TUYO

By

Rachel Neumeier

Copyright © 2020

Rachel Neumeier

Cover art and design © 2020

Aidana WillowRaven

Contents

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Endnotes

Acknowledgments

Other Work

-1-

Beside the coals of the dying fire, within the trampled borders of our abandoned camp, surrounded by the great forest of the winter country, I waited for a terrible death.

I had been waiting since midday. Before long, dusk would fold itself across the land. The Lau must surely come soon. I faced south, so that my death would not ride up behind me on his tall horse and see my back and think that I was afraid to face him. Also, I did not want to look north because I did not want to see that trodden snow and remember my brother leaving me behind. That might have been a different kind of cowardice. But I could only face one direction. So I faced south.

The fire burned low. My brother had built it up with his own hands before he led our defeated warriors away. Now it was only embers, and the cold pressed against my back. I wished I could build the fire up again. Mostly that was what I thought about. That was as close to thinking about nothing as I could come. It was better than thinking about the Lau. I hoped they came before the fire burned out, or I might freeze to death before they found me. Even an Ugaro will die of the cold eventually, without fire or shelter.

I tried not to hope that I would die before they found me.

Then I heard them, the hoofbeats of their horses, and there was no more time for hope. I held very still, though stillness would not protect me now. Nothing would protect me. I was not here to be protected.

They came riding between the great spruces and firs, tall dark men on tall dark horses, with the Sun device of their banner snapping overhead in the wind. Ten, twenty. Twice twenty. And even this was only the vanguard. I stood up to meet them, raising my hands to show that I was bound to a stake driven into the frozen earth—to show that I was tuyo, left here for them. They looked at me, but they rode past, down the trail my brother and our warriors had left. They rode through the remnants of our camp, around the fire and around me, and a little distance more. At first I thought they meant to leave me to die alone in this place while they went on to pursue a broader vengeance against my people. That would have been a death even more terrible than the one a tuyo should face. But then they came back and circled around me, not many paces away, looking down at me. My relief was so great that for the time it pushed away fear.

I knew immediately which must be their warleader. My people prefer silver, which is the metal that belongs to the Moon. The Lau decorate their warleaders with gold, as befits the people of the Sun. This man had gold thread worked into the collar of his coat and the backs of his gloves and the tops of his boots. He did not carry a sword or any weapon, only a polished black stick as long as a man’s arm, with gold wire spiraling around its length. I had seen illustrations, so after a moment of puzzlement I recognized this as a scepter. This man was not only a warleader, but a scepter-holder, carrying the authority of the summer king. I had not known any such had come to the borderlands. At least my death would come at the hands of a worthy enemy.

The scepter-holder’s horse was the color the Lau call fire bay and we call blood bay, which is common for their animals and very rare for ours. It was a fine animal. The Lau breed beautiful horses, but they belong to the summer country. They are too long-legged and too thin-skinned for the cold of Ugaro lands.

Like their horses, the Lau are long-legged and thin-skinned, and they like the cold no better. They are a graceful people, with elegant features and smooth brown skin. Lau men often grow beards, rare for Ugaro men, but they shave them short, just to outline the jaw and mouth. The warleader had a beard like that. He had cut his hair short to match. No Ugaro man would do such a thing; for us, cropped hair is a mark of shame. We tie our hair back or leave it loose, but we do not cut it.

For a moment, while the warleader gazed down at me, the silence was almost complete. A horse picked up one foot and set it down again, and the wind blew across the snow, and leather creaked as a man shifted his weight in the saddle. Other than that, there was no sound. At last the warleader dismounted. He was far taller than I; even taller than most of his own people. He looked cruel to me, with a hard set to his mouth. I knelt and bowed my head to show the proper respect the one defeated owes to the victor.

He looked at me and then at one of his people who had come up beside him. He said to that man, “We must have pressed them even harder than we knew, if they’ve left a tuyo for us. I suppose this must be the son of an important Ugaro lord, but he seems merely a boy.”

I must have jerked in outrage, for he turned quickly to look at me again. I said, speaking carefully in darau, “Lord, I have nineteen winters, so I am not a boy either by your law or ours. You should accept me as tuyo. No one could set any fault against you for it.”

He tilted his head in surprise, perhaps at my words, or perhaps because I spoke darau at all. He asked, “What is your name? What is your father’s name?”

I answered, “Lord, it is a son of Sinowa, lord of the inGara, who kneels before you in defeat. It is a brother of Garoyo, warleader of the inGara, whom you hold in your hand. My name, if you wish to know it, is Ryo. In leaving me for you, my brother acknowledges defeat. Accept me as tuyo, permit my brother and our warriors to withdraw, and my people will not challenge you again.”

He nodded. But he said, “I understand that giving you to me constitutes a promise to cease hostilities. I might have trusted the efficacy of that custom when your people raided mine more rarely. Today, I don’t believe I can expect much of a check in your people’s aggression.”

I could not protest. He was right. The war was too important for the inGara to step away from it. But I said, “Yet my people will not wish to face you a second time, lord, for to do so would be an offense against the gods. My father and my brother will take care to stay out of your way. Is that not enough?” I took a breath, making sure I could speak steadily. Then I said, “Please, lord. Let that be enough. Whatever vengeance you desire for every blow my people have struck against yours, take that vengeance on me and be satisfied.”

Again a pause stretched out. The warleader looked into the forest, the way my brother had gone. Then he looked around at the long shadows and the deep forest that spread out all around that place. At last he turned back to me. He said, “Well, this is the first time anyone has ever offered me a tuyo. No doubt it will be a novelty.”

“My lord, surely—” began the soldier beside him, but the warleader lifted his hand and the man fell silent.

The warleader tucked the scepter under his arm, drew a knife, and stepped toward me. I set my mind at a distance so that I would not disgrace myself or my people by flinching at the first touch of the blade. But he did not begin my death. Instead, he cut the thong that bound me to the stake. So I understood he would take me back into the summer lands and kill me there. It meant he intended to take his vengeance at greater leisure than was possible here in the winter country, but even though I knew I should wish to have my death over and not waiting ahead of me, I could not help but be relieved at any delay.

He put the knife away and said to the man beside him, “Take him to my tent and hold him there.” Then he walked away.

I had known many Lau had pursued us, but I had not guessed how very many until I saw their camp.

The Lau are not a brave people, but they are so many they do not need to be brave. When they fight, they stand in close formations that Ugaro cannot break. When we attack their lands, we are quick, striking at undefended farms, then disappearing into our forests. Sometimes they pursue us across the river that marks the border between their country and ours, but not often, for we have taught them better. In the winter country we can evade them and stay out of their reach, and harass them by shooting from a distance their bows cannot match. During the long cold, they must be especially cautious, for our land itself becomes deadly to them. Yet this time they had come in force, disregarding the risk that snow might begin to fall heavily enough to weaken them and hinder their retreat. This scepter-holder was braver or more reckless than most of his people.

The camp was taking shape quickly and quietly, with no arguments about where any tent should be set or who should do which of the waiting tasks. The warleader’s tent was the same as the rest: plain canvas with pegs to fasten the entry. The Sun banner stood beside it; otherwise I would not have been able to pick it out. The Lau soldier took me into the tent and pushed me to sit down. I might have stared at him to show that I was not afraid. But I did not wish to be insolent, only proud. I lowered my gaze and knelt down where he had indicated.

Three lamps, made of fine, clear glass set into bright copper, hung from hooks. In the middle of the tent, a brazier smoldered, taking the edge off the chill. At the back of the tent stood a small table and one chair. A pitcher and some cups, glazed pottery rather than the pewter one might expect in a camp of warriors, rested on another table. The pitcher drew my eye more than any of the other things. I was thirsty, though I had eaten a little snow during the afternoon. I did not ask the warrior for water. No such kindness was due an enemy, far less a tuyo. I tried to think about nothing.

After a time, not long, the warleader came into the tent. Two more soldiers came with him, but they stayed by the entry. The warleader turned the chair to face me, dropped into it, and beckoned to me. I got to my feet, came forward the few steps necessary, and knelt again. The soldier who had brought me to the tent moved to stand behind the warleader’s chair. The warleader gazed at me, frowning. “Tuyo,” he said.

I bowed before him. “Lord.”

“I’m not entirely familiar with the nuances of the tuyo custom. Sit up and look at me, Ryo inGara, and tell me: what is the usual manner of death for a tuyo?”

Straightening, I looked him in the face as he had ordered. “Anything,” I told him. “A tuyo might be stoned.” If he were lucky. “Or flayed alive.” If otherwise. “With so many men as are here in this camp, it could be hard to make a tuyo live long enough to satisfy them all. Small cuts, little burns, fingers taken—” I raised my bound hands illustratively. “A little at a time. Such a death can be made to last a long time if you are careful.”

“Yes, I see,” said the warleader, and I thought for an instant that he meant to begin immediately. Instead, he leaned his chin against his fist and regarded me for a little while. I could not guess what he was thinking. Perhaps about the war, about the Lau we had driven away from the borderlands or killed, the farms we had burned, the grain and cattle we had taken for our own. Perhaps about the men of his own he had lost in the short, sharp battle that had occurred when he had closed his trap, before we had understood we had to run.

Perhaps he was thinking about vengeance. About the uglier kinds of death.

At length, he asked me, “How many sons does your father have?”

I answered, “Four that walk the land of the living, lord, and four that walk the land of the shades.”

“In which of those categories do you count yourself?”

“The second, lord.”

He nodded as though he had expected that answer. “Even with four sons remaining to him, your father will surely be angry when he understands what happened to you.”

I hesitated because I did not know how to answer. Finally I said, “My father will indeed be angry, lord. But he will agree that it was better to lose a son than to lose all the warriors who fell into your trap. He will have no choice but to agree my brother was right to leave me for you rather than risk your men coming against the camp of our families. He will not set any fault against my brother for leaving me, nor against you for my death.”

He looked at me for some time. His expression was impossible for me to read. Finally, he asked, “Is there any limit to what I can do to you? To how long I can make your death last?”

I answered as steadily and clearly as I could. “There are no limits at all. The manner of my death may be any that pleases you.” I tried not to imagine what that might be. I knew something of the Lau and their customs, but I did not know very much about the cruelties they might prefer.

The warleader stood up, drawing his knife. It seemed unlikely he would begin it here, inside his tent where the blood would go everywhere, but I was not sure. I set the fear aside, breathing slowly and deeply so that I would not flinch.

He cut the thong that bound my wrists. Then he sheathed the knife and walked away. He poured himself a cup of water, standing with his back to me while he drank it. He took his time, and by the time he faced me again, I had recovered. I sat back on my heels as I knelt, keeping my back straight so that I could look at him as he preferred. I did not know why he had cut my bonds. I did not know what he would do next.

He said briskly, “I shall have to consider your fate. As the custom is unfamiliar to me, it may take me some time to settle upon appropriate ... measures.”

While I was trying to understand this, the warleader turned to the soldier by his chair. “Bread and salt, Lucas,” he said. The man drew in his breath, but the warleader raised his eyebrows and the other Lau closed his mouth without speaking, turned, and went out.

The warleader poured more water into his cup and brought it to me. I hesitated, but he commanded me, “If you’re thirsty, drink.”

I took the cup from his hand. The water settled my stomach a little. I wanted to ask what he would do. But he had said he would have to think about this, that he did not know himself what vengeance to take. I wanted to ask when he would decide. More than that, I wanted to creep out of his sight and hope he forgot all about me. Such fools men are made by fear. I managed, with an effort, not to move or speak.

The soldier came back with a round loaf of bread and a little packet of salt. These things he presented to the warleader with a flourish, the way a man might offer his lord a weapon or a prize. Something with heft; or something fragile. Something that mattered.

The warleader tore off a piece of the bread, sprinkled it with salt, and faced me. “My name is Aras Eren Samaura,” he told me. “I am lord of Gaur—that is a county in the northeast of the summer country. You may address me as Lord Aras or my lord. Stand up and take this. Eat it.” He held the bread out to me.

I got to my feet and took the bread from his hand. I thought of the way the soldier had given the bread to him, with that showy little gesture. “This is not only bread,” I said. “It means something. What does it mean?”

His eyes narrowed, and I thought he would hit me for my insolence in questioning him. I bowed my head in apology and braced myself for a blow.

But the soldier laughed. He said to me, “Bread and salt is guest-right, and a more ill-considered, reckless gesture the gods have never seen in this world! But there’s no dissuading him, you know. Raise your chin and stand up straight! Lord Gaur’s guest should never cower like a beaten dog.”

I think I have never been more astonished in my life.

“Lucas, please,” the warleader said to the man, his tone sharp. But he spoke to me more gently. “But he’s not wrong. I will treat you honorably if I can. Among other things, once I give you guest-right, I’m not likely to flay you alive or remove your fingers one joint at a time. Now eat the bread.”

I ate it. The bread tasted of wheat and barley and salt, and of the ashes of the hearth where it had baked.

“Good,” said the warleader. Lord Aras. “Now, I will expect you to obey whatever orders I—or Lucas—may give you.” He indicated the other man with a little tip of his chin. “Talon Commander Lucas Terion Samaura. Call him by his title, or sir. You will obey him or anyone I set in authority over you. Do you understand?”

I hesitated. Then I said, “Forgive me, lord. I do not wish to be insolent. But you said you accepted me as tuyo. You said you would consider my fate. I understand your words, but I do not understand anything.”

Lord Aras tapped the scepter gently against the side of his boot. It made a quiet sound. He said, “I have accepted you as tuyo. I do indeed intend to consider your fate. As you inform me there is no limit to how long I may draw out your death, I see no reason to rush my deliberations. Giving you guest-right seemed the simplest way to make certain I have no need to hurry the matter. I’m likely to come under some pressure to surrender you to one civil authority or another. Guest-right takes care of that. Not even my king could require me to give you up now, not that he would be likely to try. Do you need to sit down?”

Taking this as permission, I knelt quickly. I rested my hands on my thighs, breathing deeply. I knew now—it was obvious—that he did not intend to put me to death. Not right away. Perhaps not at all. I did not understand this, and it was surprisingly hard to accept, but I thought it was true.

-2-

For a little while, Lord Aras spoke to the talon commander, ignoring me. I was glad that other concerns occupied their attention because it allowed me time to steady myself. Eventually he went back to his chair and sat down again, beckoning me to come close. I got to my feet and went to stand facing him. When I hesitated, uncertain, he told me, “Don’t kneel. Stand straight, and look at me directly—look at my face. It’s always correct to look at me rather than down. Ryo, you speak extraordinarily good darau, though your accent could be better. It’s usually your women who learn our tongue, isn’t it? I’ve only once encountered an Ugaro man who spoke more than a few words. How did you come to learn it?”

I folded my hands at the small of my back because that made it easier to stand straight, and looked him in the face. “My elder sister taught me, lord. It is useful for a woman to learn darau because women trade and keep the counts of our tribes and all such things. A boy who puts his attention to that kind of learning will usually become a poet, not a warrior. The man you met was probably a poet. I will try to improve my accent.”

“My lord. I have taken you under my personal authority. Shorten all your vowels; that will be right much more often than wrong. He might have been; I don’t know. But you’re a warrior, not a poet, isn’t that so? Why did your sister teach you?”

I tried to shorten my vowels as he had instructed. “My sister had a book of tales about important Lau and the things they had done. I liked the stories, so she taught me the tongue in which they were written.”

“Really. What book?”

“It was called A History of the Sun.”

He smiled. “By Tavat Arasosa Somaras? Yes. That one offers a reasonably accurate account of our history. I’m not even surprised. I hear an echo of that style in your syntax. I wonder how astonished Somaras would be if he knew his history had wound up in the hands of an Ugaro girl and her brother? You obviously kept up the language.”

“Later, my older sister traded for other books of that kind, to please me. Later again, I told my younger sister the tales and so learned to speak darau better myself.”

“I see. Do any of the other men with your brother speak darau? Does your brother?”

I was surprised, but I said, “No, my lord.”

“Was that a reason your brother left you for me? You in particular?”

Now I understood his thought. “No,” I told him. “My brother would not have expected you to speak to me at any length.”

“I see. Well, I think you can be far more useful to me alive than dead, Ryo.” Lord Aras looked at me for a little while, thinking his own thoughts.

My attention was also on my own thoughts. I had been so afraid when Garoyo had said I must be tuyo that I had spoken bitterly to him for not taking that place. I had spoken in that way even though I knew the Lau pressed us too hard for him to make the sacrifice. Our warriors would never have followed me. I was too young, and I was not him. He had been right, and I had been shamefully wrong. My shame was all the greater as I realized the scepter-holder had spared me because I spoke darau. Garoyo did not speak it. If my brother had taken the tuyo’s place, probably he would be dying now—if the Lau had accepted the sacrifice at all.

The last words between brothers should not be bitter ones, and the bitterness of our parting had been entirely my fault, for Garoyo had not answered me as I deserved. He had only bowed his head and taken my words in silence. I wished very much I could go to him now and beg his pardon for my disgraceful behavior. But it was too late.

The warleader interrupted my thoughts, saying, “My outriders report that your warriors have continued to move away from this place. Plainly they relied on me to accept the tuyo custom; they’re making no effort at all to conceal their trail. They would have difficulty doing so, as they’re dragging travois. We could probably come up on them even now. If I did go after them and killed them all, what would that mean for your tribe?”

That drove everything else out of my mind. The shock was greater because I had just been thinking my brother and our people were safe. For a moment I could not answer. Then I found my voice. I said sharply, “I cannot protest anything you do to me, but if you intend to kill my brother and our warriors, I do protest that. It would be wrong for you to pursue further vengeance against my brother, against my people, after you said you accepted me as tuyo. Even if you are a Lau, even if our peoples are at war, the gods would despise such a disgraceful act!” I had tried to speak in measured tones, but my voice rose at the end. I caught myself and closed my teeth hard together, trying to look stern rather than upset.

His head had gone back a little, in shock or offense. When he recovered from his surprise, he would certainly punish me in some way. I did not care. If he thought of doing such an outrageous thing, then he should hear from someone the truth that it would be wrong.

Lord Aras picked up his scepter, and I braced myself, but he did not strike me with it. He met my eyes and spoke gently. “The question was hypothetical. I apologize for not making that clear. Your initial understanding was correct. I am going to let your brother go.” He paused and then said it again, more emphatically. “I promise you, Ryo, I do not intend to take any further action against the inGara at this time. I hope taking you into my hand may offer me better options in dealing not only with your tribe, but all the tribes.”

I drew a long breath. The Lau are a deceitful and fickle people, but this warleader had no reason to lie to me about anything; I was completely at his mercy. His words had been very plain. I could find no possible deception in them. Probably it was true.

I was shaking. That will happen sometimes; great relief can be more of a shock than terror, and that had been both, one after the other. I said, “Thank you, my lord.” Then I knelt and bowed low. “I know it was extraordinarily insolent for me to correct you in a matter of honor. I apologize for speaking in that way, my lord.” Any punishment would be better than the terrible uncertainty he had put to rest, so I was not sorry I had spoken as I had. But I did not know what that punishment might be, so it was hard to set myself to endure it.

But Lord Aras answered, “The misunderstanding was my fault. I should have made sure you understood I was speaking hypothetically. Please stand. I would like an answer to my question, which is solely a matter of theoretical interest to me. What would happen to your tribe if so many warriors were lost?”

I could hardly believe he was not angry. But he only waited patiently. Finally I got to my feet. Then I tried to think about the question. It was plain to me what would happen if he sent his soldiers after my brother. Garoyo would have people watching the trail behind our people. If the Lau pursued, he would cut the throats of the men injured most severely. He and the other warriors would slip away into the forest and prepare to harass the Lau and delay them, with the fastest of the young men running ahead to warn our families.

But there were so many Lau. Most likely Garoyo would not have been able to prevent some of them from riding past his warriors and finding our camp. The thought horrified me, but I did not explain all this. Instead, I said, “If we were weakened by the loss of many warriors, we would probably lose our place among the tribes. The inGeiro are our closest allies. Our remaining warriors would join theirs and take up weapons under the command of their warleader.” My father, if he lived, would probably be forced to yield precedence to the lord of the inGeiro. My own people would become less important among the tribes; inGara might even become a client of inGeiro. But I did not explain that.

“Thank you,” said Lord Aras. “That’s the beginning of what I wanted to know. Tribes that are weakened aren’t likely to give up and retreat into the high north; they’ll more likely join stronger tribes and continue fighting. I’m not surprised; your people are known for their stubbornness and courage.” He thought for a little while. Then he said, “Ryo, your people began raiding across the river four years ago, and then the trouble became worse every year, until my king had to send me to deal with the problem. We didn’t have this trouble between our peoples before that time. What changed?”

This was complicated. I had to think about how to answer him, and I felt I had too many things to think about already. But Lord Aras waited patiently, turning the scepter over in his hands, tracing the inlaid gold.

At last I said, “You know the people who live to the north of the winter country, beyond the mountains, in the gentle land that runs down to the sunless sea, where the uncounted stars rule? We call them avila, dirt people, because they are all farmers and have no cattle . . .”

“They call themselves Tarashana.”

I gestured assent. “Tarashana. Yes. Ugaro tribes have always traded with those people. We give them amber. They give us grain in return. The kernels are red and black, filled with the warmth of that country. This grain gives strength to our cattle when the long cold might otherwise outlast their vigor. We combine it with other grain to make it last. But three years ago, something happened to the Tarashana. We went there and they were gone.”

Talon Commander Samaura said, his tone dry, “Perhaps they wearied of Ugaro raids and moved away to lands farther from the winter country.”

I corrected him, though as politely as I could. “We traded justly with those people, Talon Commander. Long ago, foolish young warriors used to harass them and raid them, but our kings forbade that because their grain is important to us. Yet the people of the starlit lands have gone, as far east and west as word has run. Their fields lie abandoned, and our people who went there felt ill luck lying all across the places they had lived. Whatever happened there, I think it was nothing they chose. But we thought we could recover by trading more with your people. Only then we found many of the towns that had once traded with us now refused.”

Now he frowned. “The Lau of the borderlands refused to trade?”

“Yes. Or, no. I overspoke. They did not say they were not willing to trade, Talon Commander. But they would not trade on the accustomed terms. We used to trade furs and blankets for grain and wine, timber for steel, amber for silver. But where before the people of the borderlands would give thirty sledgeloads of grain for the pelt of one white tiger, now they would give only three. All the trade was like that, and our women could not make your people change the terms they offered. The fields of the borderlands were golden with wheat and barley. The grain we needed lay across the river. So we took it.”

“I see,” said the talon commander, and raised his eyebrows at Lord Aras.

“Yes, it’s a puzzle,” the warleader answered him, but they did not say enough for me to understand what puzzled them. He said to me, “Well, whatever its cause, this problem has to be resolved. Tell me, Ryo inGara, what would your people have to gain in order to agree to peace? Or what would your people have to lose, in order to be forced to accept defeat?”

I hesitated. Those were very big questions. I wished my brother were here to help me answer them. Or a poet. Or, better, a singer—my mother, or perhaps Darra inKarano, the daughter of our king. Darra was young, but she knew her father’s mind and had learned much of the wisdom of women. She would have known how to answer this scepter-holder.

But no one else was here. I had to answer as best I could. I thought for a little while. Lord Aras waited patiently. Finally I said, “As we cannot trade, our tribes have two choices: they can take what they need from your people, or they can destroy weaker tribes so that they can take what they need that way. Our king decided that war with your people was better than war among the tribes. He will not change his mind. To end the war, I think you should command your people to trade properly. That would be better for everyone. Even if you defeated many of the tribes whose lands lie here in the south, other tribes would only come from the far north to claim these lands and fight you. That would not help you at all.”

Lord Aras nodded thoughtfully. “Well. Interesting. There are tribes in the north whom we don’t know?”

I could think of no reason he should not be made aware of this and some reasons he should. I told him, “Many, lord. We inGara live both on the steppe and in the forest. That is how it is for most of the tribes your people know. But there are other tribes where all the people live in the high north. Those are tribes you do not know at all. They are fierce, and they despise people who farm. You would do better to make peace with those tribes whose names you know.”

He looked at me for a little while. Finally he said, “Thank you for explaining that, Ryo. Your king is still Koro inKarano, is he not?”

I bowed my head to show this was true. “Yes, lord. Koro will not permit this trouble to turn inward when it has come because of your people. The fault lies with the Lau of the borderlands, and so our king will not relent until the summer country acknowledges the fault and yields to us the things your people chose not to trade.”

Talon Commander Samaura asked, “Do you really think your people could force ours to pay tribute?” He smiled a little, tilting his head. “You don’t respect our soldiers much, do you?”

Our women have always been glad to trade with the Lau, for they make many fine things. But he was right: we Ugaro do not respect Lau soldiers, who always fight in formations and never stand out to show their courage. We do not call the Lau avila. We call them pidila—rabbit people.

I did not say that. I said, “My brother did not realize we had reason to fear your anger. This was a small mistake, one that has been bad for the inGara.” Then I looked him in the face and added, “But you would be wrong now to take us lightly. That would be a very big mistake, for all Lau. Ugaro warriors cannot break your formations, but you must have understood long before this that you cannot begin to defend the whole long sweep of the border.”

Lord Aras held up his hand to check the talon commander when he began to answer. He said, “I think we could probably do that if we had to, but I admit I wouldn’t want to try. It would be very expensive to open an actual war on this border. Far better to resolve the problem in some less costly manner.” He considered me. “Ryo, how long have you—”

But men came in then, carrying a longer table, and others brought in more chairs, interrupting his question. Lord Aras sat back as the men quickly arranged the long table on the other side of the tent. They laid out eating picks and wide-bowled spoons and goblets. There were places for four men, and the other two came in soon after the table was ready. They ignored me completely.

Other men brought food, more of the round loaves of bread, and smaller rounds of white cheese, and bowls of thick soup. Lord Aras rose, gestured to me that I should take his chair at the small table, and went to join his people. I did not find the chair at all comfortable. The seat was too narrow to allow a man to sit cross-legged, and the chair’s back was straight and hard. I was not surprised: of course a Lau chair would have a back of that kind, so that they must sit up straight.

One of the men brought me some bread and a bowl of the stew. I was glad of that because I had not known whether I would be given anything to eat and I was hungry. I ate the food slowly, trying to listen to the talk. But I was tired, and the men spoke quietly so that I could not hear them well.

The stew was spicy, sharp-flavored, with more barley in it than beef. I thought of the very different food my mother and sisters would be preparing tonight. When my brother brought word of what had happened, my mother would not think of me sitting in an uncomfortable Lau chair in a too-warm Lau tent, eating too-spicy barley stew. She would think of me dying every death. The food began to taste like nothing, and though I had been hungry at first, I could not finish it.

At last Lord Aras and the others finished eating and stood up, still talking while men came and carried away the table and the other things. Another brought a long cushion and set this against the wall of the tent near where the table had stood. I stood up, thinking perhaps I might step out of the way and sit down on the floor where I could be more comfortable. But all the Lau looked at me when I got to my feet. That close attention drove weariness away. I dropped my gaze. Then I remembered and made myself raise my chin.

One of the men looked at me and then at the cushion and then, in obvious horror, at Lord Aras. He said, “You can’t mean him to sleep here in your tent!”

Talon Commander Samaura said, “Certainly not.” Then he turned urgently to Lord Aras and said, “Surely not! You can’t possibly have him sleep here!”

The idea took me almost as much aback as it clearly took the Lau. I looked a second time at the long cushion, and saw that it might perhaps unfold into a pallet. It astonished me that I might be expected to sleep in the warleader’s tent rather than somewhere under close guard. I turned to Lord Aras and found him smiling his thin smile at me.

“Why not?” he said to the talon commander, but he continued to look at me. “Do you plan to strangle me in my sleep, Ryo inGara?”

“Of course not!” I said, so surprised I was not even offended, though the suggestion was very offensive.

“A most forceful response. Why not?”

I had caught myself now, so I did not say, Because it would be completely stupid. I said carefully, “I could perhaps do that, if you do not guard yourself or me, though I am certain you would never be so careless. But then what would happen? I would try to escape, but I would not be able to slip away unnoticed. But even if I escaped, then what would happen? Your people would be furious. They would go after my brother and then go on to seek the rest of my people.”

If the Lau became careless in their anger, our allies might come up and destroy them while they hunted for inGara to kill, but that would not make the disaster that fell on my own tribe less terrible. I said, “It would be exactly what my brother wished to prevent by leaving me as tuyo. If I strangled you while you slept—a disgraceful thing for a warrior to do—I would die for it, and my brother would probably die for it, and my own tribe would suffer for it, and nothing good would come of it for my people. If I came to my father after that, he would put me to death himself for bringing your anger down on my brother and our people. He would be right to do it.”

Lord Aras smiled. He said to the other men, “You see.” Then he said to me, “You’re very tired, I know. Don’t fear to sleep here in my tent. No one will come near you.”

That fear had occurred to me. I was ashamed he had seen it in my face. Or maybe he only thought of what any young man might fear in my place, and so spoke to that. I bowed my head to show that I accepted his word. Then I remembered I should not and looked up in confusion.

Lord Aras made no comment about my mistakes. He gestured to the bolster. “Lie down, Ryo. Go to sleep.” He blew out one lantern and then the others and waved the other men out before him, leaving me alone except for one soldier who stayed by the door, watching me. One Lau soldier should not be able to prevent me from doing anything I chose, except that if he called out, twenty other soldiers would certainly come.

Night had come long since, but the coals in the brazier glowed dully, preserving the tent from falling entirely into a thick darkness. The soldier by the door stayed in that place. Lord Aras had said no one would come near me, and I could not see any reason he should have lied in that or in anything. I turned my back to the soldier, and tried to stay awake and think about everything that had happened. But I was too weary. Almost at once, my thoughts dissolved into meaningless scattered memories and feelings, and I slept.

-3-

When I woke, at first I did not know where I was. A tent, of course, but it was not my mother’s tent, nor the tent I had shared with other young men. The scents were different; not unpleasant, but unfamiliar. Oil and smoke and spices ... I jerked the rest of the way awake and sat up, abruptly remembering everything. My heart pounded in my chest as though I had woken into a night terror.

This was the tent of Lord Aras, warleader of the Lau, to whom I had been given as tuyo. His pallet was across the tent from my place, but he was not there. No one was in the tent except me. Only a little light came through the canvas, but enough to know morning had come. I had slept a long time. Nothing had woken me. I was embarrassed to have slept so deeply in the tent of ... perhaps not an enemy, but then I did not know what other word to choose.

I could not lie still and pretend I had not woken, though I was briefly tempted. Getting to my feet, I went to the entrance of the tent, put back the flap, and looked out at the day. Already most of the other tents had been taken down. A soldier waiting outside the tent turned toward me, and I bowed my head in respect. I said, “I do not wish to cause trouble. There is a trench?”

The soldier showed me the place. Then he took me back to the warleader’s tent and gestured for me to go back in. I obeyed, stooping to enter the dim, close warmth. I knelt on the floor of the tent and thought, in some amazement, about everything that had happened during the previous day. I would not have believed such events if they occurred in a tale I heard or read. I waited to see what might happen next.

After a little time had passed, not long, I heard men approaching—steps and voices. I recognized the warleader’s voice. Lord Aras. His tone was brisk, but I heard no irritation in it, only impatience. I remembered I should not kneel and got to my feet instead.

Lord Aras ducked through the doorway of the tent, his scepter in his hand. He glanced around swiftly, and lit the lanterns one after another, each with nothing but a brief moment of attention.

I had not realized he was a sorcerer until that moment. The possibility had not occurred to me at all. I stood where I was, in the center of the tent, struck motionless by terror and revulsion.

He turned sharply to look at me. “Ryo?”

I should have tried to strangle him in his sleep after all. The only good time to strike down a sorcerer is in his sleep. I had missed the chance. If I tried to kill him now, quickly, before any of his people could come in, could I possibly do it? Probably it would be impossible. No sorcerer can be taken by surprise when he is awake.

I had slept a whole night in his tent. He might already have set his sorcerous leash on me, on my will or my heart or my mind, so that I could not raise my hand against him. I could not feel anything different in myself. But I did not know what that kind of sorcery would feel like. Perhaps one would not be able to tell.

“Ryo—” he began, beginning to step away from me.

Before he could get away or call for help, while I might still have the chance, I threw myself at him.

Of course I had no weapons, but I hit him bodily, flinging him down, driving my fist toward his throat with all my strength. I meant to crush his throat so he could not breathe, if I did not break his neck outright. But he was fast. He took the force of my blow with his forearm, though with a sharp grunt of pain, and twisted hard, trying to throw me off. He was not nearly as strong as I was; the Lau are not, but he fought hard. Before I could strike a decisive blow, many soldiers were there, kicking me and striking with the flats of their swords, forcing me back.

I did not understand at first why they did not kill me. Then I realized that Lord Aras was speaking sharply to them, bidding them hold. This terrified me. Garoyo would never have put me into his hands if he had known the Lau warleader was a sorcerer. Never. In all our tales, there is no worse fate than to fall into the power of a sorcerer. I should throw myself at his men and make them kill me now. But I knew they would not. Their master wanted me alive.

He had gotten to his feet. I had not even injured him badly; he had not needed help to stand. I flinched when I realized I had met his eyes, and at once bowed my head to avoid his gaze. In tales, sometimes that could help.

He spoke to me with quiet urgency. “Ryo, it was only a cantrip. A small thing, not sorcery. I am a very minor magician, I promise you—and sorcery is different from ordinary magic. Sorcery is illegal among my people too, surely you know that? Ordinary magic is small and not frightening. Anyone might use a little cantrip to light a lantern or chill wine or—or drive mice out of the pantry. That was not sorcery. Ryo, can you hear me?”

He was speaking softly and clearly, as a man might speak to a frightened dog. Perhaps that was the way a sorcerer spoke to a man he wished to make into his dog. Sorcerers leash men, putting obedience into their hearts and bending them to whatever use they wish. But still I could not feel anything different in my mind or my heart.

He had not stopped me with his sorcery after I knocked him down. If his people had not saved him, I could have killed him. I did not understand how I could have come that close to killing a sorcerer. I did not understand why he did not put his will on me now.

“Ryo,” he said. “Can you hear me yet? Lighting those lanterns was an act of minor magic, a kind of magic that is different from sorcery. We use cantrips of that kind for a thousand small tasks. That’s not sorcery, Ryo. It’s not sorcery. No one has done anything to you with sorcery. Certainly I haven’t.”

I nodded to show I had heard him. I did not believe him, but I tried the idea in my mind. Magic, not sorcery. A kind of magic that was not the same as sorcery. It was true that lighting a lantern with a glance was not like the sorcery my people feared. I drew in a slow breath. Magic to light lanterns and chill wine. Not the same as sorcery. It seemed possible. But in the tales we Ugaro told, sorcerers could do both kinds of things. In the Lau tales I had read, that was true as well. But he said the things were different.

I had come close to killing him. I came back to that. I did not understand how I could have come so close if he were a sorcerer. He had not used sorcery to stop me. He said he was only a minor magician. He said his people used this magic casually. Certainly he had brought flame to those lanterns as though it were nothing to cause anyone to comment. He had not expected me to care that he did it. I thought of the impatience with which he had glanced at the lanterns and realized that he had not expected me even to notice that he did such a thing.

It seemed possible I had misunderstood. I began to believe I might have made a terrible mistake.

Another breath. Finally I looked past the soldiers and met his gaze, trying not to flinch. “A ... cantrip,” I repeated carefully. “This is magic. I saw these words in the Lau tales I read. But I thought it was all sorcery.”

He nodded understanding. “I promise you, simple magic is not the same as sorcery. Magic is much more common, but it’s small and unimportant and harmless. I give you my word, I swear before the gods, no one has done anything to you with sorcery. Truly, Ryo.”

I thought this might be true. I could not see why he would trouble to lie to me, if he were a sorcerer. His men looked impatient now, disgusted, as though I had been stupid and they scorned me for it. They did not look like the slaves of a sorcerer defending their master because their will had been stolen from them. I was not certain what that would look like, but I thought not like this.

Perhaps Lord Aras spoke the truth. I was beginning to see his words might be true. I was beginning to believe they must be true. He was looking at me steadily, waiting for me to think. No sorcerer in any tale would have waited so patiently.

Nothing made sense unless he spoke the truth. I had been wrong. He was not a sorcerer.

I could not imagine what he must think of me. Or, no. I could imagine very well what he must think. I could feel the heat rising into my face. There was nothing I could say. No apology could possibly be sufficient. I went to my knees, bowed with my face to the floor, and waited for the earth and the sky to fall upon me.

