when the verea was in residence. There was a rumor he's afraid the mistress will come find some pleasure while he's out fighting, but that can't be true. What man would begrudge his wife a little sex if he's off traveling all the time?'

'He's an outlander. They have different customs.'

'Aui! Hard to believe. Anyway, the new Astafero council voted to establish a temple, so the Hieros in Olossi sent a kalos to stand as hieros.'

'Can I go in?'

'The devouring urge is eating you badly, isn't it? Anyway, I know who you are.'

'How can you know who I am?'

The youth grinned maddeningly and waved him inside as several Qin soldiers strolled up. Kesh pushed past the canvas entrance to avoid speaking to them. An elderly woman sat on one of a chain of rocks set up as benches in a square of ground that would perhaps one day harbor a garden with flowering shrubs and troughs of blooming yellow-bells or stardrops. Torches bound to iron posts flared.

'Don't you have pretty eyes?' she said wickedly. 'If only I were younger.'

Instead of gates, they had hung canvas to either side, these painted with the proper colors although in such dim illumination it was impossible to distinguish gold from silver except by the pattern: a round disk to mark the gold and a crescent to mark the silver.

At the entrance, the Qin soldiers were laughing at something the obnoxious gatekeeper had said, as jovial as you please in that calm way they had of never finding offense. He suddenly recalled the chief who had offered to take the Sirniakin palace concubine as a wife rather than see her killed. Would he have made the woman a good husband? Would he, like Anji, have threatened to kill a young man who had no designs on his wife purely for the unfortunate accident of having been made an offer for that wife he had no intention of accepting?

'No one will bite you,' the elderly woman said with a laugh. 'Unless that's how you like it.'

He hurried to the men's side and rang the bell. The Qin soldiers came into the Heart Garden, but the old woman engaged them in conversation and like all the Qin they had very polite manners and therefore listened and responded dutifully as Kesh shifted, wondering how the hells long it was going to take and what if Miravia was already here waiting for him?

Away in town, the sixth bell rang its pattern, closing the day.

A young man twitched the curtain aside and looked Kesh up and down. He grinned in a friendly way, whistled sharply, then beckoned. They had done their best with the dusty environs. There was a cistern and a bathing tub, and several screens set back in the shadows for more private ablutions. Where normally a garden would sprawl with winding paths and hidden glades and ornamented private alcoves leading through the grounds to buildings set up in the back for those who preferred more traditional comforts, they'd thrown up a maze of canvas hanging from ropes strung between posts. It had a certain rustic charm.

Four women strolled out to look him over, one with a very sexy smile who was too old for him, one with a playful grin who seemed too young, and a pair more or less his own age, one thin and one plump.

The kalos draped an arm companionably over the shoulders of the youngest. 'Good eyes,' he said to the young one, who was perhaps seventeen, 'but he won't be interested in you, dearest. Nor in you, grandmother,' he added, with a grin at the older woman.

She said, sardonically, 'Nor in you, peaches.'

'I'm here to meet someone,' interrupted Kesh.

They all laughed, but it was the kalos who replied. 'You want to meet a lover, go find some dusty ravine for your assignation, like that idiot debt slave who got accused of stealing sheep when they were just trying to keep out of sight of her husband. The temple does not facilitate secret meetings.'

'But she said to meet me here…' He trailed off, hearing how ridiculous he sounded.

The plump one looked bored by his evident idiocy and wandered off to twitch aside the curtain and peer through to look at the Qin laughing in the Heart Garden at the elderly woman's jokes.

'Which means she was telling you that she's not interested.'

'But-'

'Aren't we always sure, when we're infatuated, that our interest is returned?' Was that pity in his gaze? Were these cursed people feeling sorry for him?

He grasped as at rice straw. 'Maybe she doesn't know the laws. She's an outlander — not an outlander, precisely, a Silv — that is, she was but not now-' He' stumbled to a halt, wondering if it was too late to save himself from utter humiliation.

Their expressions changed. Even the plump woman hurried back, having caught the end of this staggering speech.

'Oh!'

'Well!'

'You didn't say you were talking about Miravia!'

The hells! They looked sidelong at each other, sharing smiles. The plump one brushed a finger over her rosy lips. The kalos waggled his eyebrows as he shared a meaningful glance with the thin one. The older woman flashed that startlingly sexy smile again.

'You know her?' demanded Kesh.

'She comes to worship just like anyone,' said the kalos appreciatively, 'not that it's any business of yours. And not that it changes the law.'

