Lamentation

and cracking-and low boots that seemed newer than the rest of his effects. Probably taken recently, Rudolfo thought.

He stood before the man and nodded to his magicked scouts to release him. “Do you know this tongue?” he asked, and when the man stared blankly at him, he shifted easily into one of the nonverbal languages.

But you know this one, don’t you? he signed, in the ancient hand language of Xhum Y’zir’s dark house.

The skirmisher’s eyes widen?17;oused. Rudolfo needed no further prompting.

Tell your Marsh King that Jakob’s boy has buried his own dead. He waited and the man nodded. Tell him the Androfrancines are under Rudolfo’s protection by Rite of Kin-Clave regardless of what he may hear. The man nodded again.

Rudolfo looked at the empty patch of twilight and his hands moved again, this time in the language of his Gypsy Scouts. They fell back, and Rudolfo turned his back on the skirmisher, climbing back into the saddle of his horse.

When he looked back the skirmisher was running eastward, and the moon, blue and green and full, was slowly lifting into a charcoal sky.

Jin Li Tam

The half-squad met Jin Li Tam and Isaak at the great arching doorways of the Seventh Manor. Their lead, a slight man with a long mustache and a neatly kept beard, stepped forward.

“Lady Tam,” the scout said, “I’ve been instructed to request that you stay.”

One of her eyebrows arched. “And if I do not wish to stay?”

She’d dressed in loose trousers and an equally loose shirt, complete with a set of high, soft riding boots cut from doeskin. Isaak stood beside her, carrying her pack. She had her knife, tucked away beneath her shirt, but was otherwise unarmed. Though she couldn’t fathom Rudolfo’s men using force to keep her.

“We will not keep you against your will, but we cannot permit the metal man to leave.”

Isaak stepped forward. He’d put on clean robes, and because they were outside, his hood was up. His dim eyes lit the dark recesses of it as they flashed and shuttered. “You cannot hold me,” he told the scout. “I am the property of the Androfrancine Order and am compelled to obey the instructions of my Pope. It is not a matter of choice for me.” He turned to her. “You are under no such compulsion. It would be safer for you to remain here.”

She had no doubt of that. Stay with Isaak, Rudolfo had said.

He pulled himself up to his full height, towering above the scouts-taller even than Jin Li Tam. He limped forward.

The scouts moved to block his way and he kept walking. When they put their hands on him, he pushed through and pulled them off their balance. “Please desist,” he said. “I do not wish you to be harmed.”

And he kept walking, his damaged leg catching as he went. Jin Li Tam watched as he moved?hed' w down the cobblestones toward the manor gates. He was not moving fast, but she hadn’t thought he would. Obedience might be written into him, but at least he could control the pace at which he moved. She had no doubt that he could walk without effort, day and night, following the most likely bird-path to his destination far to the northwest. She looked at the scouts, who stood by watching their lead expectantly.

“Whatever else he is,” Jin Li Tam said, “he is a machine made for service to the Androfrancines. You’ll not stop him. His script requires obedience to them.”

The lead nodded. “We’ve been told to expect as much. But we had to try.” He sighed and looked to his men. “And we’ve readied a horse for you as well, Lady Tam.”

She smiled at him. “I see that Rudolfo’s Gypsy Scouts are formidable as well as intelligent.”

He bowed slightly. “We emulate our leader.”

She returned his bow, careful to bend slightly less as fitting for her station. “Shall we ride then?”

Ten minutes later, they overtook the metal man easily at the edge of town. He moved slowly, limping down the road, as if every step took him where he did not wish to go. He paused as they approached and looked from Jin to the lead scout.

“If you don’t mind,” the lead scout said, “we’ll be joining you.”

The scouts rode out ahead and Jin Li Tam hung back, matching her speed to Isaak’s. The air hung heavy with the smell of evergreen and baking bread. Tonight, she thought, would be the full moon.

“What do you think awaits you?” she asked Isaak quietly.

But when he looked at up at her, saying nothing, she knew it couldn’t possibly be good.

Petronus

Petronus waited by the river in the last dark gray before night became morning. He was glad the boy had spoken again and he was intrigued by the message. He’d urged Neb to say nothing to the others and then, when his bladder woke him and told him the night was nearly past, he rolled from his blankets and shambled quietly down to the river.

The moon hung low in the sky, and as he urinated into the river, he watched that blue green globe and wondered at the power of the Younger Gods. Once, in the oldest, oldest times, it had been gray and barren. But according to the legends, the Younger Gods had brought it water and soil and air, turning it to a paradise. He’d even read one surviving fragment from the Hundred Tales of Felip Carnelyin, who claime?yinougd to have traveled there to see many wonders, including the Moon Wizard’s tower-a structure that could be seen with the naked eye on some nights. Of course, the fragmented parchment of Carnelyin’s exploits was now gone forever, reduced to ash in the ruins of the Great Library. He sighed and dropped his robes, turning away from the moon and the river to look back on the field of ash and bone. The moonlight painted it in deep, shadowed tones.

“Are you here yet?” Petronus asked in a low voice.

He heard a chuckle. “I’ve been here. I just didn’t want to interrupt your business with nature.”

Petronus snorted. “I didn’t splash you, did I?”

He felt the faintest breeze. “No.”

And in the light of the setting moon, he saw the shimmer of a man so close he could reach out and touch him if he wished to. “So you’re Rudolfo’s First Captain?”

“Aye. I am Gregoric.” Petronus watched the ghost move, pacing like a cat. “And who might you be?”

Petronus found a large stone by the water’s edge and sat on it. “I am Petros.” He thought for a moment. “Of Caldus Bay.”

“You had the look of a fisherman,” Gregoric said.

Petronus nodded. “All my life.”

The Gypsy Scout chuckled again. “For some reason I doubt that. You’ve been somewhat more than a fisherman, I’ll wager, though just what I’m not sure.”

Now Petronus chuckled. “I think you just expect too little of fishermen.”

The shadow crouched, leaning forward. “I have a man in Kendrick. He heard you work the crowd over. He watched you win them to this work. And I’ve watched you build your camp and dig your graves. I’ve seen how well you skirt the spirit of the law by following its letter. You’ve worked in statecraft and warcraft, I suspect.”

Petronus inclined his head. “I think fishing is a bit of both, actually. Regardless.”

“Regardless,” Gregoric said. “You don’t need me to tell you that Sethbert will not tolerate your toying with the law.”

Petronus smiled. “They’ve stayed away so far.” But he knew the scout was right. So far, they’d been fortuna?;d ' fte. Riders in the distance, coming close enough to see them with their shovels, then racing south. But any day, he expected them to close the gap and approach, to challenge them and perhaps even drive them off. Or try to.

“I have it on good authority,” Gregoric said, “that you’ve had some help.”

The lieutenant, Petronus thought. “We’re doing the right thing here. I think there are many who would agree.”

Petronus could hear the exhaustion in Gregoric’s voice. “Aye. It would be unseemly to leave the bones of Windwir to bleach in the sun.”