Children of Chaos

'Not tomorrow!' He swung around in a squeal of splintering wood. 'Not safe tomorrow, right Leorth, mm?'

'My lord is kind,' the flankleader murmured—softly, but as if he meant it. He gave Fabia a shy, satisfied smile. He, too, had yellow eyes, but if the satrap was a human bird the boy was a cat.

'Moving the herds,' Therek said. At least, that was what Fabia thought he said. His lack of teeth made him whistle.

'Not all the herds, my lord,' Leorth corrected, still amused.

'Not quite all. She can go the next day. Leorth's going to be leading the last contingent for Six. Caravan Six. His flank and the men you brought, if they're any good. Leorth's good, aren't you, lad? Tell them why you're eager to go over the Edge.'

Golden eyes turned to Saltaja. 'Revenge, my lady.' His voice was low and husky. 'Both my brothers were killed by Florengian turncoats. Those traitors swore loyalty to the bloodlord and then betrayed their oaths.' Still he smiled.

Therek cackled. 'Can't trust Florengians!'

'Indeed not, my lord.'

Their private joke was clearly riling Saltaja. 'What are you up to? Why are you skulking up here?'

'Watching!' said her brother. 'Been watching half the day, haven't we, Leorth?' Cackle. 'Seer says he's coming. Saw the mammoth and sent for the seer. Sent for Leorth. Been watching the road.'

'Who's coming?'

The raptor's eyes turned on Fabia. 'Cienu likes his little jokes. Celebre, mm?'

Then Fabia guessed who was coming. Although holy Cienu was usually thought of as god of wine and jollity, He was also god of odd coincidences.

¦

For a long time Fabia stood and shivered by a window, staring out at the snowy hills. Saltaja and Therek conversed in low tones beside another, on the downwind side so that their words were inaudible. Leorth sat hunched on a stool, endlessly stropping a dagger on his sandal while keeping a fixed stare on Fabia.

A boy walked in. She had known what to expect, and yet a Werist with brown Florengian arms and legs and face was a considerable shock. He wore his hair and beard trimmed close, in whorls of black stubble, and his limbs bore random white marks that puzzled her until she realized they were old scars. He had Benard's deep-set eyes and wide cheekbones, and although he lacked the massive shoulders, he was still impressively solid. He looked very young.

He bowed low to the satrap with a lack of revulsion that showed they had met before, but he ignored Saltaja, so he certainly did not know who she was. He did not even glance at Fabia, no doubt assuming she was a servant.

'Ah, Warrior Orlad!'

'Flankleader Orlad,' Leorth murmured.

'Flankleader!?' Therek reared up—towering over everyone else even though he was still far from vertical—then sank back into his usual stoop. 'So? At ease. What happened to blue pack?'

The youth straightened. 'They are safe, my lord, except for six unaccounted for. They had two cold nights in the shelter, but we delivered food to them this morning and they were going to proceed to Nardalborg on mammoths.'

'I saw. Good ... good ... This is Leorth. He and his flank will be joining Caravan Six.'

Orlad nodded respectfully to the Vigaelian, who smiled without rising from his stool.

'I envy him, my lord! I have applied for transfer, but Huntleader Heth is still considering my request.'

'Six has too many flankleaders already.'

'I would be happy to revert to warrior. I am most eager to serve under your noble brother, my lord.'

For a moment the satrap seemed to hood his deadly yellow eyes. 'Of course, of course ... You would say that, of course.'

Pause.

Orlad glanced around warily. Even if his air of juvenile eagerness was genuine, he could not be naive enough to miss the reek of conspiracy filling the room—Saltaja studying him in inscrutable silence, Therek smiling at Leorth, Leorth smiling back, Fabia being ignored.

'You summoned me, my lord?'

'Er... Yes, of course I did. I wanted you to meet your sister.'

'I did not know I had a sister.' Orlad stared accusingly at Fabia as if that situation were her fault.

'I did not know I had any brothers.' She walked over to him with hands outstretched. 'And then I discovered I had three. My name is Fabia Celebre.'

He ignored her hands, looking her up and down without expression. 'Who are the other two?'

'Dantio, the eldest, is dead. Benard is an artist in Kosord, a very good one.' She had not minded being reunited with Benard under the acute gaze of Ingeld Narsdor, but she much resented Saltaja's snaky stare now. 'You are Orlando Celebre.'

'No! I am Orlad Orladson! Why are you here?'