Traitors Gate

41

Arras climbed up into a wagon's bed to address his soldiers, who were straining eagerly for news. They had heard the horns' cries from ahead. They'd watched the captain's conference with the reeve.

'I've brought you this far,' Arras called. 'You may have wondered why we retreated from the attack on Nessumara. You may have wondered why we did not march out in company with the Saltow survivors. Why we left our camp slaves behind in Saltow rather than bring them with us.' He surveyed the assembled cohort but saw no man or woman there who looked angry or suspicious. They trusted him.

'As your captain, I have always put your welfare first. Maybe you think I'm a'generous man, a merchant who gives out rice cakes to children just to see them smile.' That caught and released a few chuckles. 'Maybe you think it's occurred to me that I can't be a captain without a cohort to command, and so it should. What is a captain, except a man with soldiers to lead? What is a commander, even a lord commander, except one who holds the reins of an army? So I ask you, if a commander proves again and again through his actions that he is no wise commander, ought a captain to follow him even into disaster? If a captain places the welfare of his loyal men above all things, shouldn't he pause rather than leap blindly? If a captain who wants his men to stay alive, to fight again, to earn a decent reward, sees that those who give orders don't know what they're doing and are leading their army into a mire, isn't he required to change his path?'

He had their full attention.

'Who will feed us if we burn down all the villages, trample every field, and drive away the farmers? Most of you hail from such villages. Have you ever wondered what in the hells we're doing? What end it serves? Does it serve your families and clans? Does it serve us? For what reward are we fighting?'

They had settled into a stillness like that of children listening to the most ancient of tales, bound as by the sorcery of the storyteller. So far, it was working. Even his subcaptains, for whom this was not entirely a surprise, were nodding.

'I'll tell you, I'm tired of this. This isn't fighting. A soldier ought not to be proud of bullying the helpless. Of stringing up men and women from poles just to watch them suffer. I don't fear a fight. You know that, who served with me in High Haldia. Nor do I fear death more than any other. A fighting man always takes a chance with death. But there are better commanders to serve. And I know where they are. Right up ahead, as that reeve has given me to know. Lord Radas's army is not invincible. They're losing now. Toskala has thrown off its garrison. High Haldia's garrison will go down likewise. An army from Olossi has marched all the way here, and it's them who fight out there, them who have a leader who knows how to deploy his forces and take charge.'

These revelations shocked them. They muttered restlessly, and he raised a hand to call for silence. They quieted at once.

'How can it have happened, you wonder? That we who have fifteen or more cohorts are struggling now? We're struggling because of poor command. Squandered units. Terrible planning. Because of arrogance and ignorance and blindness and pride. Yet aren't we trapped where we stand? Aren't we caged by our past choices? Neh, it's never too late to take a chance on a new path. Everything we do is subject to a thousand chances. So I'm asking you, if you trust my judgment, take a chance with me now.'

They cheered. Not one hesitated or turned away.

He climbed down off the wagon.

To Giyara he said, 'Give Zubaidit her weapons.'

To the subcaptains he said, 'Form up your companies in attack order. We'll go broad, one, two, and three across the front, four and five flanking, and six at the center back as reserve, Piri, so you keep your eyes open. I'll stand with you in the command unit.'

He looked over the troop as they fell into marching order, each soldier knowing the comrades at whose shoulder he stood. He had trained them well; they knew their business.

'Shall we?' he said to Giyara, and to his subcaptains, who were gathered around him.

He was answered with an emphatic 'yes.' They, too, felt the sting of a hundred small slights and niggling doubts; he wasn't the only one who was ambitious, who felt he'd not received the reward he'd earned or a full measure of credit for his labors.

He gestured, and the Sixth Cohort banner was raised and lowered. The horns called the advance, and the drums set the pace.

They marched out double-time, and soon the clamor of battle filled their ears, drowning out the sound of the river. The rearguard of the other Saltow contingent, massing at the ferries and bridges to cross, saw them coming and raised a cheer.

Arras signaled, the banner rose twice to pass the command. The pace quickened.

Again he signaled, and again the banner rose. The beat hammered faster, and the cohort shifted into a trot. From across the river, horses pounded, men shouted, steel.clashed.

He raised a hand and the banner raised and lowered a final time as they closed with the now-bewildered Saltow units. The drums, like his heart, raced. He'd made his choice. There was no going back.

His front line broke into their charge.

Joss had to admire the way in which Captain Arras and his cohort smashed their former comrades. They hit them from the rear and took them apart while the other soldiers were still trying to figure out what was going on and who had attacked them. It was brutal but effective, worthy of Anji's Qin, if you wanted to look at it that way. From on high, he watched as the Sixth Cohort took control of the ferries and bridges. They cut down soldiers fleeing in retreat across those crossings toward what looked like the safe harbor of one of their own. On the other side of the river, Anji's rear units had reached the battleground and were advancing step by step, clearing all opposition. The open ground between Skerru's livestock palisade and the causeway was littered with the dead and the dying, with Olo'osson and Nessumaran militiamen stalking the wounded to drag free their comrades and finish off their enemies. Meanwhile, the forward units pressed the remnants toward the river. Many dismounted to harry the enemy on foot, while riders swept around the flanks to cut off men trying to escape into the swamp. Arrows flew with deadly grace. Skerru's gates remained resolutely closed, although some desperate men tried to scale the palisade and were driven off with poles and pitchforks wielded by Skerru's frightened populace.

As the army disintegrated, losing cohesion, the slaughter began. Here and there, soldiers threw down their arms and tried to surrender, but in the frenzy they were cut down anyway. Men threw themselves into the river, carried away on the current.

Anji's command unit rode through the carnage to consider the

crossing arrayed on the other side. Captain Arras had managed to winch all the ferries over to his side of the river, leaving only the two bridges to protect. His cohort had fallen back to open ground away from the corpses of their dead comrades and shifted into marching order, ready to retreat in ranks and at speed. But they weren't moving.

A single figure sauntered out over the main stone bridge. She halted about two-thirds of the way across. To Joss's surprise, Anji rode out onto the span with six Qin solders in attendance. He dismounted, and he and Zubaidit conferred. She stepped away from Anji to wave a strip of cloth. At this signal Arras left the lines, also alone. Driving a wagon in which lay a man much cushioned by pillows and silk, he approached across the bridge.

Zubaidit looked up. Of course she had known all along that Joss was there. She waved the cloth again, a clear invitation. Join the meeting. Maybe even: Meet me after. Aui! A dangerous woman!

Setting down on the bridge was a risky and reckless maneuver. As a young man, he'd shown off in exactly such a way once or twice. He grinned, hands tightening on the jesses as he gauged the width of the span, the feel of the wind, and his angle of approach.

