that the air tasted as thin as four-finger gruel.
'We're as private as we're ever likely to be,' said Anji when they had walked away from Scar. He glanced up, marking three eagles; the others were patrolling out of their sight. 'What is it you wanted to tell me?'
'I thought by the way you looked at me at Horn Hall that you knew!'
'I know that when a man like you asks to speak privately, then I must heed him.'
The ledge was partially visible off to the right. The labyrinth's glimmer had a pulsating rhythm buried beneath the surface glitter but present as a heart's beat in the body of a man. Had the
gods poured the life's blood of the land into the altars? Threaded it with the land's spirit? Was that how new Guardians were born out of death, because the land — its spirit and blood — flowed through their hearts and into their flesh?
'We've got to talk about the Guardians, Anji.'
Anji nodded. 'Yes. Go on.'
'Lord Radas and his allies have become corrupted and now use the magic of the cloaks for corrupt and selfish ends.'
'They're demons, as I've been saying.'
Joss shook his head impatiently. 'Maybe that's true of the demons of your land. Here, demons are just one of the eight children, often wearing a human face but with their own ways and their own concerns. Just as wildings and lendings and delv-ings have. Anji, listen. The Guardians are not single spirits who have existed for all this time in the same vessel since the day the gods raised them at Indiyabu. The cloaks carry the authority and sorcery granted by the gods. But the individuals who wear the cloaks charige. Humans who died serving justice are raised by a cloak to become a Guardian. But some among the Guardians crossed under the Shadow Gate and became corrupt. It's those Guardians we fight. Not the others.'
'What others?' asked Anji, studying Joss's face intently.
'There are Guardians who oppose Lord Radas and his ally, a woman who wears the cloak of Night. Some among the Guardian council are not corrupt, and they seek to-' There was no way to put this except bluntly. 'They seek to kill the corrupt Guardians in order that new individuals can wear the cloaks and become Guardians in truth.'
'Let's say it's true there are those wearing Guardian cloaks who wish to kill Lord Radas and his allies. How can we know they are not themselves corrupt and plan to take over the Guardians' council and Lord Radas's army for themselves? And even if they are not yet corrupt, how can we know they will not fall into the shadow in time? If one can be corrupted, then all can.'
'The Guardians walked the Hundred for generation after generation, establishing justice, presiding over the assizes. It was only one who became corrupt and then worked to corrupt others, so once we kill her and her allies, the Guardians' council can return to the path of justice.'
'I thought,' said Anji so softly it was difficult to hear him over the wind, 'that Guardians could not be killed.'
A man did not have to be a Guardian to understand certain expressions.
'You do know,' said Joss. 'You've discovered there is a way — a dangerous way — for us to kill a Guardian.'
'Two cloaks came to the Hieros in Olossi. Tohon happened to be there, visiting her, so he was present and heard everything they said, which he told to me. He described them as a man dressed as an envoy of Ilu whom you and I saw dying at Dast Korumbos, and the demon girl — who I know died in the desert along the Golden Road on our journey here — who has taken the shape of Shai's slave girl. She killed three of my soldiers. Later, she single- handedly killed a cadre of enemy soldiers. Does that make you inclined to trust or distrust them, Joss?'
'I'm sorry about your soldiers, although it's odd she killed only three if she meant to kill all of you. As for the other, that envoy tried to help when the village was attacked. I'd call that the act of an ally. So these two came to tell the Hieros there is a way to kill Guardians?'
'They seemed willing to trust the Hieros with this information. How did you find out?'
Joss had never spoken of the dreams of Marit that had haunted him over the years. She was his secret, his hidden desire, his heart's ease. 'I was very young,' he began haltingly.
'The storytellers in the market would make a song of it.'
Heat scalded Joss's cheeks. 'What does that mean?'
'Only that I've heard this tale before, although you may not recall telling it to me. You were young, and there was a woman, the best woman in all the world. It was Mai who mentioned the song. She is fond of market songs.'
No doubt many are sung to her beauty.
Almost the words popped out of his mouth, but he thought better of it. 'Marit was the first woman I ever truly loved,' he said instead, 'and I suppose the last one as well.'
'And she appeared to you, wearing a cloak. Demons appear in the guise of those we most love. That makes us vulnerable to their lies.'
'Your outlander notions about demons do not hold here in the Hundred. It truly was Marit. She is no lilu who set a trap to snare me.'
'Beware wanting her to be something she may not be. One of those she claims to be in alliance with is known to be a demon!'
Anger flashed in the captain's expression, and its strength made Joss cursed uncomfortable. 'No creature has blue eyes like that ghost girl, none except demons!'
Joss raised both hands, in the gesture of soothing. 'Heya! It's understandable you would distrust a woman who killed three of your men. But as you said, we met that envoy of Ilu before. I sensed no corruption in his person.'
Anji's mouth flattened. His voice was coiled tight but very even. 'How can we sense their corruption? Demons hide what they are behind a mask that makes them appear as human. These who wear the cloaks wield considerable power. They will always be a danger to us.'
'Marit fights with us, for justice! She's not our enemy!' The memory of Marit — the feel of her skin under his hands, for there had been nothing inhuman about the flesh Joss had too briefly touched — overwhelmed him. She was as unattainable as she had ever been all those long years he had thought her dead. He had to turn his face into the wind so it could obliterate his tears. All along he had been carrying sorrow with him, a heavier burden than he had ever cared to understand.
Anji unleashed his riding whip and began drawing it through his fingers. 'Perhaps they may be telling the truth,' he said, although the admission sounded grudging. 'Can you find Marit again? If I can speak to her we might learn more about Lord Radas, the cloak of Night, and the other cloaks who obey him. We can account for eight Guardians among these two factions, five opposed to three. That means one remains missing. Where is that one?'
'I don't know how to find Marit. She always found me.'
Anji raised an eyebrow. 'Can it be she still loves you, even though she is dead?'
The words made the air seem hot and the ground unsteady. Joss passed a hand over his eyes, and the world settled back into place. 'She is a Guardian now. None of that matters. She and her allies offered us this weapon so we can fight, because they are Guardians who serve justice and the land.'
Anji tapped his whip against a thigh. 'If we sever the cloaks from Lord Radas and the other corrupted Guardians they command, it's likely we will cripple Lord Radas's army. Yet if we can sever these individuals from that which binds them to the land, then it seems their cloaks will be released to seek new
Guardians. And then what? Will their greed for power not rise all over again? Don't you see the danger in that, Joss?'
'There's always danger. So can we all become corrupt. If that were an argument, then none of us would ever act. The gods raised the Guardians. That some have become corrupted doesn't mean all will be. Justice can be restored. We're obligated to serve justice and restore peace to the land.'
'Of course.' Anji's smile was rueful, his sigh deeply felt. 'We speak of terrible things. You and I know how difficult the struggle to restore peace will be. What have we decided, Commander?'
'If only we'd known this before Zubaidit walked into the enemy's camp!' Aui! Now he must recall kissing Zubaidit! Would these gods-rotted memories of passionate women never cease troubling him? His groin stirred, and