Nothing happened. Lord Aras murmured to his men, bidding them put away their weapons. They were reluctant, for which I could not blame them, but he was patient and would not give way. “He won’t do that again,” he told them. “I’m grateful for your vigilance, believe me, but there’s no danger now. No, of course I can’t take your sword, Lucas, you know better, but if you would hand me my scepter, I would be grateful; I’m not altogether certain I can bend well enough to pick it up. Very well, yes, you may stay with me. If the rest of you would please go. You all have far more important tasks to see to, so if you would kindly be about those rather than hovering here. Go on, please.”

They did not want to obey him; some of them argued that he should kill me immediately, or at least bind me hand and foot. I could hardly set any fault against them for that. In their place, I would have said the same. But though Lord Aras spoke softly, he was inexorable, and soon he had his way. There was another little pause, and then he said to me at last, gently, “Ryo, can you look at me?”

I straightened and looked him in the face. I studied him carefully, as though I might see behind his narrow, fine-boned Lau face to the truth. Of course one cannot tell a sorcerer from other men merely by looking at his face. But I knew he could not be a sorcerer. If nothing else, I would have known by the way his people argued with him. No one can dispute like that with a sorcerer. A sorcerer makes men obey; he does not argue.

Besides Lord Aras, only the talon commander remained in the tent. He did not look angry now, though very much on his guard. His sword was in its sheath, but he stood with his hand on the hilt, all his attention on me. I was not afraid of one Lau, even if he had a weapon and I did not. But Lord Aras was right: obviously I would not attack again. I had made mistakes enough in my life; what man has not? But never any so disgraceful as this.

I said, “I am very sorry, lord. I did not ... I was . . .” I did not know how to finish my apology. There was no way to finish it. I said, “My actions were unpardonable. I will not protest any punishment you give me.”

He shook his head a little. “I hardly think punishment would be appropriate. I’m sorry I frightened you. Everyone knows better than to use casual magic around Ugaro; certainly I know better, but I’m not from the borderlands and I forgot.” He too watched me carefully, no doubt in case I might suddenly attack him a second time, or panic and flee, or do some other mad thing. But he said, “I know how your people hate and fear sorcery and sorcerers. The first mistake was mine. The customary penalty for attacking a scepter-holder fortunately doesn’t apply, as you’re not a subject of my king. I think we might do best to set the whole incident in the past.”

Now I was staring at him. I had not expected any answer remotely like this, and I did not know what to say.

He went on, his tone now wry. “Though I admit, it might be easier to forget this accident if you hadn’t hit me so hard. Lucas, please try to relax. Ryo isn’t going to attack me again, and I could use your assistance. I think one or two ribs are probably cracked.” He began to take off his coat and shirt as he spoke, his movements cautious.

His talon commander took his hand off the hilt of his sword and came to help the warleader, though with one eye still on me. “You might have mentioned this earlier,” he said testily. “Let me do that. No, stop trying to help.”

Lord Aras dropped his hands to his sides and stood still, smiling a little, while the other man eased his shirt off. A Lau’s skin was the same rich brown all over, apparently. The muscles of the warleader’s back and arms were much more defined than those of an Ugaro man. I saw the difference clearly now. No wonder the Lau suffered from cold. They had no fat at all over their muscles. It was strange, more different than the color of their skin. When I looked closely, I could see that where I had struck him, there was some swelling and softness, and the skin was a little darker, almost purple instead of brown. He had shown no signs of pain ... no, he had. There had been a slight stiffness, and he had said he did not want to bend to pick up his scepter. But I had not realized I had broken his ribs.

I bowed to the floor and said, “I beg your pardon, lord. I am very sorry for the blow. Is your arm broken as well?”

“Very nearly,” he answered, sounding amused. “No, I don’t believe so, though the bruise is going to be impressive. When you speak to me, say my lord. You are still under my personal authority. And please get up. Haven’t I said we’ll leave this in the past?”

“Your arm too?” demanded Talon Commander Samaura, coming back with a strip of cloth to use for a bandage. He looked at his warleader’s arm and clicked his tongue. “Let me see you move your fingers.”

“It’s merely bruised,” Lord Aras told him. “I think.” He flexed his arm gingerly, opening and closing his fingers. The talon commander gave me a hard look, and Lord Aras added, still mildly, “Don’t blame Ryo. My carelessness was to blame.”

I had straightened again, though I did not get to my feet. I was certain the talon commander would not like me to stand. I said, forcing myself not to lower my gaze when the warleader looked at me, “I am grateful for your leniency, my lord. But I do not understand why you do not punish me for so serious a mistake. At the very least, I should be beaten. If a prisoner had raised his hand against my father in such a way, his hand would be struck off, and that would be counted generous.” For speaking a false accusation, I should have my tongue cut out, but I did not say that. That was a worse and more shameful punishment even than losing a hand, but I knew he would not do it; not after he had spared me so that he could make use of my ability to speak darau.

He said gently, “I think you’re quite a bit harsher with yourself than necessary, Ryo. You were badly frightened. Any Ugaro would have been as frightened—and I doubt many would have listened to any explanation. I just hope next time you’ll allow me to explain before you try to kill me. Lucas, my ribs?”

“If you’re sure you’re ready,” the talon commander said drily. First he ran his hand across the injured area to be sure no ribs were badly broken. The cracked ribs were the low ones, too far from the lungs to be dangerous, so that was better than it might have been. Evidently none of the bones was too badly broken, for the talon commander wound the bandage tightly around the warleader’s chest, as one does, and tucked in the end, as one does, and did not sound too unhappy when he said, “I’ll make sure it doesn’t slip your mind to have a real physician look at this, but I think it could’ve been worse.”

“It could definitely have been worse,” Lord Aras answered, smiling at him. “If you’d help me with my shirt again. Thank you.” I would not have noticed the way he held his arm a little closer to his body on the left side if I had not known.

Then he turned to me. “We’re going to withdraw south in about ten minutes,” he told me. “I believe your brother will respect the tuyo custom and decline to turn and attack, but who knows how near allies might be? I doubt very much that inGara’s allies would hesitate to attack us if they get a chance, regardless of whether the tuyo custom binds your brother. What do you think?”

This was all true—although allies of my people would not like to attack across the body of an inGara tuyo. If Ugaro and Lau had not been at war, such a thing would not even be considered. But as it was, the warleader was right. I said, “I think that could be so.”

“Then it seems best not to delay unnecessarily.” Lord Aras nodded to the talon commander, collected his scepter from the table where he had laid it aside, beckoned to me, and went out of the tent.

I got to my feet, wary because I thought Talon Commander Samaura might chose to show his anger now. He had his hand on the hilt of his sword again, his grip hard enough that his knuckles had paled a little. I said to him, “The fault was mine. I will take your blow if you wish.”

He looked at me hard. But he said, sounding resigned now rather than angry, “Far be it from me to punish you for an act Aras forgives. Though if you do anything like that again, I’ll do my best to make you wish you’d just suffered the fate customary for a tuyo.”

I had no doubt he meant it. I bowed my head and obeyed his gesture, going in front of him out of the tent.

-4-

Almost all the Lau had already gone, riding south in their formations. There were twenty and twenty and twenty again in the formation we joined, and I knew because I asked Talon Commander Samaura that ours was the last of eight such formations. Counting like that, I could see that Lord Aras had brought a full talon. That was even more than I had thought. My stomach clenched to a hard knot, thinking of so many soldiers coming unexpectedly against the camps of my people.

Every man was mounted. The speed of the Lau horses was a great advantage to them, at least while the weather held. I thought Lord Aras had probably intended to strike very fast and hard against inGara and destroy us completely, then perhaps strike to the east or west at one of our allies before withdrawing as rapidly as he had come. I thought he might have succeeded in destroying at least one tribe, perhaps two.

That would not happen now. I wished again that I could go to Garoyo and tell him he had been right to leave me as tuyo, that he had avoided great disaster by doing so and he should not regret the act or take blame to himself for it. I would never be able to tell him so. That made it harder still to put the thought out of my mind.

I rode a gelding, a handsome bay with a stride twice as long as that of an Ugaro pony. He was a cooperative animal, which was good because I was not accustomed to so large a horse nor to the signals he had been trained to answer. Lord Aras rode near me, at the back of the formation. He rode easily, his back straight, but with only one hand for the reins. His other hand rested on his thigh. His pose seemed relaxed, but I knew he rode that way to favor cracked ribs and a badly bruised arm.

The land became more heavily forested as we rode south, long fingers of pine and spruce and larch on the rocky hillsides, birch and alder where the folds of the land offered more protection. Eventually we came to a more open wood and then onto clear ground where the horses could move even faster. There was snow on the ground, not enough to slow the horses, but I saw many of them had cut their legs where the snow had crusted. Ugaro ponies have far more feathering on their legs, but I had not realized how the clean legs of the Lau horses would be so vulnerable to even a little ice crusting over the snow.

In the middle of this more open land, the Lau drew up and dismounted, though it was only noon. I was surprised, for even the Lau, who do not have the endurance of Ugaro, should not have needed to rest so early in the day. But I saw soon enough that they were concerned for their horses, not for themselves, and meant to rest the animals here where they could see a long way and no ambush was possible. I dismounted too, and stooped to look at my horse’s legs. He was a little cut about the pasterns, but the cuts were shallow and not serious. If the crust on the snow had been thicker, it might have been different. I wondered if Lord Aras had thought of that when he brought so many mounted soldiers across the river. Probably he had not, or he would have wrapped the legs of the horses. Some men were doing that now, using material they had probably brought for bandages.

My gelding lipped at my hair in a friendly way and nudged at me, wanting attention and grain. I had nothing to give him, but a soldier came up and gave him a little water and a handful of grain. I could not tell whether he was a man whom I had seen before; all the Lau looked much alike to me, fine-boned and tall. He scowled at me, so I bowed my head to show that I did not want trouble. His scowl deepened, but he only said curtly, “Lord Gaur wants you.”

I turned and found Lord Aras a little distance away and went to join him. Many of the soldiers turned to watch, putting their hands to the hilts of their swords or to their bows. Probably they all knew I had tried to kill their warleader, so I did not set any fault against them for that. I knelt when I came to Lord Aras because even if he did not like it, I thought it might be as well to make it plain to everyone watching that I did not intend to attack him again now. He might have thought the same, for he did not tell me to stand. He said instead, “Ryo, two of my outriders are missing. Tell me what you think has happened to them.”

I thought a Lau horse might simply have misjudged the ground beneath the snow and put a foot wrong, but there were many other dangers. In the winter country, there are the great white tigers, many times the weight of a man; and the small tawny lions who are so swift and clever that they can be almost as dangerous. Wolves are cousins to Ugaro, so we are kind to one another, but wolves might not respect a Lau. Still, I did not think the missing men had fallen afoul of any of those dangers. I said, “Two men are not likely to be lost to accident or mischance. I think Ugaro are in the forest close about you.”

“I think you’re right,” he said. “Which Ugaro? Your brother’s men? Has he turned after all to come after us?”

I shook my head. “Garoyo would never do such a thing, but these will not be inGara. These will be warriors of an allied tribe. They will not even know yet that my brother gave me to you as tuyo. I think your soldiers are dead men, though perhaps they still breathe now.”

His mouth tightened. He was probably thinking of the likelihood that we would soon hear his men screaming, and later find their mutilated and headless bodies hanging from a tree along our path. If that happened, I thought he would probably give me a tuyo’s death after all. I bowed my head and spoke as steadily as I could. “My lord, I was given to you and you may do anything you wish with me. But if your soldiers think to say my name and tuyo, then warriors of any allied tribe would know my people gave me to you. As they are not inGara, they would probably kill your men anyway, but they would do it quickly. And they might return the heads to you.”

Lord Aras looked at me for a long moment. Finally he said, “Thank you for explaining, Ryo. You don’t need to be concerned I would take vengeance on you for anything other Ugaro might do, however. I’ve given you guest-right.”

I had forgotten that, and drew a breath in relief. I knew it was a weakness to depend on a Lau’s generosity. It was a worse weakness to hope to live, but I could not help it.

He paid me no more attention, turning to Talon Commander Samaura instead. “We won’t rest here,” he said. “We’ll go on, and see if the Ugaro let us go. If they want a fight, we’ll see if we can’t make them regret that, but I’d just as soon get clear if we can.”

“Certainly, if you think that best,” answered the talon commander, but he went on. “But we didn’t bring a whole talon across the river just to enjoy the scenery, did we? We have enough men that we could take any reasonable number of Ugaro warriors. This may offer an excellent opportunity to do just that. We could use one division to draw an attack: they could try an exploratory venture out that way—” he nodded to the west—“and let themselves be strung out, give the Ugaro the kind of target they like best, then close up tight once they’ve drawn the Ugaro into an attack.” He glanced now at the level land to our north and west. “Get the Ugaro onto that ground and we could get around them and stop them from retreating, pin them between our main force and the one division. Once we had a clear target, we could roll them right up. It’d be hard on the one division, but I think we could do it, my lord.”

“I think we could too, if the Ugaro could be drawn into such an attack,” agreed Lord Aras. “Ryo, your comment?”

I did not wish to answer. Still, I thought about this question. It seemed to me that an Ugaro warleader would have to be mad to let himself be drawn into open battle against a full talon. But if a single Lau commander became too bold, any warleader would want to seize the chance to cut that division off from the main force and destroy it. The plan Talon Commander Samaura had proposed might work exactly as he suggested.

I wished I knew which warleader might be out there. The warleader of the inGeiro was Naroya, a careful man who was not likely to make so serious a mistake as to forget how fast Lau horses could run. I did not believe Naroya inGeiro would let himself be trapped as the talon commander suggested. The warleader of the inSorako was a younger man, Panaro, who might be eager enough to be careless. He might say to himself, Everyone knows the Lau are a cowardly people. They do not stand forth to attack, but stay with their companions. The rest of that talon will stay back, even while my people cut down these few who have stupidly ridden out to find us. If that happened, many inSorako warriors might be killed.

I said finally, “If I were a warleader, I would pretend to offer battle, while actually I wished only to delay and hinder you as much as I could. I would send messages in every direction so that everyone knew how many Lau soldiers had come to this place. It is early for heavy snow, but if there is a singer among the warriors, she would certainly ask for snow. If the gods favored us and snow began to fall, then soon your horses would be no use to you. Then your whole talon would be trapped. Ugaro warriors would not need to break your formations. They would only need to hold you in place until the cold took your strength.” None of this was likely. But any of it might happen the way I described it. I put conviction in my voice. “I think you should ride south, or you may lose many more than only two men.”

Lord Aras studied me for a moment. Then he said to the talon commander, “I believe my first thought was probably wise. I know what we planned, but even so, we’ll ride south. Pass that order and then come back; we’ll discuss the situation.” He glanced at me again. “I imagine you’re wondering whether you might try to get clear of us and return to your own people. If any such attempt seems at all likely to succeed, I’ll have you shot. It would be a waste and I would regret it extremely, so don’t try it.”

I had been thinking just that, of course. I bowed to the ground to show I accepted his warning. Then I stood up, went back to my horse, and hauled myself, with some difficulty, into the high saddle. In a little while, the order came, and all the Lau began to move again, pressing the horses to a trot.

For a long time we rode at a trot and then a walk and then a trot again. One thinks of horses at a gallop when one thinks of speed, but now that the Lau chose to press their pace, even the long, swinging walk of the tall horses carried them farther than I had realized we could move. Every hand and finger of time took us south. The land became more hilly and more heavily forested again: worse land for Lau to fight upon, and better for Ugaro. One arrow sang from the distant trees, snapping into a horse’s neck so that the beast screamed and plunged, then went to his knees and rolled as the life left him. But the soldier flung himself clear as the horse went down, and the other Lau swung their shields around so that a scattering of other arrows struck nothing but hide and wood. The Lau did not even break their ranks, though they pressed their horses to a swift trot until the arrows ceased falling among them.

I looked into the forest as we rode, thinking of where I might set an ambush if I were a warleader. I might shoot a few arrows to make the Lau ride more swiftly and pay less attention to the country before them. But the land before us opened up again and I knew no such ambush waited for us. Despite the warleader’s warning, I thought of jerking my horse around and kicking him into a run, back into the heavier forest. The crowding firs would protect me from Lau archers if I could get any distance at all. But as Lord Aras had warned me, four Lau archers rode near me, each with his bow in his hand and an arrow set to the string. Lau bows are less powerful than Ugaro bows, but not that much less powerful. Lau archers are less skilled than Ugaro bowmen, but not that much less skilled. And I did not even know whether it would be right for me to try to escape. It was not a question a tuyo often had to contemplate.

As the Sun walked lower toward the western edge of the world, I began to hear wolves singing in the distance. These were not wolves, of course, but Ugaro warriors. If one listened carefully one could tell the difference, not only between wolf and man, but between one tribe and another tribe. I listened with all my attention, and decided eventually that those were inGeiro. I thought the Lau were lucky they had chosen not to try to tempt the Ugaro into rash action.

The Lau did not wait to see whether any Ugaro might come against them. They pressed their horses harder still, until the voices that were not wolves fell too far behind to hear. On foot or on ponies, either way, the Ugaro warriors could not keep up with the Lau. Still, the Lau would not necessarily have everything as they wished. I thought that if I were Naroya inGeiro, I would let the Lau get as far ahead as they might while the Sun stood in the sky, but then I would travel through the night to get ahead of them. Lau horses may be faster than our ponies, but our ponies are tireless. Also, the Moon would favor us, for the winter country is hers and we are her people.

To my surprise, the Lau did not halt. They paused once for a little while, and then again later, but each time they went on. The horses were tired and walked with their heads down, but their strides were still long and smooth. The Moon stepped into the sky, in the north, where she rises during the season of the long cold. She would not cast down much light until her husband departed for the land of the shades beneath the earth, but her silvery radiance brightened the clouds where she walked slowly higher toward the vault of the sky.

Then we came around a long ridge and I was astonished to see in the distance the thin gleaming line of the river. I had not had the remotest idea we had come so far. I had assumed that the Lau must soon stop for the night, that the Ugaro coming behind us must overtake us and then get in front of us. Now I saw that this was impossible. The Lau would cross the river tonight—today, for even after the Sun departed the winter country, he would linger in the summer lands for another hand or two or even more, lending some light to the borderlands on this side of the river. I turned and looked back the way we had come, thinking I might see Ugaro coming behind us, but so far as I could tell, the forest was empty. I turned back to face south and looked across the river instead, to where the land sloped up, green and rich and warm, with no snow anywhere.

We rode on, and the river grew from a ribbon to a long curving blade and then to a wide silver road, curving away to the west and the east, dividing the whole world. On the other side of the river, the Sun was bright and the sky lower and warmer, hazy with cloud. On our side, the Sun had all but departed. The sky, high and clear, glittered with early stars, and the air was still as crystal.

Still as crystal. Too still. I looked up suddenly. The temperature was falling, though it was not yet quite dusk. The temperature was falling too fast, and now that I was paying attention in the right way, I knew the air was far too still. Now I knew why the forest behind us was so empty. But now it might be too late.

I had checked my horse without noticing, and Lord Aras turned to look at me. He began to turn his horse toward me, but I did not wait. I jerked my gelding’s head to the side and kicked hard, and he jumped forward in surprise, crowding the blood bay horse. I seized the warleader’s wrist in an urgent grip as our horses came together.

“It is the fengol, the great cold,” I told him. “Listen! You can hear the weight of still air above us.” All the small sounds of the land had ceased. No birds called, no distant fox yipped. The little animals had felt it before I had, fool that I was, riding distracted and thinking about everything else, deaf to the change in the air. I could see in my mind exactly how it would be: all the Lau and their horses fallen stiff in the snow, frost glittering on their dark skin and across their open eyes. I demanded, “Can you not feel it? It will fall very soon—I did not hear the stillness as quickly as I should have—”

Lord Aras pulled free of my grip and said to Talon Commander Samaura, his tone calm, “The great cold is falling. Order the fastest possible retreat. The men are to break formation and ride for the river. No one is to delay nor turn back once they reach the far side. Go.”

Despite his calm, his tone was sharp and the talon commander whirled his horse about and began to give those orders.

Only then did it occur to me that if I had said nothing, all the Lau might have died here, where now many or most would probably live. But it was too late to catch the moment back.

Lord Aras sat with his hands closed hard on the reins, his head up. Horn notes lifted, clear in the still air, and the horses began to run. Now I saw the true speed of the Lau horses as, even weary as they were, they flung themselves forward with great strides, so fast they seemed almost to fly. Their nostrils were wide and red, and foam flew back as they poured out their strength in blazing speed. Those at the front had already begun to reach the river’s edge. The horses leaped into the water without pause, as though they had finally heard the fengol coming. Our ponies would have felt it earlier, and I would have known by their wisdom that the soft hammer of the gods was coming down.

Lord Aras rode more slowly, keeping at the rear of the last formation. He was watching everything, the riders already in the river and those coming to the bank and the division commanders at the edges, who rode back and forth, calling encouragement to their men. I saw a horse go down in a hard fall, and Talon Commander Samaura haul the fallen rider up before him on his mare and turn her into the river. She leaped out from the bank in a great curving jump that showed how much she wanted to go.

I listened to the weight of the silence above. I could feel it was very close and falling very fast. “Hurry! Ride!” I shouted to the soldiers in front of me. All our horses were already galloping hard, but I shouted anyway, in taksu, forgetting that the Lau would not understand. They did not need to know the words to understand. They dropped their shields, crouching low over the necks of their horses, urging them to greater speed.

My horse leaped and came down with a huge splash. Lord Aras was only just behind me, but even at that moment reined back hard, turning to see whether anyone still lagged. His horse tried to rear in protest, screaming. Of the two, I thought the horse plainly had more sense. I tried to shout, to say so—

—and the fengol came down, soft and soundless and deadly. I felt it barely above us. Reaching out, I grabbed his arm, kicked free of my stirrups, dragged him off his horse, and flung us both into the water.

The shock of the cold water drove the breath from my lungs, but it was nothing to the cold of the descending fengol and I sucked air back in desperately, knowing I would need it. Lord Aras twisted in my grip, but I shoved him down, rolling so that he was below me in the water. At first I was hardly able to swim, but then he stopped struggling and wrapped his arms around my chest, gripping his hands together behind my neck. Immediately everything became easier, as I could use my arms as well as my legs.

I came up to the surface, though I tried not to. The cold struck my shoulders and back. The hammer of the gods, we say of the fengol. The soft hammer. It was like that, like a blow. Ice shattered all around me as I forced myself forward and down. My lungs were burning. I did not know how long a Lau could hold his breath—their chests are not as broad or as deep as an Ugaro’s chest—I did not know whether the warleader had caught a breath before I pushed him down. I thought if he came up now, he would surely die and if he did not he might drown. But his grip was still tight, so I knew he was not unconscious.

Almost as I thought this, he let go with one hand and struck me in the chest, one light blow, not fighting me, but I knew he meant he must breathe.

I was under ice now. I could not tell how thick it might be. If it was too thick to break, we would both drown. If it was not that thick but the fengol lay above the water, we would come out into the fierce cold, breathe that crystalline air, and freeze both from the outside and the inside.

Lord Aras hit my chest again, the same measured blow, carrying no more desperation than the first, but he would not be hitting me at all if he were not desperate. I went down first and found the bottom, hardly any distance below, and kicked up hard, my forearms gripped together above my head to deliver the hardest blow I could.

The ice shattered, and we came up into the air. I shook water out of my eyes, struggling to keep my head out of the water. Lord Aras coughed and choked and almost slipped down again, his hold loosening, but I gripped his shirt and turned on my side to pull him toward the shore of the summer lands. I had to break ice as we went, but here it was only a fingerwidth thick. Behind us, I knew it would be much thicker. I could not lift my head enough to look, but I knew we must have come halfway across the river—or a very little more than halfway. The air was quiet and frigid, but it did not freeze my lungs. I could not tell whether the cold hurt his lungs or not, but Lord Aras breathed in great gasps, not choking so much now, but shuddering with cold, unable either to cling to me or to swim on his own.

It would be unforgivable to let him drown now. I pulled his head up to my shoulder so I could be sure his face was out of the water, and struggled onward.

Then suddenly the air was warm, heavy with the scent of mud and cut hay and flowers. Even the water seemed not quite so cold, and my feet grated on the stony bottom of the river, and somewhere not far away, a lot of men were shouting.

I think I stopped there, in chin-deep water. But many Lau were splashing around me, reaching for Lord Aras and for me. On them, the water came hardly to the breastbone, not even to the shoulder. I had never felt the difference in height between Lau and Ugaro so clearly. I was shaking with cold and weariness, and though I did not recognize the men who took hold of me, I did not fight them. Lord Aras was no longer near me; I had lost track of him, and that made me anxious. I feared he might have drowned after all, or died from the cold though it had barely touched us. I looked, but I could not see him. After that, much was a blur to me. I knew when I was pulled out of the river. I sat on the soft grass at the verge, where the meadows came down to the riverbank, and coughed out cold water and breathed in warm air. My back burned where the cold had struck against my skin, but I could tell that its touch had not gone deep. Lau were all around me, but if they spoke to me, I did not know it. After a time they took me somewhere else and gave me something to drink. Then there a cot, and then I did not know what else might have happened.

-5-

I woke in a place I did not recognize. I was over-warm. I think that woke me.

I was in a room with stone walls and a smooth stone floor and a timbered ceiling. Even if the air had not been close and warm, I would have known immediately that I was in the summer country. My people do not build with stone in that way: we live in round tents lined with felt and softened with many furs and blankets, or on the steppe, we live in wagons made in the same way. Only our tombs are carved from stone.

There were no windows, but a lamp stood on a table and another lamp hung from a hook set into the wall by the door. Both were lit, so the room was filled with soft light. There was one door. It was closed.

I wore a long garment of undyed cloth, like a shirt that came down below my knees. I did not like the thought that someone, a stranger, a Lau, had stripped me and taken my clothing away and dressed me again, and I had not even known. I had not understood until then that I must have been unconscious for some time. The Lau sometimes use herbs to make a man sleep. I thought they must have given me herbs of that kind, and I liked that thought even less. I wondered what other things they might have done to me while I slept. I could feel nothing amiss. At least it felt to me that I had woken normally.

On the table, along with the lamp, I found a stack of folded clothing. Like the clothing worn by the soldiers, the shirt was dark blue and the leggings black. My back was still tender from the touch of the cold, but I had been right that the cold had not struck hard; I could bear the touch of the cloth against my skin even though the shirt was tight across my shoulders and chest. The sleeves would have been too narrow and too long, but I unlaced them and put them aside. The leggings fit better, though I had to turn them up. The cloth was light, but in this room, it was more than warm enough. Here, I would have been too warm even naked.

I tried the door. It did not open. Barred doors are another thing we Ugaro do not build into our tents and wagons. When I listened, I could hear clattering. Not violent sounds. I thought a busy workplace or hearth must be nearby. It was the sound of people, of life, of living. I felt better for hearing it, though I knew the people I heard were not Ugaro.

I sat down cross-legged on the floor with my back against the stone wall and closed my eyes. I breathed slowly and thought about what I had done. I had saved them all. All those Lau. If I had not given warning, they would have died there, in sight of their own country, frost glittering in their hair and their eyes. Of course, if I had kept silent, I would have died too. But my own death would have been a small thing set against the destruction of so many Lau soldiers and that clever, impenetrable scepter-holder.

It was too late to take back the act. Nor could I be sorry I was alive, even if warning the Lau had been a mistake. Even though I was now a prisoner in the summer lands. A captive may escape his captors, but seldom indeed will a dead man return from the land of the shades. If I had missed the chance to destroy a talon of Lau soldiers, perhaps, as Lord Aras wished to make use of me, a different chance might come at a later time.

Unless he had died. The Lau will die of cold an Ugaro would never notice, and the river had been cold even for me.

Perhaps I should hope he had died. Perhaps I had been a fool to save him. And yet, once it was too late for my silence to destroy the whole talon, I did not think that I could have let him die. He had been generous to me. Also, I felt I knew him, a little. Even less than I wished to be his captive did I want to be the captive of some other Lau warleader.

Many steps approached, and came near, and finally halted outside the door. I stood up. I heard the bar being drawn back, and at the last possible instant I remembered to stand straight and raise my chin.

The man who opened the door was older than any of the Lau I had met so far, with gray in his beard. He wore the same kind of badge Talon Commander Samaura had worn, so I guessed he must be of similar rank.

He looked me up and down with open interest. “So you’re Lord Gaur’s Ugaro,” he said. “On your feet already! The surgeons thought you’d be down for a bit yet, but Lord Gaur thought you might be up. He’ll see you now, if you feel well enough. You look a sensible young man; I’m sure you won’t give me any trouble.” He looked at me narrowly when I did not answer and added, “I’m told you speak darau, so speak up and give me a civil answer.”

I had been distracted by my relief at learning that the warleader had indeed lived, and I did not much like this man’s manner. Nevertheless, I answered obediently, “I do not intend to cause trouble, Talon Commander.”

The man nodded approval. “That’s the way! Good. I’m Talon Commander Harana. This way.” He stood away from the door.

I stepped through the doorway. Not at all to my surprise, more soldiers waited there—three men. I had heard more footsteps than only Harana’s. I could not tell whether I had seen any of them before.

Talon Commander Harana told me, “These men have been assigned to guard you against every kind of trouble. This is Troop Leader Geras, Trooper Esau, and Trooper Suyet.”

“Yes,” I said, acknowledging each man with a small bow as each in turn nodded to me. I could not always read Lau expressions, but if these men resented the duty they had been given, I could not see that in them.

Trooper Suyet seemed young to me. He had no beard, but I was not certain how old Lau might be when they grew beards, if they all grew beards. Few Ugaro men do, and not until we are older. I thought Suyet was about my age. He seemed easy-tempered, smiling as he nodded.

Trooper Esau looked older than Suyet. He was short for a Lau. He had broad shoulders as well—for a Lau. He might have had a little Ugaro blood in him, though that is rare. He had a hard look to his face, but he nodded to me in a way that did not seem unfriendly.

Troop Leader Geras was certainly the oldest, though not old. I thought he was older than my brother Garoyo, though younger than my father. But Lau live longer than Ugaro, and age differently, so I might not have judged his age correctly. Still, he was clearly the senior, and probably the others would take their cue from him. He nodded to me and said, “If you would come this way, young lord.” He indicated with a gesture which way I should go.

I would not have expected to be called lord. I tried not to show that I was startled, but I felt my face heat and knew I had flushed. One of the many ways in which the world is unfair is that Ugaro have so much more difficulty concealing what we feel than a dark-skinned people such as the Lau.

The hallway went a short distance, turned, and came to a stairway. We turned left again at the top and came to an open door. The talon commander gestured to me to go through this door. Apparently he did not mean to come with me, which surprised me a little, though three soldiers were certainly an adequate guard. They followed at my back as I entered a large, narrow room, perhaps three times longer than it was wide.

The room was, of course, far too warm, but the Lau must not have thought so, for great fires burned in each of two fireplaces, one set into the wall at either end of the room. The other wall, across from the door, was nearly all windows. The shutters were open to let in the breeze. Through the window, I could see the Sun standing high in the sky and in the distance, fields of stubble where grain had been harvested. Far away to the west, purplish mountains rose up to the sky. Much of the tension that had tightened my stomach relaxed. The wide sky and the distant mountains made me feel better, even if I were no less a prisoner.

Then I looked the other way, to the east, and saw many, many tents. All the Lau in the world seemed to have gathered here. Even from just a glimpse of the edge of that camp, I could see that the talon Lord Aras had brought into the winter country had been only a small part of those here. Now I saw why he had felt he could risk so many men on a sharp, narrow raid against my brother and my people. My stomach tightened again. I had not known so many soldiers had come into the borderlands. They had probably been at some pains to disguise the fact. I wondered whether our king knew this; whether the warleader of the inVotaro, whom our king trusted to lead all the tribes in war, knew it.

Lord Aras was seated at a broad table, cluttered with many thick books and loose papers and scrolls. Some of the papers were weighted with smooth stones, others with a sheathed knife or a glazed bowl. He had glanced up when I came in, and now got to his feet. He moved a little stiffly. I could tell that his ribs hurt him. His breathing had something of the thick sound that indicates lung fever. Perhaps he was a little pale. It was hard for me to tell such things in a Lau.

I had been impatient and angry, with myself and with the Lau, when I had woken in that room. But now that I faced the scepter-holder again, that fell away and I felt uncertain and badly out of place. I remembered not to kneel, barely, instead looking him in the face. It was not my place to speak before he did, so I said nothing.

He looked at me carefully. Then he smiled and said, “You look well, Ryo. How is your back?”

Immediately I felt better. I had not realized how much I depended on any sign of goodwill from him. Still, I saw that it must be so for a man captive among enemies, and decided I need not consider this a sign of disgraceful cowardice. I moved my shoulders to show I could do so easily. “The cold did not strike deeply, my lord. In another day, perhaps two, I will not feel it at all.” I hesitated. Then I added, keeping my tone level, “I think I slept much longer than such an injury would cause.”

“You were dosed with poppy,” he told me readily. “Our surgeons were afraid to work with you unless they could be certain you wouldn’t wake abruptly and violently. Please don’t take it as an insult. It wasn’t meant so. I’m sorry I wasn’t available to ensure you were treated with more courtesy.”

My anger eased. Lau cowardice was not an insult to me, though it spoke poorly of the surgeons. I could hardly be offended that Lord Aras had not prevented them from giving me their herbs when I knew he had been unconscious himself. I said, “I have forgotten the offense, my lord.”

He smiled at me. “Thank you, Ryo. The physicians said you were healing well. A Lau whose skin had been frozen like that might die. The skin would turn black and peel away, leaving raw flesh that would be susceptible to fever. I understand that your skin was already healing by the time they examined you. I don’t believe I had quite realized the extent of the Ugaro resistance to cold.”

I nodded. “I did not know you Lau could not swim in cold water.”

He glanced down, then up again, meeting my eyes. “You’re quite right. The men I lost nearly all died because the cold drove the strength from their limbs. I would also have drowned if you hadn’t hauled me across the river. I would have mistaken my own capability to withstand the cold. I did mistake it.” He paused, looking at me. After a moment, he said, “I lost sixteen men and more than thirty horses. But without your warning, I would have lost them all.”

I could not say that I wondered whether I should regret that warning. I said, because I know it must have been one of those lost, “I am sorry about your horse.”

“Thank you, Ryo. So am I. He was a fine animal. I was very fond of him.” He paused to clear his throat. “Nevertheless, I’m exceedingly grateful that our losses were not much heavier. I realize I should now release you to go back to your own people. That would be the least I should do in return for your warning. Unfortunately, I don’t find myself able to do that. I’m sorry, but you are too great a potential asset for me to return the debt I owe you as I plainly should.”

It had never occurred to me that he might let me go. I felt his words like the stroke of a knife: a cut too sharp to feel at once, but one knows pain will soon follow the blow. I bowed my head deeply to acknowledge his words, but also so that I could take a moment to compose myself. When I knew my expression showed nothing, I looked at him again. I spoke the truth. “My lord, I did not expect you to release me. I was given to you. You may do anything with me that you please.”

He looked at me searchingly. Then he said, “Well, that may be, but you’re not only a tuyo. You’re also my guest. I don’t want to weigh you down with chains or set you under close guard; I owe you far better treatment than that. I would like to treat you, in fact, far more as a guest and far less as a prisoner.” He paused. Then he said steadily, “Ryo, I want you to take oath to me. I want you to swear that you will hold yourself under my authority and obey my orders. I’m not familiar—”

Urgent shouting and pounding steps interrupted him, and we both turned toward the door. Though the sheathed knife lay near to his hand, Lord Aras picked up his scepter instead. I took several steps to the side, my hand going to my belt where my own knife should have been, though of course I had no weapon. The three soldiers closed up around me, their backs to me, their hands on the hilts of their swords, and I understood, with some surprise, that they had been told to protect me against any threat as well as to protect their own people against me.

A voice, raised in anger, snapped, “Lord Kasurat, your behavior is outrageous!” Then, hard on that exclamation, a handful of Lau surged into the room. Two handfuls. More than that. Eleven men in all, and most of them seemed to be shouting. One was Talon Commander Harana, who said in a hard, angry voice, “My lord, it would’ve taken violence to keep them out, and tempting though it was, I thought I’d better leave it to you! Say the word and I’ll gladly have the whole lot of them thrown out! Or whipped into the street!”

Six of the other men wore a different badge, green instead of the brown and blue that had become familiar to me. But one man wore no badge. His clothing was all black, like Lord Aras, except with less gold thread and with the garments cut in a more flowing style. Also, he wore three rings and two armbands, each of gold set with green stones. This, I surmised, was Lord Kasurat. He was the one doing most of the shouting. One of the words he shouted was certainly Ugaro. I looked past the men guarding me, toward Lord Aras.