The sun's glamour flashed to the north, at the tip of the massive ridge that divided the river. Yet how could that be? The sun was high, although the shadow of Scar's wings protected him, and a heat haze combined with drifting smoke to obscure the landscape.

There was a Guardian's altar at Kroke's Ridge. He'd seen Lord Radas earlier. Where else would a Guardian go, but to an altar?

He hauled on the jesses. Reluctantly, the eagle's muscles bunching and easing behind Joss's back, Scar came around. Because he was looking, he caught sight of a second flash, like a signal sparking from a lamp. He followed that beacon down until he plunged toward a sun-swept treeless spine of rock where a winged mare ridden by a man swathed in a cloak the color of the noonday sun clattered to earth.

Lord Radas wore the cloak of Sun.

Lord Radas, at whose command Marit had died. At whose order Joss's dreams and hopes had come apart. And he was the least of it; he'd squandered some chances and made good use of others, but he'd not had his farm burned down around him, his husband murdered or wife raped, his children led away in chains to

become slaves, his coin and storehouse ransacked, his body hung from a post until thirst and pain dragged him under.

Kesta and Peddonon were right. Lord Radas had broken the boundaries.

He tugged on the jesses and, obediently, Scar, with wings spread and talons pitched forward, dropped to land at one end of the spine of rock. Joss unhooked and hit two-footed. There wasn't much to see, a dusty level surface glittering under the hot sun. There was no cave, no boulders, no_ hollow, just a long flat ridgetop scattered with rocks and a ghost walking with a cloak like the sun shining its lamp in Joss's eyes. The heat and sun and smoke made his head ache, but cursed if he was going to let that stop him.

He drew his sword and ran forward to the entrance to the glimmering path that marked the Guardian's labyrinth, the track that led to the hidden altar, where it was forbidden for any but Guardians to walk. Anji had walked there, and lived to tell of it. Joss had survived'its twists more than once, and this time, by the Herald, he'd have his revenge.

He put his right foot down, and then his left. The pavement on which he walked might have been the thinnest glaze of crystal, or it might have been the veins of the Earth Mother, cutting through stone into the depths of the obdurate earth. As he paced the measure, the air seemed to slowly rotate around him, and each time he shifted at an angle, a fresh landscape appeared as through an open window, glimpsed and, with each new step, left behind.

He knew these places!

Needle Spire, seen once beyond Storm Cape and never forgotten. A tumbled beacon, doubtless from the South Shore. Stone Tor in the midst of the Wild. An altar overlooking the Salt Sea in barren Heaven's Ridge. Mount Aua, where he and Anji had conferred. An unfamiliar village. Aui! The pinnacle where he had found Zubaidit and her brother.

There were one hundred and one altars sacred to the Guardians scattered across the land. And they were all empty except for a whisper that chased through his heart and rumbled like wind in his ears.

A man's voice made hard by selfishness. 'Where are they all? Yordenas? Night? Bevard? Why do you not walk?'

Beneath, a different voice spun like song into the heart of the altar. 'Go to Indiyabu. Release me.'

Sinking deeper yet, as faint as a whisper, a woman spoke in a timbre oddly like Mai's voice: 'Anji betrayed me.'

He fought past the horrible whispers, for perhaps they were only the altar's third eye and second heart ripping his secret fears and angry hopes out of the thoughts and feelings he had struggled for years and months and days to conquer. He stumbled into a hollow as the sun burst in his face. Where his foot slammed into the ground, pain stabbed up through his sole, but he grasped hold of the billowing cloak with his free hand. The ground slammed sideways beneath his feet as the cloak pulled him back from the precipice. He stumbled backward into knee-deep water that burned through his leathers. A man knelt in the shallows with liquid pouring out of cupped hands that he lifted to his lips. He rose fast, straining against Joss's pull, his expression fierce with anger and pride and years of having his least whim obeyed instantaneously.

'Who are you?' he demanded, gaze striking like an eagle to grasp Joss in its talons. He extended a humble arrow as if to jab it into Joss's chest. 'Look at me!'

Joss thrust his sword into the man's gut. He held on as water and cloak strangled him, fire on top of fire as blood poured down his arms. The man grunted softly. How easily his life drained away with his blood. How easy it was to kill. To be angry. To give up when the tide has turned against you; to give in to despair.

How much harder to build a life out of ruins or beyond the heartache of what has been torn from you.

The man's weight sagged onto Joss, and Joss slipped, and both fell. Joss gulped a lungful of air before the waters closed over them. Unlike his quarry, he was not taken by surprise. He groped with his gloves, just as Marit had told him to do, and unhooked the clasp and yanked the cloak free.

He drowned in blue fire so blinding it was like floundering in the heart of a gem. Voices thundered and snapped in his ears, too loud to be understood. Four Mothers extended their hands: she with skin as black as soot, her hair flashing gold with fire; she with skin the red-brown of clay, her hair short and spiky; she with skin dark as deep water and hair flowing in heavy coils like seaweed; she pale as the wind. Cursed if they weren't as attractive as any females he had ever seen, and they laughed to admire him, pleased with their own creation. Let him be healed, for it would be a shame to lose such beauty, neh?

The hells! Had it really come to this, after all these years? That he saw visions about his own gods-rotted good looks? Was he truly that vain?

The arrowhead grazed his forearm but did not stick. A hand clawed down his vest, but he twisted the wrist and shoved the grasping arm away. Then the creature who had called itself Lord Radas expelled a bubble of air and the body went limp. Joss broke the surface, gasping and choking, and stumbled up out of the pool hauling the sun-bright cloak behind him as he had once hauled fishing nets out of the sea. He folded it up in haste and weighted it under so many rocks it was hidden. A corpse floated in the pool, such a horrible desecration of an altar that he began to wade in to fetch it, but the touch of the water burned him and he skipped out, shouting in pain. He was wet through, yet his leathers were drying quickly under the sun's blast. He stripped off gloves shedding flakes of burned leather; beneath, his hands were chapped red but not damaged. Indeed, he'd come off more lightly than Anji had. He felt light-headed; his headache was gone; his mouth was dry, and his throat had a nagging rasp. He blinked back tears as he crouched in the hollow, in the heart of the holy altar, and watched the body floating in the pool. He watched for the rest of the day, and through the night, because Marit had told him that a cloak will heal the body it has chosen. Beyond all things, Radas must not be healed.

Dawn came at last, sun limning the eastern lowlands as distant horns called and the first bell rang in Skerru, although the town was impossible to see from here.

The flaccid corpse had nudged up at the lip of the pool, head down in the water. Joss carefully grasped the wet cloth of the man's first-quality silk jacket and heaved him up onto stone.