'It's possible she doesn't know,' said the plump one, as if it mattered to her to help Miravia in any way she could. 'He might be the one she was talking about. Those beautiful eyes. Not that it makes any difference.'

'You'll have to go, ver,' said the kalos sadly.

Kesh sure as the hells wasn't going to walk out of here without

seeing Miravia unless it happened she had deliberately sent him on a fireling chase — the kind where you could not hope to catch what you were after — and he was cursed sure that a woman who stared at him the way she had stared at him was not pretending.

'Here, now,' he said, the words flooding out as a scheme took shape in his mind. Zubaidit had nagged him months ago, and he had ignored her then. 'I was sold into slavery at the age of twelve. My master never allowed me to serve my apprenticeship year even though it goes against the law to deny any youth that year. I want to serve as a kalos. Starting tonight.'

A bell rang at the entrance.

The kalos grabbed Kesh by the elbow. 'The Qin won't be wanting me. You and I are going to see the Hieros.' As the hierodules admitted the Qin soldiers, the kalos tugged Kesh back into the Heart Garden.

'Trouble?' asked the elderly woman with an arched eyebrow.

'He says Miravia told him to meet her here for an assignation.'

'I thought so,''said the woman, clucking her tongue. 'It was the eyes.'

'Does everyone know Miravia's business?' he cried.

'She could have been a hierodule and served the Merciless One,' said the woman with a chuckle that made him flush, 'but she says she cannot take an apprenticeship because of her hidden god.'

'This one says he wants to take an apprenticeship so he can serve Miravia!' laughed the kalos.

'Aui! The Hieros will sort this out.'

The kalos led them through the canvas hanging — painted white — that sealed away the inner courtyard from whence the Hieros guided the temple. Behind the gate lay a featureless square of dirt faced on one side by a long stone building. A canvas awning was fixed over a porch constructed of paving stones set on a bed of sand. A man dozed in a sling chair, his behind almost scraping the stones while his feet and head were elevated. He startled awake as the kalos marched Keshad across the empty square.

'Why in the hells are you disturbing me, Dalon?'

'Holy One, my apologies.' Dalon offered a disgracefully hasty gesture of respect that made it obvious this Hieros took a more casual authority over his underlings than the old bitch in Olossi. 'You know the man Miravia thinks she's in love with-'

'The one with the beautiful eyes.' The Hieros sat up, and cursed if Kesh didn't recognize him: a good-looking man with a pleasant smile and his long hair in a braid down his back. 'Come closer.'

Kesh stopped. 'I saw you in the street, the day we first arrived here. You wanted me to tell you who we were and where we'd come from.'

The Hieros raised a hand in an imperious gesture copied from the old bitch. 'You may address me as "Holy One." Also, I meant it. Come closer.'

Why the world was filled with people whose whims must be pleased Kesh did not know, but he walked to the edge of the flagstones, within the aura of lamplight.

'He says Miravia told him to meet her here,' Dalon said. 'Maybe she doesn't know private assignations aren't allowed. So he up and says he never served one of the gods, that he spent his youth as a debt slave and his master never let him. Claims he wants to serve his apprenticeship to Ushara starting tonight.'

The Hieros grabbed his sandals, shook them before slipping them on, and rose. 'It's a gods-rotted coincidence that you're Zubaidit's brother. Isn't it?'

Kesh gaped, left speechless.

The Hieros paced the length of the awning and returned. Zubaidit walked with the same deadly grace. 'I trained Bai. I know all about her. Loyal Keshad.' He smiled in a way that made Kesh very uneasy. 'An unusual thing, I am sure, to think of devouring a Ri Amarah girl. Quite a feast to boast of later to your curious friends.'

Kesh pinned shut his lips and glared.

The man's smile altered, growing sharper. 'You're already under obligation — debt obligation — to the temple in Olossi. Not as kalos, more as a hostage although if you had asked me, which no one did, I would have said Zubaidit needed no hostage to seal her cooperation. She is the most loyal servant of the goddess I know, except for the old bitch.'

'The Hieros?'

'Did you think I was speaking of someone else?'

