forest where they hunted and lived; he had spoken to one of the rare delvings who walked out of the caverns of Arro into the sunlight; he had traded information with the nomadic lendings in the grasslands through a series of hand signs and stones; he had even heard the rippling voice of a fireling in its brief passage through the sky. He'd dealt with every manner of human greed and generosity, cruelty and kindness, anger and calm acceptance. He'd memorized the law, because it was carved in stone. He'd dedicated his life to serving justice.
Now he wondered: was it all for nothing?
If it was true the Guardians still walked in the land, and if it was true they warred among themselves, then what could justice possibly mean? How could any ordinary person hope to live a decent life if those the gods had raised to establish and maintain justice in the land had fallen into the shadows?
A shadow fell over him from behind. Scar's big head lowered
until the eagle was able to look him in the eye. Joss stroked the curve of the beak offered him.
'We're not beaten yet. Not as long as you and I have anything to say about it. Now go on.' He tugged on the leather cord hanging around his neck and pulled his reeve's bone whistle out from under his vest. Raising it to his lips, he blew the set to signal to Scar that the eagle was free to hunt.
The raptor huffed, raking the ground with its talons. Joss walked out of range, and the eagle thrust, beat, and flew, then found a thermal along the steep slope and rose swiftly into the sky. Joss scanned the road. Sister and brother hadn't gotten far. Zubaidit paused to watch the eagle's ascent, then bent her gaze down to where he stood at the base of the trail. With a grin, Joss slung his pack over his back and walked after them.
14
The man long known as an envoy of Ilu stayed too long at the thorn tree shelter on the shore of the Olo'o Sea. He enjoyed the hiss of rain over the wide waters and the smell of the first buds squeezing into the air as the rains woke the drowsing vegetation. He watched the ceaseless spill of clouds as the change in air currents between land and water shredded them. But when one day became three and three became five, their enemies caught up to them.
He never slept, not anymore, but he had learned to slip into a drowse similar to the long interlude before awakening, when he had drifted for untold days weeks months years in a state between waking and sleeping. He liked to think of himself, in this state, as similar to the condition of trees during the season of drought: not dead but held in abeyance.
Change will wake them.
He startled into awareness. First he smelled sweat and fear. Then he heard a branch snap and a whispered exclamation.
The sun nosed up in the east. To the west, the band of the inland sea remained dark, speckled with the last bright stars fading into the rising of day. The girl sat beside him. She had fallen back into her
stupor, eyes open but unseeing, mouth lax and hands loose on her thighs.
A pair of unsavory-looking men burst into the clearing, pursued by the bay mare, who had her wings tightly furled along her flanks. She was a biter, mean when she wanted to be, and they edged away as she circled. But they had spotted the two cloaked figures under the shelter. One of the men swung with his spear, and the bay shied away, although she was only playing with them.
With a sigh, he rose and walked out to confront them. They shrank back to the edge of the trees, where an unbroken fence of thorn at just that spot made them hesitate. One was taller, one shorter. He caught the gaze of the shorter man.
The flood of images and thoughts never got any easier to absorb. A man might as well be kicked and beaten, for all that the surge of emotion bruised him.
Gods! Is that a ghost, or a demon? I wonder how she tastes, and if she cries when-
The power we wield over others brings us power. Take pleasure, take pain, take life, and you'll gain strength. Otherwise, you are the victim.
And why should I be persecuted, eh? The Daped clan lied about me cheating them and shamed me in front of the entire village as the hot sun burned and burned
'Stop!' The man's shrill voice rang in the quiet dawn. He tossed aside his spear to fumble with his bow, loosed an arrow that spent itself harmlessly in the dirt.
'The hells!' cursed his taller companion, loosing an arrow in reaction, so careless that the missile wobbled to earth. Then his gaze was caught.
As reward, they give me more coin. With the coin, suck more sweet smoke. Need the coin. Need the smoke.
The bay mare snorted. The gray mare trotted into view from around the far edge of the thorn tree fence. She halted, looking things over with her usual pragmatic consideration. She was even-tempered, but not a horse to mess with. She stretched her neck, then partially opened her wings and charged.
'Shit!' The shorter man lost his anger and his courage, and tossed his bow aside. With his short sword he hacked into the thorn,
yelped as the thorns tore at him although no more sharply than his own sour thoughts.
'Eh! Eh!' The taller one stumbled in his wake, too muddled to make his own decisions.
The envoy shuttered his eyes. He let the taste of the breeze moisten his parted lips. He let the scents drifting on the air tickle his nostrils. Others hid in the brush, six in all, a cadre on the hunt.
He heard whispers pitched too low for ordinary ears to hear.
'… Can't face him…'
'Sniveling whiner. No wonder they keep passing you over for promotion. Harbi and I will go.'
'Let's just get out of here.'
'Then he'll move on and we'll have the hells of a trip tracking him down again. Or you want someone else to get the prize money and the promotion? A chance for the lord's favor?'
'I'm not going back out there. Those horses are cursed demons.'
The girl rose. She walked over to the spent arrow and fallen bow, picked them up, examined them with a frown. The envoy caught a glimpse of dark cloth where the men peered out through green branches.
'What is that? A lilu?'
'A demon!'
'A ghost.'
'I thought we were just after the sky cloak. I didn't come here to hunt demons!'
She fitted the arrow to the string; tested the pull; swung the bow around to aim into the trees. Loosed the arrow.
A scream — a hit! — surprised him. He heard a shout of pain, then the rustle of undergrowth as they retreated through the undergrowth. Men argued:
'We're six, they're two.'
'The horses!'
'Not that easy.' That was taller's voice, startled out of his dream of sweetsmoke. He spoke in a mumble that quieted the others. 'He'll kill us just by tearing out our insides, just with a look from him. You know it's true. Best we hurry back and report. Maybe he won't chase us if we go quickly.'
Eyes narrowed, she spotted the second arrow and fetched it.
In the brush, the whispered debate went on. 'You fools. Two of them, six of us.'
'Best we saddle the horses, if you will,' the envoy said to her.
For the first time, she was listening to him. She walked back to the fire as casually as if no man had just tried to kill them, as if they were not in danger of a second attack coming at any moment.
She whistled, and the horses trotted over to her. He held his staff at the ready, his senses trained on the thorn tree fence and the woodland scrub beyond it, on the noises of the cadre as they crept out of arrow range, debating what to do next, no one able to take charge. He didn't fear them, and if they attacked, he'd have no choice but to kill them. Perhaps they instinctively guessed it, for the taste of their living essence faded entirely. They had chosen retreat.