Lord Radas was dead.

He was dead, while Joss had survived.

It was not good enough. He wrestled the dead man out of his fine silk jacket, undershirt, belt and sash, and with these he wrapped the cloak of sun and stowed it in his pack. The corpse was beginning to stiffen. He dragged the body out of the labyrinth to find Scar slumbering on the rim of the height. He woke the raptor with a gentle tone from his bone whistle. After the bird had taken time to wake, to spread his wings to catch the sun, and to preen a few feathers, Joss hooked in. He harnessed in the corpse so it dangled before him, but the gods-rotted thing was by now so rigid it was difficult to handle.

He did not circle back to fly over Skerru or the battlefield, although he heard drums beating to mark an advance. He flew west, the dead man bumping against him all the way, until he spotted a deserted village. It was not that far a journey, in truth, for the entire countryside had been scoured and lay eerily silent.

They landed, and when he had unhooked the body, he could take a breath without gagging. He sought through farmers' sheds and porches until he found a shovel. In a woodland thicket he dug through the loamy earth, climbed down in the hole, and dug deeper yet, breaking the boundaries yet again, for all knew that to bury the dead was a calculated impiety. The dead are meant to rest on the high lattice of a Sorrowing Tower so they may be scoured by the four elements, as is fitting, leaving their spirits free to cross the Spirit Gate to the other side.

He scrambled out of the pit, shuddering, and shoved the body in. It tumbled in to make a ghastly sight with legs and arms stuck straight out, pointing rudely. He retched, bent over, yet nothing came up for he'd eaten nothing, only sipped at water. After the fit passed, he wiped his brow and began shoveling. Let Radas, once Lord of Iliyat, remain trapped beneath earth forevermore. Surely no Guardian's cloak could insinuate itself through the soil to revive him, nor he claw his way free. Surely he had sown enough injustice throughout the land that the gods would revoke their favor from him now and forever after.

He tossed the last shovelful of dirt and leaned on the shovel, sweat pouring off his bare back. He murmured prayers to the gods, not sure what was proper. Let llu the Herald guide me, let Kotaru the Thunderer make my hand strong, let Sapanasu the Lantern reveal what I need to know, let Taru the Witherer ease that which pains me and let bloom my joy, let Atiratu the Lady of Beasts grant me wisdom, let Ushara the Devourer the Merciless One stoke my passion.

He faltered, coming to Hasibal the Formless One. The midges were gathering in a fury. The only words he could think of were those he had heard chanted by Mai and her servant Priya to their foreign god, the Merciful One: May the rains come at the proper time. May the harvest be abundant. May the world prosper, and justice be served.

He returned to the familiar expanse of cultivated fields, orchards, ditches, and houses.

'Accept my prayers out of compassion,' he said to the sky and

to the earth, to the wind and to the waters of a pool lined with mulberry trees. He unfastened the bindings and shook out the silk jacket. Freed, the cloak of sun rippled like a living thing, billowing and beating into the air as the wind caught in the bright fabric and lofted it heavenward. Released to the gods.

'Peace,' he whispered as it blew up and away over the trees, fading until he could no longer see it.

He laced his vest back on and trudged to the abandoned hamlet, where he restored the shovel to its place in a humble shed.

Scar was waiting, curious at his absence; he dipped his head to look at Joss first with one eye and then the other, as if a raptor's vision might see different aspects of a man's heart and spirit depending on which eye he was looking with.

'I'm content,' Joss said to the eagle, and for once in his life, since that last day with Marit, he was. He spotted a damaged covert on Scar's tail, but only one, not enough to interfere with flight. He circled twice until he was satisfied there was nothing else amiss.

They launched, and he retraced his path east to the river. The afternoon sun gilded lonely pools. Narrow tracks wove through the landscape, and twice he glimpsed folk walking briskly toward unseen destinations, almost as if they were no longer afraid.

Late in the afternoon, the spiny ridge above Skerru hoved into view. Lanterns lit the town as if it were festival. The army had settled in for the night on the battlefield below the town, protected by the river on either side, although a huge herd of horses was grazing beyond the eastern crossing. A number of eagles were floating off in the distance, with no reeve dangling below. Out hunting.

Wagons were being unloaded, food prepared over campfires, horses watered and groomed and fed grain. Canvas had been set up in orderly units. The singing of victorious soldiers spun a joyful tune into the breeze.

The bodies of the enemy dead were being dumped in the river, swept away by the powerful current, carried away like so many petals torn from the flower necklaces worn at festival time; down to the sea with a single song sung over their departed spirits.

Yet what they had given, they had, in the end, received. The Four Mothers would take their bodies and turn and turn them until they became part of the land once again.

Four reeves, aloft as sentries, flagged him. He descended and

was met by soldiers who kept a respectful distance from Scar as they looked Joss over with startled expressions.

'Commander Joss? The commander wishes to see you at once.'

He slapped dirt from his hands and checked his vest and trousers, everything in place, quiver buckled tight, baton and sword swinging from his belt, his pack slung over a shoulder. Was there dirt on his face? Was that why everyone was staring?

An escort accompanied him through camp, folk turning to watch. Women, wagori drivers, stopped stock-still and stared; one whistled boldly as Joss blushed and the soldiers snickered. The command awning had sprouted wings, and a pair of curtained private chambers, but the central area looked the same as ever: a long low table, many camp stools, soldiers and reeves clustered in a meeting. Two rings of black-clad Qin guards eyed him with various expressions of dismay except for the one local man who looked him up and down with a smirk of appreciative interest.

He recognized Kesta from the back; she turned, having heard the murmur following him, and took a step back. 'Joss! The hells!'

He stepped under the central awning as Anji rose from his camp stool. The captain cocked his head, eyes narrowing as he examined Joss with the expression of a man who has just conceived an intense distrust, but he said nothing as Kesta strode forward and grabbed Joss by the arm.

'The hells! You went missing, and I didn't know — So I came to report — But that hierodule said she'd seen you before the battle's end — I didn't know-' Tears streaked her face.

He was panting, sweating, dizzy.

'Aui!' Kesta's grip burned on his bare arm. 'You look ten years younger, Joss, and twice as handsome. If that's possible, which I would have doubted. What happened to you?'

He and Anji's gazes had locked. It wasn't, Joss thought, that Anji was envious of him, or that he desired Joss's looks or charm for himself. It was that Anji was sure that a man as handsome and charming as Joss must lure away any beautiful woman who is offered such a choice. Therefore, let a woman — let Mai — not be allowed to face temptation, not as his first wife had been, coaxed away by a handsome outlander.

Yet how is it possible to fence in temptation unless one controls every road and gate?