Kesh grasped desperately for any advantage. 'If Captain Anji finds out I'm speaking to you-'

The Hieros laughed again. 'He'll what? Kill you? Try to kill me? He knows the temple has agents here. Indeed, he asked for

them, which was polite of him considering we had them in place already. For him, we keep an eye on the settlement and all the newcomers. For ourselves, we keep an eye on the trade in oil of naya, on the training camps, on the reeve hall. On such very interesting developments as when you and the Silver youth returned from the south with a cohort of Qin troops and the captain's mother. Is it not odd that such an eminent individual was sent here instead of to Olossi? Peculiar, if you ask me. I'd love to know more. Give me information, and I'll let you meet Miravia here as often as she likes. But I can't take you as a kalos. You're not one of Ushara's apprentices. Too cursed passionate in the wrong way.'

'You would trade Miravia's body for information?'

'She may reject you if she wishes, so I can promise you nothing from her. But I can have you thrown out so you have no chance even to speak to her. That's the offer I'm making. Talk to me, and I'll let you stay. What happens after that is up to her.'

The scent of incense floated on the night breeze. A man and woman shared laughter. Water splashed, followed by a burst of cheerful play-shouting and shrieks.

'Dalon,' said the Hieros in a mild voice that made Kesh stand straighter, 'please go remind them we cannot take water for granted here as we can in Olossi.'

The kalos trotted off.

Kesh's mind was already made up. He bore no grudge against one who bargained fairly, and he respected the other man's frankness and his swift, tough offer. 'Must I stand? Or will you allow me to sit?'

'For you, ver, a sling chair so you can keep your feet off the ground.' A sleepy man, rousted from the interior, carried out another sling chair, a table, and a tray with a pitcher of juice and cups. 'We've got a cursed plague of scorpions out here and it's causing us all manner of trouble. One poor worshiper was stung right on his tool! Fortunately, the big ugly ones won't kill you, but he was cursed swollen for a good long time after. We've petitioned Astafero's council to rebuild in a different location, and we'll have to set the entire temple up off the ground, so we'll have to import posts and wood planking — very expensive, I'm sure.'

'I heard the captain was dead set against a temple to the Merciful One being raised here in the settlement at all.'

'The council voted to bring in the temple. It's not the captain's decision.'

Kesh smirked. 'You think he hasn't the power to stop it, if he wanted to?'

'An interesting statement. Why do you say so?'

'He's captain of the regional militia. It's more of an army now.'

'Necessary to fight our enemy in the north,' said the Hieros. 'The temple works well with him. It's a mutually beneficial relationship.'

'I don't trust him. He's willing to kill to get what he wants.'

'Do you say so, to me? The Merciless One, the mistress of love, death, and desire, is also willing to kill.'

'Don't say I didn't warn you.'

'Warn me more. Talk.'

Kesh talked. He told of his dispute with Anji; Anji's mother's peculiar offer; what he knew of the woman. His sojourn in the empire and what he had seen there.

The Hieros was an engaging listener, a bit of a flirt — naturally — and he knew how to look you in the face as you talked so you began to think you were the best storyteller who had ever drawn breath. He knew how to ask the questions that drew out the details whose unveiling revealed overlooked vistas and undiscovered crevices. Would the new Qin soldiers remain in the Hundred as well, marry, and settle down, or would they go back where they came from? And if they came from the south, would yet more follow? What other signs might Kesh have seen of the red hounds? Did he know anything of how they were organized? Was it true that in the empire even military cohorts were overseen by a Beltak priest? Why did Kesh carry one of their god's blessing bowls?

'I first went south when I was a slave. In the empire, a believing merchant is taxed at a lower rate than a nonbelieving foreigner. I built my first stake by carrying Beltak's bowl and keeping the difference for myself.'

'Yet you're back in the Hundred now. Talking of serving a proper apprenticeship. Yet it's difficult to say which god you belong to.'

'Bai said the same cursed thing to me, and it annoyed me just as much then as it does now.'

'Yet you came to me asking to serve as a kalos. Was that insincerely meant?'

'A man may be sincere for different reasons than those expected of him, Holy One.'

'An answer I can't fault you for.'

Dalon trotted out of the gloom and bent to whisper in the Hieros's ear. The Hieros rose. 'Will you come back, Keshad, and talk to me again?'

Keshad bolted up out of the chair so fast he knocked it over, and its clatter brought the other man out from the back with a staff in one hand. 'Is Miravia asking for me?'

'You didn't answer my question.'

Kesh wiped a hand across his suddenly clammy forehead. 'You've been fair. Can I go?'

