figures against the cloth: one kneeling abjectly and one waiting with a soldier's alert posture over to the side, half turned away. The third man stood with a slumped tilt to broad shoulders Shai thought he recognized.
'Please, I beg you.' By the motion of clasped hands, Shai guessed it was the kneeling figure who spoke. It was painful to hear a man reduced to such wretched sobs. 'You've seen into my very heart, you know all my secrets. It wasn't my choice to hide those barrels of wine, nor the ale. It was my sister. It was her idea!'
The third man slapped a hand to his head in an exaggerated gesture Shai had seen before. 'Of all things, I detest folk who betray their own to protect themselves. Sniveling, selfish bastard.'
The sound of that voice knifed into Shai's heart.
'I might have seen fit to show mercy to a merchant who, not unreasonably, sought to salvage some of his goods rather than see them looted. But to blame your own sister, when you and I know perfectly well that you told her to do it — sheh!'
The Hundred word — for shame! — fell easily from those lips, and Shai shuddered as, his strength failing him, he dropped to his knees.
'Captain Arras, take this one away for cleansing. Quickly. He stinks.'
'Can't we just execute him, my lord?'
'I have to throw them a few bones, you know that. He disgusts me. Just take him.'
The condemned man shrieked and struggled as soldiers entered
from the other side and dragged him out past Shai. Past the briefly opened curtain, Shai saw a trim man of military bearing, the same watchful captain from the line. The captain lifted hands to shield his face, turning to face the third figure, still concealed as the cloth slithered down to seal away the area.
'They've brought the outlander, as you commanded, my lord.'
'Ah.'
A brown hand pulled aside the cloth. A man emerged from behind the curtain, dressed in the local fashion and wearing a cloak for the rains. Shai had been little more than a boy when, six years ago, his favorite brother had been marched in chains out of Kartu Town, a prisoner of the Qin conquerors.
Hari was dead. Yet here he stood, looking at Shai with a well-known and much-loved sardonic smile on his blessedly familiar face.
'Hello, little brother,' Hari's ghost said, smile lingering. 'You've grown up.'
Nekkar was slumbering fitfully when Vassa woke him, her worried expression illuminated by the lamp she carried.
'She's here.'
A deep bruise in his right hip made it difficult to stand, even leaning on a crutch, the effect made worse because his swollen left ankle throbbed if he rested any weight on it. But he limped out to the porch to find one of the night guards standing nervously behind the assassin. She was younger than he had imagined.
'Zubaidit.'
'Holy One.' She assisted him with strong arms to settle onto a pillow.
Vassa sat down on his other side, smiling in a way he knew meant she was reserving judgment. She set down the lamp on the planks. 'Kellas, bring what remains of the warmed khaif.'
The lad, hovering since Nekkar had fainted the night before, ran off.
'A humble cottage for an ostiary,' remarked the assassin pleasantly as they waited. 'Another person of your rank might insist on more ostentation.'
Vassa snorted, but she unbent slightly.
'I serve Ilu. Not wealth and the fickle opinion of those who care about such displays.'
She chuckled in a way he found endearing. 'An honest acolyte! Not as common a treasure in these days as we might hope.'
'That's as may be, verea. We could chatter on in this vein for half the night and would be considered polite for doing so. I beg your pardon. You said you had an associate. A gods-touched out-lander. Where he is?'
'Taken prisoner.' Her words were clipped.
'How did it happen?' asked Vassa sharply.
'I blame myself. I should have sent him away when I had the chance, because he lacks training, but he is gods-touched and therefore I thought I could use him to fulfill my mission. While I was here exploring Toskala, the army decided to send away the camp followers. He was caught in the sweep.'
'Saving me, you lost him.'
She shrugged with an angry lift of her chin. 'We can't know it would have fallen out differently had I not saved you, Holy One.'
Kellas appeared out of the darkness with a tray. Vassa served the spy with her own hands, a courtesy Nekkar observed with interest. Something in the woman's confession had earned Vassa's sympathy, and he trusted his lover's instincts for people more than his own.
He took his cup, sipped at the pungent sludge that had come from the bottom of the pot, and set it down with a grimace. 'We have seen many troubling and terrible things in recent days.'
She drained her own cup without answering.
'Bring nai porridge as well, whatever's left in the pot,' said Vassa to the lad, 'and make sure Odra keeps the rest of the apprentices down on their pallets.'
'Yes, Auntie.' Kellas trotted off. The night guard remained out of sight in the darkness.
'What will you do?' Nekkar asked.
'Go on with the mission. I waited as long as I could by the city gate after they took him inside, but I never saw him brought out and hanged. So maybe he is dead by other means. Or maybe he has succeeded beyond my expectations. I may never know. Such is war.'
'What do you want of us?' Vassa asked, and in her tone Nekkar heard a tincture of weariness: it got so tiring to have to be suspicious of everyone. Sometimes you had to trust as an act of hope.
'Is there any possible way you can get me up to the reeves on rhe rock and back down again without being caught?'
'Up to Law Rock and Justice Square?' The words startled him. 'No. The thousand steps are blocked by a rockfall. If you don't have wings, there's no other route beyond the provisions baskets, and I'm sure they're winched safely up top. The army must have a blockade at the base of both routes — basket and steps — to guard against folk down here sending weapons or food up in aid of the reeves.'
Vassa folded her arms over her chest. 'What message have you for the reeves? Or for us, for that matter? We're forced to abide by curfews. We're promised the markets will be allowed to open under strict supervision if we obey. Yet this morning word came by street crier that every house, clan, and guild compound will be required to give up coin and storehouse goods to the army, and a hostage as well, one from each household, clan, guild, and even the temples.'
'Just as the Guardian commanded,' murmured Nekkar.
Zubaidit whistled. 'That's a heavy tax.'
'Theft can be weathered, if one is willing to tighten one's belt through the lean months to come.' Vassa broke off as Kellas hurried up with a covered bowl, set it down in front of the assassin, and retreated. Zubaidit set a hand on the cover and, trembling, drew it back.
'Go on,' said Vassa, voice gentling. As a cook, she could not bear to see people suffer from hunger.
'My thanks, verea.' She dug in with a will, devouring half the porridge before she forced herself to stop and let it settle. 'My apologies.'
'How long has it been since you've eaten?' demanded Vassa.
'It doesn't matter. Listen, Holy One. Verea.' She gestured with the spoon in the direction of the gates. The wick whispered as it consumed the reservoir of oil. 'The army intends to march downriver and attack Nessumara. They'll leave a garrison to defend their interests in the city.'
'We could fight them if there are only a few!' cried Kellas from the end of the porch.
'Apprentice, it will be bed for you if you can't keep silence,' said Nekkar, although it was difficult not to chuckle at the lad's enthusiasm. Her words likewise set his own heart hammering. He turned to the assassin. 'Could we fight?'
'It is a risk to leave Toskala with only a garrison to control it. That must be why they are taking hostages to march south with