The warleader lifted his eyebrows. Then he lifted his scepter and cracked it down across the surface of the table. Even in that large a room, even with the shutters open, the sound was like a thunderclap. The silence that followed was immediate and startling.

Lord Aras said in a mild tone, “Karoles, thank you so much for escorting Lord Kasurat up to see me. I don’t quite see why you felt it necessary to invite his entire retinue, but no doubt it seemed sensible at the time. Lord Kasurat, may I inquire as to your concerns?”

The other lord sputtered for a moment. Then he jabbed a finger at me and snapped, “That is an Ugaro! You brought one of those savages into my house!”

Lord Aras looked at me in a puzzled way, and then turned back to Kasurat. “Well, as I’m staying here at the moment, installing my guest here as well did seem a reasonable course of action. Am I to understand that you object to my guest and myself occupying rooms within your house?” He paused very briefly, while the other man drew breath. Before Kasurat could answer him, he added, just as mildly, “I certainly don’t wish to discommode you. If you prefer, I shall confiscate this house and attach it as a crown property to the royal holdings rather than obligating you to offer hospitality to an Ugaro upon your own property.”

The other man choked an obviously stunned response to a strangled gasp. For ten breaths, no one spoke. Lord Aras tapped his scepter gently against his opposite palm, not looking away from Kasurat. At last he said, “Your tastes may differ, but I generally prefer to discuss every sort of concern in a civilized manner. I certainly don’t see any need for armed retainers to force their way into my presence, creating a disturbance and alarming my people. Perhaps you might ask your men to await you below.”

Kasurat stared at him. Then he gave a jerky little nod and gestured, and his men shifted and glowered—at me, mostly—and finally made their way out. My guards took their hands away from their swords, though they did not move away from me. I stayed where I was, but now I was much less alarmed. I was even beginning to be amused. I had known a scepter-holder was an important man. Now I understood Lord Aras was much more important than this other lord. I thought Kasurat must have known it, but he clearly had not expected to be reminded of it so forcibly.

Once the other lord’s men had gone, Lord Aras sat down, moving a little carefully because of his ribs, and gestured to a chair. He said, in the same calm, polite tone, “This is a comfortable house, Lord Kasurat, but unless you object, I am content merely to borrow it for a little while. Please sit down. As you may have ascertained, I’m interested in recent trade between this part of the borderlands and northern Evalea. As you’d apparently rather discuss this with me than any of my people, perhaps you’d answer a few questions now. Much of this trade used to move through Tavas Sen here, and then onward through your county on its way to Evalea, didn’t it? I’ve been examining Tavas Sen’s financial records, and I see that trade in this town has—”

The lord had not seated himself. He said, barely less angrily than before, “You’ve been looking through my records?”

“Lord Kasurat, please sit down,” Lord Aras said patiently.

“But—” began the lord.

“May the gods be merciful,” Talon Commander Harana said, not at all patiently. “If you haven’t been diddling the books, Lord Kasurat, why should you possibly object? Sit down and answer Lord Gaur’s questions.”

The lord started to give a hot response, but then looked again at Lord Aras, who was tapping his scepter gently against the palm of his hand, gazing at Kasurat, his expression speculative. The lord blew out an angry breath, but he dropped into a chair.

Lord Aras said politely. “Thank you. As you know, when I’m acting for our king, I have the authority to examine anyone’s records. Yours interested me because I recently received information regarding specific disruptions to trade with the Ugaro in this part of the borderlands. I thought it might be useful to look for signs of that disruption in the town records. I have indeed observed that this sort of imbalance in the trade records may have begun before we started having trouble with the Ugaro in this area, which is not what I recall from reports at the time. I should mention that your castellan’s notations regarding matters of trade with the Ugaro seem surprisingly inconsistent for that period. May I inquire whether you remember deliberately and dramatically changing your own terms of trade with the Ugaro three years ago?”

Lord Kasurat’s manner now seemed subdued. He said, still angrily, but much more quietly than he had spoken before, “Three years ago? Of course I don’t remember back that far!”

Lord Aras was watching him closely, his manner completely neutral. “Three years really isn’t so very long a time. The inconsistencies trouble me more than the imbalance.”

“I want to look at those records!”

“Of course. When you do, I’ll be interested in what you seem to remember regarding that period—”

Lord Kasurat declared, again almost shouting, “There is nothing wrong with my memory!”

“Everyone’s memory must be considered potentially unreliable. I mean no reflection on your honesty or competence.”

I had been listening with interest, but without comprehension. But now suddenly understanding came to me. It came like a stroke of lightning, all at once, vivid and terrible. I said in astonishment, “You think there is a sorcerer. You think a sorcerer is interfering in matters of trade between the winter country and the summer country. That is what you mean when you say the records do not seem right. That is what this man fears: that a sorcerer has put false memories into his mind so that he does not remember what is true.”

Then I realized perhaps I would have been wiser to keep silent, but it was too late. Lord Kasurat leaped to his feet, shouting that there was no sorcerer and that nothing was wrong with his memory. He turned as though he might try to hit me for saying it, but my guards were in his way, so he spun instead to face Lord Aras, declaring furiously, “Nothing has happened to my memory! If the barbarian speaks a civilized language, that’s all very well, but you should teach your wolf-loving savage to hold his tongue before his betters!”

The term he used was not quite wolf-loving. It was a cruder term than that, which I had never heard before, but understood from the structure of the word.

Many Lau are afraid of Ugaro, as they should be, but it hurts their pride less to pretend that they despise us rather than fear us. I had known that, but even when my people had still traded with the Lau of this town, I had not heard such an insult. Ordinary people would have known better than to say such a thing to our faces. Lord Kasurat was too certain of his own importance and far too certain of my inability to answer his insult as it deserved.

My guards were focused on Kasurat, so I had no difficulty jerking the knife from the sheath at Suyet’s belt. But Esau turned as I did so, seizing my arm and trying to shove me back, saying, “No you don’t! Have some sense!” He was strong for a Lau, but I braced myself and did not move. But I did not want to fight my guards. They had not offended me. Though I now gripped Suyet’s knife, they had not drawn their weapons, and even now did not. I would have been ashamed to strike a man who had not realized he should guard himself against me. Also, by that time, I had remembered I was a tuyo and belonged to Lord Aras, and so did not have the right to answer an insult for myself.

I was still very angry, but I opened my hand and let Troop Leader Geras take the knife from me. He gave it back to Suyet with a frown for the younger soldier’s carelessness, but to me he only said, “You’re a guest of Gaur. Let Lord Gaur handle it.”

Perhaps this was good advice. I looked at Lord Aras. He was not paying attention to me at all, but considering Lord Kasurat. He said, voice no longer so mild, “This lack of decorum does you no credit. I think you should apologize to my guest.”

“Apologize! I? To an Ugaro?” the man exclaimed, plainly shocked.

I said coldly, “Lord Kasurat does not need to apologize to me. I would not accept his apology. I do not intend to forget his words. Nor his name.”

The man cried furiously, “That was a threat! Did you hear him threaten me? Have you no control over this barbarian?”

I was beginning to think him too stupid to hold to account, though if a chance came to kill him, I certainly did not intend to hold my hand merely on that consideration. Though perhaps I might do better to leave him alive. As he was the lord of this county, some part of the Lau soldiers must be under his command, and it is always better if enemy warriors are led by a fool. I looked at Lord Aras again. Everyone was looking at Lord Aras. His mouth had tightened. He said, his voice level, “That was not a threat. This is a threat: If you do not apologize to me and entirely amend your manner, I will have you stripped of your position and titles.”

Kasurat stared at him in complete disbelief. “You can’t—” he began.

Talon Commander Harana cut him off. “Don’t be a fool, man! Are you blind? Don’t you see that scepter?”

There was a short, sharp silence. Then Lord Aras said, his tone once again mild, “As Talon Commander Harana points out, obviously I can have you stripped of every title you currently hold. Rather than permitting your titles to pass to your heir, I might consider those titles attainted and order all your properties attached to the crown. Given your disgraceful behavior, I’m actually tempted to pursue some part of that.”

This time the silence was thickly uncomfortable, for Kasurat. Then he said in a low, choked voice, “My lord, I apologize. We have had a great deal of trouble with Ugaro here, and—and I forgot myself. I apologize most profoundly.” He shot a look at me on that last word, but very briefly. He said, “I will not—I will—I withdraw every objection to your guest and ask you to make use of my house for however long you find it convenient.”

Lord Aras inclined his head. “I accept your apology. We’ll say no more about it. I’d appreciate your taking a moment to examine the relevant sections of your records and see what, if anything, you might recall regarding the period in question.” He tapped one of the large books on the table. “You might begin where I have a section marked.”

Harana cleared his throat, and Lord Aras glanced at him and then at me and added, “Troop Leader Geras, please escort Ryo to . . .” he considered, and finally finished, “to my personal suite. Ryo, I will speak to you later. Soon. Please be patient.”

-6-

My guards guided me down a flight of stairs and along a different hallway that led into a part of the house I had not seen earlier. This was a very big house. It belonged, I knew now, to Lord Kasurat. I looked at everything we passed with interest, considering what I might like to take if I raided this house, and whether it might burn well despite the stone walls. The timbers of the ceilings would certainly burn. If someone set a fire properly, nothing might be left standing but those walls.

The room we came to showed the wealth of the man who owned it, with cushions on the finely carved chairs and small tables inlaid with shell. This was the house of a man who thought the war could not touch him. I made note of that in case opportunity came, but that was not the important thing to consider. Turning to Geras, I demanded, “Troop Leader, there is a sorcerer? I did not misunderstand?”

He said, “I think you’d better ask Lord Gaur about that, young lord.”

His tone was so definite that I knew he would not change his mind. I let out my breath and tried to think past the anger and worry.

“Perhaps you’d like to sit down,” Geras suggested, watching me. “Any chair you like. Would you like some wine? You don’t need to hesitate, young lord. You’re Lord Gaur’s guest.” He did not wait for my answer, but moved to a sideboard and poured jewel-colored wine into a goblet for me.

I sat down on the chair that looked least uncomfortable and took the goblet when Geras handed it to me, but I set it aside without tasting it. “Should I say Lord Gaur, as you do? He told me to say Lord Aras.”

“You’re held under his personal authority, young lord. A soldier’s oath is different.” The troop leader had moved to lean against the wall near the window. He seemed relaxed and comfortable, but he did not sit down. None of my guards sat down or poured themselves wine.

I nodded, though I did not understand the difference. But I set that aside and asked, “Troop Leader Geras, why do you call me young lord? Surely I am not a lord to you Lau?” It seemed unlikely that this soldier meant it as mockery. I did not know him, but he did not seem that kind of man.

“Well, you’re the son of an Ugaro lord, aren’t you?” said Suyet, jumping up to sit on the broad windowsill. “That’s what I heard, anyway.” He was smiling. He did not seem to hold any grudge because I had taken his knife earlier. Also, plainly it had not occurred to him that in a fight, an enemy might thrust him through the window to get him out of the way. He seemed very young to me, but I liked his friendliness.

Troop Leader Geras gave Suyet a quelling look. But he said to me, “You’re Lord Gaur’s personal guest. He’d never have made Lord Kasurat apologize for insulting just an Ugaro prisoner. He did it to prove he means it when he says he owes you guest-right. You can lay any coin you like that nobody else is going to make that kind of mistake.”

There were very many answers I might have made to this, but I merely nodded.

Esau was leaning against the wall near the door, a place where he could see the whole room and also strike anyone who came through the door. Of the three, I guessed that he would be the most dangerous opponent. He said in a bored tone, “He did it because when the word gets out, every lord for a hundred miles east and west is going to realize he’d better stand up sharp when Lord Gaur whistles.”

“Both reasons, probably,” Geras agreed.

I told them all, “People say lord to my father, not to me. Call me by my name.”

“If you like,” Geras agreed. “The same for us, then. Call us by name. That’ll be easy and comfortable.”

“Right, Troop Leader, we’ll all call you by name,” Suyet said cheerfully. “That’ll be easy and comfortable!”

Geras cuffed at him lightly, and the younger man ducked and laughed. It was exactly the way Ugaro warriors who were friends might act toward one another. I had not expected Lau soldiers to behave in so relaxed a manner around me, but Suyet looked at me, still smiling, and said, his tone faintly skeptical, “I hear you’re nineteen.”

Lord Aras too had thought I looked like a boy. It was the first thing he had said when he had seen me. I said firmly, “I have nineteen winters. How old do I seem to you?”

“I guess maybe younger,” he admitted, ducking his head as a man will when he does not want to offend.

“Suyet hasn’t seen a lot of Ugaro,” said Esau, tolerantly scornful. “He’s looking at your face, not your chest and shoulders.” He eyed me. “I’d wager if you flexed too hard, you’d rip the seams out of that shirt. I’d lay bets on you at any kind of wrestling.”

Geras gave him a look. “Uh huh. Start a betting pool and I’ll let you explain the resulting brawl to Ianan.”

Esau chuckled. “Right, no, maybe not.”

I bowed my head to hide my expression. It had not occurred to me that these Lau soldiers might be as friendly as this. I had not expected any of the Lau to wish to be friends. Plainly they did wish that. I asked, “Why were you three chosen to guard me? Did you only take the duty because you were closest when someone thought of it?”

The soldiers looked at one another. Then Suyet explained, his tone earnest, “Our division was down at the river when you came across, so we saw exactly what you did. You saved Lord Gaur—if you hadn’t knocked him off his horse—the poor beast froze so fast it looked like the statue of a horse. If you hadn’t knocked him into the water, Lord Gaur would’ve frozen too.”

Esau gave a short nod. “You were under so long, we figured you’d both drowned. Later we figured out the water protected you against the cold. Lord Gaur’d never have known to stay down. You kept him under, until you got past the middle so’s it was safe to come up.”

Geras put in, “Even then, we couldn’t have got to Lord Gaur, not near fast enough. No Lau can swim in water that cold. He’d’ve drowned, except you brought him across. You carried him out of the water like a babe, breaking through the ice every inch of the way.” He shook his head, apparently in wonder at the memory.

I was embarrassed. I said, “Lord Aras saved himself. He let me hold him down even though he was drowning. If he had fought me, I would never have made it to the middle of the river and we would have come up too soon and died of the cold.”

“That’s Lord Gaur for you,” Esau said, with evident satisfaction. “But everyone in our division knows who saved him.”

“Ianan—our talon commander—chose a dozen men or so,” Suyet told me. “Then Lord Gaur spoke to each of us and decided who’d get the assignment.”

I had not expected this. They had wanted the assignment because I had saved their warleader. And most of the talon, but I could see it was their warleader’s life that impressed them. I had not understood this before: that the Lau soldiers loved their warleader as only the best warleaders are loved by their men. Nothing in my situation was different, yet it changed everything for me to know this.

I collected myself enough to look at all three of my guards as carefully as I could. I would be very much embarrassed now if I could not recognize them among the other Lau. I said, “Thank you for explaining. I will try not to make trouble for you.”

“I’m sure you’ll be no trouble at all,” Geras said easily.

“Oh, I’m willing to bet he’ll be all kinds of trouble,” Esau said, but in a tone that made it clear he did not mind this idea. Then he added much more crisply, “Here we go, look lively,” and stepped away from the door. Suyet slid off the windowsill, and Geras, who had been leaning against the wall, straightened. I stood up too, and then the door opened and Lord Aras came in, with Talon Commander Harana. All three of my guards stood straight and touched their hands to their hearts in the Lau salute. They looked alert and professional, and I realized that Esau had been standing by the door specifically to listen for their lord’s step so that they could look like that when he entered.

Lord Aras nodded to my guards. He went to the nearest table and laid down his scepter. Then he turned and spoke to me. “Ryo, I’m sorry for the interruption, and for Lord Kasurat’s insult to you. It shouldn’t happen again.”

I folded my hands at the small of my back to remind myself to stand straight and answered, “My lord, I am not concerned for the opinion of Lord Kasurat. I apologize for causing trouble between this man and yourself. If there is a sorcerer, I wish very much to know of this. Yet I was wrong when I accused you, so perhaps I have misunderstood again.”

Talon Commander Harana snorted. He had dropped into a chair, but he was plainly too annoyed to relax. He said, to Lord Aras rather than to me, “As if the gods could be so kind! Aras, your Ugaro might’ve been a trifle hasty, but he wasn’t wrong. I’ve never seen a man more clearly in a sorcerer’s grip. He acted as though he had no idea you held a scepter, and you practically shoving it down his throat sideways the whole time. No one could be that obtuse on his own.”

Lord Aras leaned his hip against the arm of a chair, making a little rocking gesture with one hand that I thought meant perhaps. “We wouldn’t want to underestimate the potential for willful obtuseness, Karoles. But yes, I suspect he’s had compulsions set into his mind, perhaps to create an urgent feeling that he should accept the sorcerer’s authority above all others. That could cause that sort of problem. Hopefully my threat was dramatic enough to overcome that kind of issue.” Turning to me, he added, “It’s not unusual for my king to send me to deal with thorny problems, Ryo, including problems involving sorcery. That’s why I’m here. Please try not to be concerned. I’ve dealt with one or two fairly powerful sorcerers in the past.”

I tried not to show my dismay at this idea.

Lord Aras went on. “This little war with your people has been going rather badly for us, and it’s been going badly in ways that don’t entirely make sense. If there’s a sorcerer working to exploit the situation, that would explain certain problems we’ve been having. If a sorcerer actually manipulated interactions between your people and mine in order to start this war, that’s something else again, and certainly a factor worth considering as we decide how to proceed. It’s been so long since ordinary trade took place here that I hadn’t considered the possibility of the kind of disruptions you described.”

“Yes,” I said, speaking at random. I was thinking of other things. I was thinking that if a powerful Lau sorcerer had created the problems between my people and the Lau, if a sorcerer might be using my people in some manner, then I should get away from Lord Aras as quickly as I could so that I might carry word of this to my father. My father would send that word to our king, and Koro inKarano might decide to break off and command all the tribes to retreat to the high north, where no Lau could follow. If there were a sorcerer, it seemed to me better to get out of his way and let the Lau fight among themselves until the sorcerer was either destroyed or enslaved them all.

Then I thought again. If Ugaro could not trade with the avila of the starlit lands or with the Lau, nor raid for what we needed ... a sorcerer might live a long time. Ugaro seldom live past forty and forty years. Lau often live forty more years than that. I did not like to think what would happen to my people if we must all go into the high north and stay clear of the borderlands for as long as a Lau might live. Our cattle could not survive the long cold without grain, much more grain than our herdsmen could grow in the winter country. I thought by the time a Lau sorcerer finally died and it became safe to come south again, many Ugaro tribes might be gone as well, destroyed in a different kind of war as every tribe fought to survive.

Lord Aras had been considering me, his expression thoughtful. Now he said to Talon Commander Harana, “I’d like to talk to Ryo alone. If you’d be so kind as to put yourself in the way of receiving incoming reports, Karoles, I would appreciate that.”

Harana pushed himself to his feet, snorting. “Don’t think I don’t realize you just want me to deal with Kasurat when he realizes you’ve diverted all his couriers to your service. Fine.” He went out.

Lord Aras turned to my guards. “Troop Leader Geras, if you and your team would please step out as well.”

Geras had already been standing straight. Now he straightened even more and said in a firm, stiff way, “Yes, my lord, except if it’s true this Ugaro tried to kill you, maybe you might reconsider that order. Meaning no offense to your guest, my lord.” It was very clear he knew it was true.

I felt the heat come up in my face. Geras was perfectly correct. I could not possibly protest.

Lord Aras looked at Geras, one eyebrow rising. He said in his mild way, “That was a misunderstanding. Nothing like that is going to happen today, Troop Leader Geras.”

“I’m sure it won’t, my lord. But even so, I think you’d do better with soldiers nearer at hand than the other side of a closed door.” Lau manners were not like Ugaro manners, but to me, Geras did not sound as though he meant to give way. He fixed his gaze on the air above the warleader’s head and added, just as stiffly, “I will put myself on report for refusing the order of a superior and for failure of respect to a superior. And for disregarding the king’s authority, my lord, but if you uphold that one, I’ll ask you to set the charge against me and not my team.” He did not bow his head when he said this, but continued to look into the air above the Lord Aras’ head. It was a very different manner than when an Ugaro warrior said he would accept a blow, but obviously it was meant in much the same way.

“I see.” Lord Aras considered him for a long moment. Finally he said, “Well, Troop Leader, you may place yourself on report for refusing an order, but I think I will reconsider my order after all, so I don’t believe I’ll find it necessary to uphold that charge. I did not notice any disrespect on your part, so you may put yourself on report for that charge if you wish, but I will not uphold it. Though I cannot forbid you to place yourself on report for the other charge you mentioned, I would strongly prefer that you refrain.”

The soldier touched his hand to his heart, though even now he did not bow his head as any Ugaro would have. He said, “Yes, Lord Gaur. Thank you, my lord.”

“If you and your team would kindly step back to a distance you consider reasonable, Troop Leader,” Lord Aras told him. That was not very far because the room was not large, but he turned back to me, pretending that the soldiers were not present. He said to me, “Ryo, I began to say this earlier, but I didn’t get very far with it. I want you to take oath to me so that I can treat you far more as a guest and far less as a prisoner. I want you to swear a strong oath, strong enough that I’ll have no need to doubt it.” He threw a wry look over his shoulder to where my guards were pretending not to listen and added, “Strong enough my soldiers won’t have any need to doubt it either! I want you to swear to accept my authority and obey my orders, and I want you to swear it by your father’s honor as well as your own: I’d trust that. Given that I won’t release you and don’t intend to allow you to escape, do you think you can do as I ask? And if you swear that kind of oath, would you keep it, even though I’m a Lau and even though our peoples are at war?”

I should have declared that such an oath was out of the question. But I was so surprised that I found myself asking instead, “What orders would you give me?” Then I said, “If I swore an oath as you wish, I would keep it. But I will not swear it.” But it was too late. He knew I had thought of yielding to his will. We both knew it.

He did not smile. He said soberly, “I would give you such orders as I found necessary. I would expect you to obey me no matter what I required. I’m sorry; I know that’s too much to ask. But I still ask it.” He paused. Then he added, “I would certainly command you to stay by me; not to return to the winter lands without explicit permission from me. I would command you to accept orders from certain officers of mine. I would command you to hold your hand from violence against my people, both soldiers and civilians, even if you are provoked. For example, I would not permit you to answer Lord Kasurat as his insult deserved. Nor anyone else, should someone else insult you.”

He paused. Then, to my surprise, he went on, “You are my guest, Ryo, and I will guard your life and honor accordingly. Any offense against you, I will take as an offense against myself. If you will take the oath as I ask, I swear I will try not to demand anything you would find dishonorable, but I can’t promise that I won’t find that necessary. Do you think you can accept that and give me the oath I ask?”

I thought about this. At first I thought I could not. While he said he would try not to force me into dishonorable action, I feared that in a war such a thing was almost certain to happen. Knowing this to be so, how could I give any kind of oath? Then I thought again. If he held me as a prisoner, I did not think I would get free. I would be helpless to do anything to help my people. If he treated me as his guest, I did not know what I might be able to do. But perhaps something rather than nothing. That hope alone might be reason enough to take the oath as he wished.

Yet the kind of oath he wanted would bind me far more tightly than cords or chains or fear of punishment. That kind of oath would change everything.

“How could you possibly expect me to keep such an oath?” I demanded.

“Ryo, I know whom to trust. If you give me an honest oath, I’ll accept it. I admit, I don’t know how you can possibly trust me enough to give the kind of oath I ask.”

He was a good judge of men. Or he judged me well, at least. He was right. If I swore such an oath, I would try hard to keep it. Breaking an oath when I had sworn by my father’s honor would be as bad as parricide, and that is almost the worst sin a man can commit. He was right again that I did not see how I could give it.

He said, still gently, “Ryo, I’m very much aware that I’m in your debt. I have every desire and intention to return good for the good you have already done me. Though our peoples are at war, I swear before the gods, I won’t willingly permit any sorcerer to enthrall or subjugate Ugaro. My whole intention is to put a stop to any sorcerous interference here in the borderlands and resolve the problems between your people and mine. That’s what my king sent me here to do, and I intend to do it.”

I was looking at him in surprise. If I could believe him, then clearly I should give the oath he wanted. But the Lau are a deceitful people, and I was not sure I should believe what he said. I asked, “Why does the summer king send you to deal with all the problems here? If there is a powerful sorcerer working his will here, what can an ordinary man do against him?”

He did not take this as insolence, but answered patiently, “Ryo, you know my people produce quite a few sorcerers. Most are too weak to do much harm, but a few are powerful. Yet you’ll notice we’re not ruled by sorcerers. We’ve had no choice but to learn ways to resist sorcery. Bringing down a sorcerer with clever strategy is generally less costly than doing it with sheer numbers, but one way or another, if a sorcerer is involved in this trouble, I’ll deal with him.”

I thought about this. Then I said, “I know that many-many years ago, the Lau sorcerer Deracas Govis Taranat enslaved your people. No one defeated him. He lived for many years, and the summer country was freed only by his death from age.”

“Ah, you remember that tale. Of course you do. It was a dramatic episode in our history. Yes, that was very unfortunate. It’s true that if the wrong sorcerer isn’t discovered early enough and handled appropriately, that can lead to ... a fairly dramatic episode in our history.”

I said flatly, “The only appropriate way to handle a powerful sorcerer is to kill him.”

Lord Aras sighed. “Frequently that does seem true. I agree that if there’s a sorcerer working along the borderlands here, I’ll certainly have to kill him.”

I nodded. “The curse drives men mad with the desire to rule.” Everyone knew that. I added, “It would be much wiser for you Lau to put every child with such a curse to death, as we Ugaro used to do, until such children ceased to appear among us. Your people would suffer less if you did the same. In time, as for my people, you might free yourselves of the curse entirely.”

“It’s not quite so simple,” he answered, his tone serious. “About one in fifty Lau is a weak sorcerer; should we put all those people to death? That seems hard, as their sorcery is too weak to be a danger to anyone. Also, people like that can often serve to check the influence of a more powerful sorcerer; if we had none of those weak sorcerers, we’d be more vulnerable, not less. But the situation is even worse than that. Suppose your people are correct in your belief that ordinary magic is linked to sorcery. Though we consider the two legally distinct, there’s considerable evidence for a natural linkage, as many times sorcerers are born into families that carry that kind of magic. Nearly half of all Lau can work at least minor cantrips. What should we do, Ryo?”

I had not thought of any of this. I had not realized so many Lau could work magic. I did not like that idea at all. But he was right. That would make the Ugaro custom impossible for the Lau.

Lord Aras nodded. “So, you see. But this does mean that we have to deal with dangerous sorcerers once or twice in a generation. This seems likely to be one of those times. Ryo, if I’m going to have to deal with a powerful, ambitious sorcerer, I need every asset I can gather into my hands. You’re one of those assets. I ask again: can you take oath to me? I had some ideas for how to approach the problems here, but now that I have you in my hand, I hope I may discover broader options. Take oath to me as I ask, and those options expand still further. Wouldn’t it be better if peace came again and our peoples could trade as we used to? I promise you, that’s what I’m trying to achieve.”

Obviously that would be better. Obviously if there were a sorcerer working his will in the borderlands, I should do anything possible to assist in his destruction.

I believed at least that the scepter-holder did not mean ill by what he asked. He said he wished to return good to me for the good I had done him. An honorable man would want that. A generous man would want it. I thought it was true. After even the little I had seen of him, I could not believe it was false.

It is not given to any man to know what will come of his actions, and yet men must act.

Finally I knelt and bowed to the floor, as my people do for such matters. Then I looked him in the face, and said deliberately, “I accept your authority, Aras Eren Samaura, as though you were my father. I will obey you as though I were your son. This I swear before the gods, by my mother’s name, which is Marag inGara, daughter of Marag inKarano. To this, I bind myself by my father’s honor as well as by my own.”

He nodded and answered seriously, “Thank you, Ryo inGara. I accept your oath. Before the gods, I swear I will keep faith. Is there anything else I should do or say?”

“No, my lord. It is done.” I felt shaky, as though I had taken a wound but did not yet know whether it was mortal. I did not regret the oath, for my reasons to give it still seemed good to me, but I thought it would be a long time before I knew whether I had been right to give it.

He said warmly, “Then it’s well done, I hope. Stand up, please.” Taking the knife from his belt, he came forward and offered this to me, hilt first. “Every warrior should carry a weapon. Since you have none of your own, take this one.” He did not look at my guards, but though I heard Geras draw a breath as though he would speak, he did not protest.

Though Lord Aras had said he would treat me as a guest and not as a prisoner, I had not expected anything of the kind. I bowed my head, took the knife from his hand, and hooked the sheath to my belt. I began to say something, I hardly knew what, but at that moment, a sharp knock came on the door.

Talon Commander Harana threw it open and came in without waiting for the warleader to give permission. He said, hard and terse, “Aras, there’s been a major offensive to the east. Dumau Sen and Erem Sen’ve been burned to the ground, that’s the word we’ve got right now, but you might get more out of the courier than I could.”

The warleader’s face tightened at this news. If Ugaro had struck hard and won a victory, I could not be displeased. But I could not guess what Lord Aras might do in answer, or what might happen next.

He said to Talon Commander Harana, “I’ll want to see the courier at once, of course. If you’d send for Lucas and Nikoles—”

“Already on the way,” Harana told him.

Lord Aras nodded. He said to Geras, “Troop Leader, take Ryo somewhere and get him something to eat; it’s nearly noon and he hasn’t had anything since yesterday. In fact, let’s begin as we mean to go on: take him into the camp. I’d like him back here in an hour and a half. Ryo, please be guided by the advice of your guards.”

Geras touched his hand to his heart and looked at me. I did not want anything to eat. Thinking of sorcerers made my stomach tighten into a knot, and I would far rather have stayed to listen to the decisions that would be made here. But though the warleader was pleased to speak in that gentle manner, plainly this was an order. I could not argue with him; I would not have argued with my father. I bowed my head to him and followed Geras from the room.

-7-

The scepter-holder’s camp lay east of the town. All the tents stood in straight rows, smoke rising from cooking fires until a haze drifted across all the sky. The scents of the smoke and of unfamiliar seasonings nearly covered those of trampled grass and mud and people.

I had heard Lord Aras give the order to take me into the camp, but I had been thinking of other things. Now I stopped. We had not even stepped off the paved street into the fields, we were still half a bowshot from the first rows of tents, and already some of the Lau soldiers were turning to look at me.

Geras laid his hand on my arm, saying easily, “There’s got to be a first time, Ryo. We might as well get it over. We’ll go right through the camp to our own division.”

I could hardly set my feet like a stubborn child and refuse to walk. I made certain my face reflected nothing of my unease and went the way Geras indicated.

When we came to the great camp, many soldiers deliberately crowded our path, staring at me and setting their hands on their weapons to let me know they were not happy to have an Ugaro warrior among them. But Geras said in a curt, authoritative tone, not loud but pitched to carry, “Listen up! This is Lord Gaur’s own personal guest. Our lord’s said he’ll answer any offense against his Ugaro like it was an offense to him. Those words, just like that.”

That made the soldiers change their minds. Suddenly they were all pretending they were not interested at all.

“That’s got it,” Geras said quietly.

I soon saw that this was true. Word obviously spread quickly, and although many men still turned to look at me, they did not try to come close and seldom reached to touch the hilt of a weapon.

As we came among the tents, I saw that women rather than men tended many of the cooking fires, and moved here and there about other tasks. I could not help but stare. Ugaro warriors do not take their wives or sisters or daughters into a camp of war, except sometimes a singer, and that is not the same at all. Perhaps these soldiers were so many they did not fear defeat and so were not concerned about risk to those to whom they owed protection. Such arrogance seemed most unwise to me, for only the gods know what the turning of the days may bring. But it was hardly my place to speak on such a matter. I made no comment.

The cooking fires were big, with stones laid in them for cooking, or pots set directly into the coals. Eight or twice eight soldiers sat around each fire, sometimes more, many with one or two women preparing food for them. As we passed one of the cooking fires more closely, I looked at the women with interest, for I had seen few Lau women in my life. I had not been old enough to escort our women when trade between our people and the Lau had been easy.

We take young women or girls occasionally in raids against other tribes of our own people. The young men who go on such raids carry blunted weapons; the girls who will be carried away sew the white tails of ermine onto their sleeves to show that they are the ones the warriors should take up. After they bring the girls back to their own people, the young men court them with great care. It is enormously embarrassing when a girl sends word to her brothers that she is unhappy and wishes to go back to her mother’s tent. Everyone knows a story about a young man who pressed a girl too hard and lost her in that way.

But Ugaro warriors never carry away Lau women. All the stories we tell of such incidents make it clear that neither they nor their children can bear the cold of the winter country. The occasional children born to both kinds of people live in the borderlands among the Lau. One sometimes sees a Lau with a little Ugaro blood, but the reverse is very rare.

Now I saw for myself that no Lau woman would be fit for the winter country. There were two women at the fire we passed most closely, and both straightened and turned and stared, wide-eyed, as I and my guards came near. It was hard for me to judge Lau ages, but they seemed young to me. Still, they were nearly as tall as the men—certainly taller than I. They cropped their hair even shorter than a Lau man would, right against their heads, but of course for a woman it is different. A man never cuts his hair except to show he is ashamed. I could not imagine why a woman would do such a thing, but she may do it if she wishes and it will not suggest to anyone that she should be ashamed.

These Lau women were beautiful as the small deer are beautiful, but they were not very womanly. There was no roundness to them. They had delicate features, graceful necks, small breasts, long limbs, narrow waists, slender hands, and small feet. They wore simple garments of undyed cloth that swept from collar-bone to ankle but left their arms bare. Their brown skin was fine and smooth.

One of these women murmured when she looked at me, a wordless sound of astonished alarm, and many of the soldiers at that fire immediately got to their feet, setting their hands to their weapons. I stopped. I could hardly see how this could end well, but I did not have any idea what to do. If I looked away and walked past, even that would not help: I could tell they would come after me.

This time it was Esau who stepped past me and thrust out a hand, shoving the nearest man back hard. He said, his tone bored, “Get your ear to the ground, man. Don’t you know this Ugaro is Lord Gaur’s personal guest?”

The soldier plainly thought he might not care and did not like to be shoved, but another man grabbed his arm and said in an undertone, “That’s Esau Karuma, out of Ianan’s fifth division.” At this, not only the one soldier, but most of the other men near enough to hear, drew back and looked away. Suyet leaned near, grinning, and whispered, “Most famous brawler in the whole army.” Esau pretended he did not hear.

Geras glanced at Suyet and said, a little sternly, “Run ahead and tell our division what’s toward. Let Aedani know we’ll have a guest for the noon meal.”

My youngest guard nodded, still smiling, and jogged ahead of us. I went on with my other guards, though now I took more care and did not look at the women so openly. Finally it seemed we had come to the right place, because although many soldiers looked up when they saw me, their manner was not the same. These soldiers were much less hostile.

“Our talon,” Geras said with satisfaction. “Here, our division’s this way. Those tents there.”

Among the Lau, a file is eight men and a division is eight files. I knew that was twenty, three times, and four more. A talon is eight divisions, which was too many for me for me to think about properly. I asked, “How many talons are here?”

Geras gave me a straight look. “Nine of Lord Gaur’s, and three that belong to Lord Kasurat. Every lord of the borderland counties has called up his own men, and our king sent four lords general before he gave up and sent Lord Gaur, so there’re concentrations like this up and down the borderlands. How many Ugaro are across the river?”

Far, far fewer. He knew that. He meant me to think about it. I did. I wondered whether Royova inVotaro knew so many Lau soldiers had come to the borderlands of the summer country. If I had not given my oath, I might have gotten away to warn the inVotaro warleader. Now I could not.

At last my guards turned off the path to go among the tents. The soldiers here sat comfortably around fires, eating their noon meal. Around the fires we approached sat twenty men and a few more, Suyet among them. Also three women, two young and wearing undyed cloth as before, but one older, perhaps the age of my oldest brother, perhaps older than that. This woman wore similar clothing, but I guessed she must be a woman of higher status, for hers had been dyed in the rich, bright colors the Lau prefer. Though the garment was almost as simple, the color was like rubies poured into cloth, and a sash yellow as sunlight crossed between her breasts and wrapped around her slender waist. She wore three slender golden bangles around one wrist, and little red crystals in her ears. I had known Lau women and sometimes men pierced their ears, but I had never seen it before.

