woman with a brown-black complexion and round features like Priya's, or a young man with the bronze-red coloring of the eastern desert towns along the Golden Road. These foreigners always wore bronze bracelets. On the whole, the Hundred folk were taller and more robust than the outlanders who had washed up in their lands, although some among the Hundred kind wore slave marks, just like in Kartu Town: brands, belled anklets, iron collars.
'Good silk,' she commented, indicating the bright clothing worn by women moving along the paths. Now and again someone passed by wearing a coarser weave of silk that made the quality of the other stand out in contrast.
'They're wearing a lot of Sirniakan silk,' said Anji. 'I would wager that the homespun is local silk. Nothing as good as the Sirni silk. It's no wonder they prefer silk out of the south. Yet it makes me wonder how far the sword of the emperor reaches.'
Her heart beat faster as she thought of the burning town they had left behind together with three men and nine slaves. 'Will we be safe here?'
'We will find out.' He pointed. 'Look there. A troop of acrobats.'
Beyond the foot trails lay cleared ground where lithe athletes, some quite young and others remarkably old, juggled balls and balanced on rope, turned cartwheels and flips, and then did it all again. A woman of middle years strode among them, hectoring and gesturing. Mai tried but could not quite hear what she was saying. The troupers, male and female alike, were dressed in short kilts and tight sleeveless jerkins; some of the men wore no top at all. It was shocking to see so much smooth and handsome skin displayed right out in public. At the roped-off edge of the dirt field, a group of children had gathered to watch. There was even a quartet of small dogs who stood on their hind legs and turned in circles, like a dance.
She turned half around in the saddle as the field fell behind. 'I wonder if they'll perform here. If we can attend a show.'
When he didn't answer, she turned back. They rode up to the cluster of Qin soldiers who surrounded the wagon in which the prisoner was confined. Chief Tuvi nodded as his captain fell in beside him.
'All is quiet?' asked Anji.
The chief nodded. 'It is.'
Tuvi called to one of the men riding next to the wagon. The wagon had a scaffolding built over it on which planks had been nailed to form a crude shelter, with a canvas ceiling stretched over the top. The soldier leaned out to release the catch on a plank and lowered it, revealing a window into the inside. Through that gap, Mai saw a slice of the dim interior and a man's face. In that first moment, his gaze was direct, defiant, unashamed, but then he flinched and raised a hand against the light. Tuvi nodded, and the soldier raised the plank and latched it back into place.
'He eats,' said Tuvi. 'He wishes to keep up his strength.'
'I wonder what manner of justice he expects from these assizes,' said Anji. 'I have spoken with the caravan masters. It seems a court is assembled of men or women from the town who have a certain respectable standing. They hear evidence, and then make a judgment by casting lots.'
Tuvi tugged at an ear. 'Women? Huh.'
'Women listen and observe better than men do,' said Mai.
'I dare not argue,' said Anji in a way that irritated her.
Chief Tuvi gave her a long, careful look as he scratched at his chin and the straggle of beard growing there. 'Maybe so. In the tribe, women rule on women's matters, which are a thing men cannot judge.'
In Kartu Town, the bureaucrats of the law courts ruled on all matters brought to their attention, but these were public disputes. Within the family, of course, Father Mei was the arbiter of all decisions and the executor of all punishments. His word was the only law.
'I think I will like to see these assizes,' said Mai, 'where women sit together with men on the court. And cast lots. And pass judgment.'
But she had lost them. The gazes of both men, and indeed those of all of the soldiers riding on this side of the road, had strayed to follow a thread unwinding through the foot traffic. It was almost funny to see men up and down the caravan become distracted at the sight of a tall young woman striding along one of the paths toward town, not more than fifteen paces out from the road. She had a man's casual confidence but a woman's eye- catching sway and shift. She wore white, a stark color compared with all the bright oranges, reds, yellows, spring greens, and jewel blues that ornamented the many women out and about their business. The hem of her white kilted skirt did not brush her knees; her white sleeveless jacket was so short that her belly button was exposed. Even the locals glanced at her with interest, the men with that lift of the chin, that pause of a gaze, that measures a woman's attributes. Her hair was pulled back into a single braid falling halfway down her back. One of her cheeks had a purple bruise high along the cheekbone, a smear that almost reached the fine perfect shell of an ear. She was barefoot, just as all those acrobats in the field had been. Oblivious of the world, intent on her own thoughts, she was holding a reed pipe to her mouth. Her fingers pressed patterns on that slim surface, but Mai heard no tune whistling from the pipe above the rumble and creak made by the caravan's passage.
A crack splintered the silence. A shout rose from the last third of the cavalcade. Anji turned around at once and pressed his mount forward with Mai following close behind. Men's voices rose in tones of anger, sharp and ugly. Staffs cracked against wood and steel as blows were traded.
'Chief!' called Anji.
Qin soldiers peeled off to follow their captain. Some lengths back, the steady current had broken into an eddy. A wagon listed to one side. Two barrels had tumbled off. One had caught in the wheels of a handcart. A man sat on the ground holding his foot. Men scuffled like wrestlers, arms to shoulders, straining and kicking, and a length of green silk was twisted in the dust.
The chief drove his horse into the middle of this, and the size and weight of the beast was enough to send men scrambling. A youth grabbed the arm of an older man just before he could punch a retreating merchant. Here were men only; as far as she had seen, no women traveled in the caravans that went down to Sirniaka.
'What! What!' cried Tuvi as Anji waited at an intimidating distance with ten soldiers fanned out to support their chief. 'What trouble is this?'
They cursed at each other, shaking fists as they called out their grievances.
The first man was fat, energetic, and ready to throw blows again. 'This man's wagon has rammed into my cart and damaged my goods and my cart. He should be fined for not keeping his wagon in good repair.'
A lean man, puffing and panting, answered him in a breathless voice. 'My axle pin-gone missing-you see how the other is double-looped so it won't slip free. I've been sabotaged!'
Both were overtaken by a merchant splendid in gold and brown robes who clutched a supple leather pouch the size of two fists and shook it furiously. 'Look here! This is my pouch of saffron. The jewel of spices and most valuable! Where do I find it? In the cart of this thief! He's lifted it right out of my wagon, the criminal!'
The man accused of thievery was young. He gaped like a fish tossed out of the water, too dumbfounded to respond to this charge. But others were eager to voice their protests; and many more crowded forward to watch as Anji commanded a boy to run, run, and fetch the caravan master.
'My best bolt of silk, ruined by these blind oafs! Could you not watch where you are going?'
'Aui! The vessel is broken! That is finest oil of naya. Water-white. How am I to be repaid for my loss?'
'What about-my wheel-can't fix-here on the road.'
'I want this thief taken before the assizes. This is an outrage! My saffron!'
The forward portion of the caravan rolled on, heading for Olossi. A gap opened between the forward wagons and this last third held up by the damaged wagon and the gathering crowd. Those stuck behind the breakdown were beginning to raise a clamor, and it seemed some of the merchants were ready to branch off the main road onto the secondary paths and tracks but were hesitant to move because of the presence of the dour Qin soldiers.
She felt cold, and then hot, and not only because of the cloudless sky and glaring sun. She pushed her mount through the soldiers, who reined aside to allow her to move up beside Anji. He had dismounted beside the man transporting the oil. Wiping his fingers along the crack in the sealed clay vessel, he sniffed at the oily liquid, then licked his fingers to taste it.
'Where does this come from?' he asked the merchant.
'The best seeps rise along the west shore of the Olo'o Sea, ver. Right up against the mountains, where the land cracks into fissures and ravines. In the empire, they call it 'king's oil.' '