'Joss!' Kesta shook him with an impatient grimace born of years of friendship. 'Have your wits been addled?'

Joss blinked, and after all, Anji looked like an ordinary man, bemused but concerned.

'Bring drink, and food,' the captain ordered, and men ran off as Chief Deze and Chief Esigu moved up to flank Anji as though they wondered if Joss meant to strike. 'Do you need to sit, Joss? You look dazed.'

T killed Lord Radas.'

The words sucked out the last of his strength. His legs gave out, and Kesta tugged him up before he hit the ground; an instant later, a stool appeared and he sat hard, sagging forward, head in hands. Trampled grass was crushed beneath his boots. The leather of his boots looked oddly mottled, charred and flaking, as though he had walked through fire. Why hadn't he been burned? Marit had told him that anyone who tried to take a cloak off a Guardian would suffer terrible agonies. Masar had died.

A cup of cordial was thrust into view, and he downed it, the sharp flavor slamming straight into his head.

'Can you repeat that?' asked Anji.

'I killed Lord Radas. The lord commander is dead.'

Within the stunned silence, commonplace noises rolled on: horses whickering; a fire crackling; fat sizzling; a knife being sharpened whsst tvhsst; a woman's cheerful whistle as she wound down the old familiar tune, 'Oh to clasp a man like that in my arms!'

A guardsman poured more cordial into Joss's cup, and the tinkle of falling liquid shook him out of his daze.

He looked at Kesta. 'Is there a fawkner here? Scar needs tending, his harness shed for the night. I just-'

'I'll take care of it.' She released him. 'I was just afraid something had happened to you, Joss. If that's all — killed the gods-rotted demon, the enemy commander — the hells! Wait until I tell the other reeves!' Her grin was as bright as a lamp. She swatted him on the shoulder, spoke a courtesy to Anji and his chiefs, and strode away into the gathering dusk.

.'Where did it happen?' asked Anji in a low voice. 'Where is his cloak?'

'At an altar right where the Istri splits at Kroke's Ridge. As for his cloak-'

He met Anji's gaze again, but it was only a man like himself who looked back, worn by days of travel and given strength by the ferocity of his determination. What kind of man was Anji,

really? A man who had killed a Guardian and bound its cloak in chains because he thought thereby that he was saving the Hundred from the rule of demons. But the Guardians weren't demons, not as Anji defined demons. They were just men and women, who might do the wrong thing believing it was the right one, or the right one hoping for the wrong; they might rise to the best in themselves or fall into what was worst in their hearts. You could not choke justice into existence. It had to live in the bones of the land.

'On law shall the land be built. I released the cloak to the gods.'

Anji's eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger that flashed like a blade's edge. Then his expression smoothed, and he took a step back as two soldiers came forward, bearing trays that they set down on the camp table beside the unrolled maps.

'Eat with me,' said Anji, and yet the words sounded more like a command than a request.

'I'd like to know,' said Joss, hearing words pour out of his mouth as impelled by a lilu he hadn't known dwelt inside him, 'if you have some objection to what I did, considering you may have had other ideas of what would best serve the Hundred.'

'My concern is solely to win this war. Lord Radas's death aids us. Your courage and determination are to be praised, Commander Joss.'

The appreciative murmur that greeted these words reminded Joss that he and Anji were not alone. No, indeed; Anji sat at council with many men — all men, an odd enough sight to Joss's eye. Chiefs Sengel, Deze, and Esigu sat closest to Anji, flanked by Captain Targit and two Qin chiefs unknown to Joss. Captain Arras was sitting at his ease among several militia captains, two wearing the kroke badges common in Nessumara and another wearing Skerru's forked lightning. Arras leaned over and whispered something, at which they grinned. There were other captains: a pair wearing badges from Horn and six bearded men most likely from Olo'osson. No reeves. No merchants or artisans. Not a single priest. All military men.

A tiny jeweler's chest, bound with chains, sat tucked between Arras's feet.

Anji set down his cup. 'And if Lord Radas is truly dead, then we have a significant hope of victory.' He broke off, his gaze catching on movement behind Joss.

Reeves approached, caught by the gatekeepers before they could come too close, but a stockier man striding in their wake pushed between them.

Joss leaped up with a grin. Tohon!'

Sengel stepped forward on one side, Deze on the other, like shields. Tohon's gaze flicked from one to the other, assessing their movement and his risk, but his jaw had a determined jut that made Joss step aside, making space for him.

'Did you find Wedrewe?' Anji asked casually. Yet his own cursed chiefs subtly shifted position as if they had some notion that Tohon — Tohon! — might be a threat.

'I did. Commander, I hear you've found Shai. That he's grievously injured.'

'We've recovered him. He lives. After you give your report-'

'I'll see him now,' said Tohon in a friendly tone no man could possibly misunderstand. 'My report can wait, if the lad is doing so poorly that, as I heard as I walked through camp, it's rumored he's like to die. Where is he?'

Sengel coughed as might a man reminding a comrade he's forgotten his manners, but Tohon's gaze was fixed on Anji and did not waver.

Anji gestured to one of the curtained chambers. 'The hierodule is nursing him.'

'That's something,' muttered Tohon. He nodded a greeting at Joss, then looked again, as taken aback as a man might be to wake and discover his wife has become a kroke. 'What happened to you?' The words were only a reflex. His brow creased; a frown darkened his expression as his thoughts scouted elsewhere. He walked to the curtains and vanished within. It had grown so silent under the awning that Joss heard the murmur of voices, male and female, as Tohon and Zubaidit greeted each other, but he could not make out what they were saying.

'Commander?' asked Sengel, so softly Joss heard the word only because he was standing next to Anji.

'We've no proof he's anything but Beje's man,' replied Anji, equally softly. 'Not my mother's. Not my uncle's. He's served faithfully enough. Let it be for now.' He picked up his cup, gesturing to the captains. 'Now. About our lines of supply. We must not strip what remains in the countryside and the towns lest the population starve. Our task is twofold. Obviously, we must hunt down and destroy the remnants of Lord Radas's army, any companies or

captains who might dream of restoring the army. This could take months, or even years. But we cannot achieve these objectives if those we've fought to protect die. People are afraid to return to their villages. Supplies are low everywhere. Reserves are depleted. People cannot plant until the rains, and then must hope for an uneventful growing season while waiting for the crops to ripen.'

'So you're saying we'll be eating a lot of se leaves?' asked one of the Olossi captains, and men chuckled.

' " Better to live on sour se leaves than die with your hand in an empty rice bowl,"' Anji replied to approving laughter, having learned at least one common Hundred saying. 'Even if all that goes well, which it will not, for you can be sure no battle plan survives contact with the enemy, then what about Wedrewe? Captain Arras?'

