too, and for festival banners and all manner of ornament. Everyone said he was the best ropemaker on West Track.'
'I was so scared when you slipped,' said Avisha in a gulping wet voice. 'I thought we lost you.'
'Well, you didn't!'
There was the temper. It made even Kesh stand up straight.
Bai said sweetly, 'Kesh, you swim the horses across. I'll take the boat. You two follow. Best we get moving in case anyone else is on the road.'
The crossing went swiftly and without incident.
While Kesh slung panniers and bags back on the packhorse, Bai and Nallo waded back into the river to recover the precious rope. On this side of the river, someone had abandoned a pile of refuse since battered by wind and rain. Avisha ripped through the pile, but except for sodden cloth and a bronze bucket she found nothing worth keeping.
'Where are you two going now?' Avisha asked as she rolled up the cloth.
He shrugged, hoping she would leave him alone.
'It's true what you said,' she added with a catch in her voice. 'We walked a long way to get to Candra Crossing. It's the only place you can cross the river for days and days. We had to hide a few days after we left the village because there was a group of soldiers, marching Hornward on West Track, back the way they'd come. They had tens of children roped up like beasts. Eiya! Just like beasts.' She grimaced, wiped her eyes and her nose, and sucked in breath to keep talking. 'We could see from where we were hiding. There was one child who stumbled and another child who helped him up, and then the soldiers came and beat that child to death, the one who helped.'
Kesh had seen such a company of children being marched away as slaves, and he had no desire to relive the memory. If only she would stop talking!
'Just for helping, you know. Just for helping.' She began to rock back and forth like a sweet-smoke addict.
Kesh grabbed her wrist. 'Listen! If you want to survive, you have to keep walking. There's nothing any of us can do for those children.'
A glance from fine, tear-filled eyes could make the world bright, if you were the kind of man who liked pretty girls made tense by a touch of fear. He'd worked as a debt slave in Master Feden's house for twelve years, and he'd seen men, and women, who did enjoy forcing sex on reluctant slaves. He'd hated them especially. He released her arm as though it burned him and turned away, but the cursed girl would keep talking.
'I thought Nallo was going to abandon us, too, when we got back to the village to find my father dead and everyone dead — you know Dad and the rest, they ran out with their shovels and hoes to try to hold off the soldiers so us children could run away. Afterward, the landlady wanted to sell us as slaves. Nallo wouldn't let her.'
'Can you tighten that rope for me?' he asked, to shut her up. 'We need to get moving.'
Bai splashed through the shallows and jogged up the slope, Nallo limping behind. He recognized the grim look on Bai's face.
'Get moving.' She slung the rope over the packhorse's neck, fixing it to the panniers. 'Kesh, put the girl in the basket, and tie the boy
up on the mare. Nallo, you'll ride the gelding. Avisha, you'll either have to leave the washtub or carry it at the pace we'll set. There's something coming into town. I want everyone out of sight before it gets to the riverbank and spots us. Move! I'll meet you.' She settled the ginnies into the sling tied to her saddle.
Nallo mounted awkwardly, stomach over the saddle, then pumping her legs until she got the left one over. Thanks to the gods, the horse remained quiescent despite her obvious lack of experience. Swearing under his breath, Keshad lashed the horses into a line and set out at a brisk pace. Avisha hurried after, lugging the washtub. On the mare, Jerad was grinning at the ginnies.
As Bai crossed the river back into town, all Kesh could think of was his old friends Rabbit, Twist, and Pehar, the worst companions a man might fear to have. He hoped they were all dead now, but he was sure they weren't. How anyone could defeat the army that had been descending on Olossi he couldn't imagine, which was why he and Bai had left and more honorable or foolhardy people had stayed behind. Like she was doing now. The road cut into the woodland, and he lost sight of the far shore.
'What about your sister?' said Avisha with an anxious look.
'Shut up. Keep moving.'
No one spoke as they strode along. For the longest time he just walked, thoughts shut down. The horses were obedient, the children quiet, the girl steady.
After a long time he heard hurried footsteps pattering on the earth, coming up from behind. He drew his sword. Avisha started to cry.
But it was Bai, loping like a wolf chasing prey. She was wiping her hands on a scrap of cloth, and although she threw away the cloth before she reached them, he was sure it was bloody.
10
Nallo knew the tales, how the persistent, fortunate, clever child fought past obstacles and won through to a good life in the end. But she'd never believed in them. She'd watched three older brothers die, too weakened with diarrhea to do more than stare mutely at
those tending them. She'd been sent to Old Cross market with her uncle and littlest niece, both girls meant for debt slavery, but although her little niece's labor had been bought up quickly, not one soul had bid on Nallo. Too thin, too sour-looking, too tall, too old, not pretty. There were plenty of desperate folk on the roads, farms failing, laborers out of work, too many children and not enough food to feed them all. The folk who could afford to purchase the labor of those unfortunate enough to be selling had the leisure to be choosy.
Her husband had made the contract with her family through intermediaries. He'd needed a wife quickly; there was a newborn to care for. Everyone had told her she was fortunate. It was the best life she could hope for.
He'd been a gentle man, patient and kind. Everyone in the village had said so, reminding her again and again that she was fortunate. And it was even true.
She wasn't gentle or kind or patient. Everyone had said so, and it was true.
She had no obligation to stay with Avisha and the little ones. But she had nowhere else to go. That had been her husband's last, if unwilling, gift to her: a reason to keep going and not just walk into the hills, lie down in the grass, and die.
They walked for half the morning, and at length halted to let the horses water at a pond ringed by mulberry trees. The children peed, and got a scrap to eat and a swallow of old wine. Then they walked on.
Avisha moved up to walk alongside the man. She tried to draw him into conversation. When he wouldn't talk about himself, she talked about her old life, about her father, about her mother; she chattered about plants and their uses.
'She's a pretty girl,' remarked Zubaidit over her shoulder, addressing Nallo. 'She seems knowledgeable about herbs.'
'Her mother taught her.'
'That's a good piece of knowledge to have. She's old enough to think of marriage.'
'We're too poor to think of marriage. We've no kin. We've nothing.'
'Perhaps you can find a man willing to look no farther than youth and herbcraft.'
'One who is desperate enough to take on a destitute girl with no marriage portion and no kinfolk to sweeten the net of alliance? It was hard enough for my family to find a man willing to marry me.'
'Why is that?'
'I've got a bad temper. I say things people don't want to hear. I ought not to, but they just slip out.'
'Which god took your apprenticeship service?'
'The Thunderer. After my year was up, my kinfolk asked if the temple would fake me on for an eight-year service, but they didn't want me either.' She hated the way she sounded, like a child whining for a stalk of sweet- cane to suck on. 'Never mind. It wasn't so bad. My husband treated me well. The work wasn't so hard. We didn't go