'Here's the thing, Keshad.' One moment the Hieros was standing casually several safe paces away; the next he had moved so quickly and taken such a grip on Kesh's left arm, twisting it, that Kesh doubled over with a grating squeak that shamed him even as his shoulder and wrist flared hot with pain. 'Don't think you've earned our trust just because Miravia is infatuated with your handsome eyes. Don't think you've earned our trust just because you're ready to sell any man on the block if it will bring you a few vey of advantage. If any of us ever discover you have mistreated her in any way, we'll beat the shit out of you and I personally know how to do it so as not to leave any visible marks and to cause you maximum suffering afterward. Is that understood?'

Kesh's eyes were watering. He braced a foot, and immediately his arm was tweaked so hard his vision hazed. 'Yes!'

The Hieros released him.

He dropped, rubbing his shoulder. 'Aui! What did I ever do to deserve that?'

A question to which only you can provide the answer. Dalon, get him out of here.'

Clenching his jaw, Kesh rose, shaking but determined. 'I'd like tea and cups. Sweetened rice cakes, if you have any. Or bean cakes. On a platter.'

The Hieros chuckled. 'Would you now? I admire your stubbornness, Keshad. An undervalued trait. Dalon, bring him whatever he asks for, within reasonable bounds.'

Whatever he asks for.

He ignored the pain in his shoulder as he followed Dalon nto a barracks-like building flanking one side of the Hieros's

courtyard. The courtyard stretched the length of the entire compound. A door led from the barracks into the women's garden, lively at this hour with laughter, conversation, and the sounds of one unfortunate who evidently had the habit of whooping loudly when she reached a climax. Most people were more discreet. Musicians were singing, accompanying themselves with drum, flute, and zither. Dalon led him to a tiny pavilion in a shadowed corner, hung a lantern from a hook, and left Kesh there alone.

There were pillows, a low table, a pitcher of wash water, a copper basin for washing. He washed his hands and face and poured the wash water into a decorative trough of snarling stardrops whose last flowers stubbornly bloomed although it was past their season. He knew how to be stubborn, how to get what he wanted no matter how long and how hard he had to work for it. He placed a pillow on each side of the table and scattered the rest so they did not clump all together, convenient for a quick tumble.

Dalon announced his return with a cough. He handed over a tray resplendent with a beautifully lacquered tea pot and matching cups, and two platters of delicacies: red bean cakes, yam dumplings, ginger rice cakes, raisins, and sliced mango.

Kesh set cups, platters, and teapot on the table and fussed with their arrangement, so engrossed in his task as his mind devised a plan that he was surprised when she spoke.

'Keshad?'

He started back, tumbling one of the empty teacups, and caught it as he straightened to face her. She was dressed simply, in an undyed linen taloos of fine weave, and wore no scarf, her lustrous hair tumbling over her shoulders like a fall of water. Eiya! He heard a distant voice singing of just such a sight: 'Her hair, like the water, falls-'

He was terribly aroused, but he smiled as if he weren't lusting after her so badly it hurt. He knelt at the basin and washed hands and face again, this time with the proper prayers. She copied the movements but did not speak the prayer.

Lips parted, eyes bright as the lamp's sheen made them glisten, she turned to him, lifting a hand to touch his chest. 'Keshad.'

He scrambled to put the table between them, settled cross-legged — tremendously uncomfortable but determined to negotiate this with every cursed trick he knew — on one pillow and indicated the pillow opposite him.

'Look at these enticing foods the Hieros has had brought for us,' he said.

Surprised, and cautious, she sat on the pillow with her legs folded to one side, leaning on her right hand, watching him. She had a way of dipping her chin and looking up through half-closed eyes that was likely to drive him to madness, but he was not to be swayed from his purpose. 'What is this? I thought-'

She ceased speaking as he poured tea and, with the gesture known from the tale, offered her a cup. 'Lthought we could talk,' he said.

'Talk?'

Certainly he wanted to devour her, right now, right here, but what would that gain him? She could come to the garden every night and have sex, with him or with some other person, as she wished. He must withhold himself until he had convinced her to want him for other reasons.

Watching him, she licked her lips.

Aui! This wasn't going to be easy. To hold her off, he had to make sure he distracted her thoroughly with the subjects that mattered more passionately to her than a night's devouring.

'We'll just talk.' He was going to need a hells lot of cold water after this was over. 'Tell me why slavery is wrong.'