I pretended not to notice the women, though they jumped to their feet and backed up a little when they saw me. But the men looked more at Geras than at me and did not get up or show offense that I had come there.

Geras held out his hand to the older woman, who hesitated only an instant before she came forward.  She was fine-boned and delicate as the younger Lau women, with none of the roundness that comes to Ugaro women with age. She looked at me with great curiosity and, so far as I could tell, no fear, though when I met her eyes, she lowered her gaze from mine at once.

“Ryo inGara, my wife, Aedani,” Geras told me. He was watching me carefully, as one would expect at such a moment, but he said to his wife, “Dani, this is Lord Gaur’s Ugaro, Ryo inGara, son of the lord of the inGara. I promise you, Ryo is a polite and respectful young man. He speaks darau, probably better than I do.”

I had been surprised and a little shocked that Geras would be among the Lau who had brought a wife into a camp of war, set in a place where battle might come. Nor had he warned me he would bring me to his own wife’s tent. But at least now I understood how I should behave, which made me feel better when surrounded by so much that was strange. I nodded to the woman and said in my most polite manner, “I thank you for your hospitality, Aedani, and for the place you offer me at your fire.”

There was a little stir among the men. Two of them laughed. I did not know what had amused them and pretended not to notice, because if I noticed such a thing I would be offended, and Lord Aras had commanded that I refrain from answering any insult.

Geras’ wife looked up again with wide eyes. Her gaze went to her husband and then returned to me. But then she smiled and answered courteously, “I am pleased and honored that any guest of Lord Gaur should choose to eat with my husband and his men. Please, sit and be welcome.”

Though polite, this seemed a strange way to speak. Among Ugaro, if a woman is present, the tent and the fire belong to her. When a woman prepares food, she offers it to whomever she pleases, with no obligation to serve anyone. A man whose mother or wife or sister is displeased with him must shift for himself, and soon grows weary of the plain fare men know how to prepare. Now I wondered whether, among Lau, or at least among soldiers, perhaps the tents might be more like those of young unmarried men and so belonged to the soldiers, even though Geras’ wife was here. I set the puzzle aside to consider at a later time.

Geras went aside to talk to other soldiers somewhere else, but Esau and Suyet stayed with me, one to either side. I looked into the fire so that I would not give offense by looking at any of the Lau, though it should be for Geras’ wife to decide whether anything I did offended her. I wondered whether the younger women were her daughters or her younger sisters or the wives of other men, but I did not ask. They did not come near me or look directly at me, but moved softly around the fire, giving the men food and cups of thin ale. I tried not to seem to look at them, but their very quiet drew the eye.

Geras’ wife Aedani brought me food herself. This was a round loaf of bread that had been hollowed out and filled with a thick, spicy stew of cracked wheat and lentils and beef. Besides this, there were crocks of soft, white cheese sweetened with honey, and apples to eat with the cheese. It was not like any food Ugaro would make. But it had been a long time since I had eaten anything, and I found, despite my unease, that I was very hungry.

At first no one said anything. Then the men began to speak to one another, ignoring me. The women did not take a place by the fire, nor did they speak to each other or to the soldiers, but brought more food and then stepped back, their eyes lowered. This seemed strange and uncomfortable, but I did not comment.

At last Suyet asked me in a friendly way, as though continuing an earlier conversation, “But how did you know the killing cold was coming, Ryo?”

His expression was guileless, but everyone immediately stilled to hear what I would say. It was obvious what Suyet wanted from me. After a moment, I answered, “I felt it. The pressure of it. I heard it, the silence of it. The birds become still first, and the little animals. At home, our dogs know it before we do, and our ponies. There is almost always enough time for everyone to find shelter.”

Everyone was listening, of course. Suyet nodded and said, his manner as easy as though we spoke privately, “Our horses had no idea, but of course they wouldn’t. You saved us all. You saved Lord Gaur. Why did you? Everyone is wondering.”

I thought about the kind of truth I would not mind telling all these Lau. Finally I said, “If you had been pursuing my brother or going toward my mother’s camp, that would have been different. I would have said nothing. But you were going back to your own country. You were almost at the river. Lord Aras had been generous to me. My people have seen one and another Lau warleader, but I think perhaps we have not seen one like your scepter-holder. I would not have wished him to die there in that way.”

There was a little stir when I said that. The soldiers liked that I had said it. But one of them leaned forward, looking hard at me. “Word is, back in the winter country, before the river, you tried to kill him. That true?”

I felt the heat rise into my face. “I made a mistake. I thought he was a sorcerer. He was extraordinarily generous to me.”

The man continued to frown at me. “When there’s a gods-hated sorcerer causing problems, Lord Gaur takes care of it. He takes care of whatever problems other people can’t deal with. That’s why he’s here, dealing with your gods-hated—”

“Hold hard,” Esau ordered, glancing up.

He had not spoken forcefully, but the other man sat back a little and said in a different tone “—dealing with the problems here.”

“Yes,” I answered quietly. “He has explained that to me.”

Suyet told them, his manner as easy as before, “Ryo’s taken oath to Lord Gaur. He gave him a knife. Would someone please give Ryo an apple?”

Aedani took the fruit from one of the other women and brought it to me herself, quietly, bowing her head as she offered it. I smiled at her in thanks as I took it, and for a moment she met my eyes. Then she stepped back again.

“There you go,” Suyet said to me in the same cheerful tone, “Cut it for us, Ryo. Let’s see how sharp that knife is.”

I thought now I knew why Lord Aras had chosen both Suyet and Esau for my guards. I drew the knife. It was certainly sharp. I cut the apple into quarters and cored the pieces, then cleaned the knife with a cloth Aedani gave me, taking the chance to examine it. The blade showed the ripples of the best workmanship. Gold wire had been inlaid along the guard in a complicated pattern. No one could doubt that this knife had belonged to the scepter-holder. I slipped it away and ate my piece of the apple, slowly, thinking about the gift of that knife and the way Suyet had made certain everyone knew of it.

The apple was crisp, sweet with the autumn that lingered so long in the summer country. None of the fruits of the winter country are so sweet and mild. We had traded for fruit of this kind, before the war.

One of the soldiers, not the one who had spoken before, said after a little while, “So you took oath to Lord Gaur. Your people keep their oaths, do they?”

That made Esau straighten sharply. It would not have been right to permit a Lau to answer that kind of insult on my behalf, so I said, meeting the soldier’s eyes, “I am certain you do not mean to express doubt of inGara honor. I am certain of this because doubts of that kind demand drawn knives.”

I did not touch the hilt of my knife, but everyone paused in whatever else they were doing. The two younger women backed away from the fire and from me, but I noticed that Aedani did not step back in that way. She stayed where she was, smiling a little. I was pleased to see that Geras’ wife was brave, as a soldier’s wife should be, but I looked steadily at the man who had spoken carelessly to me.

The soldier leaned back a little and raised one hand, fingers spread, a conciliatory gesture that obviously meant the same thing among Lau as among Ugaro. “Not how I meant it, and I’d be sorry if you took it that way. It’s just, we worry about an Ugaro near our lord.”

“So,” I answered, accepting this. It was close enough to an apology, and the concern was not unreasonable. I said, “I will answer your question, which I take merely as a request for information. Somewhere in the winter lands, there may be a tribe whose warriors take their oaths lightly. But inGara is not that tribe, and the sons of Sinowa inGara are not those warriors.”

There was a little pause. Then the man said, “Well, that’s fine, then.”

For a wonder, not even Suyet said anything else to me, and slowly a murmur of conversation began again, about the weather—many of the Lau apparently found it cool—and the food, and about what orders the soldiers might receive soon. Everyone knew a courier had brought word of an Ugaro victory some little distance to the east. They wondered whether they would go east to answer that, or what other command might be given.

At last Geras came back, walking slowly, still deep in conversation with another man. When he came to the fire, he nodded to everyone and smiled at his wife, but he did not speak to her. Instead, he said to me, “All right, about time we got back to the house.”

I stood up with the others and said to Geras’ wife, “I thank you for your kindness, Aedani. The food was not like my mother or sisters would make, but it was good.”

This time none of the soldiers laughed. The woman answered softly, not raising her gaze to mine, “One more is no trouble. As long as my husband approves, any guest of Lord Gaur’s, or any polite young man, will always be welcome by any fire I’m tending.”

So, this showed me something of the differences between Ugaro and Lau. I bowed my head politely and allowed my guards to show me the way they wanted me to go.

“This was your wife,” I said to Geras, meaning to ask whether the fire had been hers or not. But his raised hand checked me.

He told me soberly, “It’s not polite to speak directly to another man’s wife in public, Ryo, unless she’s your sister, or maybe a cousin. But of course it’s fine if you do; I don’t mind and Aedani won’t be frightened. She’s a sensible woman.”

“We do it the way Suyet did it: say ‘someone should do this,’ or ‘someone might do this,’” Esau advised me.

“You can speak directly to the other women, the talon wives,” Suyet put in, apparently taking my incredulity for offense. “Just, you should be a little careful with the jewel wives, that’s all.”

“You know what we mean by that? Talon wives and jewel wives?” Geras asked me.

I did not, and said so. I could not remember such terms from the tales I had read.

“I’ll explain them to you later,” Geras promised me. “Anyway, it’s not a problem. Speak to Aedani if you like; it won’t cause trouble for her or me.” He looked at Esau. “It didn’t cause trouble, right?”

“That didn’t cause trouble,” Esau answered, his tone judicious. He looked at me. “You weren’t going to draw on that fool who opened his mouth a little too wide.”

“I could not,” I pointed out. “Lord Aras forbade me to answer any insult with blood. But I would have been ashamed to permit the man to speak slightingly of inGara, so I answered in a way that would make him think again about his words.”

“So you did.” Esau looked at me for another moment. Finally he said to Geras, “No, there was no trouble.”

“Hmm,” said Geras, but he did not say anything more.

By that time we had come back to the town, and to the house, and to the warleader’s rooms. Geras rapped on the door and went in for a moment. Then he came out again and told me, “He’s ready for you. Go on in.”

This time, my guards did not come with me. I knew that was because of my oath. Geras did not shut the door behind me, but left it open and stood in the doorway, his back turned to the room. I knew by this that he did not trust my oath entirely. I pretended not to think of any of this.

Lord Aras had been seated at one of the small tables, where a map had been laid out, but he stood up when I came in. An Ugaro lord would never stand to greet a guest; he would expect a guest to kneel and bow in respect when he came into his presence. I made myself stand straight and look the warleader in the face.

“Ah, Ryo, good,” said Lord Aras. I heard again the slight thickness in his voice. I was certain he suffered from at least a little lung fever, though he was pretending he did not, as he pretended I had not cracked his ribs. He said, “Please step over here and look at this map.”

I obeyed. The river was shown clearly, all its bends and twists for a long distance, with the southern borderlands and some of the lands to the south. But the winter country was nearly blank. I looked questioningly at Lord Aras.

“I’m going to send Talon Commander Samaura west tomorrow, with three talons,” he told me. “I will then take the greater part of my people east, upriver, toward Dumau Sen, and then Erem Sen beyond that.”

“These are the towns that were burned,” I said, to show I was attending.

“Yes,” he agreed. “A man called Marotau should have been in command of our forces in the area. I hope he’s still alive, because a good many things might become clear if I have the opportunity to meet Lord Marotau and ask him one or two questions.”

Something about the way Lord Aras said this made me look at him. “You think this man is the sorcerer?”

“If he’s still alive, I think he may be. I believe the sorcerer must be one of the lords of the borderlands, and for certain reasons Marotau is high on my list. If he’s dead, that will also tell me something useful.”

I nodded. But I asked, “If he is a sorcerer, will you not put yourself at great risk if you confront him? What if he makes you his fool or his slave?” After I spoke, I realized this might be taken as insolence and added at once, “I do not mean to be disrespectful, my lord.”

Lord Aras smiled. “I don’t think you could be disrespectful if you tried, Ryo. You’re an extremely polite young men. We would say, his dupe or his thrall.” The darau terms were almost like the taksu words, but not quite the same. I nodded. Then he went on, “The Lakasha-erra possess certain ... tools, let’s say ... that reduce that risk. My king long ago negotiated the use of those tools on my behalf, as I needed to be able to face the occasional Lau sorcerer, so I think he’s unlikely to be able to do that. You know of the Lakasha?”

I had been staring in surprise, but now I collected myself and answered, “I do, my lord, from the tales I have read. These are the people who live in the land to the south of the summer country, where two Suns rise and set: the first Sun and also his eldest Son.” I could not help but add, “The tales that describe that land and those people are true?”

“Yes, they are. I’ve been there.” He coughed a little from the thickness of the lung fever, but smiled again, his attention turned inward toward memory. “It’s a most astonishing land. The Lakasha are exactly as described: beautiful and terrifying.”

I wished I could see that country and those people with my own eyes. According to the tales, it never rains in the land of the Son of the Sun. All that country is endless golden sand running out as far as the eye can see, with no forests or meadows at all. I could not imagine a land like that. Nor could I easily imagine the Lakasha. The people who live in the land of the Son of the Sun are strange and elegant and dangerous. They are even taller and more slender and darker-skinned than the Lau, but they have the heads of jackals. They are all sorcerers, many very powerful. They are said to make vast gardens in the desert by use of their magic, and to build great shining palaces as high as mountains for their rulers, who are giant lions with the heads of men and iron teeth. Those people are far away and they cannot bear cold, so no matter their power, they do not concern Ugaro, but I could readily believe that they knew ways to brush aside the work of Lau sorcerers.

Lord Aras added, “Regardless, that’s my problem, Ryo, not yours.” He turned back to the map. “Now, this land along here must belong to your inGara tribe. I know the names of a few other tribes here to the east, but I would like to know a good deal more about the tribes here, and about the way the land lies to the north along this part of the river.” He paused, looking at me. Then he said gently, “I did tell you I meant to make use of you, Ryo. If necessary, I’ll do my best to defeat your people so decisively they cease all hostilities against the borderlands, but I’d rather persuade Koro inKarano to come to terms without either side suffering defeat. I hope that taking the sorcerer off the board will make that possible.” He paused. Then he asked, “Is it unreasonable for me to wish to know the names of the tribes I’m facing?”

I could not say it was unreasonable. Everything he said was reasonable, but I still did not want to answer him.

He leaned back in his chair. “Ryo, as yet you’ve hardly had time to find your feet. I’m perfectly aware that I’ve pushed you very hard today. I realize you might be feeling ...”

A slight pause as he searched, I presumed, for a polite way to say vulnerable. Or perhaps fragile. I could hardly see any acceptable way to finish that sentence. So he would not have to try, I said, “I am perfectly well, my lord,” and picked up a stylus lying by the map. With this, I began to sketch the winter country onto the map. I drew in the rough extent of inGara lands, and inGeiro beyond that, and then inKera, and some of those farther east. Each of those tribes held lands that ran far to the north, so each territory was shaped like a wedge, with the narrow end running against the river and the broad end reaching into the steppes of the high north.

Lord Aras studied the map, frowning. “I imagine all these tribes are currently under the command of the warleader of the inVotaro. Royova inVotaro. Is that right?”

I was surprised he would know that name. I said, “Yes, my lord. Though I think this is not the same as saying your talons are under your command. But in war, the lords and warleaders of these tribes permit themselves to be guided by Royova inVotaro.”

“Yes. And inVotaro is the warrior tribe, correct? They serve your king, Koro inKarano, almost as a standing army?”

I knew the words he used, but I was not entirely certain of their meaning. I said, “The inVotaro have no lord of their own, but look to Koro inKarano for that kind of judgment. All the inVotaro are warriors. They have no craftsmen or herdsmen among them, and no women take that name, for the inVotaro seldom marry. When they do, their wives and daughters take the inKarano name and place their tents among those of the inKarano. Perhaps this is what you mean by a standing army.”

“I think it’s close enough, though not exactly the same.” He turned back to the map, tapping the map just north of Dumau Sen. “What can you tell me about the inKera?”

It seemed reasonable to me that Lord Aras should know the nature of his opponents, so I answered without hesitation. “That is a strong and honorable tribe. Soro inKera is their lord. Everyone respects him, though he is a hard-tempered man. He quarreled with my father, so our tribes are enemies, but the enmity is not bitter. An ally of ours would not wish to face you, my lord. But the inKera will care nothing for a tuyo given by the inGara.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Can you tell me about the inKera warleader?”

I could not think of any reason I should not, so I answered, “That is Hokino inKera, Soro’s brother. I have not heard anything to his discredit. People speak well of him. He is said to be a shrewd man of steady temper. I am not surprised Dumau Sen could not stand against him.”

“Will he wish to strike more deeply into the summer country, now that he’s once broken through our defenses at Dumau Sen?” He indicated one town and another, farther south, near the southern edge of the borderlands. “Kosa Sen or Lakana Sen?”

I considered this. “I have never heard anyone call Hokino rash, but he probably would not hold back if he saw a reasonable chance to win honor in that way.”

“Can you guess regarding the tactics he, or any Ugaro warleader, might use when striking that deeply into the summer lands?”

I thought Hokino and his warriors would slip quietly across the river and then travel south very fast, probably jogging through the night. They would come hard against a town at dawn, burn the buildings, kill the cattle or drive them away, destroy the granaries, and kill any townsmen who resisted.

After that they would all run for the river, in small groups or each one alone, before Lau soldiers could possibly come up in their formations to answer the raid. Lau soldiers would search ... but they would not spread out very widely, because the Lau do not like to come against Ugaro unless the numbers are very much in their favor. They have reason for their cowardly way of fighting: one Ugaro warrior will never hesitate to face two or three or four Lau soldiers, and our bows are better as well. So although some of the warriors would be discovered, most would probably manage to get back across the river. They would boast all year of their exploits.

I did not say anything of this. I said, “I am not a warleader, my lord. Hokino inKera is said to be a shrewd man. He will not strike in a stupid way, but I do not know what he will do.”

Lord Aras said, “We lost nearly a full talon at Dumau Sen. I’m not entirely certain how that happened, but I suspect your people provided some sort of tempting bait and ours broke their formation. Then, of course, the town was burned and the cattle driven across the river. But these early reports suggest that many of the townsmen were permitted to flee, especially the women and children. Is that characteristic of Hokino?”

I was surprised he needed to ask that. I told him, “Few warriors of any tribe would strike down women and children unless a war has become very bitter. I have heard nothing that suggests the inKera would do such a thing without cause. My mother respects the wife of Soro inKera, though she is his third wife and young. My mother respects the wife of Hokino as well. Some years ago, when a woman of the inGara met an inKera man at the Convocation and wished to go to the inKera, my mother told my father she did not disapprove, though we were already enemies.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Your father was guided by your mother’s opinion regarding an enemy tribe?”

I could not help but smile at that. “Everyone is guided by my mother’s opinions about everything.” After a moment, I added, “Though he values her advice, my father would not lightly bring my mother near contested territory. Especially not after your soldiers came too near our people, pursuing my brother and our warriors. He will have sent my mother and the other women north, out of your reach. Perhaps there is a different word in darau for the kind of wife a man sends out of danger, rather than brings with him into a place where battle may come.”

“Ah.” Lord Aras was looking at me, his expression thoughtful. If he was amused or offended, I could not tell it. He said, “Geras is married, isn’t he? Many troop leaders marry; marriage is thought to settle a man, and their wives are useful in managing the thousand auxiliary tasks necessary to support a standing army. Or, I should say, useful in managing the talon wives, who are so necessary in those tasks. I’m not certain your people have any such, ah, institutions, as you don’t have standing armies. Ordinary troopers are not allowed to marry, but they may have talon wives. These women cook for a file, or two files, sometimes more. They do the washing and help with many other tasks. But I don’t believe they are like wives as Ugaro understand the term.”

I was beginning to doubt that any Lau’s wife was like an Ugaro’s wife, but I did not say so. I thought the soldiers should cook for themselves and not bring their women into dangerous places. I did not say that either. Maybe it was different when so very many soldiers came to a place. This was something I wished to think about before I said anything about it.

Lord Aras was also silent for a little while, thinking about other things, his eyes on the map. He said after some time, not looking up, “Many of the townspeople of Erem Sen were slaughtered, Ryo. Including many women and children. Or so early reports claim. Can you comment about that?”

I looked at the map as well. “That would probably have been the inYoraro. I do not know them as well, for they are neither allies nor enemies of inGara. But the ordinary acts that occur during a war would not be enough for a tribe’s warriors to behave in that way. I think the people of Erem Sen must have offended the inYoraro in some important manner if anything of that kind occurred.”

He nodded slowly. “I hope we’ll find that the first reports were exaggerated. Well. We’ll ride east tomorrow morning. Early. I have one or two ideas that might help ... re-shape the problems we face, perhaps.” He looked over at me and added, “I think I’ve enough to consider. You may go if you wish. I’ll speak to you again tomorrow.”

I was glad to be dismissed. I felt the day had been very long, and if I could not be among my own people, then I wanted to be alone. But I turned back before I reached the door and said, “You should rest as well, my lord. The lung fever will cling if you do not rest enough.”

He glanced at me sharply. Then he smiled. “Thank you, Ryo. My physicians tell me so as well, but they assure me the fever’s grip is easing. I’ll rest soon.”

I nodded and went out.

The room to which my guards took me then was not the windowless room where I had woken, but a different room again, on the highest floor of the house. This was far above the ground, a level with only two rooms. I was meant to stay in the smaller of these rooms, I gathered, and my guards in the larger.

My room held only a bed and a small table. The bed was heaped with blankets, though I could not imagine even a Lau would need a blanket in such warm weather. Or perhaps they might: a fire had been left burning in a small fireplace. I shoved the logs apart with my foot and smothered the flames with ashes.

The room was not uncomfortable, if the walls had not been stone and if the warmth had been less heavy. It was a corner room, so there were windows in two of the walls. The windows were high and the walls sheer, but I suspected that despite my oath, someone would be watching to be certain I did not try such a thing.

One of the windows faced north. The shutters were open and the breeze came from across the river, still carrying a hint of the chill of the winter lands. That was welcome. The other window faced east, toward the field where the Lau tents stretched out in endless order. I preferred to look north instead. But when I looked down the green slopes and across the river to the snowy forest, the longing for my mother and my mother’s tent, for my brothers and my younger sister and my own people around me, rose up so strongly I could not bear to look any longer and turned away from that view.

Sighing, I lay down on the bed. I closed my eyes to help myself think, but my thoughts went first in circles and then down into darkness, and I slept.

-8-

In the morning we rode east, away from Tavas Sen. Six talons traveled with us. Of the talon commanders, I knew Harana and made careful note of Ianan, the man who commanded the talon to which my guards belonged. He was lightly built even for a Lau, with a thin, high-boned face and a straight mouth. His manner was serious, even somber. I could not read his expression when he looked at me, but he spared a small nod for my guards before mounting his horse and riding away to join his talon.

I rode near Lord Aras. He sat his horse with his back straight and his hands quiet. I thought his ribs still hurt him, but he hid it well. His mare, a beautiful deep-chested blue roan, had probably been chosen for her exceptionally smooth stride rather than her color.

Two talons were mounted; the other soldiers walked. Those did not walk each at his own pace, but in strict order, one file of eight soldiers after another in neat rows, each man setting his foot down exactly in time with all the rest. If a warleader tried to make Ugaro walk in that way, the warriors would stop listening to him and choose a different man to lead them. But the Lau soldiers did not seem to mind it.

Behind the men came wagons, drawn by heavier horses. Women drove the teams and walked beside those wagons, so that was the same as among Ugaro, though the wagons were nothing compared to ours. We live in our wagons, those of us who live in the high north, and they are made to be beautiful and comfortable. Lau wagons are much rougher.

I followed Geras’ glance as we passed the wagons and saw his wife Aedani driving one of the wagons. She was smiling in our direction, but neither of them lifted a hand or so much as nodded to the other as we passed. Of course a respected woman will be restrained in her manner, but none of the young women or girls waved either, and that was different from the way it would have been with Ugaro.

At first we followed the river road, but soon took a smaller, rougher track that bore more to the south. We passed many fields that had been left fallow and many deserted farmhouses. Some had been burned, even those farther from the river. As dusk came to the summer lands, we camped in the midst of the fields. Many of the Lau brought out light coats and put them on. Suyet did. I raised my eyebrows at him. I was still too warm even now that the Sun had stepped below the edge of the world.

“It’s chilly,” he told me. “Everyone agrees except you.”

I would have been glad to argue this, but then a soldier came to tell me Lord Aras had sent for me.

When I came to his tent, he stood up to greet me. “Ryo,” he said to me with a little nod. “As my guest, you’ll eat with me when that’s possible.” Food had been brought: bread and a kind of thick soup made with fish. He said, “I’d like to know much more about the winter country and about your people, but this isn’t an interrogation. Don’t answer anything if you’d rather not. Ask me anything that occurs to you; I’ll answer if I can. I know your oldest brother is the inGara warleader. Will you tell me something about your other siblings?”

I missed my younger sister too much to speak of her, but I did not mind saying that my older sister and my older brothers had been born to my father’s first wife. I did not mind saying I had one younger brother, a son of my mother. My older brothers were warriors, but everyone had known for years that my younger brother would be a poet. “He declared it when he was twelve,” I explained. “No one was remotely surprised. Raga was never inclined to the skills that befit a warrior. When he was very young, only just walking, he picked up my mother’s flute rather than my father’s knife. This is not always a sign that a boy will become a poet, but usually it is a sign he will not become a warrior. Very often the sons of a singer will become poets. My mother is foremost among singers.”

“So your mother is one of the famous Ugaro singers!” he said. “I would like to know more about singers—and poets—but I’m not certain I even know what questions to ask. Only women become singers, is that right?”

“The Moon hears the voices of women more clearly than she hears the voices of men,” I told him. “Sometimes, not often, a poet may speak to her so that she hears him as though he were a woman. My brother may be that kind of poet, if he is lucky.”

“I see. So your brother hopes someday to be as prestigious as a female singer? Ryo, I think your people may hold women in greater esteem than we Lau. That’s not what we’re taught, but I’m beginning to believe it must be true. Or is it only singers you regard so highly?”

I thought about this. Finally I said, “Every one of our women is a daughter of the Moon. Of course, the Sun is stronger, but when he comes to the winter country, he enters his wife’s tent and owes her respect. Every man, whether a herdsman or a craftsman or a warrior or a poet, has a mother to whom he owes deference; and a wife to whom he owes respect and generosity; and if he is fortunate, a little sister or a daughter, to whom he owes protection and kindness.”

Lord Aras nodded, considering this. “We Lau believe we owe all women protection and kindness. Respect and deference may not be offered so frequently, and I’m not entirely willing to say all Lau men even meet their obligation for kindness—though I hope no man under my command would do otherwise.” He hesitated. “You Ugaro marry young, isn’t that right? But I don’t believe you’re married, are you?”

I explained that the sons of a tribe’s lord and the daughters of a singer often marry late. I did not say that a daughter of a king will marry latest of all, because her sons will be numbered among the king’s heirs and so everyone wishes to express an opinion about the tribe she should marry into. Certainly I did not say that my mother had been speaking to the aunt of Darra inKarano. I did not ask whether Lord Aras might someday release me from my oath so that I might return to my own people. Showing concern regarding the matter would have been disgraceful, as there was no possible reason he should be obligated to do so.

I returned his questions in kind, and learned that he was married. I should not have needed to ask, as he was far too old not to have married. He had passed through fifty-one summers—more than I had guessed. His wife had given him three daughters and, as she now neared the age at which a woman ceases to bear, probably would never give him a son. But he showed no sign of displeasure at this lack. “Lucas is nearly my son,” he told me. “He’s my nephew, in fact. My brother passed into the land of the shades twenty years ago, so he came into my household. He was twelve. A difficult age for a boy to lose his father.”

I nodded. That was the same for both our peoples, that a boy whose father had died should go to the tent of his father’s brother’s wife. It made me feel more in charity with the Lau, that they would follow at least some appropriate customs.

After the meal, Lord Aras sent me to the place where I would sleep. “By rights you should sleep in my tent,” he told me. “Please don’t be offended that I don’t find that possible. I trust your oath, Ryo, but my soldiers are less confident, and I don’t want to upset them.”

“Everyone knows a tale in which a man’s honor is tested past breaking,” I answered. “All those tales are tragic, yet still sometimes a man may break his oath. I cannot protest the caution of your people.”

He smiled. “You’re commendably agreeable. Thank you. I’ve asked Esau’s file to make room for you in their tent. I believe one or two men of that file may be able to cool the air in the tent. Don’t hesitate to ask.”

They could cool the air by magic, he meant. I said with restraint, “That will not be necessary, my lord. I am certain I will be perfectly comfortable.”

I feared I would be far less than comfortable. I believed Esau wished to be friendly, but sharing a tent is different from sharing a meal. Nor could I believe that the soldiers of his file would be pleased to share their tent with an Ugaro. I could see many reasons Esau would be considered a better choice than Suyet, who was so young, or Geras, who was married. But I was still nervous.

Indeed, when I came to Esau’s tent, all the soldiers stood up: seven Lau I did not know, looking at me with expressions I could not read. I could not tell one from the next, except that one man had a beard shaped differently than the others, and a little crystal gleamed in the pierced ear of another. All these men seemed much like Esau himself: older than I, respected soldiers, confident of themselves and suspicious of me. I thought I had been right to fear they would hate me. I could hardly be surprised. In any long war, men will lose brothers and cousins, nephews and friends, and so the feeling between enemies becomes bitter.

“It’s all right,” Esau told me. “Go sit down.” He gave me a little push to show me I should go into the tent, and indicated a place to one side. The tent was not so large as an Ugaro tent meant for so many, and not nearly so comfortable.

I lowered my eyes and sat down, trying to be quiet and not cause offense. If these men chose to show me their dislike of Ugaro, I would have no recourse: I had been ordered not to answer any insult. But no one spoke to me, not at first. After a little time, the soldiers sat down again too. Esau and some of the others went outside the tent, to sit by the fire and talk, but three men stayed inside the tent with me. They watched me. I could not tell whether they were curious or angry or perhaps felt something else, but finally the man with the earring said, “It’ll be strange, but it’s not a problem. We all agreed we’d take the duty. Just don’t draw that knife Lord Gaur gave you, hear? Because there’s no point causing that kind of excitement, right?”

“Yes,” I said. This did not seem as bad as I had feared. To show I understood my disadvantage, I took the knife from my belt, still in its sheath, and laid it aside.

“Good,” the man said. That had pleased him. He smiled, his teeth very white in his dark face and the dimness of the tent. “Your name’s Ryo. Mine’s Laraut.” He did not tell me the names of the other men, but he said, “If you’re tired, lie down and go to sleep. We’ll keep watch. You’re safe here, so long as you don’t start something yourself.”

I still felt nervous, but I unrolled the bolster nearest me and lay down, though I could not bring myself to close my eyes. For a long time, I lay still and listened to the quiet voices of the men who shared the tent with me, and to the muted sounds from the camp outside. The air in the tent grew a little cooler, and I knew someone had worked a cantrip. I tried not to think about that. No one came near me, except later when Esau unrolled his own pallet between me and all the other men of his file. Then I finally slept.

Several times that night I woke. Each time one of the soldiers was awake and watchful, but each time the man only glanced my way and then looked away, apparently unconcerned. The soldiers’ calm indifference made me feel easier myself, and I was able to lie down again and go back to sleep.

In the morning, I found the fire had already been lit and a woman had come there, with water to fill a pot for tea and another pot for the grain porridge the Lau like to eat in the morning. She knelt by the fire, arranging kindling, but she looked up when I came out of the tent. Her eyes widened, and she stiffened in alarm, but then she looked past me at the soldiers. Some of them had gone already about their duties, but Esau had come out of the tent with me and some of the others already sat by the fire. I saw how the woman’s shoulders relaxed when she looked at them. That made me like them better.

She was a young woman, or I thought she was young, perhaps near my own age. I remembered Lord Aras explaining that soldiers of the lowest ranks did not marry, so I thought she must be a talon wife rather than a jewel wife. Like the other Lau women, she was slender and graceful, taller than I by a hand or more, with her hair cropped very close to her head. Her bones looked as fragile as the bones of a bird. I could not tell whether the Lau would consider her pretty, but I thought she was, though like any Lau woman, she was not womanly in the way of Ugaro women. She wore a plain dress, without the embroidery and decoration an Ugaro woman would prefer, but the cloth was good, dyed a pretty light green. She wore copper bangles on her wrists and one ankle, and little copper rings in her ears. She looked at me carefully, from beneath lowered lashes. Then she spooned some of the porridge into a bowl, which she held out to me, her gaze cast down.

One of the soldiers said to me, “Geras’ll be by soon to pick you up. Come and eat.” It was the one called Laraut; I recognized him by the little earring he wore. I came to the fire as he had ordered, but as I took the bowl, I said to the woman, “I thank you for your kindness,” as one says to a woman whose good opinion is not something one may assume.

The soldiers looked at me in surprise. Esau said in an easy tone, “Lalani’s our wife in the talon. I’d tell you to be polite to her, but I don’t need to because you’ll be polite anyway. Lalani, you know our Ugaro’s the son of the inGara lord, so none of your impertinence, hear?”

The young woman’s manner had been almost subdued, but at this she looked up, smiling, so that she suddenly looked mischievous. She reminded me at once of my younger sister, though she was completely different. She said to Esau, “I know who he is. Everyone knows who he is. He’s Lord Gaur’s personal guest, and if anybody offends him, Esau Karuma will make that person wish he’d kept his tongue between his teeth.” Her voice was light and quick. Looking at me openly for the first time, she said, “I’m pleased to cook for you, Ryo inGaro. Aedani says Geras says Ugaro respect their wives. Are you married?”

Esau rolled his eyes. “Didn’t I say no impertinence?”

“Was that impertinent?” Lalani said.

She spoke so innocently that I knew it had been. I had to laugh. “I am not married,” I told her. I wanted to ask whether she would rather be married properly or whether she was pleased to be a talon wife. I did not ask that. I said instead, “Ugaro warriors respect their wives, or if a man does not, then his wife may put his possessions outside her tent or her wagon so that everyone sees she is unhappy. If she does not relent, he must go to his mother’s tent, or his sister’s. If no woman will permit him to enter her tent, he must go to the kind of tent young men share before they are married. This is not something a man wishes to happen.”

Now her eyes were dancing. She did not seem afraid at all any longer. She asked me, “But what if a wife does not respect her husband?”

I smiled back. “He may take his possessions and leave her tent. That is not as embarrassing for anyone, but it is not something a woman wishes to happen. It means the wife of the lord will come to ask her why her husband was unhappy. A husband and a wife are wiser to settle disagreements softly, before anyone is too angry.”

“A very wise way of handling everything!” Lalani said, smiling. “Perhaps my men will be more respectful if I put their things out in the mud when they displease me.”

The soldiers grinned, and Laraut said, mock fearfully, “Not all my fancy shirts, Lalani! How would I manage?”

She laughed and rose to her feet. She said to me, “I should go—there’s a lot to do. But if the porridge does not please you, tell me and I will bring something else.”

I would rather have broken the night’s fast with more meat and less grain, but I said, “This food is good,” and ate what she had given me.

Later, when Geras and Suyet came and my guards took me to the horse lines, I found a chance to ask Esau how Lalani had come to be a talon wife. I thought he might be offended, but I wished to know. He did not seem to take offense. He said briefly, “Too many girls in the family. Her father couldn’t afford dowries for them all.” I knew what a dowry was, or I thought I did, but I had never understood why the custom existed. Nor had I ever thought of what might happen to a girl whose family could not pay for her to marry properly. Indeed, there was very little in this answer that I understood, but I nodded and did not ask any more.

Every day that followed after that was much like the first. I stayed mostly in the company of my guards. I saw plainly that some of the Lau did hate me, but these men kept at a distance; the soldiers I knew better stayed between me and the rest. If any of the soldiers of Esau’s file hated me, I could not tell it.

Most often I joined Lord Aras for at least one meal during each day. He asked many questions, but usually about things I did not mind explaining, and he was pleased to explain things that puzzled me about the Lau. Even so, I did not readily understand the custom of taking talon wives; or if I understood it, I did not like it. But I saw that Lalani teased the soldiers and was not afraid of anyone, and Aedani, though quieter, showed her confidence in other ways.

I was not permitted to take up a sword, but Esau and some of the others taught me the weaponless manner of fighting that the Lau call wrestling. The manner of it was not the same as when Ugaro fight with bare hands. For the Lau, wrestling seemed a game or a sport, not a way of settling an argument or answering an insult. Once I learned the manner of their wrestling, few Lau could defeat me, but I discovered I could not beat Esau. No one else could either, so this was not a shameful failure. I enjoyed the practice.

