across the ruins of the old tower complex at his sister, he was already afraid.
A single lamp illuminated the tumbled stone walls and dusty
ground. Most likely, the folk in Candra Crossing had experienced relative peace for so long that no one had thought they needed to repair the beacon tower. No one had thought an army would appear from the east, devastating all the towns and villages in its path.
In the remains of the ancient tower, Zubaidit had discovered a fire pit, sheltered from the wind, that had seen recent use. A stone slab protected an old cistern, which was half full of reasonably fresh rainwater. It was a good place to camp.
As he came up beside her, the fire she was making kindled and caught. She sat back on her heels and waited until the fire took hold, then pinched out the lamp and set it beside the saddle bags. The two ginny lizards, Magic and Mischief, were dozing side by side on a strip of cloth. Bai grabbed the cloth by two corners and gently pulled them closer to the heat of the fire. The ginnies stirred, giving Kesh indignant looks as if to accuse him of disturbing their rest, but settled as Bai scritched them. The three horses were already watered, fed, and hobbled for the night, penned within the higher walls of an adjoining chamber, heard and smelled but not seen. Their presence, at least, was a comfort.
Bai unfolded a small iron tripod and hung a pot over the fire. Firelight softened her face. 'I'm brewing khaif,' she said, without turning to note that he had come up behind her, 'so stop complaining.'
When he did not reply, she rose easily; every movement she made seemed effortless and powerful. Beside her, he felt clumsy and weak.
'Kesh, what is bothering you? You've scarcely spoken ten words together since we escaped that skirmish on West Track days ago. And those words were mostly to question my judgment and, if I must say so, to whine. Just as you're doing now. This isn't the big brother who gave me courage, who pulled me out of the water when I fell in over my head. We're free, because of you. Free to walk where we want, free to start a new life.'
'Unless the Hieros sends someone after us, hoping to get you back into the temple's clutches. Unless Master Feden concocts an excuse to question my debt payment and tries to chain me back into his service. We made them our enemies when we bought our freedom because they didn't want us to go.'
'Are you still afraid?'
'Yes.'
'Of what?'
Afraid of a little sister who had grown up to become someone more frightening than death.
'Nothing.' He picked his way around the ruined wall, felt for the fallen gate, and sat down on the stones blocking the passage. Past this gate stood the horses, drowsy and calm. Their big bodies soothed him. Horses liked familiarity. They liked to know where they fit in. But Bai, born in the Year of the Wolf, had become a wolf in truth: everyone knew that wolves will gladly tear apart a man even if they aren't hungry. You never knew when they might strike.
For a short while there was silence, then he heard her moving about.
'I'm going to make the prayers for a safe night. You want to help me?'
'No.' He touched the blessing bowl that hung at his belt, but he did not pour water into it and murmur the proper blessings for day's end. At the edge of the firelight, she stamped the rhythm with her feet and sketched the story with hands and body as she sang.
'The Four Mothers raised the heavens and shaped the earth,
and then they slumbered.
and then they grew large.
and then they gave birth.
The seven gods are Their children,
who brought order into the world.
who built the gates that order the world.
who sawed the wood and split the wood and planed the wood and carved the wood and dug the iron and forged the iron and hammered the tools and put piece into piece to form the arch and gathered the harvest and bled the sap and colored the resin and coated the lacquer and sprinkled the dust of gold and the dust of silver into the base and polished the surface.
and thus Shining Gate rose and Shadow Gate rose.
and thus day and night gave order to the world.
Look! Look! Look at the horizon! A voice calls. Shadow Gate rises. Night is come.'
This late in the year it was still hot even with the sun set and the night rains coming in. Her skin glistened. She brushed moisture from her eyes and swiped the back of her neck. She glanced toward the gate, where the shadows hid him.
'You don't pray with me. You carry one of the bowls that the slaves of the southern god carry. It imprisons their souls. But you don't pray their prayers, either.'
Uncomfortable, he shifted to ease the pressure on his seat.
'If you truly believe in the southern god, Kesh, then you should pray to him. If you don't, you shouldn't carry that bowl.'
She strolled back to the fire, poured a sludgy mix of khaif and rice porridge into their cup, and held it out to coax him out of the darkness. 'Aren't you hungry?'
He slouched into the light. She waited until he took the cup, then spooned gruel for herself straight out of the pot. They ate in silence. The khaif went straight to his head. As always, the buzz made him feel reckless and irritable.
'Why should I pray to any gods? What have the gods ever done for me?'
'Sheh! For shame! How could we be here, without the gods? How could anything have come into existence? The gods ordered the world. But it is our prayers that hold it together.'
'You have to believe that because you served in the temple.'
She lifted the spoon to her lips, sucked in the gruel, then licked clean the spoon. All the while she stared at him. He didn't like that look.
'What are you accusing me of?' he demanded.
She gestured, and he handed her the cup. She measured out another portion and returned the cup to him. Then she removed the pot from the tripod and scraped out the leavings.
'Well? Say something!'
She finished eating and set the spoon into the pot with a gesture of closing. 'We'll ford the river at first light.'
Before dawn, they led the horses down the path into Candra Crossing. The ginnies, riding on Bai's shoulders, were drowsy and irritable. In the heavens, the boldest stars still shone, while a blush lightened the east. Birds twittered. No wind stirred. It was already hot.
They approached along a dirt path that raft parallel to West Track behind the riverside row of buildings. Trampled fields marked where a large host had camped, and animals had grazed. The army had left shallow ditches stinking with refuse and offal, still swarming with bugs many days later.
A few buildings had burned down. The doors of the temple dedicated to Sapanasu had been smashed, and the counting house was singed. The compound dedicated to Kotaru, the Thunderer, was stripped of weapons and stores. Bai paused outside the gates of the temple to the Merciless One, carved with Her sigil: the bloom of the lotus pierced by a dagger. Like the rest of the town, the Devourer's temple was abandoned. When Keshad peeked through the half-open gates, he saw only dust and dead plants, and a solitary stone bench where a single passionflower had fallen, its color withered to a pale pink.
Was that a noise? The scuff of a foot? A voice, speaking soft words?
Magic lifted his crest and hissed.
'Keep moving,' whispered Bai.
Kesh kept glancing back over his shoulder as they walked away. Surely those noises had only been rats scrabbling through the leavings or birds fluttering in the abandoned buildings. There was no one here. No one at all. The army had poured past Candra Crossing, and the town's population had drained away after them, dead or fled or taken captive.
'Careful, now,' said Bai as they approached the River Hayi. 'Listen.'