Arras rose. If some regarded him with suspicion, the rest waited to hear what he had to say. 'Wedrewe is where all the orders came from, although I never went there myself. More cohorts will be training there, and I'm cursed sure all the coin and precious loot and best silks were sent there, so no doubt they guard a healthy treasury. The're's also Walshow. That's where many cohorts were raised, including mine. It's isolated, hard to reach, and easy for folk to scatter into the wilderness and hide should they be attacked.'

Arras kept a foot pressed against the jeweler's chest, keeping track of what was, after all, the prize that had earned him Anji's acceptance.

Anji was standing next to the table, his own boots blocking a gap where two small jeweler's chests bound by chains rested under the table. Joss's heart took a sudden lurch; he sank down on his stool as flashes of memory blinded and deafened him: the billowing cloak as bright as sunlight; Lord Radas's limp body; the way one arm, stuck in rigor, had seemed impossible to cover with dirt, fingers clutching for air as Joss had ruthlessly buried him.

'We cannot relax our vigilance,' Anji was saying. 'Only six of the demons have been killed, while three remain at large.' He loosed a glance at Joss. 'The cloak of Sun will rise to corrupt another man, who can take control of remnants of the army.'

'Hold on,' murmured Joss. 'I only know of four.' Anji had killed Earth; Masar had unclasped Blood; Shai and Zubaidit had

killed Night and given the cloak to Arras. Joss had released Sun. 'How did there get to be six? We agreed no hunting beyond those allied with Radas and Night.'

Anji was in many ways an ordinary-looking man, if you surveyed what appeared on the surface: Of medium height and neither slender or stocky, he was strong with the fitness that comes from constant relentless movement. He had the broad cheekbones of his mother's people and the hooked nose common in the empire. But the land cannot be understood with so cursory an inspection. Nor could a man. Handsome eyes redeemed his face, but that was not what commanded the eye. His gaze was as bright as steel, and it penetrated not to your heart or mind, as the gaze of Guardians did, but to your gut, where you decided not just whether to trust this man but whether to place your life and welfare in his hands. He had powerful hands, not big but graceful and masterful, a man who held on to what he possessed and never let go.

Once Anji got hold of the Hundred, why should he let go? The Qin soldiers were conquerors, weren't they? That's what they trained from boyhood to be. Brutal. Effective. Relentless. Utterly reasonable, with those cheerful grins and easy laughs.

Anji's gaze narrowed as he studied Joss studying him. 'I haven't finish briefing my captains,' he said as Sengel took a step closer to Joss. 'Did you have a report the officers need to hear, Commander?'

Maybe such thoughts were crazy, an artifact of walking the altar. Maybe Lord Radas's poison was corrupting his mind. Maybe he was just exhausted after two days without sleep. 'I need to talk to you privately. After your council. For now, I'd welcome a chance to rest.'

'Sengel will show you to where the reeves are camping,' said Anji.

Sengel smiled that easy Qin smile and walked away with Joss as if they were old comrades accustomed to walking out in company.

'You did well in Nessumara,' said Joss.

'I did what needed doing,' remarked Sengel.

'There are three chests under the awning. Wasn't one already taken to Olossi?'

'Toughid died in High Haldia getting the cloak off a demon calling himself Lord Bevard.'

Toughid!' It was impossible to grasp that Toughid, with whom he'd so recently argued — as much as you could argue with the Qin, who receded before disagreement until you realized you had nothing to push against — was dead.

Sengel's stride betrayed no weakness. His expression betrayed no sentiment. 'The chest arrived midday soon after our victory. Here are your reeves, including the ones who brought the chest.' He gestured toward an encampment set up within the boundary of a shallow ditch and berm, dug in haste by Lord Radas's soldiers. 'I'll return to Captain Anji.'

'One question, Chief Sengel.'

'What's that?'

'Whyever would you think Tohon could be your enemy?'

The man blinked, taken by surprise. 'Tohon?'

'Just because a man expresses a desire to look in on a badly injured comrade before he gives a report doesn't mean he's not a loyal soldier.'

Sengel brushed a hand over his creased brow, and Joss realized the man was likely exhausted, held under a taut rein. 'Commander Joss, with all respect, you do not understand the factions within the Qin. Nor are we likely to explain them. For we're not in Qin lands anymore, are we?'

'Are we?' Joss asked sharply.

At once, he was sorry he had spoken so recklessly. Sengel smiled with a grace and speed that was frightening. How could you tell if a man was sincere when he could smile like that no matter what you said to him?

'I'll leave you with your reeves,' Sengel said. 'Commander Anji will come by later to offer thanks for their good work. And to let you know what needs doing tomorrow.'

With that, he walked away.

Lord Bevard, wearing the cloak of Leaf. That still only made five.

Joss scrambled down to a makeshift encampment where about forty off-duty reeves had set up awnings. They were a mix of people he knew and others he did not, mingling with the comfortable familiarity of folk who did the same work and knew the man or woman standing beside them would understand their complaints.

'Joss! The hells! What happened to you?' Peddonon strode forward with a big grin. 'You look like a gods-rotted lilu come

to lure us to our deaths, although in a most pleasurable manner, I am sure. Die with a smile on your face, that's what I say.'

Reeves slapped him on the back or embraced him, as they chose. Even sharp-tongued Nallo looked not displeased to see him. She might even have looked startled.

'Cordial for the man who killed that gods-rotted lilu, Lord Radas,' called Peddonon.

Cheers and whoops rose. Reeves he didn't know grasped his arm. One attractive young woman offered a juicy kiss, which made everyone shout with laughter.

'The hells!' laughed Joss, pulling away as he felt the stirring of an all too familiar arousal. 'Cordial for everyone.'

But as they filled their cups from a barrel, he frowned. Looking around, he discovered a small chest — not one bound with chains but simply a chest in which a man or woman might store coin or jewelry or spices — cast aside in one of the ditches. Spoils of war. He hoisted it up and slapped it down on the ground under the shade of one of the awnings.

'Heya, all of you! Sit down!'

They weren't as disciplined as Anji's troops. They grabbed cordial and passed around a basket of whiteheart, whose ripe shells could be pried apart for the fragrant, sweet flesh within. Sucking down the juice and licking grimy fingers, they shouldered aside their friends with jokes and roughhousing and settled cross-legged on shared blankets or slapped hindquarters straight on the churned-up dirt. They were all dusty, stained, sweaty, and smelling of days without a decent bath. They were reeves, and that was a reeve's life.

'You lot have a reek about you,' he said, to general laughter, 'which means you've been out serving justice again. I've got a nose for it.'