Suyet and his friends, mostly young men like himself, also taught me a game called sestaket, played with a board and pegs. I was not good at this game and preferred to leave it to the Lau, who could count quickly and remember numbers well.

During the whole of the eighth day, we moved much more slowly, and the same on the ninth day. When the afternoon of the ninth day came, we paused for a long time. The soldiers halted where they were and sat down in their places, in the dust of the road. Rounds of hard bread and soft salty cheese and olives were passed along the rows, and skins of thin ale. I realized for the first time that few mounted troops were with us. Nearly all the mounted soldiers had ridden on. All of this made me feel uneasy.

My guards rode a little aside with me so that I could sit in the shade of one of the few trees, not far from the place where Lord Aras conferred with his talon commanders. Geras sent Suyet for food and ale. I was glad of the ale because the dust thrown up by the steps of so many men made my throat hurt, but I could not eat anything. I thought of the map I had seen, with the Lau towns marked south of the towns that had been burned, but not so far south that Ugaro could not strike against them. We might be near one or another of those towns now. I could not think of any reason why we would have halted in this way unless we would go on later, perhaps all through the night, and I could not think of any reason we should do such a thing unless Lord Aras expected to come against enemies and was trying now to set the timing of that encounter.

I said to Geras, “Lord Aras expects to fight?”

He could hardly deny it, and after a moment he admitted, “Looks likely.” He pointed south and east. “Kosa Sen’s that way, about ten miles. I’m guessing Lord Gaur plans to press ahead tonight and come to Kosa Sen around dawn, but whether we’re looking at a fight, who knows? Wait a bit and we’ll see.”

I nodded, but I asked, “He thought Ugaro might strike against one town or another, but how would he know which? Or that a war party would come this night and not earlier or later?”

“When the trick’s figuring out what your opponent’ll do, Lord Gaur’s as sharp as they come,” Geras said, blithely confident. “We’ve had outriders way out in front, so I guess someone’s seen something that makes him think there’s a decent chance he’s picked the right place and time.” He did not say that if this many Lau caught an Ugaro raiding party in Kosa Sen, without enough warning for the warriors to scatter, they could certainly destroy it completely. He did not have to say it.

“It’ll be all right,” Suyet told me earnestly. “If there’s a battle, it’ll be with an enemy tribe, right?”

Days ago, I had smoothed out the earth in a flat place and sketched for him the way the territories lay across the river. There seemed no reason to hesitate as I had already explained this to Lord Aras, and Suyet had become curious about the winter country and about my people. He was not wrong now, and I nodded, but I did not like to think of all these Lau coming against Ugaro warriors, even if they were enemies.

Geras tapped me on the shoulder and held out a loaf of bread, saying firmly, “Eat something, youngster. Whatever happens, it’s no good you falling off your horse out of sheer starvation.”

I was not at all likely to fall off my horse. Still, he was not wrong. I ate the bread and cheese, and the apple Suyet gave me. But I could not help but look away to the east, the way Geras had said Kosa Sen lay.

Esau said, in an indifferent tone, “The trick’ll be pinning a war party down. Let ’em scatter and the whole business’ll be twenty times harder. Let them get into the town and that’d be even worse. I expect Lord Gaur means to have our mounted talons cut across country, circle down from the northeast, meet the Ugaro before they can get into the town, and force ’em back this way.”

I did not say anything. That seemed to me very likely correct. It explained why the mounted soldiers had gone on while the rest of us waited here. They would take the Ugaro war party by surprise, before the raid had begun, and they would not permit them to scatter. They would not have to come close enough to suffer from our superior bows; they need not even force the Ugaro to retreat. They would only need to hold them in place while the foot soldiers came up.

Hokino inKera could not have expected to face more than one talon. Even if allied tribes had gathered to take part in a raid, he would not have more than eight or ten twenties of warriors. One Ugaro warrior might defeat three or four Lau soldiers ... but one warrior would not be able to defeat fifteen soldiers, or twenty. I thought if things went well for Lord Aras and badly for Hokino, the numbers would be like that. But there was nothing I could do.

We rested for a long time, until dusk came and the Moon stepped into the sky. Tonight she showed the summer lands only a thin crescent. Her face is always round and full in the winter country, but when she comes to the sky of the summer lands, she often looks over her shoulder toward her own country, and then only part of her face can be seen and her light is much less. I felt starkly uneasy at the sight of her turned face. I felt she might not notice anything that happened to her children in this country that belonged to her husband.

“Here we go,” Geras said. He had been watching the talon commanders and now stood up and offered me a hand. I did not accept his gesture, though I knew that was childish of me.

We traveled through much of the night, not very fast, but steadily. At first I could hear soldiers grumble at the hour and the dark, and the bad road, but later they mostly fell silent. A little before dawn, I began to think I might hear the shouting of men, and soon I became certain of it. The sounds were not those of a pitched battle, nor a sharp skirmish. I was not certain what I heard, and tried different ideas in my mind to understand what we might find ahead. Finally I decided that enemies faced one another, but had not yet closed to fight.

Orders came, and the column of men divided, some going to the right and some to the left, moving to take their places in the lines of their formations. My guards stayed with me, and I stayed near Lord Aras. He gestured once, impatiently, when I let my mare fall behind his, so I urged her up again to close the distance. He looked distracted and impatient and tense. His mouth was tight with concentration, and finally he called out and urged his mare to a canter. The remaining mounted soldiers instantly swept into a fast pace as well, and the formations of foot soldiers began to run.

The gray-gold light of the dawn laid a strange metallic shade across the pastures through which we rode, and the wind of our going came against our faces and blew through my hair, which I had not clubbed back for battle because I had not expected to fight. Now I thought that had been a mistake. I longed for a sword in my hands—at least a bow. I would have given almost anything to be riding an Ugaro pony into battle with my brothers and all the inGara warriors. It seemed unspeakably strange to be riding instead at the forefront of a Lau army.

Then, almost as the Sun stepped fully out from beneath the earth and into the sky, we came upon the scene. This was a place where stone walls came together, dividing one pasture from another, and here many Ugaro, perhaps five twenties or three forties of men, had taken shelter against a greater number of Lau. I could see by the positions of fallen men of both peoples that a running battle had taken place to the south and east, across a distance of at least four or five bowshots. Then the Ugaro had come to the shelter of the walls and, having no better options, set themselves there. Theirs was a bad position, for they had no way to retreat. But if the Lau tried to come against them, they would have a hard fight because the walls protected the Ugaro on three sides. The Lau were so much more numerous that the outcome could not be in doubt, but they would take many losses. They had been holding back, perhaps for that reason, but probably because they had known Lord Aras was coming from the southwest with many-many more Lau soldiers.

The Ugaro had not known this. I almost thought I could feel their dismay in my own stomach. They had faced too many Lau, but not so very many they could not make a good accounting of themselves. Plainly they were nearly out of arrows—the shields of the Lau bristled with spent shafts—but perhaps the Ugaro warleader had thought he might tempt the Lau into an unwise assault and inflict such losses that the survivors lost their taste for battle. Now the Ugaro saw all the soldiers, and knew what they faced.

Lord Aras had reined his mare to one side, and now he raised his scepter into the air and brought it down again. I could see nothing in his face save intensity of purpose. Horn notes rose into the morning sky, and the formations came to a sharp halt. He did not look at his people, but at the Ugaro. The older warriors were moving so that they would face the newly arrived soldiers, leaving the younger men to defend the walls and keep their original opponents away from their backs. It was not a good plan, but in that place, I could not have thought of a better.

Lord Aras beckoned to me, and when I brought my mare beside his, commanded me, “Ryo, tell them to surrender. Don’t make promises, except you may tell them I’ll spare the youngest warriors if they surrender. The ten youngest. If they refuse, I’ll have no choice but to kill them all. I don’t want to do that, so persuade them.”

I was staring at him in surprise. He flung his hand out in a furious, impatient gesture, and I turned and shouted what he had said. I added, “He will not torture those who surrender! He is a generous man!” Any decent man would submit to torture to save a younger brother or a son, but anyone would rather die quickly than slowly.

The Ugaro warleader bellowed, and gradually his men began to lower their weapons. They did not drop them or throw them away, not yet. But they were listening.

I said to Lord Aras, “You told me not to promise anything, but you also commanded me to persuade them. I told them you would not torture anyone. I hope you will redeem my promise.”

He did not even glance at me. He was gazing intently across the trampled ground, toward the Ugaro warleader. “Yes, yes, I agree to that. You may promise that. Is there anything else I should promise? Tell me before you promise it, but I want them alive. Tell them I swear I will deal with them as generously as I may.”

I bowed my head to acknowledge this. “You should say you will return the heads of the dead warriors to their people.”

“If that will persuade them, you may certainly promise that.”

I nodded and raised my voice to give the assurance, adding, “So far as I have seen, he keeps his word!”

The Ugaro warleader pushed forward, giving his sword to another man to hold for him. There was dirt and blood on his face, but he did not seem to be wounded. It was strange to look upon Ugaro after being surrounded by Lau for so many days. This was a big man, a man in the prime years of his life, but he seemed short to me because I had grown accustomed to looking up at everyone. There was plenty of heft to him, and that too looked strange to me because I had grown used to the slender Lau. His hair, thick and raven-black, came almost to his waist even though he had clubbed it back to fight. I had not realized how I had stopped flinching from the cropped hair of the Lau until I saw that. His eyes seemed narrow and his face fleshy and his skin pale, though weathered to a shade darker than old ivory. It was strange to think that I must stand out among the Lau at least as much as this man.

The warleader came close enough so that he could speak and be heard. He looked up at Lord Aras. Then he looked at me. He said grimly, “I am Hokino inKera, brother of Soro inKera. Who are you, other than a dog of the Lau?”

Of course I should have expected that, but somehow I had not. The surge of anger I felt made it easy for me to answer him as such an insult deserved. Sliding down from my mare, I strode forward and hit him across the face with the back of my fist, hard enough to show that my arm was not weighed down by guilt or shame. The warleader stood unmoving and took the blow because he knew he had earned it—or he knew he had earned it if I were not what he had called me. If I had not hit him, he would have known his words were true and he could not trust anything I said.

“I am the brother of Garoyo inGara,” I told him. “The warleader of the Lau did to my brother what he has done to you. Unlike you, my brother got across the river. But the Lau followed. We could not keep ahead of them. Therefore my brother left me as tuyo. The Lau warleader proved to have an unusual idea of what use he might make of a tuyo. Thus I am here. I have sworn to obey his orders, I do not deny that. But I do not answer any man’s whistle. If you call me a dog again, I will kill you myself.”

He blotted the blood from the corner of his mouth with his hand. Then he said, “So. Ryo inGara, is it? A son of Sinowa inGara?”

“So,” I agreed.

He looked at me for another moment. Then he said, “I have not heard that the sons of Sinowa inGara come to heel for any man. Very well! I beg your pardon, Ryo inGara. I was wrong, and I regret the insult.” He bowed his head to me, though he did not kneel. I was too young for a man like this to kneel to me—and he was not sure of me even yet.

“I forgive it,” I said. “It is forgotten. It was never said.”

He nodded. Then he looked at me again, a searching look. “You look very well, for a man who was tuyo. But, so. You say the Lau warleader is a generous man. You say we should cast down our weapons and yield to him.”

“If you refuse, you will probably all be killed. If you yield, I do not know what he will do, but he has said he will spare the ten youngest, and he has promised he will be generous. From everything I know, he will keep his word. Warleader of the inKera, our tribes are enemies, but we are not bitter enemies. If I knew of any reason you should not do as the Lau warleader demands, I swear before the gods that I would tell you.”

“So,” he said again. He turned his head, considering his own men and the surrounding Lau. Many of his warriors had been wounded, but many others would still be able to fight. But some of the Lau had already lifted their bows and now looked along their arrows, choosing their targets. It was clear to everyone how such a battle must end, however brave the inKera and however many Lau they managed to tear down as they died. Ten young men would be little enough to save from this disaster. But that would be better than losing all the warriors. Every man with a younger brother or a son or a sister’s son among that number would agree. I could not imagine any man would not agree.

Hokino inKera gazed up at Lord Aras, sitting on his tall mare like a dark shadow against the warm sky of the summer country. He glanced at me once more. Then at last he turned to face Lord Aras, knelt, and bowed to the ground.

-9-

Almost at once, Lord Aras demonstrated his generosity by instructing his physicians to see to the Ugaro warriors. “Don’t let the worst wounded of the Ugaro wait for our nicks and cuts,” he told the man who was senior of the physicians. “That sucking chest wound, have someone see to it immediately. Ryo, tell the inKera not to be afraid; explain these men will help them if they can.”

Of course I could not say anything of the kind. I said to Hokino inKera, “The Lau warleader has commanded his people to tend your wounded. He expects the inKera to show manners befitting civilized people and refrain from offending those who come to do so.”

“Yes,” Hokino acknowledged. His wrists had been bound with leather thongs, as had those of all his warriors except the worst wounded. Hokino’s feet had not been bound, but he did not stand, but knelt, to set the example for his warriors. Even so, he did not look helpless, only contained. He held himself still, but he watched everything.

Lord Aras had ordered his people to establish their camp near that place where the inKera had surrendered, but a little farther to the south, where a stream ran through a narrow belt of trees. The Lau dead would be burned and the ashes scattered, which is their way; the bones left from the pyre would be placed in the town’s ossuary, under the ground, in some hillside closed away from the air – not something I wished to contemplate. The heads of the dead Ugaro had been cut off and taken aside, to be given to the ten warriors who would be spared. The skulls would be set in the tombs of their people, high in the mountains, overlooking their lands. That would not make this day less of a disaster for their tribe, but it would be better than if they were lost entirely.

The prisoners had been brought into the middle of the Lau camp. There was little shelter from the Sun, who stood high by this time, but canopies had been raised to shelter the Ugaro from his strength, and some of the physicians’ assistants were already bringing water for the defeated warriors. Hokino’s glance went that way, then to the physician who had gone to examine the man with the chest wound. Some of the tension eased from his shoulders when he saw those things. “I see you were right to say he would be generous. No one will offend the Lau,” he promised me.

“The warriors will be polite,” I said to Lord Aras. “Your people need not be concerned.”

Lord Aras nodded. “The Ugaro won’t give you any trouble,” he told the senior physician. Indicating Hokino inKera, he added, “As soon as practicable, tend any injuries this man might have sustained. Don’t put him ahead of seriously injured men, but I’d like to see him in half an hour, if you can manage that.”

Then he gestured for me to come with him and led the way to his tent, which as usual had been set a little apart from the main camp. “Let Talon Commander Harana know we’ll stay here through the night, but most likely head for Erem Sen at dawn,” he told one man. And to another, “My compliments to Talon Commander Ianan, and will he kindly ride over to Kosa Sen and see if the Ugaro managed to damage the town before our people stopped them. If the headman of Kosa Sen insists on seeing me, I imagine I might have time this afternoon. If Lord Amantra is currently present in Kosa Sen, I want to see him. Fit that into my schedule if necessary.” Then to a third, “Let Lahara know I’ll need two couriers. Three. Not until midafternoon, probably.”

Every time he gave an order, another man saluted and hurried away, so that by the time we came to his tent, only a few men still followed; and I, and my guards. The others stopped when we came there, but Lord Aras beckoned me to come with him into his tent. It was more like a pavilion now; three sides of the tent had been rolled up to allow the breeze to come and go. Only one chair had been brought to the tent, and Lord Aras settled there, sighing and laying his scepter aside on the table. I thought he looked tired. The night had been long, and even for a Lau he was not a young man. But he said to me in a brisk tone, “I’ll need to question the warleader. I’d like you to assist me. Not only in translating our words, but in preventing us from misunderstanding each other.”

I bowed my head to show I agreed to this. I did not like to think I might help any Lau, even Lord Aras, against any Ugaro, even the warleader of an enemy tribe. But this kind of help did not seem dishonorable to me. I said, “I would wish to tell him that you believe a sorcerer may have caused the trouble here. Will you permit me to explain this, so that the young men whose lives you have sworn to return to them may carry that word into the winter country? It might be good for your people as well, if mine know this war may have happened that way.”

Lord Aras nodded, but he said, “I’m not certain whether I’ll find that possible or not, Ryo, and I must ask you to abide by my decision on the matter, but my intentions here haven’t changed. Everything I do is still aimed at stopping our enemy and settling the problems he’s caused. Can you believe that?”

I could see no way in which it would be wrong to send word of the sorcerer to my people, but I thought I did believe him. Also, he had the right to command me in this as in every matter, so I was not certain honor would permit me to speak to Hokino inKera if Lord Aras commanded otherwise. Perhaps it was unwise to think too much upon the question until we saw how everything happened. Setting all these doubts aside, I nodded.

“Good, then.” Lord Aras leaned back in his chair, sighing. “I think he’s coming now.”

In another moment, I too heard men approaching, and then Hokino inKera was brought in. A handful of Lau soldiers brought him. Five soldiers seemed more than adequate to guard a single disarmed and bound Ugaro warrior prisoner, even a powerful man such as Hokino. I could not help but think that in some ways the Lau deserved their cowardly reputation. Hokino ignored the soldiers completely. He strode forward, dropped to his knees before Lord Aras, and bowed to the floor.

Because I had learned that the Lau did not kneel or bow in that way, I said, “My lord, the warleader of the inKera is properly respectful, but he is a proud man. If you wish to show you understand this, you should address him by name and by his position, and you should tell him your name and position.”

Lord Aras nodded. “Should I tell him to stand?”

“You may do as you wish in the matter,” I answered. “But it is not expected. The warleader of the inKera might consider that this suggested weakness or lack of confidence.”

Though probably Hokino would know better than that, no matter how different the manners of our peoples. Even if Hokino did not know what the scepter meant, Lord Aras sat in the only chair. He wore a dark red shirt and black leggings. The brown of his skin looked warmer than ever surrounded by those colors. He wore gold rings on two fingers and a gold wristlet, and there was gold worked into the sleeves of his shirt and the tops of his boots. I thought Hokino inKera would have to be completely stupid to mistake him for anything but confident in his own power, and I had never heard that the warleader of the inKera was anything of the kind.

“Hokino inKera, brother of Soro inKera, warleader of the inKera,” Lord Aras said to him. “I am Lord Aras Eren Samaura, nephew of Soretes Aman Shavet, king of the summer lands; I hold my king’s authority in my hands.”

I repeated this in taksu, explaining that Lord Aras was a scepter-holder and therefore a very important lord, above any ordinary warleader. Hokino sat back on his heels, keeping his gaze lowered to show respect for the victor. “I await the will of the scepter-holder,” he told me.

I folded my hands at the small of my back so I would remember to stand straight and not bow my head. These things had become easier for me with the passing of the days, but I could tell already that the example of the inKera warleader would make the Lau customs harder again. I said to Lord Aras, “He awaits your will, my lord.”

Lord Aras nodded to me. He said, “Recently Dumau Sen and Erem Sen were both attacked and burned. In both cases, prior to the attacks, the house guards of the lords of those counties were lured into the winter country and did not return. In one case, two entire talons were apparently destroyed. Were the inKera involved with any of this?”

I repeated this question in taksu. Hokino answered immediately, “My people were those who came against Dumau Sen. I led the war party that burned the town.” He did not look up, but watched Lord Aras closely from beneath lowered lashes.

Lord Aras nodded again when I translated this. He said, “I would like to know the manner in which Hokino inKera persuaded the lord there and his house guard to cross the river, and how he destroyed them. That many soldiers should have been a difficult target for Ugaro. I would have expected some losses, but certainly not a complete loss of so large a company. Yet the reports that I’ve seen suggest this must have happened. I would like him to explain this.”

When I translated all this, Hokino made no answer, but he bowed to the floor of the tent to show that his silence was not born of contempt for the victorious warleader. Even in his submission, he was proud; even in his weakness, he was strong. I thought his people had been lucky in their warleader. Though the inKera were enemies and the inGara might wish to see a lesser man as their warleader, I was sorry Hokino inKera would soon be put to death.

Lord Aras showed neither offense nor impatience at Hokino’s refusal to answer. He merely said, “Both towns were destroyed on the same night, and half a dozen villages in between, all at the same time. How many tribes took place in those attacks?”

Again, Hokino refused to answer.

Lord Aras asked more questions regarding the manner in which all these attacks had been coordinated and the manner in which those attacks fit into the greater strategy Royova inVotaro might have in mind. Of course Hokino answered none of those questions, though he bowed low with each refusal. Lord Aras did not strike him for his defiance, though this would not have been remotely forbidden by his promise of generosity. I could see that Hokino was beginning to think him too cowardly to act as a warleader should.

“He is a patient man, and slow to punish insolence or any fault,” I warned Hokino. “But he is clever, and he can be ruthless when he chooses.”

Hokino gave me a measuring look and a slow nod. “I thank you for the warning, Ryo inGara. I know you do not owe me advice.”

“Our people are enemies, warleader, but we are not bitter enemies,” I answered. “No one of inGara would say inKera is anything but an honorable tribe. I am sorry so many of your warriors have fallen into the hands of the Lau, and I will help you if I can.”

Hokino bowed his head to me. “I am glad to acknowledge that the son of Sinowa inGara is a generous man. I will not answer the warleader’s questions. I cannot tell whether he is angry. If he is, I offer myself as tuyo so that his anger will fall upon me and not upon my men. I understand he does not like torture. But if not that, then perhaps he might accept me as the kind of tuyo he made of you.” His voice tightened. “I would obey him. I would swear to it. I do not speak his pidila tongue, I do not see what use I could be to him, but I would give myself to him if he would spare the lives of another ten warriors beyond the ten he promised. Twenty young men will not be important to this war. Will you tell him of my offer and ask him for that much in return?”

I was not surprised he would make that kind of offer. He was a good warleader and a brave man. I said to Lord Aras, “He will answer nothing, but he offers himself as tuyo to appease your anger, if you will release the twenty youngest warriors rather than the ten you first promised. He offers this even though he knows you would not put him to a tuyo’s death. He would swear to obey you. I think he would rather die any death. He is very proud. But he would do as he says, and he would keep his oath.”

Lord Aras tilted his head, studying Hokino. “You Ugaro are a stubborn people, Ryo. I won’t accept his offer, but I’ll make one of my own. Tell him I’ll release the ten youngest, as I promised, and also one more of his warriors for every question of mine that he answers.”

I looked at him in surprise. I had not expected such an offer, but it was like him: clever and ruthless and generous all at once. I turned back to Hokino, repeating the suggestion.

Hokino looked at Lord Aras, then at me. Then he thought about this. He said, “I cannot answer everything, but I will answer some questions. My warriors slipped across the river very quietly and stole a handful of Lau children from their home. They left one to run and say what had happened. This tempted the soldiers there to come into the winter country. That is one answer. Once they crossed the river, my warriors showed the soldiers the children, pretending to carry them away, but slowly, so the Lau would forget caution. Those with the fastest horses rode ahead of the slower, wishing to come up on the small number of Ugaro they thought fled from them. That prevented the Lau from coming together in their formation when our bowmen began to shoot. They all died, in return for very moderate losses among my warriors. That is two answers. After the soldiers were out of the way, others of my warriors entered the town and fired the buildings and the granaries, driving the people out with empty hands to beg succor from their kin and driving the fat cattle across the river into our own country. That is three answers.”

“It’s just two,” Lord Aras said when I told him all this. “I already knew that third part. But here’s another question: what did his people do with the children they stole as bait?”

When I asked him this, Hokino did not have to think before answering. He said at once, “My eldest son had those children in his charge. His wife’s nature is gentle. So that the tale of the battle would please her, he returned those children to the southern bank of the river and let them go with the rest of the people of Dumau Sen.”

Lord Aras was smiling. “I think we have reason to be grateful for the respect that Ugaro warriors show their wives. That’s good to know. Where is Hokino’s eldest son now? Is he among the prisoners?”

Hokino stilled when I asked that. He looked carefully at Lord Aras from beneath lowered lashes. Finally he said, without expression, “My son is among those warriors. That is another answer.”

Lord Aras nodded. “That’s fair. But this is same question: Is the young man among the ten youngest?”

When I asked that, I added, “You should look Lord Aras in the face. I know it is hard to do. But the Lau consider that this is correct.”

Hokino raised his gaze to meet the warleader’s eyes. “Tell him my son is not among the ten youngest. Tell him that was a different question.”

When I told him that, Lord Aras smiled. He said, “It was just one question. However, I already remarked that in Dumau Sen, most of the townspeople were allowed to flee, especially the women and children. Because Hokino inKera showed those people mercy and because his son showed mercy to the children he had taken, I shall spare the twenty youngest warriors I now hold. And four more, one for each of the questions Hokino has answered.”

Hokino bowed low enough to touch his face to the floor, but he said, “That was six questions I have answered.”

Lord Aras smiled again when I translated this. “I count only four,” he said. “But I have other questions I wish to ask. In Erem Sen, most of the townspeople were killed and their bodies thrown into the fires. What made the difference? Was this merely a preference of one warleader and another, or was there some other reason mercy was shown to the people of one town and not the other? Ask him that. I’ll count it as two answers.”

Hokino listened carefully to this question. He said, “He should count it as three answers. Tell him the people of Erem Sen had created a very bitter feeling. They had committed a grievous offense. He may know of this already, but if not, it should be widely known, so I am glad to explain. Tell him that the lord of that county sent word that he wished to speak to someone important in the hope of resolving the problems with trade that began the war. The daughter of Koro inKarano went to Erem Sen to speak to that lord—”

“Darra inKarano?” I was so astonished and alarmed I interrupted Hokino. Of course, as her mother had passed into the land of the shades, Darra often spoke to her father regarding all the matters that were the proper concern of women. It is women who handle all matters of trade, among tribes or between their own tribe and the Lau. I demanded, “Was harm done to her?”

Hokino gave me a long look. A young man should not interrupt an older man, nor should any warrior interrupt a warleader. I began to apologize, but he lifted his bound hands to stop me and said, “The offense was too slight to require notice. One expects a young man to be hard-tempered in such a matter. I regret I must tell the son of Marag inGara that this young woman was insulted in a serious manner. The women decided that the precise nature of the insult is not fit for the ears of men, but I can say that Darra inKarano is strong in her body. It is her heart that was hurt, but she is angry and bitter, not distraught or subdued.”

I nodded. Nothing could subdue the fierce heart of Darra inKarano, but I wished very much that I could go to her and ask the names of the man or men who had insulted her. I would be glad to skewer their hearts on a spear and give them to her to ease her own heart. I suppose Hokino saw this in my face, because he said, “You understand that the feeling after that was very bitter. Royova inVotaro himself came there with many of the warriors of his tribe. The lord of Erem Sen was lured into the winter country in much the same way as we used in Dumau Sen, and killed there. He is dead, and I know that many of the people of Erem Sen were killed, but from what I have heard, the hearts of Darra inKarano and all the inKarano and inVotaro are still filled with bitterness. I ask that the warleader consider all this five answers.”

I drew a slow breath. I was not surprised Royova inVotaro had gone personally to destroy Erem Sen. Everyone knew Royova had been close to Sovig inKarano and that he now cherished Sovig’s daughter. I explained most of this to Lord Aras and said at the end, “That is surely enough to count as five answers.”

“Yes, I think it is,” Lord Aras agreed. “Everything about that tale is important, and I’m glad to know what happened there. If Marotau is truly dead, that’s especially important—though I don’t believe we can count that as confirmed.” He looked at me, a searching gaze. “But I’m sorry the young woman was offended in some serious way, Ryo.” I bowed my head to show I accepted this expression of regret, and he went on at once, “Please ask if Royova inVotaro himself sent the inKera against Kosa Sen, and if so, whether he told the inKera to slaughter the people here as was done in Erem Sen.”

I corrected this. “He would not tell them. He is not their lord. He would ask, and the lord of the inKera would decide whether he thought it good to agree. I will ask whether Royova inVotaro made this request of Soro inKera.”

“He did ask that,” Hokino answered readily. “We were glad enough to take the honor of the raid for inKera, but we would not have killed all the people. My brother and I consider it better to turn the Lau women out into the countryside to ask for help from their kin or charity from strangers. That burdens you Lau more than if we killed them—and it pleases the hearts of our wives.”

Lord Aras picked up his scepter, tracing the gold inlay as he sometimes did when he was thinking. He said, “Well, I’m grateful for the gentle hearts of the inKera women, but Royova’s heart sounds anything but gentle. That’s certainly inconvenient. I imagine Koro inKarano also isn’t likely to be in a mood to discuss terms of peace with any Lau now.”

I nodded. This was undoubtedly true.

“I certainly have many more questions now than I did this morning, but unfortunately the inKera warleader isn’t going to be able to give me the answers to those questions.” He leaned back in his chair and absently traced the gold inlay again, from one end of the scepter to the other. Everyone else was quiet. One of the soldiers shifted his weight and received an admonishing glance from Geras.

Hokino inKera waited, his bound hands resting on his thigh, his gaze on the floor and his shoulders relaxed. I knew he would stay like that without moving for the whole afternoon if required and never so much as sigh with impatience. A very proud man. I stood still, my hands folded behind my back, and waited as quietly, though it was hard. I wished to ask many more questions of my own. But I said nothing. I thought later I would ask leave to speak further to Hokino about all these things, but for now it seemed better to be patient.

Finally Lord Aras laid the scepter aside. He said to me, “Ryo, my primary purpose in freeing some of the inKera is to use them to send a message to Koro inKarano. So far, I’ve agreed to spare twenty-nine men. But I think I may need to make a more dramatic gesture in order to get his attention. Suppose I spare all their lives. Would Hokino carry a message to the winter king for me? And would freeing all these men be enough to persuade your king to read a message from me and take my words seriously, even if he’s angry with all Lau on behalf of his daughter?”

I stared at him. He met my astonishment with patience, waiting for me to think about what he had asked. I did think about this. Finally I said, framing my answer to say what I thought important, “No matter his anger, our king will certainly listen carefully to any message if you speak of sorcery.” This was true, and it was what I wished to say. But I had to add, “But whatever your decision in that matter, it is not remotely necessary for you to spare all the warriors, far less Hokino inKera himself. No Ugaro would spare the life of an enemy warleader taken in a raid. Our king would never expect you to be so generous.”

Lord Aras tapped his fingertips restlessly against the arms of his chair. He said, “Yet isn’t it true that an unexpectedly generous gesture might catch his attention? I need your king to believe I’m sincerely trying to end the war between our peoples. I’d like him to believe my suggestions are made with the wellbeing of both our peoples in mind.”

This surprised me again. “He will hardly believe that, my lord. No matter what you do or say. He might believe that you think destroying the sorcerer is more important than defeating Ugaro. That would be more reasonable.”

“I see. Very well, Ryo, yes, I will send him word of the sorcerer. And I’ll assure him my most urgent intention is to bring down that sorcerer. That’s certainly true.” He gave me a searching look. “I truly don’t have any desire to see harm come to your people, Ryo. If you help me persuade your king of that, you’ll have done him a service.”

I thought this was true, but I was not certain. Everyone knows the Lau are a deceptive people. I did not say so. I said, “I am certain Koro inKarano will agree that the matter of a sorcerer is more important than any other matter. Especially if sorcery perhaps caused the lord in Erem Sen to act offensively toward his daughter.”

“I can’t claim that,” Lord Aras said at once. “I don’t know what happened there. I can assure the winter king that I’ll investigate the matter. That will be true. Ryo, you told me the inKera are enemies of your people, but I think you would prefer that I spare them all, including Hokino. Am I right to think so?”

I glanced at the warleader. I did want that. He was a brave man. I said to Lord Aras, “My father quarreled with his brother. That is not enough to create bitterness. If you choose to be generous, that would please me.”

He nodded. “Well, I imagine I can think of enough questions to let him earn the lives of all his men. Let’s see how many he’s willing to answer.”

The afternoon was well advanced before Lord Aras finally acknowledged that he had learned everything he could from the inKera warleader. Even with the awareness that the Lau warleader could still order them all put to death if he should become displeased, Hokino had refused to answer some questions. But Lord Aras had been patient. He had only asked different questions, until it became clear he meant to spare all their lives. Hokino was still cautious because he did not trust Lau. But he bowed to the floor when Lord Aras said it was enough, and held the gesture for ten breaths. When he finally straightened, he said to me, “I would not have expected such generosity of a Lau. This warleader is not the same as others of his people.”

“I believe you are correct,” I said at once. “But he is not that different. He has many reasons for everything he does.” Turning to Lord Aras, I said, “He does not understand your generosity, my lord. May I explain now about the sorcerer, and about the letter you wish him to carry for you?”

Lord Aras looked at me, his expression serious. He said finally, “Yes, go ahead. I don’t believe it’s likely to do any harm if he knows all this, and it may be useful.”

I let out my breath. “Thank you, my lord.” I turned back to Hokino. “Warleader,” I said in taksu. “Lord Aras agrees I may tell you: he believes a powerful and dangerous sorcerer has arisen from among his people. He believes this sorcerer is the source of the trouble between Ugaro and Lau. I do not know what he will do, but I will tell you also that this sorcerer is his first concern, but his second concern is ending the war between our peoples. I cannot swear before the gods that this is true, but I can swear that I believe it is true.”

Hokino stared at me. Then he stared at Lord Aras. He drew a breath, but then he did not speak. I was not surprised. I would not have known what to say to that either.

Lord Aras said to him in slow, careful taksu, “Do not speak any other people. Do not let any Lau come not far from you.”

I was startled because I had not realized he spoke any taksu at all—and now I knew that if I had spoken of the sorcerer without permission, he might have understood me. Heat rose up my face. But I corrected his words quickly to be sure the inKera warleader understood: “Lord Aras suggests you hold this suspicion close. He suggests you should not let any Lau approach you, in case this man is the sorcerer and he realizes he is discovered. Of course you will speak to your brother; of course the inKera will send word in every direction, especially to the inKarano. Lord Aras understands that. He wishes you to tell Koro inKarano everything. He wishes you to carry a letter to our king for him. That is why he has been so generous to you—though I spoke the truth when I told you his nature is generous.”

Hokino nodded. He looked at Lord Aras, at his face. “This is true?” he asked, speaking slowly, watching to see whether the warleader understood.

“Yes,” Lord Aras agreed, still in taksu. He was watching Hokino closely.

Hokino nodded. “I will be careful. I will carry your letter to my brother. He will certainly send it to Koro inKarano.” He looked at me. “I will tell Koro that this warleader is an extraordinarily generous man. I will say also that although the son of Sinowa inGara serves this Lau warleader, he brings honor to his father and his people.”

I bowed. That was more than a man such as Hokino inKera would ordinarily say about a young man my age, and I was glad the inKera warleader might say that to Koro inKarano—or to Darra inKarano. Then a different thought struck me, and I turned quickly to Lord Aras, “May I send a letter of my own? Would you permit me to write to my own people, my lord?” The letter the inKera warleader carried to our king might make it clear I had not died a tuyo’s death, but it might not, and it would not come to my mother’s eye quickly—though Darra would send her word. But a letter from me directed straight to my mother’s hand would be better. I thought of my mother, of her face when a letter came to her from me, and my throat closed so that I could not say anything else. I had to look away and swallow hard to avoid embarrassing myself.

Lord Aras said in surprise, “You would write your mother rather than your father?” Then he said, gently, “Of course you may write, Ryo. Please don’t describe anything of military importance, but you may tell her that I value you highly. Write at once, if you wish, while I put the finishing touches on my letter to your king.”

I had collected myself a little by that time, so I managed to say in a level voice, “Thank you, my lord.” I moved toward the table, looking for the ink and a stylus.

I did not write very much. Only a few lines. If I had thought for the entire day and the entire night, I could not have thought of words to describe Lord Aras, or the Lau, or the peculiarities of my life now. In the end, I put down first what I had already said to Hokino: that Lord Aras was a generous man, that he had no taste for torture, that he had found a different use for a tuyo left for him.

I wrote that the Lau were a generous people. I did not write that soldiers accompanied me everywhere to be sure their people did not forget that they were supposed to be generous. I wrote that the summer country was beautiful and that no snow fell at all. I did not write that I longed for a cold northern wind and the quiet of the forest.

I wrote that I thought of her often, and of my sisters. But I did not promise that I would write again. I did not promise that I would ever return to her tent.

When I was finished, I took one of the stiff leather envelopes the Lau use for important letters. I slipped my letter into the envelope and wound the thread around the spool to close it. Then I said to Hokino, “From Lord Aras, there is the letter to our king. From me, there is a letter for my mother. Though our peoples are enemies, I ask you to do me the kindness to carry my letter as well as the one from the warleader.”