Under the weight of a late-afternoon sun, the closed tent was sweltering. Arras sat with four other cohort captains on a bench; subcaptains stood in the back as Commander Hetti spoke. Here in Saltow, five cohorts and the command cohort had gathered for the new assault on Nessumara. Two cohorts had been deployed to the western side of the river to hold a defensive line during the upcoming attack. Three cohorts would make a coordinated attack from Skerru in the north, along the causeway that ran through the swamp.

Captain Deri of Eighth Cohort raised a hand. 'Commander, the attack down the northern causeways five months ago was a disaster. Why repeat it? I understand it's meant to be a diversion for our attack over the dried-out wetlands here in the east, but isn't it a big risk to expose three full cohorts like that? Especially when we might strengthen our attack here?'

Arras caught his eye and gave him a nod. As unimaginative and overconfident as the command were, at least there were a few competent cohort captains.

'You're right it's a diversion,' said Hetti, 'but by placing three full cohorts at Skerru — and being able to draw on the two cohorts on the western shore for reinforcements — we can stop any of Nessumara's militia who break and try to run that direction. We've also spread a necklace of boats and ships in the bay. We've turned their delta fortress into a prison.'

As Hetti went on, Captain Deri glanced at Arras and shrugged. It was a decent plan: advance at night with torches over wetlands mostly dried out here at the fiery end of the dry seasons; dig in before dawn, and if necessary light fires to raise smoke away from the main assault path as a smoke screen. If there was no resistance, keep moving forward until they reached the outer islands of the city.

From outside, a guard called, 'The Lord Commander! Lord Yordenas!'

The tent flat was swept aside to admit a merciful gasp of a breeze, then slithered shut as two cloaks strode in. Every commander and captain fell to his knees, hands shielding eyes.

'Commander Hetti.' Lord Radas had a pleasant voice, but it still made Arras's skin crawl to hear him speak. 'Tonight our agents in the city will make targeted assassinations within Nessumara's council. They'll also kill Copper Hall's marshal. I'll be riding north to Skerru. Lord Yordenas will remain to oversee your forces. It's time to deploy. That is all. You're released to return to your cohorts. Which of you is Captain Arras?'

As the others rushed to exit the tent, Arras stepped aside on trembling legs, not looking up. 'I am, my lord.'

Lord Radas walked into an inner chamber more stifling than the first. Arras followed, sweat pouring. This might be it: a quick death, or a chance to move up. He halted, eyes screened behind a hand.

'You sent a message. Be quick. I must walk the Mire Pool Altar at dusk. What is it?'

'I've captured an outlander, my lord.'

'Why did you not turn him over to Commander Hetti?'

'He is the outlander Lord Twilight was trying to hide, my lord. The one Night took prisoner. I don't know how he escaped. I thought you would want to see him personally. Also, I prefer to receive the credit rather than give it all away to Commander Hetti. Shall I bring him to you, my lord?'

'Twilight's brother, eh? Night wants him badly. Detail a detachment to remain here in Saltow until she arrives.'

'Yes, my lord.'

'Odd the outlander should turn up after escaping from Wedrewe,' mused the cloak. 'Look at me, Captain Arras.'

The hells! He must look. Lord Radas's smile made him flinch; why in the hells had he listened to Lord Twilight? What could that cursed cloak ever do for him? The whole command structure was riddled with weak braggarts seeking preference-

'You think well of yourself, don't you, Captain Arras?'

He dared not look away, even as his heart was laid bare. Aui! Now he must think of Zubaidit, curse her!

Lord Radas looked bored as he gestured to let Arras know he was released. 'Odd. You possess the power to force the woman to have sex, yet you refrain. You're a proud, ambitious man who thinks well of yourself and poorly of others. Do your part in taking Nessumara, prove yourself to me, and you may hope for advancement. I'll need a commander for the coming campaign against Olo'osson.'

He bit down a grin of triumph. 'Yes, my lord.'

A man yelled a warning. The tent gave way. A big rock had plummeted to earth, carrying the canvas roof down with it, the frame collapsing as another rock struck and then a third, none atop him, thank the gods. But the weight of that collapsed fabric forced him to his knees. Lord Radas was cursing, and horns were blowing. Arras drew his knife and sawed at the canvas as the heat and heavy canvas began suffocating him.

Ai! Ai! He cut an opening and dragged himself through, began cutting where Lord Radas struggled. The cloak emerged in a fury; his gaze struck Arras so hard the captain fell backward with a shout of pain. So much anger, slapping back on him: People are such imbeciles! I am the only one worthy to rule.

