made impenetrable by
dense growth. 'Where is Nessumara? Isn't the city's port here on the bay, like this town?'
They laughed; he'd as good as stumbled, revealing his ignorance, and he noted their expressions. Not everyone was hostile. Some merely looked relieved that another had voiced a question they needed an answer to.
Captain Dessheyi scratched his chin. 'Nessumara lies on islands deep within that delta. Weren't you listening, Captain?'
Arras knew better than to answer the question. He shaded his eyes from the sun as he examined the distant shoreline. It was impossible to identify any distinct rivers emerging from the tangle, whose vivid color reminded him of the skirts of the Wild, the ancient forest in whose depths any trespassers would meet their death at the hands of the mute wildings. Born and raised in the north, he wasn't used to vegetation growing so thick it was like a breathing beast waiting to strangle the unsuspecting. He had a cursed good idea that the folk who lived in the delta knew the wetlands landscape as well as he had known the escarpments and ravines of the uplands where he'd grown up. He spotted three eagles soaring overhead.
'Even if the city is betrayed from within, what's to stop a local resistance from taking refuge within the swamp?' he asked. 'Striking at will? Aided and abetted by the reeves?'
Captain Dessheyi smiled as a wolf bares its teeth. 'A good question, Captain Arras. I'm assigning your companies to explore the land around the eastern causeway and probe the barriers raised there while we await the signal to advance. I'll expect a thorough report.'
The other men chuckled, relieved to have another man bear the brunt of Dessheyi's ill humor. As the captain went on to discuss assignments for foraging expeditions, Arras again glanced down into the Thunderer's courtyard.
A woman stood in front of the row of cowering prisoners. A cloak of night enveloped her, and she was lecturing as a teacher might, brandishing a writing brush. Each time its tip touched paper, one of the sobbing prisoners collapsed like a puppet whose strings have been cut; like a body whose spirit has been severed from the flesh.
Arras recoiled a step, shuddering as terror stabbed deep: So she could have done to me, that evening by the fire.
Where Guardians walked, people must obey. There was no other choice.
11
At Argent Hall they told Joss that Captain Anji had last been seen at Storos-on-the-Water, where a training camp had been set up. At Storos-on-the-Water they told him Anji had ridden back to Olossi, to his main encampment, and here Joss and Scar flew. It was difficult for Joss to make sense of all the new building around Olossi, especially since the lower town had been so badly damaged in last year's battle. More walls were going up beyond the inner city, like the rings of an onion, and beyond the reconstructed Crow's Gate there was yet a new walled neighborhood, men and women raising walls and gates. Farther afield, West Track was spanned by staggered checkpoints out to the limit of Joss's vision.
Two mey from the city, fields formerly used as pasture had been walled off and divided into quarters like one of Kotaru's enclosures, two lined with neat rows of tents for barracks and storehouses and two wide-open fields for training. Joss circled as men paced through drills below. Dust puffed under their feet. Their enthusiastic shouts filled the air. They were two cohorts at least, and he spotted a third cohort riding a mey away to the south along the skirts of the Lend, on some kind of training race. How had Anji gotten so many horses? A watchtower sentry flagged him, and he pulled an answering flag and sent Scar down.
A sergeant — the Qin called them 'chiefs' — came out to greet him respectfully, a sober man whose name he could not recall. 'Captain Anji went to fetch the mistress out in the Barrens. A full turn of the moon has passed since the birth. He can safely greet the baby, make sure it's healthy, not tainted by demons.'
Joss blinked. 'Newborn babies can be tainted by demons?'
'Hu! Surely you Hundred folk know that, Marshal! Demons leave a particular kind of blemish, sickliness, deformities. Don't you rid yourselves of demons?'
'Rid ourselves?'
'Kill them. They're a danger to the tribe.'
The word did not at first register; then Joss lifted a hand in a warding gesture, surprised to find himself trembling. Kill? 'I should have been present, for I stand as uncle to the child. Best I go quickly.'
If not too late.
He flew to the Barrens, but in the settlement now being called Astafero, he learned that the captain's party had taken ship. It was not until his questioning elicited a great deal of commentary about the darling baby and how the captain had carried the child his very own self onto the boat that the edge of anxiety softened. Weariness hammered him; he staggered to Naya Hall and commandeered a cot in the darkest corner of a tent barracks. Of course Anji would have done no such horrible thing. Nor would Mai ever have allowed it!
How long he slept he did not know, but he was roused by Siras sticking his head past the curtain slung up to give privacy.
'Greetings of the day, Marshal. I mean, I should say, Commander. A bold and bright Wakened Wolf it is, even if you look more like a resting-day festival cake the worse for being nibbled raw by hungry mice.'
Joss rubbed sandy eyes. 'What in the hells are you doing here, Siras? You don't even have an eagle.' The young man grinned so wide that Joss blinked, thinking there was too much light in this dim corner. 'She came back, did she?'
'While you were flown north to Clan Hall, Commander. They sent me here to Naya Hall to get a bit of retraining, me not having been in harness for over a year.'
Joss sat up, blankets twisting around his torso. He'd had the sense to strip before falling onto the cot, although he had no clear memory of having done so. His clothes were, as usual, scattered every which way on the ground. 'Aui! My mouth is like a swamp. How early is it?'
'Midday. You slept an entire night and half the day. There's a dram of cordial waiting for you in the mess tent along with porridge, if you want it.'
'Aren't you on duty?'
'Arda assigned me to you.'
'Seeing as you know how to handle me.'
Siras's grin popped again. 'Something like that. Let me shake out your clothes, Commander. There are scorpions around here. No one leaves their gear on the ground.' He tossed him a clean kilt. 'There's a trough out back, if you want to wash.'
Joss wrapped the kilt and found his way to a roofless enclosure where a trough was filled with clean water. The enclosure was rigged with canvas for a modicum of privacy. He dipped in a
bucket and dumped its contents over his head. The cold braced him for a second round. This time, as the water gushed down his bare chest, from behind came a burst of giggling. He spun to discover four women of varying ages peering in where there was a gap in the canvas walls. Two wore reeve leathers, and the other two — the hells! — there were four others, each carrying a basket or buckets.
Cursed if the oldest didn't start singing a famous line from the tale of the Reckless Farmer — she could not help but admire his plough so straight and strong — and one of the reeves, because unencumbered, sketched the accompanying gestures with her hands, nothing fancy in her execution but everyone knew them and, truly, the entire song was so obscene…
'Heya! No loitering!' The reeves and hirelings scurried away, chortling and singing snatches of song. He was scorched he was blushing so hard as that gods-rotted trainer Arda sauntered up to the gap and looked in.
She rolled her eyes. T should have known it would be you.'
'The hells, Arda!'
She laughed as he checked to make sure that the kilt, now damp and clinging to his' hips, thighs, and groin, had not slipped. 'Don't pretend you don't enjoy it. So. You've become acting commander of Clan Hall. If you can