“I will give it to my wife; into her very hands,” he promised me. “She will make certain your letter goes to your mother.” He took the envelope and bowed one more time, saying, “To the Lau warleader, I swear before the gods that I will see that the Lau warleader’s letter comes to Koro inKarano. To you, Ryo inGara, I say that I will ask my wife to add a note for Marag inGara, explaining that I encountered you here and that I found you an honorable and honest young warrior.”

It was impossible to answer this. I could only bow.

He stood up then, and went out of the tent. His wrists were still bound, but his back was straight and his head high. A very proud man. I was glad I would not see him put to death by the Lau.

I said to Lord Aras, “I would like to go to walk in the breeze. Perhaps along the stream. But perhaps you will wish me to stay close.”

He waved me away. “Go, go. If I need you again, I’ll send for you. But I don’t believe the inKera will give me trouble. The headman of Kosa Sen probably will, when I tell him I plan to take all these Ugaro away with me tomorrow, rather than putting them to death in a public spectacle.” He sighed. “I suppose I’d better ride over to Kosa Sen and talk to him. But that’s my problem, not yours.” He gave me a searching look. “You did well,” he told me quietly. “The gods were extraordinarily kind to set you into my hands. I hope you’ll think so too, eventually, if perhaps not yet.” Then he cleared his throat and added briskly, “Eat something.” He glanced at my guards. “Troop Leader Geras, see that these young men all get something to eat.”

“Not a problem, my lord,” Geras said promptly, and nodded that we could go where I wished.

We collected some of the meat-filled rolls the Lau like for the midday meal before we walked across the fields to the stream. I sat in the shade of an apple tree, eating my roll and dabbling my fingers in the cool water.

My guards sat in the sunlight, for to them the breeze that came across the fields was uncomfortably cool. They all wore the light coats the Lau liked to wear in the borderlands. To me, the day seemed fine, if too warm. The sky here in the summer country seemed higher and brighter than the sky in the winter lands. Though the Sun was still high above the western edge of the world, his wife had already stepped into the sky. She showed more of her face than she had the previous night. Perhaps she had noticed that some of her people were here, in the summer lands. As a mother’s attention is drawn toward a child who is in danger, so the Moon might look first toward those of her people who were out of place and in peril ...

Then I thought suddenly, How did Lord Aras know I meant to write to my mother and not my father?

-10-

It had not struck me till that moment. I was not even certain until I managed to settle my thoughts enough to be sure. I had said, Would you permit me to write to my own people? And he had said, obviously surprised, You would write your mother rather than your father?

Cold ran through me. Lord Aras had not understood that of course I would not be able to send a letter to my father; the warleader of an enemy tribe would never have carried such a letter for me. He had not understood that a letter to my mother was different, that Hokino’s wife would send that kind of letter in the way women manage such things when tribes are enemies. He could not have guessed something he did not even understand. But he had known it. I could see that as soon as I remembered what I had said and what he had answered.

He had taken the thought from my mind. He was a sorcerer.

It could not be so. But it was so. Certainty came to me so fast and hard that I knew I had guessed it before, and denied it to myself, and not even known the thought had come into my mind and been put down.

Except maybe he had made me forget. Sorcerers could make a man forget things that had happened, or remember things that had not happened.

When he next came near me, he must see at once that I knew. Would he take the knowledge from my mind, make me forget? Maybe he had done it before. Maybe he did it every day while I sat at his table and ate his food. Maybe every night he looked through my memories while I dreamed, deciding which I might keep and which he would take away.

Revulsion shook me. Jumping to my feet, I took three or four hurried steps away, fell to my knees, and vomited up everything I had eaten.

Geras exclaimed, and Suyet stood up quickly. Even Esau sat up in obvious concern.

“Bad meat?” Suyet came to set a hand on my shoulder and help me to my feet. “I feel all right. Geras, how do you feel?”

“I don’t think it was the meat,” Geras said quietly. “I think maybe it’s been a hard day, for an Ugaro held by an oath to Lord Gaur.”

“Oh!” Suyet looked at me with concern. “I didn’t—I forgot—” he stopped in confusion, because of course there was no way to finish that sentence. He meant he had forgotten I was Ugaro, which was absurd. But what he really meant was that he had forgotten such a thing might matter. I liked him for it.

Then I realized Lord Aras might have made me like my guards because it was easier to make me do as he wished if I thought they were friends. Maybe he had made them think they were my friends. Somehow that seemed even worse. I jerked away from Suyet, gagging again.

He said, “Ryo?” and put a hand out toward me, anxious. But I could not bear for him to touch me and waved him back, saying quickly, “I will be better soon, but, Geras, may we go back to the camp? I wish to lie down.”

He agreed, of course, and they went with me back toward the rows of tents. I tried hard to think how to escape my guards’ attention, how to slip away from the camp, but I could think of no way to do it. Yet I had to get away before Lord Aras returned from Kosa Sen.

A thought struck me then, and I changed my direction. I could never slip away from the tent I shared with Esau and his file. Those soldiers were too experienced and watchful, and the tent was in the middle of the camp. But Lord Aras had set his tent at the edge of the camp, a little way from everyone else.

“He’s not here, mind,” Geras reminded me when he saw where I meant to go. “He went to Kosa Sen. Don’t you want to lie down? Your color looks bad to me, not that I’ve had much experience with sickness in your people. I could get a physician—unless,” he added shrewdly, “the problem is actually something that Ugaro warrior told you, all that time you were talking to him. Something struck you suddenly?”

I seized on this suggestion, which was all the better because it was almost true. I turned to face him. “The inKera warleader did say something that upset me, regarding a young woman of the inKarano,” I told him. “I did not realize at first what kind of problem Hokino inKera meant, but now I understand what he did not say. I am sorry, but I do not want to talk about this. I should write to her. I will write now.”

Suyet, his eyes wide, was clearly thinking of many different things Hokino inKera might have said to me. Esau raised an eyebrow, not persuaded—he was hard to fool; I already knew that. But there could be no difficulty with letting me write a letter, or if there were a problem, it was for Lord Aras to say so, not my guards. Geras said, “That’s fine, Ryo. I’m sure Lord Gaur will be back soon.”

“Yes,” I said. “I will write to this inKarano woman and I will wait for Lord Aras to come. I do not care how long. You do not need to stay with me. I would prefer to be alone.” Turning, I went into the tent. The sides of the tent had been let down already against the approaching evening. I pegged the entry shut. Then I sat down at the table and found paper, and wrote words. I wrote in taksu. I wrote nonsense, pieces of the tales Ugaro mothers tell their children, anything, only so anyone who looked would see I was writing. But no one looked in. I thought mostly about the distance between the camp and Kosa Sen, about how long it might take Lord Aras to return. The moment the Sun stepped below the edge of the world—even before that moment—I shifted quietly from the chair to the side of the tent opposite the camp. There I quickly cut a long slit in the canvas, just above the floor, with the knife Lord Aras had given me. I dropped the knife on the floor, where Lord Aras would see it. Then I slid out of the tent, came to my feet, and walked away, not too fast.

No one called out. I had known I could not walk away without being seen at all, but the dangerous moment was already behind me. The soldiers were busy, and they knew I was Lord Gaur’s Ugaro. They might wonder why I was not accompanied by my guards, but after so many days everyone had grown accustomed to me. I walked openly past one group of women who had come down to the stream to get water. They looked at me, but the women of the camp had learned not to be afraid of me, and they thought I had permission to be where I was and to go wherever I was going. When I nodded to them, they were reassured, nodding in return before going about their tasks.

Then I was past them, and walking along the stream, through the long shadows of dusk. At first I walked as though I did not mind if anyone saw me, but as soon as I felt I could do it, I dropped low and slid into the gathering dusk, heading neither along the stream nor north, but almost due south, where the land humped up into low hills. Farms spread out everywhere in this country, and I hoped that rougher land might offer less chance of an encounter with a Lau farmer or herdsman.

After a time, I heard a shout behind me. Someone might have been calling my name, but the sound was too distant for me to know for certain. As dusk deepened to night and the little stars came out to join the Moon, I stood up and began to run.

Surely that I could do this proved he could not force me to obey him. Surely he had not put sorcery into my mind. Or if he had, I was too far away now for his leash to tighten. I felt nothing, or nothing I could recognize as that kind of sorcery. But I did not feel safe and I could not think clearly about anything that had happened.

I pushed myself, taking a pace that I would not be able to hold for very long in the oppressive warmth of the summer country. It was all pastures here, and sparse woodlots, and occasional fields now filled with harvest stubble. I collected a double handful of grain from stems the harvest had missed and skirted the edge of an orchard to pick a few late apples. I still did not feel I could eat anything, but I knew later I would be hungry.

I did not know how much distance I needed to put between us before Lord Aras would not be able to find me. In some tales, a sorcerer was unable to see a man’s thoughts unless he was close, within one bowshot or less. But in others, he might do so from farther: two bowshots, or four, or twenty. I knew I would not begin to feel safe until I had gone a long way, at least twenty bowshots. Twice twenty would be better.

When I finally heard horses behind me, I was both cautiously pleased and nervous. They were not coming so fast I thought a sorcerer could be there, telling them where to go; they moved slowly, like men searching but not expecting to find the quarry they sought. I dropped to the earth and lay still.

I was sure the riders were experienced, careful men. But they were Lau, unable to see well in the dark. My only fear was that Lord Aras might be with them, and I thought this was surely not likely. I feared it anyway until they went past without slowing or turning. Then I knew I was safe from them. I let them go until they were the right distance ahead—enough that I could see them, but they would not be able to see me. Then I ran hard to get directly behind them.

I followed those Lau for a long time so that I could be sure I knew where this patrol was and that no other would come up behind me. If any farmers or herdsmen looked this way, they would see those riders against the sky and would not look for an Ugaro behind them; riders draw the eye in a way that a man on foot does not. By this time, too, I had rubbed earth on my hands and face so that I would be harder still to see and recognize.

The patrol rode mostly west and a little south, skirting farms and villages. I had no objection to that route and followed them until they turned in a wide arc to ride back toward Kosa Sen. Then I dropped down again, waiting for them to ride past me. Once they were gone, I got up and went on, still west but now also north. I knew that I must have traveled at least twice twenty bowshots. I should be safe from sorcery, but soon I would be in more danger from ordinary Lau. When the short night of the summer lands passed, I would certainly be seen unless I found a place to hide.

I looked for such a place. I did not want to come too near a farm or village, but finally I found a wide creek running through a narrow strip of woodlands. I picked my way down the bank at a place too steep for cattle to come there, and then along the gravel and through the shallow water. I peered carefully into every deep shadow and every tangle of roots, until I found a place cut sharply into the hillside by the water when the creek had run faster and higher than it ran now. The place had gravel below and tangled roots above. It was not high enough for me to stand up, but I could sit or lie down and it would be impossible for anyone to see me unless they went out into the middle of the little river and looked from exactly the right direction.

Here, I finally began to feel that I might be safe.

I was hungry now, but the thought of food still made me feel sick. For this moment, I was content just to rest. I lay down on the dry gravel, trailed my fingers in the water, and at last began to put my thoughts in order.

Was I certain that Lord Aras was a sorcerer? Was I certain I had not broken my oath for nothing, for a child’s foolish imagining? Now that I could be quiet and think, I went back and thought carefully and slowly of everything he had said to me and everything I had seen him do.

No, I was right.

I should have guessed immediately. How many times had Lord Aras answered a thought I had not spoken? Not only the times I had thought of already. From the beginning, he had done it. When I had felt myself unable to keep my feet, he had asked, Do you need to sit down? When I had attacked him and broken his ribs, he had said, I am sorry I frightened you.

He had lied to me. He had said he was not a sorcerer ... but then I thought about that more carefully. I thought about exactly what he had said, and realized he had never actually said that. He had said, I am a very minor magician, and sorcery is something very different from ordinary magic. He had said, Sorcery is illegal among my people too. But he had never said, I am not a sorcerer.

An ordinary man would have said exactly that. He had not, and I had not noticed. Had he used sorcery to make me so stupid I did not notice?—No, that made no sense. If he could do such a thing, he could do anything and I would never notice or protest. I had been stupid without any help from him. I had wanted to trust him.

Except maybe he had put that into my mind.

A breeze came across the water, fragrant with the scents of cut hay and damp earth. The moonlight was dim, the Moon looking partly away from the summer country, but I turned on my side and gazed up at her until I felt calmer again. Then I thought again over everything that had happened. Finally I decided, no, probably he had not needed to make me trust him. I had been glad to trust a man who chose not to put me to a tuyo’s death, a man who treated me kindly ... a man who seemed to trust me.

I should have guessed after the fengol. He had trusted me far too much, with far too little reason. He had believed my warning at once. He had let me hold him under the water even when he was a heartbeat from drowning. I should certainly have realized from that. What man who could not see into my mind would have trusted me so much?

I thought of how I had asked him those days ago, How could you trust me to keep an oath? He had said, I know whom to trust. Of course he did.

I should have realized from so many things. His king had sent him to deal with a sorcerer. Who better for the task than another sorcerer? I should have guessed from that.

He had known exactly where and when to set traps, first for my brother and then for Hokino inKera. I had thought that merely cleverness, but no warleader, however clever, could have guessed so accurately where an opponent would come. He must be a very powerful sorcerer indeed, to see the movement of men at such a distance and know what they meant to do. But I had no doubt he was very powerful.

He had asked Hokino inKera many questions, but had not been angry when Hokino refused to answer. A sorcerer does not need a man to answer in words.

None of his people had advised him to make the inKera warleader answer his questions. None of them had suggested he promised too much to Hokino for too little return. Maybe all the Lau knew what he was. Maybe I was the only one who was so ignorant. Perhaps they all laughed at me because I did not know.

No. I dismissed this idea almost before I thought of it. I might believe Esau could conceal that kind of awareness, perhaps Geras, but certainly not Suyet. I might have difficulty understanding Lau expressions, but not that much difficulty. They did not know.

Had he made me like my guards, or made them like me? Perhaps, but I thought of everything I knew of them and I began to believe probably he had not needed to do that. Suyet was so easy-tempered, he would be friends with anyone who did not hate him. Esau did not care whether a man was a Lau or an Ugaro; he judged every man by what he could do and what he chose to do. Geras ... everyone trusted him, not just me. Geras was that kind of man. Besides, if Lord Aras had made my guards wish to be friendly, why find men who had seen me bring him across the river, men who had reason to be generous to the Ugaro who had done that? Any of his soldiers would have done as well.

And for me ... I had wanted to like them; of course I had. Sorcery had not been necessary for that either. What man, alone as I had been alone, would not want to be friends with his guards if they showed themselves willing? I thought Lord Aras had not forced me into that friendship either. That made me feel a little better.

I had knocked him down—I had cracked his ribs. I did not understand how I could have done that to a man who saw into my mind. But it did not make me think I was wrong. Only that I did not understand everything.

He had been extraordinarily forbearing after I had tried to kill him. Now I knew why. I had not been mistaken after all, and it would have been unjust to punish me for an accusation that was true.

But I frowned at this thought. No Ugaro tale I had ever heard, no Lau tale I had ever read, spoke of a sorcerer who cared whether his own actions were just or unjust, or who held back from any cruel act. It was the nature of sorcerers to be cruel and to use ordinary men in any way they pleased. Sorcerers held back from nothing.

But that did not seem to be Lord Aras’ nature. Could I have mistaken him so completely? Had he put that kind of mistake into my mind?

He had said, I swear before the gods, I have every desire and intention to return good for the good you have already done me. I had believed him. Had he made me believe that? Had he put it into my mind that I must do as he asked? But why swear his good intentions to me, if he could make me take an oath to him?

I thought of everything he had said, everything he had done, and slowly it came to me that he had not done such things. Or if he had, he had done it in strangely complicated ways. Why would he say I swear I will keep faith, if he could use sorcery to make me do as he wished? It made no sense for him to make me believe he had returned my oaths with his own if he had not done it. Why should he go to the trouble? No matter how I looked at it, I thought he must really have made those oaths to me.

The gods hate an oathbreaker. Lord Aras had known that when he asked me to take oath to him. But he had also known it when he took oath to me. I could not see how anything had required him to do it. But he had done it, and in a way that answered my greatest fears. I turned that realization over in my mind.

He had said, I swear I will not willingly permit any sorcerer to harm your people. If he had truly sworn anything to me, he had sworn that. Any sorcerer, he had said. That phrase struck me now. Had he meant to include himself in that oath? Why would he do such a thing?

Sorcerers always tried to make everyone their slaves. The curse always caused that kind of madness. Could Lord Aras possibly be an exception? Could he wish to bring down the other sorcerer, but not wish to try to seize power himself? Might he truly be as generous a man as he had seemed to me?

He had been kind to me after I cracked his ribs. When he persuaded me to take oath to him. When he chose guards who wanted to be friends. When he defended me against insult. I could not believe all of that had been false.

It came to me that this also explained why he did not like torture. He would know exactly what suffering he inflicted—and he was a man who did not like such things. That was not by any means the ordinary nature of sorcerers. But I could not have misunderstood him so thoroughly.

No, I was not wrong. I thought again about the inKera. As soon as he had defeated them, he had looked for a way to make them surrender so that he would not have to kill them all. As soon as he had them in his hands, he had looked for a reason to spare all their lives. He had made up reasons to do it. But he must have known, even before I said so, that Koro inKarano would listen to any message regarding sorcery. He had been far more generous than any necessity could require.

He had told me to promise the inKera nothing, but he had not been angry when I promised he would not torture them. No wonder he had said so distractedly, You may promise that. He had not realized that he should tell me to make that promise because it had not occurred to him anyone might fear torture at his hands. That had been a mistake.

Long before that, at the very beginning, he had made me fear he might pursue and kill my brother and all our warriors. I saw now that had been the same kind of mistake: it had not occurred to him I might think he would do such a thing. This was the kind of mistake that would only be made by a man who was by nature generous rather than cruel. I thought again of how he had said, I am sorry I frightened you. He had said, The mistake was mine.

There were no tales among my people about sorcerers who would flinch from torture, who would apologize for their own mistakes, who forgave the mistakes of others. There were no tales about sorcerers who would ask a man to take oath to him instead of putting obedience into his mind and heart.

By this time, dawn had come to the summer lands. I tilted my head back, looking into the sky. In this land, the dawn was luminous with gentler, warmer colors than the silvery colors of the winter dawn. Then the Sun stepped into the sky above the summer country, and the whole world turned gold. The Sun is not calm and peaceful; that is his wife. But enough calm had come into my thoughts that the beauty of the morning brought unexpected quiet into my heart.

I was very hungry now. I had not really eaten anything since yesterday morning, and then only a porridge of sweetened grain. I felt better; less horrified by the thought of what Lord Aras might have done to me, more certain he had not actually done any of the more terrible things I had feared. I ate the apples I had picked and the grain, raw as it was, and thought about oaths, and oathbreakers, and sorcery, and the gods.

I had sworn to Lord Aras that I would accept his authority as though he were my father. I had sworn to obey him as though I were his son. I had sworn by my father’s honor. Now I finally realized that if I went home and told my father of that oath and admitted I was forsworn ... if I told him Lord Aras was a sorcerer, he would understand why I had broken my oath. He would not be angry or set fault against me for the act. But he would still put me to death. He would have no choice, because I had set his own honor as well as mine behind my oath.

I could not possibly do that to him. I could not force my father to put a son of his to an oathbreaker’s death. Nor would I want that death for myself. Worst of all to force my mother and my sisters to witness such a terrible thing.

If I did not tell my father, still, the gods would know. When the time came for an accounting, they would not hold me alone to account for that broken oath. They would hold my father to account, because I had set his honor behind my oath. Keeping silence would be as bad as parricide, and that was an even worse sin than oathbreaking.

I thought of one solution that would work better. Rather than going to my father, I could seek out Hokino inKera and tell him everything. He and his people would probably still be close to the borderlands when I came there; I doubted the Lau would escort them back toward the river at any great speed. Or if they had gone faster and farther into the winter country than I expected, I could always track them. Hokino could put me to death with none of my own people to witness it. I would even have a chance to ask him to send a different letter to my mother. He would do me that kindness. I had no doubt of it.

I thought of that while the Sun climbed to the heights of the sky and the world brightened. I turned on my side and trailed my hand in the water, thinking of the inKera warleader and of my father and of Lord Aras. Of oaths given and received, and of honor, and of war, and of sorcery. I did not want to decide what I should do. Such is the foolishness of a man who has no good paths before him, and so must choose one he knows is bad, and then endure what it brings him.

Though all my choices were bad, at least I thought I saw those choices more plainly. And I did not have to decide at once. I had no intention of leaving my shelter until dusk came again. The heat lulled me, and the feeling that I was hidden and safe. I slept for some time, and woke, and slept again. Cattle went by; I heard the bells the Lau put on them. I might have heard horses go past as well, but they were at a much greater distance and I was not certain I heard them at all.

A bright kingfisher came, and stayed for some time, darting down to catch minnows and then going back to his perch to eat them. A snake came down to the water and slid into the creek and swam away. Later an animal a little like a muskrat came, but it was some other small beast that I did not recognize, with longer legs and no tail and a different shape to its head. I might have thrown a rock to knock it down, but I did not want to risk a fire and I was not hungry enough to eat the meat raw. Besides, I had no knife with which to skin or butcher small game, because I had cast aside the knife Lord Aras had given me. I gently turned over stones to find crayfish. These were better raw than the little beast would have been.

At last dusk came again, and I crept out of my shelter, pulled myself up the bank to the edge of the pasture, and stood still beside a tree, looking at the land and listening. I was stiff from running a long way the previous night and from lying still for so long, but I did not mind that. The evening sky stretched high and clear from one edge of the world to the other. The Sun had almost gone, but tonight the Moon had turned almost her full face toward the summer lands, so her silvery light flooded down.

Perhaps she had turned to gaze down at a foolish young Ugaro warrior who could not make up his mind what he should do. Except I had decided. I think I had always known I would not go after Hokino inKera.

-11-

It took me the whole night to come back to the camp near Kosa Sen. I had to go out of the direct way many times to stay clear of farms. Four times, mounted patrols passed near enough that I had to hide. If I had known they belonged to Talon Commander Ianan’s fifth division, I might have stood up and called out, but I did not know them. So I made my way on foot, slowly.

It did not occur to me until I saw the tents that the camp might not have been in the place I had left it. Lord Aras had intended to ride on at dawn—yesterday’s dawn, now. But the tents were still there, as they had been. I could hardly believe he had waited for my sake. Probably he had changed his mind for some other reason. Though if he had not, I supposed following would not have been very difficult. Six talons of soldiers leave a very clear trail.

I was glad I did not have to follow the Lau. I was very tired. Not so much weary in my body, though that was so as well, but tired because I had been afraid for a long time and because I was more afraid now that I had come this far. I might have changed my mind yet again except I could not have borne to work my way again through all the things I had already thought of and all the choices I had already made. I knew if I did so, I would not come to a different decision. It was foolish even to think of it.

Now that I had come here, I was too tired to bother with any cautious approach, so I simply walked openly across the pasture toward the tents. I half expected Lord Aras to come out of his tent to meet me, and half expected one of the sentries to raise a bow and shoot me, and it was hard to know which possibility frightened me more.

Neither of those things happened. One of the sentries shouted, and then another, and men at this end of the camp came to see what was happening. But no one lifted a bow. The sentries did not come to meet me, but waited for me to come to them. Before I came that far, Talon Commander Harana arrived. He rode up fast, at a canter. He dismounted, flung the reins to one of his men, and gestured sharply for me to come to him.

I obeyed the sign he made, coming to stand facing him. I did not know what Harana might say or do, but I did not care. He was not the man I feared. I looked past him, trying to see if Lord Aras was coming. The first light of the Sun now showed above the edge of the world, but I could not see Lord Aras anywhere. This set me off balance and made it hard to think. Perhaps he was too angry to deal with me himself. Or, perhaps more likely, he was busy with much more important matters and had no time for me.

The talon commander said tightly, “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused, Ryo? What, by all the gods, were you thinking?” He seized my arm, perhaps because he saw I was not really attending to him, perhaps to hit me or shake me. I knocked his hand away without thinking, harder than I would have if I had thought first. His head jerked up in angry surprise.

I did not know what either of us might have done after that, but suddenly Esau was there, shouldering a way past the sentries and the other soldiers. I had not realized he was here, but he strode straight up to me, closed his hand in a hard grip on my arm, and jerked me back, stepping in front of me. He said to Talon Commander Harana, his tone matter-of-fact, “It’s all right, sir. I’ve got this.”

There was a pause as the two men looked at each other. I knew enough of the Lau to know an ordinary soldier could not possibly claim precedence before a talon commander. But Harana said brusquely, “Then this is your responsibility, Trooper. See to it.” He swung away, gesturing sharply for the other man to bring him his horse.

I was both relieved and unhappy to see Esau. He seemed just as always: stolid and a little bored. I did not know what to say to him.

“Well,” he said, looking me up and down. “You’ve put us to a lot of trouble. Done with that now?”

I could not answer that, but I said, “I hope Lord Aras was not angry with you or with the others.”

“How could he be? Our orders were to keep you safe, not keep you prisoner. He trusted your oath, I expect.” There was no rebuke in his tone, but I flinched. Esau did not seem to notice, but I knew he would not have said something like that thoughtlessly. He had wanted to see whether I would care that he said it. Now he knew I did care. I could not tell what he thought about that. He merely said, “Lord Aras is in the town. He’ll want to see you straight off. You going to give me any trouble?”

“No,” I promised. He was in the town. That was why he had not come out to meet me. He might be very angry or very busy, but still I was relieved to know he had not chosen to ignore me; that he was only not in the camp. The feeling of relief made no sense to me, but I could not deny I felt it.

“Good. Don’t,” Esau told me. “We’ve all got orders now, nothing like grabbing two hairs from your horse’s tail when it’s already away through the gate, but I’ve had a couple long nights with a long day between ’em and I’m too gods-hated tired to wrestle you. This way. I want horses and a decent escort.” He jerked his head toward the lines where the horses were tethered and gave me a little shove. I went in the direction he wished.

Once we were mounted and riding through the dawn toward Kosa Sen, together with several of the other men of his file, Esau said to me, “We figured you’d gone north, but nope, not a trace, so then we figured we’d better search in all directions. We’ve had a splendid time. It’s wonderful how many farmers’ll think they might’ve seen an Ugaro warrior sneaking around in their orchards or vineyards or cattle pastures, if you ask.”

I did not know what to say.

Esau added, “I figured we’d never see you again. I laid money on it. Then there you were, strolling right up to camp, bold as a bull and twice as contrary. Lost my coins on that one. Thought of your oath, did you?”

“Yes,” I said. It was true, though it was not all the truth. “I am sorry you lost your wager.”

He shrugged. “It’s a lesson to me, I guess. You don’t owe me an apology for that one. Next time I’ll bet the other way.”

“I think I do owe you an apology, Esau. I hope you are not in difficulty with Talon Commander Harana.”

“Don’t bother yourself about that. Harana’s all right. He knows he shouldn’t’ve grabbed you. I’ll find him later when he’s had a chance to get ahold of his temper. I’ll apologize for being forward and maybe disrespectful, and I’ll say I’ll put myself on report. He’ll tell me he’ll let it go with a reprimand, and that’ll be the end of it.”

“A reprimand does not concern you?”

He snorted again. “Got a thousand of ’em. One more’s neither here nor there.”

The ride to Kosa Sen did not take long. The distance was not great, perhaps ten bowshots. But someone had plainly ridden ahead at a faster pace, because by the time we came to the village and I slid down from my horse, Geras and Suyet were there to meet me. I began to apologize to them, but Suyet seized my forearms in a hard grip, which for Lau soldiers is like an embrace. He said, “Ryo! I thank the gods!” Then he said to Esau, “You see? I told you!” And to me, “I told him!”

I had no idea how to answer him.

“Lord Gaur’ll want to see you immediately,” Geras said to me, his tone kind, but without any give to it. He ordered Suyet, “Run on ahead, lad, and tell him we’re on our way up.”

“Right, yes!” Suyet whipped around and ran, fast as a deer with his long legs. Esau rolled his eyes. Geras turned to me and said, “Lord Gaur’ll be very glad to see you. But he’ll be angry, there’s no help for that. Stand up straight and apologize right up front, that’s the best way. That’ll put it behind you.”

I nodded, but I was not really listening. Now that I had come to this moment, I was afraid again that I had been wrong. Any man who walks knowingly back into a sorcerer’s power after once escaping ... any man who does such an extraordinarily foolish thing should be afraid that he is about to make a terrible mistake. But it was far too late to make any other choice. Still, it took all my resolution to take that first step forward.

In a very little, we came to the tavern where Lord Aras had taken rooms, and went in. People turned to see, villagers and soldiers. I paid no attention, but went straight up the stairs, as Geras directed me, and turned to the left toward the only open door. I went in.

Lord Aras had been sitting at a table looking at papers, exactly as always. Though he had a stylus in his left hand, he was not looking at the papers. He was looking at me.

Despite all my careful judgment, terror ran through me. Ignoring Lau customs, I dropped to my knees and bowed with my face to the floor.

A silence drew out, sharp and brittle.

Finally Lord Aras said, “If you would leave us alone, please. Don’t argue. Ryo isn’t going to attack me. Shut the door on your way out.”

None of them argued. They were gone in a moment.

I had not moved, and did not now. He was right that this time I would not try to kill him. I was not even certain why I felt such a thing would be impossible. Not only because of my oath, though that was part of it. Perhaps he had put into my mind that I could not do it.

I heard him push back his chair and get to his feet. If I had not already been kneeling, I knew my legs would have folded beneath me. If I had been wrong in my judgment of his nature, then he would do some terrible thing to me now. Probably I would not remember it afterward, and that would be even worse.

Lord Aras said quietly, “I won’t hurt you. Please look at me, Ryo.”

I wondered if he needed to meet my eyes in order to see my thoughts. I doubted this. I thought he saw into my mind whenever he cared to look. Nevertheless, I flinched from this order. It was shame as much as fear. Neither excused failure to do as he commanded. Slowly I straightened my back. Slowly I lifted my head. He stood now in front of the table, almost close enough to touch me. His arms were folded. His expression was impenetrable as always. His gaze was intent, serious, searching. I forced myself to meet his eyes and not to look away.

“Why did you run?” he asked me quietly. “Why did you return?”

“Why do you ask me anything? Can you not see every answer you seek in my mind?” I asked him. These were not actually questions. I knew he could do it. I knew I was not wrong.

He did not answer at once. The pause seemed long to me. At last he said, his voice quiet, “Not easily, in fact. Your anger and fear get in the way of your thoughts. All strong emotions make it difficult for me to see your thoughts clearly. That’s one of the ways in which you can defend your mind from me.”

This was not at all what I had expected him to say. I stared at him, speechless.

“Of course, it’s difficult for a man to think clearly when he’s very angry or very frightened. This is a skill that improves with practice. Karoles positively enjoys temper, but I don’t think you’d find the method suits you. You could think in taksu rather than darau. Most people frame their clearest thoughts in words, and for that I must know the language. I speak four languages of the summer country, but I speak only a little taksu.”

I said, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice, “No doubt you have learned more taksu from me.”

His answer came grave and level, with no trace of either apology or anger. “Yes, I have. You’ve been useful to me in several ways. You’ll be far more useful in the future if you can manage to be less afraid of me, and of course we’d both be more comfortable. My wife sings. Songs run through the surface of her mind, or poetry, nearly all the time she is awake. I can hardly see her thoughts at all. She says she’s fortunate she was born with music in her fingertips and songs in her mind because otherwise I would never have consented to marry her. I’m the fortunate one, obviously. Until I met her, I thought I would never marry.” He was smiling wryly at my astonishment.

I had completely forgotten that he was married. It seemed indescribably strange to me that a powerful sorcerer might have a wife who knew what he was, and yet loved him and was not afraid of him. “Do your daughters also know?” I asked him. I could hardly believe this might be so, but he nodded gravely.

“They do. My oldest daughter, Selili, finds it easiest not to worry about what I might see in her mind. When she was still quite a young child, she told me that if she always does what she thinks is right, she never has to feel ashamed, so she doesn’t have to fear what I might see in her thoughts.”

He was smiling at the memory, as a man will who is proud of his daughter. My fear eased a little. He gave me a small nod and added, “When she does wish to hide something from me, Selili is skilled at deflecting her thoughts. You’ve done that on occasion yourself. For example, when I ask you about your father, sometimes you immediately think of your mother. You could learn to do that deliberately. Anything that makes you feel strong emotions works best for that, so for you, thinking of your mother is very effective. Or your ... she must be your sister?”

I knew whom he must have seen in my mind. “My younger sister. She has thirteen winters now.”

“My other two daughters are close to that age. Like their mother, they’ve learned to sing.”

“They all know what you are. Everyone knows.” I still could hardly comprehend this.

“Hardly ‘everyone.’ My family, my king, my talon commanders. A very few others. I told you the truth when I said that sorcery is illegal among my people. Though not as profoundly forbidden as among yours, of course. Is that why you returned: because you realized that after having come under my power, your people wouldn’t take you back?”

I thought of my father, of the death required for an oathbreaker, of my mother. The images that came into my mind now were so vivid it was almost as though I actually saw my father stepping toward me with the knife in his hand; actually saw my mother’s face as she watched him do it.

Lord Aras flinched. It was very slight; something I saw in his mouth and in the way he glanced away for an instant. I shuddered with relief because I knew at least I had been right about this one thing: his nature was not that of a cruel man and he hated cruelty. This certainty settled in my stomach. My fear eased further, and I saw him react to that as well.

I realized what this meant. “You can see my thoughts more clearly now?” I said. It was half a question, but only half. I was certain of the answer.

“Yes. You’re still angry, still afraid, but not as much. You’re also more curious now. Curiosity doesn’t block me at all. Your father would actually kill you because you had fallen into the power of a sorcerer?”

“No, not for that.” I hesitated. “Do I need to tell you? You do not see it?”

“It’s more precise if you explain, and I would prefer that you explain.”

I said, “My father would not put me to death for coming under your power. But I put his honor behind my oath to you. If I broke that oath, he would have no choice but to put me to death for that.”

“So you came back,” he said, understanding. “You could do nothing else.”

I thought of how I had considered going to find Hokino inKera. Lord Aras’ mouth tightened again. I met his eyes, nodding to acknowledge his reaction. “It is your right to give me any death you wish. But if you put me to death, I think you will choose a kinder death than the one due an oathbreaker. Also, I hope—I ask—that afterward, you will send my head to my father so that my skull may be set in the tomb of my people.”

“You think I might put you to death?” He looked at me carefully, in that way I now knew meant he was looking into my mind. “You do think so. Ryo, you didn’t break your oath to me. If you had, I would forgive it. You had suffered a severe shock; I understand that. But you haven’t broken your oath. You came back. Here you are.”

I bowed my head, dropping my gaze from his, though I knew it would not help. Taking a breath, I made myself look up again. “You might be generous enough to say I have not broken my oath to you, though obviously I have. But I know that you are a sorcerer. What can you do but put me to death? How else can you be certain I will not tell everyone, your people and mine? You could order me to be silent, but you know now that I may disobey any command you give me. I have shown you that.”

“That’s an extremely harsh assessment, Ryo. I don’t think that’s at all accurate.”

He was trying to find a way not to punish me as I deserved. I was not even surprised. But I still thought he would probably put me to death once he had thought a little more. Even if he did not want to do it, he would decide that I was more dangerous to him than useful. But I was almost entirely certain he would not do anything terrible to me with his sorcery. This was an unutterable relief.

I said, “My people believe that sorcerers are always evil. This I have come to doubt. If I am wrong, if you have made me believe things that are false, if you made me take oath to you, then you will do whatever you wish to me now and I cannot prevent you. If that is so, I have no hope. But if I am right, then you will not do such a thing. If you decide you must put me to death, I will not protest it. There is no possible way I could protest it. But you would be kind to do it and have it over.”

For a little while he was quiet. I wished, suddenly and shamefully, that I could see his thoughts as he could see mine. His mouth crooked at that, with irony or humor, and he raised an eyebrow. “Can you look at me?” he asked, his tone quiet and serious. When I met his eyes, he went on, still quietly. “I don’t intend to put you to death, Ryo. Even if you weren’t useful to me, even if I thought your oath to me was worthless, that would be a terrible thing for me to do after extending guest-right.”

I thought if he had reason enough, he would do it. I started to say something, I hardly knew what, but he lifted a hand to check me and went on. “Listen to me, please, Ryo. Before the gods, on my father’s honor, I swear that I have not and I will not go into your mind to change anything you remember or feel. I won’t do anything of the kind unless you give me leave to do it, and I will never do it to harm you. I know sorcerers can sometimes force a man to obey. I swear I have not and will not do anything of the kind to you. When I was younger than you are now, I took oath that I would never do such things.” He paused. Then he asked, “Can you believe me?”