'How did you get to be so cursed handsome?' shouted one wag, a male.

A woman called, 'Sleep with me tonight, eh? I've a friend in Copper Hall might join us.'

Joss grinned. 'I'll tell you my secret if you'll quiet down a moment and listen. For listen you must. We all must listen.'

His tone caught them. They were weary, but feeling their victory in their bones, and the combination opened a path from their ears into their hearts.

'We are fortunate, jessed as we are. It's a hard life, truly. In a

way, you leave your family behind, even if you can always drop in on them. I won't tell you that the reeves become your new clan, for it's a tired old saying, isn't it? Yet here we are. We're camping together, eating together, drinking together. We know who we are, whether we're from Clan Hall, Horn Hall, Copper Hall.'

'I'm up from Naya Hall,' called the attractive young woman who had kissed him. 'Don't you recall me, Commander Joss? I saw you bathing that one time, naked but for the kilt and with it being wet and all, it didn't hide much. As I recall, you had quite an audience.'

Peddonon whistled; folk would laugh, and yet he was used to the admiration; he knew how to throw it in his favor.

'I'd happily toss a bucketful of cold water over my head again if I can just get people to quiet down and listen.' They were finally settling, the heat and the sure knowledge of a hard-fought fight that had ended in victory relaxing them as the sun sank toward the horizon. Soon dusk would come and, exhausted, they would sleep. Strike while the chance is upon you.

'The reeves have served the Hundred, as we always have. Today we've been part of a victory over an army whose cruelties have scarred the north. But let's not lose sight of what happens after victory.'

'We haven't won yet!' called one of the Copper Hall reeves. 'Commander Anji says as long as the enemy poses a threat, we must keep pursuing them! We must keep fighting!'

Joss shook his head. 'Are we meant to be just another cohort in the army? Or to be reeves?'

'What does that matter as long as there are remnants of the army running and hiding?' objected the young man as his companions nodded to support him. 'There are cohorts still training in this place called Wedrewe, up in Herelia. I saw them.'

'Wedrewe must be dealt with,' Joss agreed, 'but I want you to think a moment about the remnants of the Star of Life army. Who are they, really? Yesterday I fought hand-to-hand a sergeant in Lord Radas's army.'

'Who won?' called the Naya Hall lass.

'Do you even need to ask?' They laughed, and he waved them to silence. 'He reminded me of certain men in the village where I grew up. It's easy for a man to set a foot on the wrong path, to walk crooked out of anger or grief or greed. Those men are like

dogs lost in the woods. But they aren't our enemy. They're our brothers and cousins. In different circumstances, they might have been ourselves. We made them because we didn't pay attention while the world fell apart around us. Some can be lured back and make restitution, rebuild a life, and some just can't. But those who can't are criminals. They should be treated as the criminals they are. They should be arrested and brought before the assizes to answer for their crimes. The assizes is the rightful place for these matters, not a single cpmmander. For think of what a powerfully dangerous thing it would be if one man can pass judgment according to the strength of his will? Isn't that exactly what Lord Radas was doing? Isn't that exactly what the corrupted cloaks did, who hammered stars out of tin and gave them to their followers to wear? Do we want to become like them? Or do we want to restore justice? Maybe to make some changes — yes-' He nodded at the Copper Hall reeves who seemed about to object again. 'Yes, we need a new halls council-'

'With you sitting over us all as commander, no doubt,' accused one of the Copper Hall reeves, a curly-haired youth with a scar on his chin and, evidently, a chip on his shoulder. 'I've heard stories of you and the trouble you got into back when you were my age.'

Joss grinned. 'You haven't heard half of it, then!' The lad ventured an answering grin, piqued by curiosity. But Joss sobered. 'Listen, I don't care about being commander of the reeve halls. The reeve halls must call a council no matter what. They must debate what changes to institute, how to reconstitute the assizes here in the north, how to rebuild the halls and train the many new reeves. How to repair the damage left by the slaughter of Horn Hall's reeves.' They were absolutely silent, every one of them, intent on his words. 'Every hall must send representatives to meet. It's this council that will elect a new commander. Of course we must be vigilant. We must be vigilant on behalf of the law, for we must never allow the law to be corrupted by those who might claim to-'

He broke off, sensing movement to his left.

Anji stood on the berm, flanked by Sengel and Deze. How long had he been listening?

Seeing Joss had noticed him, Anji walked in among the reeves with the confidence of a man who knows his place.

They rose to greet him, and he moved through the group speaking to each individual, maybe asking to see a baton or spinning an arrow through his fingers as he listened to an impassioned tale whose sketched gestures told of a skirmish. He gathered smiles and nods and flushed, excited expressions in return for his attention.

Joss settled beside Peddonon. 'Where's Pil?'

Dear Peddonon. He blushed a lover's blush, and it made him look fresh and sweet. 'I left all my flights resting at Law Rock according to your orders, including Pil. But I wanted Nallo to give a personal report to Commander Anji, which she did. She was there when Chief Toughid was killed by the demon. I came with her to make my own assessment of the situation. To ask after you. Things are quiet in Toskala. Ostiary Nekkar has the council well in hand.'

Joss sheared off in search of Nallo. She stood to one side, watching the sun set. 'Heya, Nallo.'

'An impressive speech, Commander, even if you didn't get to finish it,' she said tartly. She glanced at the Qin soldiers still chatting with reeves. She had fire enough to burn; she just hadn't learned how to use it, as blatksmiths did, to forge something more powerful out of the raw and malleable earth. 'I listened to every word. I'm thinking about it.'

'Joss!' Anji strolled over, marked Nallo, and nodded gravely. 'Reeve Nallo. We spoke earlier. Is there anything else you need?'

'I've done my duty, Commander. I'll keep doing it.'

He raised an eyebrow, hearing an edge in her words that might imply the woman disliked him. But it was difficult to tell with Nallo, because she always sounded like that. Then Anji turned to Joss. T thought you'd want to hear Tohon's report on Wedrewe. Shai is sleeping, and Tohon sees no need to wake him. Will you accompany me? We can talk on the way.'

His smile was a beacon. Aui! Joss liked this man; he liked him very well. But he no longer trusted him.

'Of course I want to hear Tohon's report. I've never met a more skilled scout.'

'He was a rare gift from Commander Beje,' agreed Anji.

'Who is Commander Beje?'

'A Qin officer of princely birth, a good man. I was married to his daughter.'

'Had you a first wife?' said Joss, startled by this confidence. T

didn't know.' And had his first wife abandoned him in favor of a handsome outlander? Better not to ask.

Anji squinted into the sun drenched west toward eagles, although the light made it hard to tell if they were approaching or flying parallel to the river on patrol. 'The past is dead to me.'

