The Blackgod

if he were the only one avoiding mistakes.

“Well, I think we expected you to be dressed to receive us. I do not stand on such formalities—with men, anyway—but Lord Bone Eel shall, I think.” She stooped and handed him the robe, which he stepped into immediately. She was slight though not particularly short. Young.

“I was expecting only Bone Eel,” Ghe said, frowning, trying to understand the faint buzz of emotion emanating from her, and failing.

“Lord Bone Eel is my husband. I am the Lady Qwen Shen.”

“Oh. I was not informed.” He stopped and bowed what he thought to be the appropriate bow, and she did not laugh outright.

“You will be accompanying us?” he asked when he straightened.

“Yes, of course. I could not let my husband stray far from my sight. Servants will be along soon with my clothes. I only wanted to see my quarters.”

“Well, then,” Ghe answered. “I hope that you approve.”

“Oh, I don't,” she said. “They are drab and cramped, and I detest them already.”

“Except when it rains, a pavilion will be erected for you on deck,” Ghe informed her. “I have seen such pavilions, and they are much more comfortable than these rooms.” Though he thought his cabin was very nice indeed, compared to anywhere he had ever lived, or to the crowded common rooms the soldiers must make do with.

“Well, it isn't raining now. Come up on deck and greet my husband.”

“Unfortunately, I am under direct orders from the emperor himself to remain here until the voyage begins. I regret the inconvenience, but the lord must come below to meet me.”

“He won't like that, even though he must come down here anyway. He prefers for his men to greet him on the deck.”

“Once again,” Ghe said, “I must apologize. But I must also do the emperor's bidding.”

“Yes, you must, I suppose,” she replied indifferently. Her mood had changed; whatever interest and amusement she might have found in him earlier departed. “Well.” She brightened. “Perhaps I will go see about having that pavilion erected.”

There came a clumping behind them, as someone descended from the upper deck. “I have seen to it already,” a man's voice assured her. Ghe turned, not caught unaware this time.

“Lord Bone Eel,” he replied, bowing a degree or so lower than he had for Qwen Shen.

“Yes, yes, enough bowing. We are shipmates, and you will find that on board ship there is less of that stifling formality we have in the city.”

“Yes, Lord,” Ghe replied, trying to get the captain's measure.

He already knew a thing or two, of course. The highest nobility, those in the immediate family of the Chakunge, were all named so that water was actually mentioned in their names. It was the next tier down, the secondary nobility, who tended to be named for creatures of the water. He thus knew Bone Eel to be well removed from the line to the throne, but not as far removed as the most minor nobility, who were named for creatures that lived around but not in the River, such as the little whelp who had courted Hezhi. Wezh, whose name meant “gull.”

Bone Eel looked like a captain. He was tall and striking, his profile hewn from a strong stone but polished to perfection. His hair was straight, glossy black, and worn cropped like a helmet at his ears. He was dressed in a simply cut but elegant yellow sarong and a sailor's loose shirt, umber with bluish turtles batiked upon it. A scabbarded sword hung casually from a broad leather belt.

“You are Yen, the diplomat of whom the emperor informed me?”

Diplomat? “Yes,” he answered cautiously. “I am Yen.”

“And who do we wait for now? This scholar, Ghem?”

“Ah, Ghan, my lord,” he corrected. ”And he will join us sometime hence.”

“Well, let's hope he arrives soon. I wish to be under way before nightfall.”

“Nightfall? I thought we were to leave by morning.”

“As did I,” Bone Eel replied, his mouth flattening into a grim line. “But the emperor said that we were to take no priests on this journey, you see?” By his look he clearly took for granted that Ghe did see.

“No, Lord, I'm sorry, I don't.” Ghe was beginning to feel a certain irritation with the man. He let his gaze wander inside the captain's chest, thought idly about just stroking the strands there, the way one might stroke a harp. But the time for that would probably come soon enough, not now. He must have patience, for there was much he did not know. If he had learned anything at all in the past days, it was that impulsive actions were not always wise ones.

“No? Well, ships are supposed to carry at least one priest, and they are raising a mighty hue and cry about this barge leaving without one. We must be under way before things become too noisy.”

“Oh.” Ghe wondered if the Ahw'en were behind this—if they suspected—or if it was just the usual petty political war waged daily in the palace courts.

“In any event, I am ready to go!” Bone Eel exclaimed, his deep voice tinged with enthusiasm. “Too long have I been a prisoner of land. I'm ready to feel the River beneath my feet again.”

“And how long has it been since your last voyage?” Ghe inquired.

“Oh, it's been—well, let me see …” He ticked off one finger, then the next, frowning.

“It's been five years,” Qwen Shen put in sweetly. She beamed at Ghe, but he thought perhaps there was a hidden glare in the expression.

“That long?“ Bone Eel muttered. ”Yes, too long indeed.”

Bone Eel continued to agree with himself as he went back above.

XIX Drum Battle

A wind slanted out of the east with the dawn, and Hezhi leaned into it, let it relieve her weary muscles of some small part of the task of supporting her. She was listing in the saddle anyway, worn out in more ways than she knew, and she could almost imagine that the wind, fragrant with sage and juniper, was a pillow, nestling against her, welcoming her to sleep.

Her body may have lain as if asleep while she traveled the skies, but it had apparently received no rest. After the fight and the discussion—after her decision—they had wasted little time, slipping from the camp while the sky was still an inky beast with a thousand eyes. Now they were more than a league from the Mang camp, the most immediate danger behind them, and events, unbroken by oblivion, crowded together in Hezhi's brain until they were a senseless litany of colors and shapes. Her eyes read the sky and the landscape only from habit, without much comprehension.

Of the night's watchful eyes, only one remained, the rest having fled or fluttered shut beneath sky-colored lids at the graying of the horizon, and that only made her sleepier, made her wish that she were a cold, distant, sleeping star. The holdout still flamed, defiant, defending his domain in the vault of heaven even though his was the easternmost portion, where the sun's birth was heralded by servants of copper and gold.

“What star is that?” Hezhi asked wearily, in an attempt to keep awake.

Brother Horse cracked the barest grin in the gray light. Hezhi noticed not so much the show of humor as how old he looked, with the stubble of beard on his chin.

“We call him Yuchagaage, the 'Hunter.' ”

“What does he hunt?”

Brother Horse waved the back of his hand at the star, winking dimmer each moment to their right. “He has hunted many things. Right now he hunts the sun.”

“Will he catch the sun?”

“Well, watch for yourself. The Bright King will kill him, sure enough, before even he has risen.”

“The Hunter is not the most intelligent of gods,” Raincaster added from up ahead of them, next to Tsem. Hezhi had been staring east in the first place to avoid watching the tail of Rain-caster's horse, which threatened to mesmerize her as it switched back and forth.

“True,” Brother Horse said. “He lies in wait for the sun, each morning getting closer. Always he is slain; he