I was staring at him, blank with surprise. I had spoken the truth when I said I did not believe he was evil. But still, I was not certain I could trust his oath. It is a terrible insult, to say to a man’s face that you will not take his oath. Among Ugaro, even to imply doubt would see drawn knives and blood. I knew he must see my uncertainty in my mind, and bowed to the floor in apology.

“If I were the same man, exactly the same, but not a sorcerer, would you accept my oath?”

I would. I would not hesitate. I knew he could see that in my mind as well.

He sighed. “Well, I have sworn it, and it is true. Perhaps you will believe me a little now and more later. I’m not angry. I’m not angry, Ryo. Can you look at me?” He came forward a step, lifting his hand. Not as though he meant to hit me, but as though he would touch me, my shoulder or my face. Despite my growing certainty that he would not do anything terrible to my mind, dread ran through me. He dropped his hand immediately, stepping back, his mouth flinching in the way I was already coming to recognize.

I saw a truth I had not understood before. I said, “When you must put someone to death, you suffer for it.” I hesitated. Then I said, “You would not need to kill me yourself. You would not need to witness it.”

“I think I would,” he answered, his tone dry. “If such a thing were to be done at all. Please never suggest again that I might avoid my clear duty in such a manner.”

I had not thought of it in that way, and immediately bowed low yet again. “I am sorry,” I said sincerely. “I would not ... I did not mean it as an insult.”

“I know. I forgive it. Ryo. Look at me. Do you intend to disobey me again?”

“I do not think I intend that. But how can you trust me now?”

“Do not betray my secrets to anyone. That is an order. Do you intend to disobey that command?”

“No, lord. But—”

“‘My lord.’ You are still under my authority, Ryo.”

“Yes, my lord. But—”

“I think,” he said, “That you are simply going to have to accept this on faith: I do trust your oath, and I will not put you to death. Have you got your balance yet? Can you stand up?”

I certainly had not recovered my balance, but I thought I could probably stand.

“Good,” he said, his tone kind. “I hope you’re not too tired, because we’ll ride out shortly. I’ll speak to you again tonight.”

It might have been a warning or a promise. He did not mean it as a threat. I was almost certain he did not.

Sighing sharply, he said, “Of course it’s not a threat. I’ll speak with you tonight, when I hope we’re both calmer.” He raised his voice without waiting for an answer. “Geras!”

After a moment, Geras came in. His expression was blank, in the way of a man who is worried but does not want to show it. He looked at me first and then at Lord Aras. The warleader said to him, “Troop Leader Geras, please see that Ryo has anything he needs. He’ll want something to eat soon, I expect. Please inform Talon Commander Ianan that we’ll depart in an hour.”

“Yes, my lord,” Geras answered. He put a hand down to me. I took it and let him help me stand. I might have needed his help; I felt shaky. Precarious. I hoped this did not show. I knew Lord Aras would see it, but I did not look at him and he had already turned his attention back to his papers, pretending he saw nothing.

“Well,” Geras said when we were out in the hall and the door was shut again behind us. He looked me up and down, quickly but comprehensively. “Your skin looks whole, so far. Was he very angry?”

“Not nearly so angry as I deserve,” I said truthfully. “He said he will not put me to death.”

Geras stared at me. “He won’t put you to death! No, I almost think he won’t! Generous gods, boy, why would he do such a thing?”

I realized that Geras, like Lord Aras, thought I had not broken my oath, or, being Lau, was ready to forgive it. Either way, he thought that was the extent of the trouble. He did not realize I had discovered a terrible secret Lord Aras did not want revealed.

I could say only, “He said he would send for me tonight.”

“Huh. Then I think we’d better see you’re available when he sends for you.” Geras looked me over again. “You going to run away again between now and then?”

He had the right to ask me that. I bowed my head to him in apology. “I will not. I am sorry. I know you were worried.”

“I was.” He headed down the hall, jerking his head for me to come with him, and went on. “An Ugaro alone, anything might have happened! You young fool, what were you thinking? Whatever that warleader told you about whatever woman, you were stupid to sneak off like that!”

I was relieved; no one genuinely angry scolds like that. “I stayed out of sight.”

“Oh, you stayed out of sight! If anybody’d spotted you, you’d’ve had half a hundred Lau farmers after you! Do you think Lord Gaur put me and the others with you for a joke?”

I did not want to argue. I said nothing.

After a moment Geras added in a kinder tone, “Well, it turned out better than it might’ve. Next time tell me if you’ve got a problem, and we’ll come up with a better idea than you sneaking off by yourself.” He set a hand on my arm while I was still staring in astonishment at this offer, drawing me to a halt before we reached the stairs so that he could look me in the face. “Whatever the problem was, you’ve got it settled now, you and Lord Gaur?”

His grip was not that of a man escorting a captive, but a friendly gesture. Though I felt raw and exposed from my interview with Lord Aras, I did not mind it. I said, “Yes,” though I was not sure this was true.

Geras looked at me hard. “Food,” he said. “You’re looking dead peaked. We’ll get you squared away in no time. You tired?”

“No,” I said, which was not true, but I felt better now in my heart and that made my weariness less.

“Hah,” he said, unconvinced. “Well, you’re young, you’ll manage.” He gave me a little push toward the stairs and let me go. “Food,” he said firmly. “Don’t argue. Boy like you can’t live on air, no matter how upset you’ve been.”

I did not argue. For the first time since I had decided I must come back, I felt that I could eat and not get sick.

-12-

We rode north and east all that day. Our company was smaller now. The inKera were gone, and Geras told me they had been sent north on the previous day, with three talons to escort them. We stayed to the road as we passed farms and villages, but Lord Aras rode into each village and spoke to people there. I wondered if he was looking for signs that might tell him the other sorcerer had enslaved the people there, made them his dogs by setting his leash on them, or his fools by putting falsehoods into their minds and making them believe lies. I wondered whether Lord Aras found signs of that. I also wondered whether he might be putting his own will on the villagers, his own leash. I tried not to wonder that, but I could not help it. I knew he would see those questions in my mind, and flinched from that, but whether because I feared his anger or feared to hurt him, I could not tell.

I rode lost in my own thoughts most of that day, ignoring the casual talk that went on around me, only answering now and then when Geras, or more often Suyet, spoke to me. Esau was more restful. He did not speak to me at all, and hardly to anyone else.

At last, as the dusk melted into an indigo twilight, we halted. It seemed a place like any other to me. We had not come to a village. Farms lay before us and behind us, pastures to the south, and to the north a rockier, sharper slope than we had mostly seen in this gentle country.

Smooth lines of tents went up in fields empty of everything but harvest stubble. I had nothing to do and stood to one side as Esau and his file put up their tent. Geras went off to see to other duties. Suyet stayed with me, but I had no heart to speak to him.

“It’ll be all right,” Suyet said to me, troubled. “Lord Gaur can’t be that angry. You did come back.” I nodded, but I made no answer.

I ate the evening meal in company with Esau and Suyet and some of the men of Esau’s file and some younger soldiers who were friends of Suyet’s. Lalani and two other young women brought the food. Lalani asked me, “Are you all right, Ryo?” as though she were a sister or cousin, someone who had a right to ask me that question. I could hardly be offended, but I could not answer her either. I smiled and thanked her for the food she gave me, and she touched my arm in sympathy before she moved away to serve the other men.

As the evening deepened into night, all the Lau faces blended into the darkness, except their eyes, and their teeth when they smiled. Suyet stood up and lit lanterns at the opening of the tent. Esau and another man began a game of sestaket. I knew soon Lord Aras must send for me. I was afraid again. I did not think he would have changed his mind about putting me to death, but I was not certain. No matter what he decided, I was still afraid of him.

One of the young men who ran errands for Lord Aras came almost as I thought this, nodding to me. Suyet jumped to his feet, and Esau tossed his remaining pegs to another man and stood up, dusting off his hands. I followed the young man without waiting for them.

Lord Aras was standing in his tent, talking to Harana and Ianan while soldiers took away the supper table and the empty dishes. Harana gave me a long look that I could not interpret, but he did not seem as angry now. He did not glance at Esau, and Esau did not look at him.

Without breaking off his conversation with his own people, Lord Aras nodded to me and gestured dismissal to my guards. Very soon after that, everyone had gone and we were alone. This time I stayed on my feet, keeping to Lau manners, though I could not bring myself to look him in the face. In so many ways, Ugaro manners are easier. Especially for a man who is afraid.

I thought then of all the times I had thought the Lau cowardly, and felt the heat rise up my face. Every time I had thought such things, he had known it.

Everything I did not want to think came into my mind; all my doubts of him and of myself. He must have seen all these things, but he said merely, “I’m not going to put you to death. Can you believe that yet?”

I had not realized how much I had feared he would change his mind until that moment. I did believe him. Nevertheless, I demanded, “How can you trust me? Do not say you know whom to trust!” My tone held far more anger than I had realized I felt. I looked away, striving for the self-control fitting to a warrior.

He said, “I don’t blame you for feeling angry or afraid. Anyone would.” He studied me for a time. Then he said, “I haven’t been doing anything to the villagers; as I said, I swore an oath not to do such things. I don’t blame you for suspecting that either. I’ve been looking for the sorts of traces that will let me make a more precise guess about what my enemy has been doing here and what he might intend. There are plenty of traces, unsurprisingly, but so far only what I already knew I’d find. I have some hope I might discover something more helpful from the people of Erem Sen, but only a few of the survivors took refuge here and none of them know the kinds of things I’d hoped to learn.” He sighed. “A clear treatise about the use of sorcery in seizing power would be helpful. Perhaps something along the lines of provoking Ugaro savagery in order to prompt a general uprising among the terrified people of the borderlands ... well. That isn’t my immediate concern. Tell me, Ryo, what is it you most fear I’ll do to you?”

Of course I had not expected him to ask such a thing. I stared at him, feeling naked and helpless.

“The only way to address fear is to address it. Tell me aloud. Take your time.”

I did not need time. I needed courage. I said stiffly, “I fear you will make me believe something that is not true. I am afraid you already have. You swore to me you will not. I should not fear it. Except—” I stopped. There was no way to say it that was not a deadly affront.

“Except if I’m the sort of man who would do such things, how could you trust my oath? Or what if I made you think I had sworn such an oath when I never had? How could you tell? It’s a reasonable fear. I don’t blame you for it. There are, in fact, ways to tell truth from falsehood. I’d like to teach you those ways, but it would require me to put a false memory into your mind. Will you permit me to do that?” He added at once, “I won’t do it without your permission, Ryo. I can’t, since I did swear that oath. Try not to be afraid. Think about whether you might be able to permit it, but if you’re not ready for that, how about this—I’d like to teach you how to prevent me from seeing your thoughts.” He smiled wryly, probably at my surprise. “When people near me know what I am, yet can’t guard their thoughts from me, it’s very upsetting for them. It’s not very pleasant for me either.”

I could see how this must be so. Nearly from the first, I had seen he did not like people to be afraid of him. How much worse if a man was horrified or filled with hatred every time he had to come near him?

“Exactly,” he said. “I understand very well why people fear and hate sorcerers. I can’t choose not to see into your mind, Ryo, but I can teach you to guard your thoughts. Unfortunately, there’s no painless way to do it.”

Whatever the pain, I wanted to learn this.

“It’s not that kind of pain. I would ask you questions you don’t want to answer, and you would try to stop me from seeing the answers in your mind. At the same time, you would try to tell me believable, coherent lies instead of the truth. I know that’s likely to be difficult for you, as your people are extraordinarily honest.”

I was struggling with this entire idea. “You want me to tell you lies?”

“Exactly so. If you tell me something plausible, I’ll stop looking for the truth because I’ll think I have it. Try to think of a lie I would want to believe. Every man is glad to stop looking for the truth when he’s handed a lie he likes better. Sorcerers are no different in that.”

He paused, looking at me closely. “I must warn you, Ryo, if you try this, you’ll fail. I’ll see the truth in your mind, however you try to stop me. Tomorrow, you’ll fail again. The day after that, you’ll fail once more. All the methods I described this morning take practice. But eventually you will learn this. Unless you don’t want to try.”

I wanted to learn this skill. I wanted it as I had yearned to learn to fight when I was a tiny child and my father had put my first wooden sword into my hands. I wanted it more than that. I wanted it as I had longed for my brother’s good opinion and his invitation to join his warriors in raiding.

I wanted this even more than that.

“Good,” he said. “Think of it exactly like that: as a weapon and a shield. Now. I described several methods to you earlier. Does one or another method appeal to you? I will say, I don’t suggest anger or fear. I don’t believe you are naturally an angry or fearful young man, so that method is not well suited to you—”

I laughed. I had not meant to, and choked it off at once.

He smiled at me. “Yes, I know. Nevertheless, I stand by my judgment on this matter, Ryo.”

“I will think of songs, my lord,” I said. It seemed a safer choice. If his little daughters could do it, surely I could learn to.

“Good. Sit down. Tell me when you’re ready.”

I sat down cross-legged on the floor. Resting my hands on my knees, I thought of one of the songs I knew best, the song we sing to the Dawn Sisters. These stars are large and very bright, and they rise only a hand’s-breadth above the high mountains of the north before they sink back down, and only during the long cold. They could not be seen in the summer lands and I missed them sorely.

Girl babies born while the Dawn Sisters are in the sky will be lucky all their lives. My youngest sister carried that luck, so I have always admired the Dawn Sisters for her sake. I hoped the song might bring me luck now. Also, it is a beautiful song.

“Yes, that’s a good, strong melody,” Lord Aras said. “My wife would like it. Hold that in the front of your mind. Keep your other thoughts underneath. When I ask you a question, you’ll think first about the question, not about the answer. That gives you a little time. You’ll be angry at me for asking it; that will help too. Try to think mostly of the song. Sing it to yourself. Underneath that, think of an answer I might believe, that is not the truth. Try to hold that lie in your thoughts and forget the truth. Do you understand?”

This sounded complicated and difficult. But I nodded. “Very well,” I said. “I am ready.”

I was not ready. I discovered this at once. He asked me, “What is the one thing your little sister has done that made you the most ashamed of her?”

I had not guessed he might ask such a question. My mind went at once to the time when my sister had told our mother—I realized I was thinking about exactly what I wished to hold back, and began to speak the words of the song to the Dawn Sisters aloud.

“Better,” he said. His tone was utterly neutral. He was watching me closely, his expression intent. “This is something you’re ashamed of as well? What could it be? Think of a lie, Ryo. Tell me something harmless.”

I opened my mouth, but no words came. I could not think of a lie. All I could think of was the time when my sister—flinching from that, I thought hard of my eldest brother, of the time he had beaten me for lying to him. This was not a memory I wished anyone to see, but it was better than thinking of my sister—

“She lied to your mother?” Lord Aras asked me. He blinked. “You beat her for it?”

I could not let Etta learn to tell lies. She had been seven, more than old enough to know it was wrong. I could not tell our mother, far less our father, so I took Etta away from the camp and beat her myself, with a knotted cord because one cannot punish a girl-child with the kind of whip with which one corrects a young man. I had been deeply ashamed of us both, though even now I could not think of any better choice.

I could not believe I had shown all this to Lord Aras. I could not believe he had asked me such a question. I stared at the tent floor, angry and embarrassed and ashamed. At least he should find it hard to see through that rush of emotion.

“I’m sorry, Ryo,” he said gently. “You failed because the memory was important to you, and because you wanted so much not to show it to me. Your fear that I would see that memory led you back to it. But you did well, for a first attempt.”

I had failed completely.

“I did tell you that you would. You couldn’t think of a lie, but that may not be possible for you. You deflected me with that memory of your brother, but then you let the one memory lead back to the other. Next time, try to chain one memory to another in a way that leads away from what you wish to conceal. If you had continued to think of your brother, but in memories further removed in context, that might have worked better.”

This was obvious now that he had explained it. I nodded, not looking up.

“You would have failed anyway. I would have asked the same question again and again, until you were too tired and confused to stop yourself from thinking of that incident. You’re angry. That will help, but not enough. In a moment, I’ll ask you another question. Are you ready?”

It was an unpleasant evening, worse because I knew, or at least I believed, that he was not doing it to hurt me. I could not stop him from seeing anything he wished. Thinking of a song did not help me at all. Chaining one memory to another was better, but it was as he had warned me: he would only ask again, shaking me from whatever other thing I thought of, forcing me back to what I wished to conceal. I was trembling with weariness and misery by the time he stopped.

He asked me, his tone gentle, “What one thing has your little sister done that made you most proud of her?”

I had pressed my hands over my eyes, though that did not help. But I looked up at this.

He gave me a small nod. “Think of a good thing, Ryo. Keep it in your mind tonight. It will help with the nightmares.”

“Everyone has nightmares?” This made me feel a little better about my own distress.

“Everyone.” The set of his mouth told me how much he hated what he had done to me, even after I had told him to do it. That made me feel better too.

I began, “How many—” But then I was not certain I should ask.

“I’ve taught this to twenty people. Twenty-three, in fact. The easiest was my daughter Selili.”

“Because she taught herself not to do anything she would wish to conceal from you.”

He did smile at that. “She finds that simpler, but if you could deflect me as well as she does, you would feel much more secure. In fact, Talon Commander Ianan is the only person who declined to make any effort to learn what I’m teaching you. He simply never makes any attempt to conceal anything from me.”

That seemed unbelievably brave to me. I was immediately curious. “Why is Ianan different?”

He shrugged. “Oh, various reasons.”

As he would not answer that, I asked instead, “Who was the hardest?”

That took the smile from his face. “My king. For a long time, I thought he would decide to kill me instead of learning to guard himself against me. That would have been safer for him, and much, much easier.”

I had already realized how extraordinary it was that a king would tolerate a sorcerer anywhere near him. Even his own nephew. No matter how well he could conceal his thoughts, this king must trust Lord Aras completely.

“Well, yes,” Lord Aras agreed. “I suppose that by the time we all realized I was cursed with sorcery, he had grown fond of me. I was eleven—you would be forgiven for wondering how we could all have been so slow. I was almost relieved to understand myself at last.”

Almost relieved was nearly the same as absolutely horrified, I could well guess. But certainly a boy’s nature is clear by that age. No doubt the king had already seen in that boy the promise of the man he would become.

“That too, possibly,” he said. “But Soretes also had practical considerations in mind. As you know, sorcerers are not so very rare among us Lau. And then there are the Lakasha-erra. He thought it wise to train himself against me, as a precaution. But he still suffered from nightmares. Of course, a king may have more important secrets than most men. You, I hope, will have an easier time.”

I could not pretend I was anything but unhappy, but I nodded.

“Good. Ryo, you will learn this, more quickly than you now fear.” He hesitated. Then he added, “Before I let you go for the night . . .” He picked up the sheathed knife that rested on the table. “You left this behind.”

I had. I had meant that gesture as a deliberate repudiation of everything he had given me. I had wanted to hurt him. Now, unhappy as I was, I was ashamed of that.

“I don’t blame you,” he said gently. “You felt I had betrayed your trust. You were not wrong. But it’s important for certain people to see that I don’t feel you’ve betrayed mine. Will you take this knife again, even though I’m the one who gives it to you? Or would it be better if I ask Geras to find you a different knife?”

I had not expected that. I did not answer at once. He met my eyes steadily, waiting for my decision. After a moment, he said, “It’s not your responsibility to make me feel more comfortable about what I’m doing to you, Ryo.”

I realized he expected me to refuse. He was ready to forgive faults in everyone but himself. I held out my hand for the knife.

He looked at me. Then he said quietly, “Thank you, Ryo.” He handed me the knife, and I took it. Then he let me go.

-13-

We rode east again, and a little north, the next day and for six days after that. Lord Aras spoke to farmers and villagers, seeking refugees from destroyed Erem Sen or perhaps seeking to learn other things from other people. I did not know what he found out from them, if anything. I was too lost in my own misery to care.

Each evening, he sent for me. I did learn. I grew more skilled at hearing a question and thinking of something else, but I did not grow skilled enough. Nothing I did could prevent him from learning anything he wished. I thought of giving up the effort, yet I knew if I did not learn this, I would always be afraid. Still, I dreaded the summons. Sometimes I could not eat the evening meal. At night, I slept badly and woke often.

Late on the seventh day after we had left Dumau Sen, while the evening meal was cooking—it was a thick, spicy soup, made with beef and lentils—Esau stood up, said he had things to do and walked away. Suyet had already gone somewhere else with other friends, but that left two soldiers of Esau’s file, Laraut and Kosas, with us. But a little while later, they too stood up and strolled away, leaving me alone with Geras. This was unusual, but I was too unhappy to think anything of it.

Geras sat on a log, shaving long strips off a piece of wood. I did not care what he was making. I sat looking into the fire, waiting for the summons to come. Geras shaved another long strip from the wood, and another, tossing them absently into the fire. Then he held up the length of wood and peered along it, making a dissatisfied noise. Not looking at me, he commented, “Not much company around our fire tonight.” Another shaving went into the flames. “Laraut and Kosas probably wanted some time alone. They’re close friends, you know. You know what we mean by that?”

I did. One cannot live near soldiers and fail to learn all their terms for such things. Even though I shared their tent, I had not known about Laraut and Kosas, but I did not care. Everyone knows such things happen. As long as a man respects his wife’s pride, no one thinks much of it. I shrugged.

Geras cleared his throat. “It’s one thing when it’s men of the same rank. As long as it doesn’t cause trouble, people look the other way. It’s something else when it’s a man of high rank, and possibly a much younger man of much lower rank.” He was still not looking at me. He shaved another thin sliver from the wood and went on, his tone completely neutral. “Sometimes that happens. Some officer gets an idea he can give that kind of order. What a young soldier ought to do then is, he should tell his troop leader. Who will sort it out. One way or another. Even if the officer is an important man.”

By this time, even distracted as I was, I had understood his meaning. I sat back and looked at him. “Any young soldier would be fortunate to have you as his troop leader,” I told him. “But nothing like that is happening.” I laughed then, pressing a hand over my eyes. I did not want to say I been afraid of exactly that, the first night I had spent in a Lau tent. I certainly did not wish to say that I would have preferred something that simple. Lowering my hand, I said, “No. Truly.” When Geras raised one eyebrow, doubtful. I repeated, “Truly. He would never do anything of that kind.”

“Well, to be honest, I wouldn’t have thought it. He’s never condoned that sort of thing in his talons. But—”

“I cannot tell you. Do not ask me.”

“Right. All right.”

There was an edge to his tone now. He knew there was a problem. He did not like being asked to ignore it. To distract him, I asked, “How would a troop leader stop a talon commander from doing such a thing?”

“There are ways,” he said vaguely.

“If that kind of problem occurred among my people, the young man would never go to another man. Not even his warleader. He would tell his mother. She would go to the other man’s wife. If that did not end it, she would go to the wife of the tribe’s lord, or to the warleader’s wife, or to the foremost singer of the tribe, whichever might be more forceful. That would certainly end it.”

Geras was looking at me, the smooth movements of his knife finally arrested. “Ryo. No. His mother? That is just ... so wrong.”

I laughed, pleased to have disconcerted him. “I would tell you,” I promised him. “But it is not that, and I cannot.”

“Huh.” He slid his knife into its sheath, tossed the wood he had been shaving into the fire, and stood up. As though she had been waiting for that signal—she probably had—his wife came softly out from between the rows of tents. She came to the fire, smiled at me and at her husband, and sat down there, bending forward to tend the pot.

“Stay with Aedani until I get back or someone comes from Lord Aras for you,” Geras ordered me. Then he walked away.

I stared after him. Being left in the company of a woman was not remotely like being left under the guard of soldiers. If I chose to disobey his command, certainly a woman could not prevent me. Though she could call for help, of course, unless I prevented her. I was still in the middle of the Lau camp, so if she called out, any number of soldiers would answer her cry. Even so, I was surprised he had left me that way. I said to Aedani, “Does Geras mean to show he trusts me, that he leaves me with no guards around me? Would you call out if I stood up and walked away?”

Aedani looked at me, smiling and raising her eyebrows. It was not a very demure expression. I had come to know that she was a confident woman, though so far I had met no Lau woman remotely as forceful as my mother. Perhaps the comparison was not entirely fair.

She said, in the soft voice common to Lau women, “I wouldn’t call out. I would probably warn you that some men you might not see right now have been warned to be alert. My husband shows his trust by leaving you alone with me, Ryo, but he would never be careless in his duty.”

If I frowned at her, she would drop her gaze, so I kept my face smooth. I said, “But you tell me that other guards have been set to watch for me. Now that I know that, I could be careful. Perhaps I could avoid their notice.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “I don’t think that’s very likely, and I don’t think you would try anyway. But if I’m wrong, it isn’t my duty to prevent you.” She stirred the soup and moved the pot away from the coals. “Could you eat something? I know you haven’t been eating enough.”

“I thank you for your kindness,” I said automatically. “I am not hungry right now.”

She sighed. Then she sat back on her heels, laid her hands in her lap, and looked at me seriously. “If you were my son, I would want you to eat something.”

“You have sons?” I should have guessed this, but there were no young children in the camp and I had not thought of it.

“My sons are close to your age. One is a glassworker and one is apprenticed to become an ironsmith. Both live at their crafthalls, as is our custom for young men. I have a daughter, younger than you. She’s in service to Gaur, as I am when my husband’s talon is at home.”

There were some things in this I did not understand, but I nodded. I said, “I will not disobey Geras. My oath to Lord Aras would prevent me even if I wished to do so. But I am sorry; I do not wish to eat anything.”

Aedani sighed. “Perhaps later. I’ll keep the pot warm for you.”

I nodded, and looked into the fire. I thought about Geras, about his decision to leave me alone by the fire. I thought about what he had suspected, of how he had said, There are ways. He would not have let something like that continue; I understood that clearly. I wondered whether perhaps any talon commander of that kind, a lord perhaps, who thought he could give such orders, had ever ridden toward the enemy, yet somehow fallen with an arrow in his back.

If Geras had ever done anything of that kind, Lord Aras would surely know of it. Or ... perhaps not. It was not the sort of question that would arise in any ordinary situation. I sighed. I knew exactly what I was going to be thinking about when I stepped into the lord’s tent tonight. Unless I could prevent myself from thinking of it. I would have to try. I would never forgive myself if I showed this thought to Lord Aras and it turned out to be true and Geras suffered for it.

The summons came very soon after that. The young man was Ranen, one of the soldiers who ran errands for Lord Aras and provided all the small services he required; bringing his supper and laying out his clothing and many other things. I stood up, nodded to Aedani, and followed him in silence. As I walked, I thought, carefully, of the softness of the air, and of the smells of the camp behind me—horses and men and the spices the Lau cooked with—and the scents of the damp earth and cows and grass. Very simple thoughts, things of the moment. I had learned that this was a way I could use to prevent myself from thinking other, more complicated, more private thoughts.

But hearing Geras’ voice ahead of me made me pause. It also brought everything I did not want to think about back into the front of my mind.

Geras was saying, his voice low but sharp, “—ever you did to Ryo to make him run, whatever you’re doing to him now, it’s time for it to stop. Give him a break at least, let him get his feet back under him, keep his dinner down for a night or two. You put him with me and that’s fine, but now I’ve an obligation, and I’m telling you, my lord, I can’t meet it if you don’t take a lighter hand with that boy.”

Even my escort had stopped at this. We both stood, listening. I did not know why the young man did not back up and make me back up as well. Perhaps he was as surprised as I was.

Within the tent, Lord Aras asked, “Do you want to be reassigned, Troop Leader Geras?”

I blinked, dismayed. My escort glanced at me and took a breath to announce our presence.

“No, I don’t,” said Geras, his tone so sharp that the young man paused again, irresolute. “But it won’t matter if you do reassign me. I’m not the only one who’s noticed and I’m not the only man who doesn’t like it. You’d just have Esau here tomorrow, telling you what I’m telling you now, and after him somebody else. The boy says it’s not what it seems, and I believe him, but it’s something, and it’s hurting him, and it’s got to stop.” He took an audible breath and added, “My lord.”

There was a pause. My escort finally put a hand on my arm to make me step back, but I braced myself and did not move. The young man did not have the strength to compel me and clearly did not wish an audible struggle. He let go again.

Lord Aras said, his level voice unchanged, “I commend your commitment to your duty, Troop Leader Geras. I am aware that Ryo is unhappy, but I didn’t realize he had become unable to eat. Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention.” Then he went on, more gently, “I do not remotely enjoy inflicting pain on the young man. Please absolve me of that, if you have suspected it. I hope we are very nearly through the worst of it. Please inform me if the problem does not improve in, let’s say, four days at most. Is there anything else? No? Then—” his tone took on an ironic note— “if you would be so good as to send Ryo in, if you happen to see him.”

My escort twitched, but of course it was far too late to step out of the way and pretend that we had just arrived. I nodded to Geras as he came out and said in the driest tone I could manage, “I am not so delicate as you would have me. You had no need to bring this trouble to Lord Aras.” But then I said, bowing my head in respect for his kindness, “But I thank you.”

He shook his head and said in a low voice, “I didn’t mean for you to get any of that, obviously. I couldn’t get in to see him fast enough, or I’d have been away before you arrived. Listen, Ryo, if he does reassign me—”

“I think that is not likely,” I told him. I touched his arm as the Lau sometimes do to a friend, and went into the tent, a step ahead of my escort.

If the young man had been Ugaro, he would have blushed to the tips of his ears, knelt, and offered to take a blow for the offense. Since he was Lau, he stood very straight and said stiffly, “I apologize, my lord. I didn’t mean—” he cut that off and said even more stiffly, “I will put myself on report, my lord.”

“Yes, Ranen, I should think so,” Lord Aras answered, his tone severe. “I am aware it would have taken prodigious determination not to listen. However, next time, please try harder. You may go.”

Then, when the young man had left us, he leaned back in his chair and laughed for a long time. I sat on the floor, smiling, and waited for him to recover.

Finally, straightening, he said to me, “I hope you aren’t too upset with Geras. There’s a man who knows what he thinks. I would promote him, but he’s perfect where he is.”

“You know I am not upset with him.”

“Yes, and I’m glad of it. He deserves a bonus for telling me you’ve stopped eating.” He gave me a searching look.

“He overspoke. I eat more in the morning. He thought you were hurting me on purpose, because you enjoyed it.”

Lord Aras nodded. “Lately he’s been suspecting me of a wide variety of iniquities on your behalf. All of which have been known to happen. I keep my talons clear of that kind of thing, which should suggest better, but I expect Geras has seen men who gave themselves license for all manner of wickedness they would not permit in their subordinates. He’s seen a good deal in his life, I believe, and taken a hand in putting a stop to some of it.” He gave me a questioning look.

I knew why. He had felt my startled awareness that there were things I did not want to think tonight. I asked immediately, “Will you punish Ranen? That would not be just unless you punish me as well. We were both wrong to listen.”

Distracted, he tapped his scepter on the table in a gentle rhythm. “You were. Yes, I’ll have to. I can’t have those boys thinking I’ll condone any sort of dishonorable behavior; it would be a failure of my duty as their commander. Also, Ranen’s father would never forgive me if I sent his son back to him with a habit of listening at keyholes. I don’t suppose I can assign fewer than ten.”

I said firmly, “Twenty, my lord. At least twenty.”

He raised his eyebrows at me. “You Ugaro are punished too much as boys. It makes you harsh. Ten.”

“You Lau are not punished enough as boys. It makes you shy of correcting serious faults. If listening was a failure of honor, ten is not enough, and I must ask your pardon, my lord. I apologize for—”

He waved away my apology before I could complete it. “Let us say it was a failure of respect, not of honor.” He sighed, running the scepter through his hands. “It cannot be let go entirely, though. Ten for Ranen, and since it would obviously be unjust to assign you a different punishment for the same fault, you will have to content yourself with ten as well.” He held up his hand. “Don’t tell me how much more severely your father would have punished the same fault. I don’t want to know.”

I laughed. I could not help it. My fear of him had gone, cleared away by his obvious delight with Geras, his tolerance for Ranen’s fault and mine. I could not doubt him—his humor, his kindness, his dismay at the thought of having to deal out even very minor punishment.

The humor in his face slipped away. He leaned forward, his manner serious. “Ryo. Thank you. But let me suggest we call a halt for a day or two. There’s no shame in pausing to catch your breath.”

“You think we are ... I am ... past the worst?”

“We. I think so. I hope so. Most often it’s worse and then suddenly better. But I don’t know for certain.” He looked at me searchingly. “You’re hiding something now. Something about Geras?”

“Stop!” I said sharply. He could not, of course. Sorcery is not something a man can choose to set down as he may lay down a sword. I had to stop him myself. I had done it for a little while ... I said quickly, “How was it a matter of disrespect to listen, instead of dishonor?”

“Not far enough removed, Ryo. You can do better.”

Cursing my stupidity, I said quickly, “My father’s harshest punishment was not won by listening outside his tent; it was for breaking his favorite bow. Our bows are wonderful things, as you know, my lord, made of many layers of horn glued over a frame of birchwood. It takes a bowyer many days to make one. Breaking one of our bows is very difficult, unless a boy is especially stupid, and then it is remarkably easy.”

Lord Aras smiled at me. “Much better. What are you trying to conceal from me, Ryo?”

I smiled too. The rhythm of the tale had me now. It was easy to brush aside his question and go on, especially because I was not afraid. “This happened in the spring. My people were in the high steppe, as in that season we hunt the great herds of steppe deer that pass from east to west as the weather eases.”

I told him the whole story, drawing it out. When he pushed me harder, I began to tell him in detail about the punishment my father had given me for breaking his bow.

“Stop, stop,” he ordered me. “Enough, Ryo! Go away. Eat something. Rest. I think you should sleep better tonight. I’ll see you at the discipline parade tomorrow morning—yes, you Ugaro savage, I knew you would laugh! Out! Go!”

I laughed all the way back to the tent I shared with Esau’s file. Storytelling! I could not believe I had not thought of it before. Like a song, but more compelling, easier to imagine. And if he would not stop, I could always begin to tell him about some harsh punishment. Then he would stop.

Geras stood up when I came to our tent, his expression stoic. Then, as he saw me better, he smiled. “Not as bad tonight?”

I touched him on the arm. “Your doing, Geras.” As it had been, in a way. Maybe I had needed something that mattered, but not too much. Though I did not wish to try him too far, I suspected Lord Aras would not punish Geras for anything of that kind, even if he found it out.

Aedani had gone, but I sat down by the fire, looking at the pot, which still rested near the ashy coals. She had made sure it would stay warm for me. “Is there any soup left?” I asked, knowing there would be.

Geras ladled some into a bowl for me and handed me bread. “I gather I’m not likely to be rid of you any time soon?”

“He very much approves of you. He was not offended at all. He could not tell you so himself, but he did not forbid me to tell you.” I dipped bread into the soup and ate a bite.

“Well.” Geras stared at me, nonplused. “Well, that’s ... good, then. Not what I expected. But I’ll take it. You’re not angry at me either.”

“No. How could I be angry? But—” I pointed at him with the remaining bread “—I will wrestle you tomorrow and rub your interfering Lau face in the dirt.”

He laughed, surprised. “Oh, will you, barbarian Ugaro brat?”

“I will. I must stand up for the whip first. Do not scowl. I knew when I listened I might draw punishment for it. I deserve more than ten strokes, but he would not agree to twenty.”

“Barbarian Ugaro,” he repeated. “What about Ranen?”

“Oh, the same. Anything else would be unjust. Where Lord Aras is unjust, it is because he is too generous, never too harsh. You were wrong to think he might hurt me for the pleasure of it. He is not that kind at all.”

“Well,” Geras said. “I wouldn’t have thought so until lately, but ... well, that’s good to know.”

“You thought he might be angry. If you had been right about him, he would have been. You went to him anyway.”

“Don’t fuss. I had a couple contingencies sorted out.”

I was sure he had. I did not ask. Whatever he might have done, it seemed better not to have thoughts about those plans in my mind.

I slept that night, deeply and with no dreams I recalled.

The next morning, I took the ten strokes. I was dismayed to discover that the Lau do not permit a man to stand for the whip; he is bound between two posts to keep him still. I could never have accepted such a shameful thing for myself. I looked to Lord Aras and thought this very strongly, and to my relief he beckoned to the man with the whip and spoke to him. The man laid the thongs aside, and I stood freely instead, with my hands open and relaxed on one of the posts. Ten was nothing. I did not allow my face or back to tighten as the blows came, but looked into the distance and pretended I did not notice the whip at all.