The men scrambled up a berm and walked, using the height to survey the encampment as the light turned the amber that presaged dusk. Most men were already sleeping, exhausted from the days of forced march and the battle. Those who were still awake were scraping the last bits of rice or nai from big bowls. A pair of enterprising young women — where in the hells had they come from? — had set up a slip-fry stand, but it seemed they had sold all their food and were now just chatting merrily with a crowd of admirers.

A crew from Nessumara was still pitching corpses into the river, but the men from Anji's army who had been killed were being hauled aside and piled on wagons and carts so they could be conveyed to a Sorrowing Tower and given a proper ceremony. There weren't as many as Joss had expected; Radas's army had taken the brunt of the casualties.

'What do you Qin do with your dead, Anji?'

'If we're at war, we leave them. Once the spirit is fled, the body is only a husk. If in camp, the women have their own rites.'

'And in the empire?'

'In the empire, the Beltak priests control all passages, birth, death, marriage, fealty between master and servant. They take a tithe at the market, and collect tolls on the roads and at every gate.'

'A fence against every manner of temptation,' said Joss more sharply than he intended.

'A knife,' said Anji, 'with which to protect themselves.'

'A knife is a useful tool, but in the hands of a drunk man or one who minds only his own greed, it is a dangerous weapon.'

'Therefore we keep knives out of the hands of those we cannot trust to wield them wisely.'

'Six cloaks you said, Anji. But I count only five.'

'Did I forget to mention? The cloak of Twilight is the sixth. Here we are.'

The council of captains had been dismissed, and in its place Joss found himself alone among Qin officers, a single Olossi militia captain, and the hierophant Joss had seen before. The

Lantern priest was holding a charcoal stick and tracing lines according to Tohon's directions: Here. No, to the right. Erase that bit. Yes, down that way.

Anji, Sengel, and Deze strolled up to the table as the guardsmen who had followed him around camp fell back to join the ring of guards. A soldier stood beside each stout pole that held up the awning, and two men guarded the curtained entrance off under the right-hand wing of the awning.

The men pressed up to the table, all but Sengel settling into stools as Tohon drank cordial.

Two reeves hurried up, escorted by guards. 'Our apologies for keeping you waiting, Commander,' said the curly-headed youth with a scar on his chin.

'If you three will report on your observations, we'll listen and ask questions.' Anji offered the reeves stools and gave Tohon his whip to point with.

The reeves deferred to Tohon, offering asides only when he could not explain or had missed some typical local object or tree or landmark. They had flown above the Istri Walk to Toskala and thence along the Ili Cutoff and across the vale of Iliyat to the Liya Pass.

'That's Candle Rock,' Joss said when they described a high sanctuary where they'd camped for the night. 'You can see Ammadit's Tit from the rock. It's a Guardian's altar. And that abandoned compound you saw, on the way up? That was once a temple to Ushara, although it was popularly supposed that they trained assassins there. There was a woodsmen's encampment near there, although it's likely long since grown over. That's where Reeve Marit and her eagle Flirt were killed. Theirs are the first known deaths definitely linked to Lord Radas. I think it might have been the first cadre of his army.'

The curtained entrance off to one side swayed, and a woman ducked out. Tohon smiled, making room for her, but she snagged a stool, walked around the table as if to peruse the map from all angles before she fetched up, quite as if by accident, next to Joss. She set down the stool and herself in it. Her hip pressed against his. She leaned over the low table, one of her breasts brushing his arm as she used the hilt of a knife to tap the spot on the map he'd just been discussing.

'The temple of Ushara was attacked and all its hierodules and kalos murdered.' She straightened, setting the knife back to hold

down a curling corner. 'The many hieros across the land have never let any hierodule or kalos forget it, either. Didn't you ever hear the rest of the story, Reeve Joss? They found a young hierodule — barely fourteen — chained to a death willow and raped and abused, as if to spit on the generosity of the Devouring One. She was dead, a knife to the heart.'

'I was one of those who found her corpse,' said Joss so quietly that everyone looked at him. 'Which is a moment I will never forget as long as I live. As you say, a knife to the heart.'

The words had an odd effect on Anji, whose gaze had drifted past Joss toward a movement in camp beyond the awning. His expression tightened in a puzzled frown, then opened to a look of sheer violent falling helplessness as he recognized what he was looking at. He leaped to his feet, his stool tipping and falling behind him. He fisted a hand and for one breath Joss could have sworn Anji swayed as though he had taken a knife to the heart. Sengel caught his arm. Stepping sideways, shaking off Sengel, he strode around the table and out from under the awning. Joss twisted to see.

Out of the dusk settling its wings over the encampment limped Chief Tuvi carrying a bundle in his arms. Neh, no bundle but a living, squirming baby. Tuvi was carrying Anji's son.

Joss stood, intending to follow, but Chief Esigu blocked him. Sengel and Deze trotted up on either side of Anji as Anji halted in front of Tuvi and engulfed the baby in his arms. Tuvi's lips moved, speaking words Joss was too far away to hear.

Sengel and Deze grabbed Anji under the elbows, and Tuvi swept the child back. The two chiefs held their captain as his legs gave way.

Had the wind failed? For it seemed the entire camp was holding its breath, taking in the news with the captain, still supported by his senior officers.

Kesta and Peddonon jogged out of the dusk, circling wide around the knot of Qin, who stopped Peddonon at a distance but allowed Kesta to hurry up to the awning.

She grasped Joss's arm, pulling him aside. 'Siras flew Chief Tuvi in from the Barrens. The captain's wife was murdered up the Spires, that place they call Merciful Valley.'

'Murdered?' As well say the sky was green, or that folk preferred bread to rice given the choice. 'Who would murder Mai?' Beautiful, clever Mai. The Ox walks with feet of clay,

but its heart leaps to the heavens where it seeks the soul which fulfills it.

'One of her slaves stabbed her. Siras says she fell into the pool, and her body was lost in the depths beneath the falls. Maybe that makes sense to you.' She caught him as he sat heavily, almost tipping over the stool.

Siras came running, but Qin soldiers halted him beside Peddonon as the chiefs steered Anji in under the awning and sat him down on his stool beside the camp table.

'How did she outflank me?' Anji asked, the question all the more wrenching for his even tone, like he was asking for a report on the weather.

'She had an agent in your midst all along, that slave named Sheyshi,' said Tuvi. 'None of us suspected. The girl played her part, and none of us suspected all that time.'

'Commander Beje must have known.'

