her by an unseen hand, she pulled off the veil that concealed her face and tucked it carelessly through her belt.
The hells!
She was an older woman, not yet elderly, and she had a face so distinctively Qin that Keshad at once felt he was back riding with Qin soldiers. She circled the two young men as a wolf circles a pair of trapped bucks as it decides whether it is hungry enough to go to the bother of killing them. Then she turned on the prince.
'These are fearsome spies?' The trade talk fell easily from her lips.
'An exaggeration, I admit,' the prince said with a careless smile that had something of a scorpion's sting at its tip. 'Do not trouble me with your contentious nature.'
'You will be glad to be rid of me.'
'I need have nothing to do with you. From what I hear, the women's quarter will be glad to be rid of you after all these years. My brother has thankfully decreed there are to be no more foreign brides, only civilized women, admitted to the palace quarter.'
'He says so now. But wait until your brother, or his heir, or that heir's son, sees benefit in contracting a foreign alliance. When the gold, or the land, or the horses, are too tempting to refuse. Then your words will change and your hearts will turn, and some poor young woman will be ripped from her family's hearth and thrust into a cage, as I was.'
Eliar gasped, as if the words had been aimed at him.
The prince rose, his eyes so tightened at the corners that Kesh supposed him to be very angry. But he spoke in the blandest of voices, addressing Kesh and Eliar. 'This woman carries our offer to Anjihosh. You will escort her and those attendants she brings with her. Be assured that agents of my choosing will ride with you over the Kandaran Pass. If you do not deliver her safely, they will kill you.'
Kesh looked at Eliar; the young Silver was his only ally. 'Yes, Your Excellency. Can you tell me who we have the honor of escorting?'
'And idiots, too, in the bargain,' she said. She walked to the door, rapped on it with the iron knob of the stick, and, as soon as it was opened, vanished within.
'You claim to be a believer,' said the prince, 'because of which I will offer you a piece of advice. That woman is a serpent, with a poisoned tongue and a barbarian's lack of honor. Do not trust her.'
'That's Captain Anji's mother, isn't it?' As soon as Eliar spoke the words, Keshad realized she could be no one else.
'The palace is rid of her at last,' said the prince. 'As for you two, should either of you set foot in the empire again, you'll find your lives swiftly forfeit.' He clapped his hands thrice.
The door opened, and the captain strode swiftly out, posture erect and shoulders squared, like a man about to take his place in the talking line and perform one of the tales, a martial story told with defiance and bold gestures. These people knew what they were doing, entirely unlike Kesh and Eliar, their expedition begun as a toss of the sticks and exposed so easily Kesh felt the shame of it. Now they were delegated to be mere escorts to a bellicose woman being returned in disgrace to her son.
The prince sat in his chair as the captain led them away. Yet as they walked the length of the underground corridor with its hunting stories faded in the dim light, Kesh considered the last time he had brought a woman north over the Kandaran Pass into the Hundred. He'd believed one thing about her, but he'd been entirely wrong; Cornflower had turned out to be quite different from what he originally thought she was, not a helpless mute slave at all but rather a terrible demon bent on vengeance. Aui! There was really no telling what would happen when Captain Anji's mother arrived in the Hundred, was there?
PART TWO
Encounters
In the Year of the Red Goat
3
Don't open the gate.
Those were the last words Nekkar had said to the apprentices before he had slipped out of the temple to get a look at the army that had occupied Toskala eight days ago. Reflecting back on their frightened faces and anxious tears, he knew that leaving them had been a gods-rotted foolish thing to do. He should have stayed in the temple grounds to keep some order in the place. Make sure none of the young ones panicked.
Aui! Too late now to fret over what he couldn't change.
He had reached the front of the line.
A sergeant caressing a long knife finished his interrogation of a thin man, a farmer by the look of his humble knee-length linen jacket and bare legs. 'So you admit you are a refugee, come to Toskala from the country in the last six months?'
'We had to flee our village because of the trouble-'
'No refugees allowed in Toskala. You'll be marched to the gates and released. Return to your village.'
A bored soldier beckoned to Nekkar, a gesture meaning You next.
The farmer didn't budge. 'I've children waiting in the alleys. I have to get them.'
'You should have thought of that before you left your gods-rotted village.' The sergeant nodded, and soldiers grabbed the man by either arm. As he'd done numerous times before, seen by everyone standing in line, the sergeant sliced three shallow cuts into the man's left forearm. 'We cleanse those who sneak back into the city after they've been marked.'
'But they'll starve!' The man's voice rose shrilly as his desperation mounted and the pain of the cuts stung into tears. 'Their mother is dead. We lost track of our clan-'
The soldiers dragged him out by a different door. Aui! The refugees who had flooded into Toskala over the last year had put a strain on the resources of the city and caused a great deal of hard feeling, but to separate a man from his children in such a way was beyond cruel. Yet none dared protest. Soldiers lined the main room; an inn called the Thirsty Saw had been cleared of
customers and set aside for their use. Many more folk besides him waited in line, some wringing their hands or rubbing unmarked forearms, others weeping. Most stood in silent, bitter dread. Eight days ago, on the cusp between the days of Wakened Ox and Transcendent Snake, their good city had been overthrown by treachery and fallen into the hands of thieves and criminals.
The bored soldier's voice sharpened. 'I said, You next.''
Nekkar limped forward.
The sergeant looked him up and down without smile or frown. 'What's your name?'
'I'm called Nekkar.'
'What's your clan?'
'I'm temple-sworn.' As any tupping idiot could see by his blue cloak with its white stripe sewn over each shoulder! Those who wore the blue cloak marking them as servants of Ilu the Herald, patron of travelers and bringer of news, became accustomed to being addressed as 'Holy One.' That the sergeant had not used the customary honorific was a deliberate slight. He swallowed angry words as he glanced uneasily around the chamber. The other detainees, swept up like so much detritus by the soldiers now patrolling Toskala's streets, stared, trying to gauge what questions they might be asked and what answers would serve them best.
'What clan in Toskala marks your kinfolk?' The sergeant's impatience edged his tone. He wore a silver chain from which hung an eight-pointed tin star, a cheap medallion compared with the finely wrought chain likely obtained in the first frenzy of looting.
'Why, no clan in Toskala!' he replied, surprised. 'Why should it? I was sent to Fifth Quarter's temple at