Neh, these were not his thoughts. They were the cloak's.

A rock slammed down an arm's length from him, its impact shuddering through the ground. Men cried: 'We're being attacked!'

He crawled over the writhing canvas as more rocks thumped down. They were being dropped by reeves. A subcommander had been hit, his head cracked open. Arras cut where men were trapped, freeing two, five, ten from beneath the fallen tent. One man was no longer breathing. Arras shouted for guards; he needed to return to his cohort. Were they holding discipline? What in the hells was going on?

A second flight flew overhead, dropping more rocks. A skir-

mish was spreading at the eastern edge of the camp, and then a flash of flame, and abruptly a thunderous sound like a storm crashing down, only the sky was cloudless. Horses were stampeding through camp.

Arras rounded up every soldier he could grab and formed a wedge as protection against the horses. Men who panicked and bolted were not so fortunate, tumbling under hooves.

Yet the flood poured away to become a trickle. Grooms dashed in pursuit. No third flight of reeves assaulted them. Arras ran to his cohort's encampment at the marsh edge of camp. His soldiers had held their ground against archery fire, but the assailants had melted away.

'Don't pursue,' he ordered his subcaptains. 'Hold position. You've done well.'

He tracked down Zubaidit, who had held her cadre along a line of wagons that anchored one flank. One of her men had been grazed but was not otherwise hurt.

'What was that?' she asked. 'A diversion?'

'Someone in Nessumara knows a thing about shaking up the enemy. You'll pick ten men and remain in Saltow with the prisoner when we move out.'

'Will I? Why?'

'To turn him over to a cloak. Be patient, and you'll get your reward.'

'Turn him over to Lord Radas? Is be here?'

Her words fell unheeded on his back. With Giyara and two runners in tow, he was already racing back to the command tent, wondering what Commander Hetti would say. Confusion boiled; tents had been smashed by falling rocks or trampled by frantic horses. Over by the horse lines, a fire was smoldering in hay. Sergeants called cadres to order; soldiers milled around casualties. Hirelings and grooms were out hunting horses. A chicken ran loose, and dogs barked, chasing it. Some idiot had dropped his sword.

At the collapsed command tent, a hurried council was in session.

Lord Radas beckoned to him. 'Captain Arras. You kept your head about you when the tent collapsed. My thanks.'

He kept his head down. 'My apologies, Lord Commander. I went to check on my cohort. They held ranks, so I returned. There was archery fire on the perimeter, from attackers out in the wetlands. It was a coordinated attack — reeves, archers, horse lines — meant to frighten and bewilder us.'

'These cursed reeves are getting out of hand,' snapped Lord Yordenas.

'The reeves never worked in concert with the militia,' said Radas. 'When we first attacked Nessumara, their militia blocked the causeways, while the reeves only watched; In High Haldia, only the militia tried to hold the gates. The only time our forces have faced a coordinated attack was at Olossi. I want to know who is in charge of Nessumara's militia, and I want to be rid of him.'

'Can you not see into the hearts and minds of all people, my lord?' asked Arras into the silence left by this bald statement. 'If they have reeves who can scout, so can you scout out their plans. There is nothing they can keep hidden from us, were you to seek out the truth with your second heart and third eye.'

'Yordenas,' said Lord Radas, 'you must fly into Nessumara and discover their plans.'

'But-Lord Radas-!'

In that arrogant voice Arras heard the taint of fear.

Could Guardians fear} Yet hadn't Yordenas been injured in the first attack? Were the cloaks afraid to penetrate the heart of the enemy? Were they not as powerful as they seemed?

Lord Radas gestured with an arrow held like a speaker's baton. 'They cannot see you until you touch the earth. Make them cower, and they will flinch. Execute any criminals who stand in your way. That will frighten the rest. You are a Guardian, and they must obey you. Move in fast, and move out fast. I must ride to Mire Pool Altar to give this and other news to Night. At dusk you will ride into the city. The information you return with will allow us to alter our attack so it is most effective. At High Haldia, Lord Twilight did not fear to ride into the city to scout out the positions of the militia. Can you not do what the outlander has already done?'

'Of course I can!'

Lord Radas turned to his. military council. 'Commander Hetti, the army must begin its push into the delta tonight. The dry ground favors our attack. We will reach the inner islands by tomorrow night if we push hard now. They will believe we are too frightened and bewildered to strike because they have thrown this insignificant diversion at us. Therefore, we will strike.'