'That Sheyshi was your mother's agent? It's likely. That your mother would strike through the slave? How could any Qin man guess? There was nothing you could have done, Anjihosh. The princess was caged in the women's palace for many years. She is far more skilled on this battlefield than you or I. She defeated you with a superior flanking movement.'

'I should have known,' said Anji as he reached for a knife that Chief Deze snatched up before Anji could touch it. Anji went on as if he had not noticed, hands splayed open on the careful detailed lines of the map. 'I should have suspected. Mai is the sharpest knife a man could hope to possess. The biggest threat to my mother's power. I should have brought Mai with me, never let her leave my side-' His hands fisted. He bent as in a gust of wind, and his eyes lost focus. A sound more gasp than moan strangled in his throat.

The baby had begun to noisily fuss, wanting his father, and Tuvi thrust the angry child onto Anji's lap, anything to take that stunned blank expression off the captain's face.

Joss had known these feelings once. Nothing would make the killing blow easier to absorb; nothing could ease the searing pain. Only the baby, who demanded his father's attention by beginning to cry.

'What have you been feeding him?' asked Anji in a harsh, hoarse voice.

'Goat's milk and nai porridge,' said Tuvi. Revealed in lantern

light, his face and hands were netted with scars, as though he had plunged into a burning spider's web. He stood awkwardly, and when a soldier brought a stool, sat gingerly as if every movement was agony. Yet his his gaze was bent on his captain as Chief Deze sent soldiers to find goat's milk and nai porridge. Anji soothed the child by speaking in another language, the words flowing like a chant. His expression was scoured raw; his eyes flared white, like a spooked horse, and yet, every time he ceased speaking even for a moment, his jaw clenched as tight as if he were choking down a scream.

Kesta patted Joss's shoulder and jerked her chin toward the spot where Siras was confined between a pair of watchful soldiers. Joss stepped away from the table. Sengel glanced at him, nodding to acknowledge his leave-taking, but Anji did not look up nor did Tuvi register their departure. He hadn't looked at Joss once.

Siras was bouncing on his toes as Joss walked up with Kesta. 'The hells, Commander! What happened to you? You look gods-rotted younger, or something.'

The Qin soldiers delicately stepped away, one lifting a hand to show they were moving off now, no trouble.

'Keep walking,' muttered Joss.

Soldiers approached the awning with bowls and bottles and by lamplight Anji bent over his son to coax food into the squalling visage as his chiefs gave orders for the night's sentries. The four reeves strode away, Kesta leading them toward the river's shore where they might hope to find some privacy.

'What in the hells happened?'

'The captain sent Mistress Mai and a few attendants and guards to Merciful Valley. To keep her safe while he went on campaign.'

'From the red hounds? Those Sirniakan spies?'

Siras shrugged. 'The rumor runs that the captain's mother had Mai killed.'

'The hells! That's what Chief Tuvi implied. Why would his mother kill his wife?'

'She brought a Sirniakan princess from the empire. She wanted him to marry the outlander, but he refused.'

'So she killed Mai? How in the hells would that serve to persuade her son to marry the woman she'd chosen for him? Aui! How can anyone understand outlanders? Is this what we have to hope for?'

'To hope for what?' asked Kesta.

'Not here,' said Joss, lowering his voice. They walked awhile until they reached the low bluffs that ran along the western channel. It was impossible to penetrate the river's layers, the surface glitter, the streaming deeps, the muddied eddies where sticks washed up. This conflict was like the river. They thought they were fighting a single war, when in fact multiple wars were raging around and above and beneath their feet, unseen but nevertheless permeating the land until the Hundred overflowed with hostilities.

'Lord Radas is dead.'

'Thanks to you,' said Kesta.

He shrugged, shaking off the compliment. 'Anji and his army have defeated major contingents of Lord Radas's army.'

'Thanks be to the gods,' said Peddonon with a fierce sigh.

'Meanwhile, there remain remnants of that army wandering in the countryside, an outpost at Walshow, and headquarters at Wedrewe in Herelia. Why can't Anji just take over the entire apparatus and stand as — what do the Qin call their ruler? — stand as var over the Hundred, with an army he trained and which is loyal to him to enforce his will.*

The river's voice had the clarity his own lacked. The danger seemed so cursed obvious to him. How easy it was to cross under the gate of shadows, never knowing you passed the threshold of corruption until it was too late to turn back.

'Joss,' said Kesta in the voice of an auntie who is about to tell you that the woman you're hankering after just isn't interested no matter how many smiles and songs and silk scarves you ply her with, 'don't you think you're spinning a tale out of your own fears? Have you thought maybe you're a bit envious? I admit I've been startled by how quickly Commander Anji and his chiefs have taken to giving orders to the reeve halls, but hasn't it worked? Aren't we at the threshold of victory, after all the terrible things we've seen?'

'When in the hells,' Joss demanded, 'did everyone stop calling him "Captain"? This isn't about being commander of the reeve halls. For sure I never wanted the position, and if we can ever get the reeve halls to meet in council, then I'll be glad to follow a new commander. But tell me this, Kesta.' He grabbed a rock off the ground and pitched it toward the river, waiting until he heard, like an echo of his doubts, its hollow splash. 'If the reeve

halls met today in council, if Anji stood up before them with his eloquence and persuasiveness and his good-humored smiles, what makes you think they wouldn't elect him?'

Shai was conscious, and he was hurting, and his ears were filled with voices that nagged as stubbornly as young nieces and nephews wanting a ride on his broad shoulders.

How do I get home? Can you tell me?

I never wanted to march with the army. But it was cursed sweet to have my belly full every cursed day, eh? I don't feel hungry at all now.

Aui! It hurts! I'm scared!

Gods-rotted cowards, falling back like that. If only we'd listened to-

Ghosts plagued him, worse than a horde of nieces and nephews because there was nothing he could do for them. He wanted to shout 'I can't help you!' but he had no throat, no tongue, no mouth. Sand had been poured over raw flesh and rubbed in until he was a single screaming wound.

Cursed if he would cry about it. Others had endured worse. This was only physical pain.

'Out!'

The voice rang strong, startling in its fury. The whispers snapped out, the ghosts fleeing as Shai took a breath, although even a simple breath hurt, scouring his lungs.

Yet he was still not alone. Two voices disturbed his peace.

'Now we talk, Captain Arras, here in this private place where no one will disturb us. Just you and me. I have a sword, and you have no weapon but your wits. Zubaidit served my army well, so as a favor to her I did not kill your soldiers or you immediately, although I could have. I have accepted the cloak you brought as an offering, and I'm appreciative that you have hauled this man Shai to my camp. I have allowed you to sit in my council and pretend to be my loyal officer. But you're not. You're a traitor.'

'I would argue it was Lord Radas who betrayed me and the soldiers who served him.'