Six soldiers were also on the punishment report: Ranen, of course, and five men for brawling, and one for theft. I did not see that brawling was such a fault, but it drew twenty strokes apiece. The man who had stolen—from a farmer, not a comrade—drew twenty and ten. I was not sorry for the man. Any kind of dishonesty is a serious fault. But I was sorry for Lord Aras, whose honor compelled him to set that penalty and then witness it. His expression remained remote and unmoved throughout, but I could see from the set of his mouth that it was hard for him.

Only one of the Lau took the beating he had earned without flinching: one of the men who had drawn punishment for brawling. Even he hissed between his teeth with each stroke. The others all cried out at least once. I tried not to think they were all cowardly, but no Ugaro would have behaved so disgracefully for so little.

After the punishment had been dealt out, while the talons made ready to go on, I beat Geras in wrestling, and then a man named Lucan, a friend of his, and then I nearly beat Esau, which pleased me very much.

Then I fought Lord Aras with blunted swords. That, I had not expected. But he paused to watch my match with Esau, and what could I do but challenge him? He would not wrestle, but to my surprise, he accepted my challenge for swords. I had not touched a sword for many days, and these were blunted for practice and not exactly the same as Ugaro swords, but I was glad to have a weapon in my hand again—and astonished by his skill. The Lau never stand out from their lines to show their courage in battle, and I had not realized any Lau knew how to fight properly. But he beat me handily. When sparring with blunted swords, he was not over-kind; I took a bruise from that match that pained me more than the whip.

After he had knocked the sword from my hands and put me on the ground a second time, I did not try to stand, but lifted my hands palms upward in the gesture by which the vanquished asks for mercy. He said cheerfully, “Next time, Ryo!” and waved for the horses to be brought up, because by then it was time for us to ride out.

I was very pleased with myself, because never once in all that morning had I thought, for more than an instant, of anything I did not want him to see.

Suyet came to offer me his hand and help me get up. He was smiling, but once I was on my feet and we had both turned toward the horses, he said tentatively, “Can I ask you something, Ryo? It might be impolite.”

I looked at him, curious. “What do you wish to ask?”

“When you took your ten stripes, you hardly seemed to notice the whip. And just now you were wrestling and sparring like it never happened. Do your people not feel as much pain as we do, or were you just pretending not to feel it?”

If someone else had asked me that, I might have been offended. From Suyet, I did not mind it. “We feel it,” I told him. “What would be the point if we did not? Our peoples are different, but not that different. It is important for a warrior to learn not to flinch from pain; otherwise how will he endure any injury? My brothers helped me learn to stand for the whip. I know you Lau are not ... I do not mean to slight your pride, Suyet. Have you ever been beaten?”

“I took ten once, for inattention,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t have wanted to wrestle half a minute afterward, I know that.” He gave me a knee up to the high saddle of my horse and swung up to his own. Then he glanced at me sideways. “Um ... Your brothers helped you learn not to flinch?”

I thought about that question. It had not occurred to me that no one taught Lau boys such things. Perhaps I could understand why they did not know how to stand properly. I decided I did not mind explaining. I said, “A child is not beaten with a whip, but as a boy comes nearer his fifteenth winter, that will change. When I had twelve winters, my second and third older brothers took me away from the camp to show me how to stand.”

“Twelve? Gods. How old were they?”

“Tokavo was twenty and one and Gayata twenty and three. I was glad to have brothers of the right age. It is important for a boy to trust the young men who do this.”

“Gods, yes, I see that.”

“Gayata took the whip. Tokavo held up his hands for me to put mine against them. Gayata gave me the first stroke and then waited for me to understand that I could endure the pain. Tokavo told me, ‘It is this bad. The second blow is not worse. Let the pain come. It will go. It is not important. Breathe. Look past me. Look at the mountains and the sky. Do not let your eyes widen. Relax your face and your hands.’” I shrugged when Suyet raised an eyebrow. “I had gripped him hard. One should not. Tokavo corrected me when I made mistakes and praised me when I did better. They gave me six strokes, very slowly and carefully. After that, I knew I did not have to be afraid of the whip because I knew I would not embarrass myself or my father.”

“And you never did, probably.”

I raised my eyebrows. “No.”

“Of course not. How many—do you mind my asking how many you’ve ever taken at once? More than ten, I bet.”

I had to laugh. No Ugaro man comes to my age without taking the occasional severe beating; young warriors who have just become men are always fools, and respected warriors correct them for it, as they should. I told him, “Three times I have taken twenty and ten strokes. Once I took twice twenty and ten.”

He looked appalled. “Gods, Ryo! Your people—” he cut that off.

“My people are harsher than yours, but not as harsh as you may think. A lord’s son is held sharply to account for any fault, especially—” it was my turn to stop short of what I had meant to say. Now I did not feel like smiling.

“Especially the warleader’s brother?” he guessed. “Especially an inGara?”

“Yes. No.” I was silent for a little while. Finally I said, “It does not matter now, or probably it does not matter. But everyone expected that when my eldest brother became lord of the inGara, I would take his place as warleader. So. That is why.”

“Oh,” he said. After a moment, he said, “Oh,” again, in a different tone.

“It does not matter,” I said again. “If Lord Aras had put me to a tuyo’s death, it would be the same. If I had died of any injury or a fever, it would be the same. Except I would be dead. I am glad to be alive, although—” It was my turn stop short.

“All right,” Suyet said. He was silent for a time. Then he said, “I’d trust you to help me learn not to flinch, Ryo.”

I looked at him in astonishment, but he was plainly serious. I could not have said why his words made me feel better, but after that I could smile again.

-14-

When we finally came to Erem Sen we found it nothing but rubble and ashes. The Ugaro who had destroyed it had been thorough, as anyone would have expected. If I had not known already that Royova inVotaro felt personally bitter toward the people of this town, I would have known from the complete destruction that had been done here. Only rarely would the warriors of any tribe go to the trouble to burn every building in a town.

We knew that some of the people had escaped. But many-many had been killed, and there had not yet been enough rain to wash away the signs of the butchery that had been done. The streets were dark and sticky with blood, dried where it had soaked into the earth and rotting where it had puddled deeply on cobblestones. Flies still clustered here and there, enough that I thought I could hear the humming of their wings. The ashes of the pyres had not yet all sifted away in the wind, so the smell of the rot and the ashes came on the breeze. It was the scent of bitterness and hatred.

We did not stay in that place long. Most of the soldiers had stayed back anyway, making their camp near a village to the south. Only Lord Aras and a small number of soldiers had come all the way to look at the ruin of the town. Nothing there interested me. I looked mostly toward the river and the winter country beyond that. I felt as though a very long time had passed since I had last walked in the snow or breathed the spruce-scented air. The inKera must be there now. I was glad of that, but jealousy came into my heart and made me feel again like a captive among enemies. I had not felt that way for ... it seemed a long time. Now the feeling filled me, and it took all my strength to resist the impulse to jerk my horse’s head to the side and kick him hard, make him run to the river.

“Easy,” Esau told me, reaching over from his horse to tap me on the knee. “You’re all right, Ryo.”

Running would be impossible. I knew that. Also, anything of the kind would make me an oathbreaker. I made myself look away from the winter country, so near and so completely out of reach.

“Are your people over there now, do you think?” Suyet asked me. He sounded both sympathetic and worried. His gaze went along the forest to the north and then back to our small group. He was thinking of Ugaro warriors bursting out of the trees and counting our own numbers and thinking that an attack now would not be good.

“No one is there now,” I said, not bothering to look again. “Or perhaps a few warriors are watching. But there is no danger.” Any number of warriors might be hidden in that forest. But if a war party were there, I was certain Lord Aras would know it.

“All right.” Suyet accepted my word with perfect confidence, sitting back in the saddle and relaxing. His eyes went back to the town, but he flinched from that and looked away in the other direction, west, where the fields lay empty and clean. “I hope we don’t stay here long.”

We did not. Almost as soon as he said that, orders came and our party turned away from the ruins and rode toward the camp. Lord Aras looked over at me and beckoned, and I nudged my horse to come up beside his blue roan mare.

“A couple of Ugaro are in the forest there,” he said to me quietly. “Would those be inVotaro?”

I could think of no reason he should not know. I said, “This is likely, though they might be inYoraro.”

“I supposed if I sent someone to speak to them, they would probably kill him.”

I raised my eyebrows, surprised that he might contemplate such a thing. “I think they would.” Of course they would. I added, “They might listen first to what this man came to say, if he were brave and did not show fear. Have you a soldier among your talons who speaks taksu? Would this man be brave enough to face Ugaro warriors without flinching, even if the hearts of those warriors are bitter against Lau?”

“Nikoles Ianan speaks quite good taksu,” he said, surprising me. “But of course I won’t send him, though he’d probably volunteer. If I sent you, would those warriors listen to you? And would you come back afterward?”

That surprised me so much I checked my horse, and then had to tap him with my heels to send him forward again. He tipped his ears back at me, tolerant comment on my bad horsemanship, and I patted his neck in apology. To Lord Aras I said, “They would listen to me. But I would not come back. Whatever their tribe, the warriors there would take me to Royova inVotaro. I would tell him everything. I ask you now to give me leave to speak freely so that if I cross the river, Royova would give me a kinder death than is due an oathbreaker.”

He looked at me. “He’d put you to death.”

I thought this was too obvious to need explanation. “He would consider you a deadly enemy.” Royova inVotaro was certain to believe Lord Aras had made me his slave or his dog.

When Lord Aras nodded in understanding, I continued, “He would put me to death. But if I were able to explain everything without breaking any oaths, probably he would do it quickly, out of respect for my father, and he would send my head to my people. This is why I ask you to permit me to speak freely.” I hesitated. Then I added, “I am perfectly aware that in making this request, I am taking advantage of your generous nature in the most disgraceful manner possible. The offense is worse because I know you will not punish me for it. I apologize. But I still ask.”

“Well,” he said, and sighed. “If you cross the river, Ryo, you may speak to anyone regarding any matter. But I won’t send you. I suppose I’ll have to depend on Hokino inKera.” He was silent for a moment. Then he looked at me directly. “Ryo, I don’t mean to impugn your honor in any way, but I gather you feel your duty to your people might require you to cross the river, even though it would mean your death. Given that, will your oath continue to hold?”

I bowed my head at once. “I am not offended. I cannot possibly be offended.” I thought about what he had asked. Finally I said, reluctantly, “I do not know what honor requires. I do not wish to break my oath to you. But I am not certain I will hold to it.”

“Ryo . . .” But he did not say anything else, only frowned at me. I bowed my head more deeply, wishing to ask him to free me of the oath entirely, knowing perfectly well that any such request would be completely shameful. I said nothing.

Then his gaze unfocused. He turned to look the way we were riding and said, speaking more loudly, “Let’s pick up the pace a little.” He nudged his mare into a canter.

When we came to the camp, we found at once that a courier had come there, looking for Lord Aras. This was a young man, dusty and tired. He had been brought to Lord Aras’ tent to wait. Someone had given him a cup of thin ale, but he set this aside and jumped up at once when Lord Aras ducked through the entry into the tent. He staggered a little, his balance uncertain with weariness and many hours’ hard riding. In one hand the young man held a black scepter, shorter and slimmer than the one Lord Aras carried, inlaid with copper and ivory instead of gold. I remembered after a moment that this indicated that the young man was a royal courier and had come directly from the summer king and that anyone who interfered with him in any way risked a charge of treason against the king. In the other hand, he held one of the stiff leather envelopes the Lau use for important papers.

Clearing his throat, the young man said, “My lord, from the hand of Soretes Aman Shavet, regat sul.” That is the way the summer kings style themselves. He tucked the scepter under his arm, set his hand on his heart, and held out the envelope.

Lord Aras said first, to one of his young aides, “Send for Harana and Ianan.” Then he said to the courier, “Your name’s Erinet, isn’t it? Did you come from Avaras, or from some point south or east? How many days have you been on the road?” He was not looking at the young man as he spoke, but breaking the seals on the envelope, untwisting the cord from the wax and unwinding it from its spool.

The courier answered, “Yes, Lord Gaur, Erianes Erinet. I took this from the king’s hand in Havivenica, lord. Twenty-seven days, counting today.”

“Havivenica! In twenty-seven days? That’s a hard pace,” commented Harana, coming into the tent. He scowled equally at the courier and Lord Aras.

“Yes, sir,” agreed the courier. He coughed, then bowed gratefully as Lord Aras, without looking up, gestured toward the cup set aside on the table. Picking up the cup, he drained it. “Sorry, my lord. Dusty road.”

“Yes,” Lord Aras said absently, his attention still on the letter. “Trooper Suyet, please bring a pitcher and more cups. Erinet, sit down before you fall over.” He gave the letter to Harana and nodded to Ianan as the younger talon commander came in, then said to the courier, “You’re the first courier to reach us in some days. Should I credit your extraordinarily fast pace, or should I understand that there might be a problem between Havivenica and this part of the border? Did you encounter trouble of any kind during your ride?”

“Most likely speed and luck, Lord Gaur, I think.” The young man held his cup out to Suyet, who had returned with a pitcher. He sipped the ale and sighed. “I didn’t run into any problems, but the king might’ve expected something, because he sent four guardsmen with me. They couldn’t keep up, so as he’d stressed to me it was urgent you get that letter, I left them in Tamaudan and came on alone.” The courier said this with no sign of conceit; merely as though it was only to be expected.

“Tamaudan,” Lord Aras repeated thoughtfully. “That’s very nearly at the western foot of the mountains. They managed to stay with you through the mountains, but couldn’t hold the pace once you reached better roads?”

Now the courier frowned a little. He shrugged. “A fast pace through the mountains is hard on horses, lord; especially horses carrying heavier men. They did well to keep up with me as far as they did.”

“That’s true. How many days did it take you from Tamaudan?”

Harana finished the letter without reacting visibly to anything he had read. He glanced at Lord Aras for permission, then handed it to Ianan.

“Nineteen, lord.”

“Extraordinary. I hope you didn’t ruin any horses.”

“I hope so too, Lord Gaur, but the king did say it was urgent.”

“It was definitely urgent. Thank you. If I have any further questions, I’ll send for you—but not before tomorrow morning. Please get some rest. I may have a reply. Are you done in, or do you think you might possibly make it back to Havivenica in another twenty-seven days?”

Tired as he obviously was, the young man grinned. “Depends on the horses you could let me have, lord. I could try.”

Talon Commander Ianan finished the letter and began to give it back to Lord Aras, who shook his head and signed for him to give it to me instead. I did not listen to whatever Lord Aras told the courier, but began immediately to read the letter, skimming past the titles in red and gold and looking for anything about the borderlands. But my eye caught quickly on something important near the beginning.

Come at once, the king had written.

I went back and read that part. There was something about the country of the Son of the Sun, most of which I did not follow. But then the king wrote: So you see the Lakasha-erra are proving recalcitrant, and recalcitrant in a way that I’m certain portends something worse than their ordinary intransigence. I’m pulling troops out of Sohenas and away from Dolora, and I see no choice but to draw down my forces in Laharas as well, though I’d rather cut off a finger than let the nonsense there smolder along until it bursts back into flame just in time for Sekaran to have to deal with it; that’s not a legacy I want to leave any son of mine. If you need to call up Gaur’s remaining talons to reinforce our northern border, do it; if you need to order up every last soldier belonging to Evalea as well, you have full authority. Use it. But you’re going to have to delegate the problems there to someone else because I need you here. Whatever you’ve found, whatever you’re dealing with, delegate everything and come at once.

Then, later, the king wrote: The good news, the only good news, is that Tasmakat-an has identified and dealt definitively with our Problem. It was a man in service to Amara, and he’s dead. Tasmakat-an believes he was working on his own, so that whole problem and everything connected to it should start to pull loose now that we’ve gotten the end and given it a tug. I have many close questions to ask Lord Amara, but I don’t actually care about the answers as long as I can push it all off and deal with it later . . .

I read that part twice. Then I looked up. The courier had gone. No one else was in the tent now but Lord Aras and his talon commanders. I said, “Your king thinks the sorcerer was a different man, not a lord of the borderlands, and that he is dead?”

“Yes,” Lord Aras agreed. “Or so that letter says.” He was frowning. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid a sorcerer has definitely interfered with young Erinet’s memory. I can’t tell who it was, but Erinet didn’t leave those four guardsmen at Tamaudan. They were killed there. His entire memory of Tamaudan is clear, detailed, and completely false.”

There was a deadly pause while everyone stared at Lord Aras.

Then Talon Commander Harana asked, “Well, who wrote that gods-hated letter, then? Can we tell?”

Almost at the same time, Talon Commander Ianan said, “So whoever altered that young man’s memory and then sent him to you can’t be aware you’re a sorcerer.”

I had not thought of either of those things, though I should have. I said what I had thought, which was, “If a sorcerer made the courier remember things that are false, does that mean the sorcerer is in the south? Or could there be two sorcerers?”

“Unfortunately, none of that’s entirely clear,” Lord Aras said to all of us. “I certainly hope there’s only one sorcerer, but we can’t be sure of that. The badge worn by the men who killed those guardsmen was not Amara’s badge, but Marotau’s. Yet from everything we’ve learned, Lord Marotau was lost with his house guard just prior to the attack on Erem Sen. But perhaps that belief is false. Our enemy’s been busy all along the border, so it’s hard for me to parse out what truly happened compared to what people think happened.”

“You cannot determine which memories are false?” This did not make sense to me, as he clearly had been able to tell that the courier’s memory was false.

Lord Aras sighed. “It’s not quite that straightforward, unfortunately. For weeks, everyone’s been busily telling everyone else rumors, and now it’s not clear which rumors might have originated in true events and which might have begun as someone’s false memory.” He turned to Harana. “This entire letter is exactly in the style I’d expect from Soretes. But if I wanted to write a false letter in the same style, I could do it. I’m sure others could as well. I don’t trust anything in it. But there are certain problems with assuming it’s false.”

Harana scowled at him. “Starting with, the trouble on our other border might be real, and in that case, then the king’s command to you could be, and if that’s so, then not only does he genuinely need you, if you ignore this command, that’d be treason.”

“Yes,” Lord Aras said, his tone dry. “Those are the problems I had in mind.”

“Considering your uncle would never in a thousand years put you up for treason, I don’t see that any of that outweighs the obvious problems with rushing off to the south as though you believed every word in it! You’d certainly be riding directly into a trap! You’d never get to your uncle—unless you went far around to the east, maybe—”

“Yes, I have that in mind as well. However, Nikoles is quite correct.” Lord Aras gave Talon Commander Ianan a small nod. “Our enemy fortunately still does not seem to realize I’m a sorcerer myself, or he’d have known he couldn’t slip this kind of egregious falsehood by me. I certainly don’t want to enlighten him. If I believed the letter was genuine, I’d certainly rush off to the south. I think I may be compelled to do that regardless.” Lord Aras turned his scepter over in his hands. “Let’s all take a little while to think about this. Karoles, Nikoles, please start with the assumption that I may be required to leave one or the other of you to manage everything in the borderlands for some little while, with every possibility that you’ll be facing a sorcerer’s interference. Let’s reconvene ... shall we say, an hour after dusk? Ryo, please remain.” He stepped to the entry flap, unpegged it, and tossed it back. “Troop Leader Geras, if I could see you and your team for a moment.”

He waited for the talon commanders to leave. Then he pegged the entry shut again and looked thoughtfully at my guards. “Wait a moment, please.”

Going to the chest at the foot of his cot, he opened this and shuffled through the papers within. Taking some out, he looked through them. Then he sat down at that table, took out another leaf of paper, and wrote quickly. Then another leaf, while the ink dried on the first one. Then a third. He wrote quickly and neatly. We all waited, but it was not very long before he put these papers with the others. He slid them all into a leather envelope, lit a candle with a glance in the way I still disliked, heated wax, and sealed the envelope. Then he came back and faced not Geras, but Esau. He said without any other preface, “You’re a good man in a brawl, I hear, Trooper Esau.”

“Well, Lord Gaur, I can be,” Esau answered, with no appearance of surprise.

“How many times have you been on report for brawling?”

“Five times, my lord.”

“How many times have you gotten away with it with no report?”

“I don’t know. More than five.” After a slight pause, Esau added, “More than ten.”

Lord Aras nodded. “You’ve been file leader for some time. Your file’s behavior is not always exemplary in camp, but it’s unshakable in the line. Your commander tells me your file is the backbone of his entire division. You’ve been up for troop leader twice, but immediately broken back to trooper both times, once for brawling and once for disrespect. You have no desire for rank. You have considerable skill at getting away with ... quite a variety of forbidden activities, now and again, I suspect. If you were going to pick one man to join you in a dangerous mission, who would that be?”

Esau had listened to all this without any noticeable reaction. Now he said at once, “Troop Leader Ates, my lord, if you could spare him.”

“I hate to lose him, but I agree he’s probably a good choice, if you feel you could work with him. You don’t consider the difference in rank a potential problem.”

“No, my lord.”

Lord Aras nodded. “Then I concur with your choice. Shortly I’m going to send couriers in various directions. One or two will be tasked to carry an urgent message for Talon Commander Samaura. If these couriers fail, for whatever reason, to reach Talon Commander Samaura, it is absolutely essential that this packet reach him.” He handed the leather envelope to Esau, who took it without comment and without glancing at Geras, or at me.

“You are not to read those papers,” Lord Aras said firmly. “Unless you have no choice. For example, if it seemed you might have to destroy these papers in order to prevent someone ... anyone ... taking them from you. In that case, if you possibly can, read them before you destroy them. Then get to Talon Commander Samaura. It’s much more important that the information in this dispatch reach my nephew than that secrecy be maintained. However, if you do read these papers, your life will inevitably become . . .” he paused, considering how to finish that sentence.

“Shorter?” suggested Esau.

Geras flinched. Suyet choked. I laughed.

The corner of Lord Aras’ mouth crooked up. He said, “I hope not, Trooper Esau. Let’s say, complicated. If the necessity should arise, the last page contains specific instructions for you. If you’re pressed for time, read that one first.”

“Yes, my lord,” Esau acknowledged.

“Coin,” Lord Aras said next, handing over a heavy pouch. “This should be plenty. If it’s not, you will unfortunately not be able to requisition supplies using either your own name or mine. Use any means necessary to complete your mission. Please make a reasonable effort to avoid unnecessary mayhem. However, should a pardon be required for any act you might find necessary, one will be forthcoming. If I’m not available to provide for that contingency, appeal directly to my uncle. He will, I promise you, sort out any problems that may have arisen in connection with this matter.”

Esau opened his mouth, closed it again, and tucked the pouch out of sight.

“Speak to Ates at your earliest convenience. Depart quietly when you find an opportunity. I doubt I have to suggest you make every effort to avoid notice—”

“No,” said Esau. “I think I got that part.” He paused. “I apologize for the ‘shorter’ comment, my lord.”

“No need. I value your naturally untrusting disposition,” Lord Aras assured him without the hint of a smile. “I’m aware you wouldn’t have said it if you actually thought I might do anything of the kind. But in fact, during the whole of this assignment, I encourage you to exercise that aspect of your character to the fullest degree.”

“Right.” Esau looked thoughtful. “All right, then. Ates and me, we’ll do our best, my lord.”

“I’m most definitely counting on it, Trooper Esau. Possibly this assignment will prove trivial. However, if it proves important, it will be absolutely crucial.”

“Yes, I got that part too.”

“I’m sure you did. At your earliest convenience, Trooper Esau.”

Esau nodded. He glanced at me, then back at Lord Aras. “Laraut’d do,” he said.

“I shall take that under advisement, Trooper, in consultation with Troop Leader Geras. Thank you for your suggestion.”

“Yes, my lord.” Esau added to me, “Give Laraut a chance. He can’t put me in the dirt very often, but I bet he can beat you two falls out of three. Tell him I’ll set next month’s wages on it, so he better prove me right.” Then he said to Geras, “Keep an eye on our Ugaro for me.” And finally, to Suyet, “Don’t be too trusting, boy, and if you’re going to play sestaket with my file, don’t rely on bluffing—learn to count.” He unpegged the tent flap, went out, and let it fall behind him without waiting for any of us to answer.

Lord Aras sighed slightly. Then he turned to Geras. “Laraut will do, if you consider he would suit you, Troop Leader.” He paused. Then he added, “I’ll warn you, Ryo may feel honor-bound to attempt to cross the river tonight. You may wish to take personal oversight of that detail.” He looked at me. “Although given more recent developments, is that actually still a concern, Ryo?”

“I do not know,” I admitted. So many things had happened so quickly, I no longer had any clear idea what honor might require.

“I see.” Lord Aras turned to Geras. “If Ryo should make that choice, the consequences would probably be highly undesirable, especially for him, so you must not permit anything of the kind to happen. Take any steps that seem advisable. Requisition additional personnel if you consider that wise. I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“Yes, my lord,” agreed Geras.

“I’ll see you shortly after dawn tomorrow,” Lord Aras told me. “By then I hope we’ll have some clear idea of the next few steps we’ll be taking. I expect I’ll be up all night, so if you should suddenly realize you need to speak to me, I’ll be awake.”

He meant he would be watching my thoughts. He would not forget or fail to pay attention. If I decided honor compelled me to break my oath, he would know it. The certainty came as a relief. If I knew I could not do such a thing, I would not have to try, and since even the attempt might be considered to break my oath, I was glad of that. I would hardly say so, but he must know that too.

“Yes,” he said. “Try to get some rest. One of us should. Troop Leader Geras, if you would please have Ryo here half an hour after dawn.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Geras, and held the tent flap for me. Lord Aras did not watch us go. He had already turned back to his papers and maps. He was studying the letter that might or might not have come from his king; I could see the gold ink of the signature from where I stood. I could not interpret his expression, but I thought he looked tired already.

Once we were out of the tent, Geras paused to look at me. “There a problem between you and Lord Gaur, Ryo? Same kind of problem as last time?”

“It is not the same,” I told him. “There is not that kind of problem. I do not wish to make trouble for you, Geras, but I do not know what I should do, so I cannot promise anything.”

“You gave your oath to Lord Gaur.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I do not at all wish to break it.”

“All right.” Gripping my arm, he gave me a little shake. “Don’t think you can slip away. Lord Gaur’s not the only one who’s going to be awake all night.”

He meant this kindly, I knew perfectly well. I could not resent it.

The day passed slowly for me. Laraut came to join us, though the rest of the file was busy at other tasks. Like Esau, Laraut was the kind of man who moved slowly and spoke slowly and saw more than he said. Anyone could see he was a man to respect. I did not dislike him, I did not dislike anyone of Esau’s file, but I missed Esau already.

I sat a little apart, trying to think. I wished I could go to Lord Aras and ask what the sorcerer was trying to do and why, and how he meant to use my people. Many questions came to me, now that he had sent me away and I could not ask them. I wanted to get up and pace, but that would have made my guards unhappy. I wanted to ride down to the river and look at the winter lands, but that was impossible.

I looked up as a shadow fell across me. I had been upset enough I had not known anyone approached, which was embarrassing, but it was only Lalani, the talon wife of Esau’s tent. I was surprised because this was not a time of day when she would ordinarily have come to the tent. She looked at me with her eyes a little wide. She was not afraid of me, so that could not be the trouble. If she had any kind of concern, she would have gone to an older woman, I assumed, or if it was not that kind of problem, to one of the soldiers of her tent. Still, I said, “Lalani, is there some trouble?”

She dropped to sit on her heels near me, careful of her dress, which was pale blue today. She had added a bangle with blue beads to the copper ones she always wore, and her earrings today were long twisted strands of copper threaded with more of the blue beads. She looked young and delicate, but the way she met my eyes showed determination and purpose. She said, “I don’t know, Ryo, but I thought you might. Esau’s gone somewhere, hasn’t he? Do you know about that? It’s dangerous, isn’t it, whatever it is?”

I thought of the things Lord Aras had said to Esau. She asked me because no one else would tell her, but she thought I might. I said after a moment, “It is either not very dangerous at all, or it is perhaps very dangerous. I am certain Esau is cunning in a raid. If there is danger, he will overcome it and win more honor in the task.”

“No one is more cunning than Esau Karuma,” she agreed at once. “But I wish I knew how much to worry!”

I wished I knew that too. I did not say so. I said, “I think it would be better if you pretended you had not noticed he is not here.”

She nodded impatiently. “You don’t have to tell me that! I know that! That makes me worry more, not less!”

I was not certain what I should say. Finally I asked, “You worry for one man, though you have seven others? Is Esau the one you prefer? If I am wrong to ask, do not answer. I do not mean to be impolite.”

“You couldn’t be impolite if you tried, Ryo.” Lalani still sounded impatient, but she smiled. Then she looked at me for a little, the smile fading. Finally she said, “Men always wonder, but they mostly want a pretty lie. Esau doesn’t, though. He likes a woman to be honest. He doesn’t just say that. He doesn’t say it at all. But that’s what he likes. Maybe that’s why he’s my favorite.”

I nodded.

But Lalani went on, “Laraut is the kindest. He thinks of nice things to do for people. Oh, that’s not right. He does nice things without thinking about it. That’s why he’s my favorite.”

Ah. I nodded again.

“Tomat is the funniest, so that’s why he’s my favorite. Sehoras is so vain, he loves to show off, but that’s funny too. He has a temper, but not with me. Sometimes he’s my favorite.”

“Yes. I understand.”

Lalani nodded, not smiling at all any longer. “I was lucky. Every girl’s lucky who comes to one of Lord Gaur’s talons. With Ugaro it might be different, but among Lau, sometimes a man isn’t kind to his woman. But Lord Gaur never promotes a man like that higher than file leader, so women are safe here.”

Sometimes among Ugaro, a man might be unkind to a woman. Sometimes a woman might be unkind to a man. But the lord of the tribe or his wife would not let that turn into the kind of trouble I thought Lalani meant.

She was going on. “But I’m luckier than the others because my file is the best in the whole talon. But, Ryo, all my men are soldiers. I did have a favorite once. He was named Eranat. He died three summers ago. That was ... I was glad to have a whole tent to look after. I was glad to have a whole file, nearly a whole file, to look after me. I like Esau very much. Please tell me if you learn something I would want to know.”

I could not refuse. I nodded.

“Good,” she said seriously. Then she smiled again. “He is very cunning, though!” She jumped to her feet, patted me on the shoulder as though I were one of the men of her file, and dashed away, graceful as a young doe.

I looked after her and wondered where Esau was now, and whether a sorcerer, or more likely the slaves of a sorcerer, waited along the path he must take. Lord Aras had not needed to say he thought so. That had been clear enough without the words being spoken.

As the day eased at last into dusk and then into full night, I tried to put all the questions and fears out of my mind. I lay down in the tent. Usually Suyet slept in the tent he shared with his own file, but tonight he came into the tent of Esau’s file with me. Enough light came in from the fire outside that I could see he did not close his eyes. I told him, “Sleep if you wish. I think I have decided I do not have to break my oath to Lord Aras.”

“That’s good to hear,” he said, smiling. But he did not close his eyes. He turned on his side so that he could look at me. I waited, but he surprised me. He asked, “Would you teach me taksu?”

I had to settle my tone before I could answer. Then I said, “If you wish to learn it, I would be pleased to teach you.”

“I think I would. What’s the taksu for ‘Lie down and go to sleep?’”

I laughed. Then I told him.

“Lie down and go to sleep,” he advised me. His accent was terrible, and I corrected him, so he said it again, better. Then he went on in darau, “Whatever’s up, it’s important and it’s got you upset, I know that, and I wouldn’t mind knowing plenty more about it, but you wouldn’t catch me fretting all night. You said you’re not going to try to break your oath, so you might as well go to sleep. You want someone to cool the tent, or would you rather be too warm?”

He was not old enough to correct me in anything, but he meant it in a friendly way. I said, “If you believe I will not try to break my oath, you should sleep too. There is no need for a cantrip.” I turned on my back and pretended to go to sleep, and Suyet did not speak to me again, though I knew he was not asleep. I was aware when Geras came in and sat down by the entrance, watchful and quiet. Suyet turned over and went to sleep then. After a little while, the air in the tent grew a little cooler. Neither of them could have worked the cantrip, but perhaps Laraut had done it. I did not like that, but I had not liked the close warmth either. The cooler air did make me feel more comfortable. After a time, I think I slept a little, but it was a restless night. Every time I woke, I saw one or another of my guards awake and watchful. That had not always been the case lately, but tonight I was more closely guarded. I pretended I did not notice.

-15-

Well before the early dawn of the summer country, we were all awake. Even then the time seemed to pass slowly. Geras kept an eye on the eastern horizon, pretending not to notice my impatience. Suyet asked me for the taksu words for bread and porridge and wheat and all manner of related words, which at least helped me pretend to pay attention to other things. Lalani came and listened and repeated all those words back to me. She showed no sign at all that she noticed Esau was not there or that she worried for him. Her pronunciation of taksu was much better than Suyet’s. She slanted a teasing look at him when I said so and said, “Of course, Ryo. A woman has to listen more carefully than a man.”

Suyet only grinned and said slowly, “Give me the bread,” in taksu. His pronunciation was better that time.

Laraut had been listening tolerantly. Now he said to Suyet, “An Ugaro would hit you for putting it like that. You better learn to say please.” Then he told him one of the ways to say please in taksu. When both Suyet and I looked at him in surprise, he shrugged and said, “You pick it up. M’ mother used to trade with Ugaro women, a long deal of years before any trouble started. Us boys used to pester the warriors to try their bows. Not that there was any Lau brat could ever draw an Ugaro bow, but they’d show us a trick or two on our own bows. Taught us to say please and thank you right quick too.”

I had not known any of this about Laraut. “We think it is important to be polite,” I agreed. “What tribe was that?”

“Don’t rightly remember. A ways farther east from here. I think maybe inTaravo, something like that.”

I nodded. “That would have been the inTarova. That tribe is an ally of inNawa, which is an ally of inGara, so they are an ally of ours as well despite the distance.” The unexpected connection made me feel as though the world had suddenly become a smaller place. After a moment, I added, “I did not know your people lived by the river. I would regret hearing that the war brought harm to your family.”

Laraut gave me a brief, wry smile. “When times’d just got tense, my sister’s husband moved away south. Took a loss selling out, but he wouldn’t stay in the borderlands. At the time I thought the man a fool, worried over nothing. Turned out he was smarter than me. Some of those as waited too long lost everything down to their boots.”

I was relieved to know Laraut’s people had not suffered so much, and disturbed as well, to realize I could not be pleased to hear of Lau farmers being driven out of the borderlands. I was glad that Geras finally signed to us that it was time to go. The Sun’s light had turned the eastern horizon luminous, and it was near enough dawn at last.

Lord Aras stood up as I came into his tent. His scepter lay on the table, but most of the papers had been put away. I thought again that he looked tired. He said to Geras, “My talon commanders should be arriving shortly. No one else should need to see me for the next hour.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Geras, and withdrew, along with Suyet and Laraut.

I waited until they had gone. Then I asked, “Have you decided what we should do? Is it something you can tell me?”

“Possibly,” he said, not showing any sign of impatience. He turned to nod as Talon Commander Harana came in. “Karoles, good. You’ve nothing dramatic to report, I gather.”

“Nothing across the river but peaceful snow as far as the eye can see. Which doesn’t mean all the Ugaro in the world aren’t three miles off, just waiting for a signal.” The talon commander threw himself into a chair, blowing out a breath. “You’ve worked out what you want to do, I presume. I’m not going to like it, am I?”

“No,” said Lord Aras. “But you wouldn’t have liked it better if I’d gone with your plan.”

“You’re right about that. Gods-hated sorcerers making themselves a gods-hated nuisance, too bad they don’t all poison themselves with their own madness and save us the trouble. Present company excepted.”

“Of course,” Lord Aras said, smiling. He nodded to Talon Commander Ianan, who came in then. “Good morning, Nikoles, and how is your talon? Bored and restless, I hope?”

Ianan smiled. “Not noticeably, but I’m sure they’ll be ready to march as soon as you give the word. I gather you expect to give it.”

“Yes. I think we’ll aim for midmorning.” Lord Aras sat down, gesturing to Ianan to sit as well. I sat on the floor, with some relief that there were not enough chairs.

“I’m going to send young Erinet back the way he came,” Lord Aras told us all. He tapped an envelope that was already sealed and waiting. “I’ve written to Soretes: I’ve expressed my relief at the death of the Amara sorcerer; my conviction that Lord Marotau was duped into the winter country and died there; my certainty that my talon commanders can certainly handle continuing hostilities here, at least as long as no sorcerer interferes with their efforts; and my intention to follow the courier south with all possible speed.”

“While in fact you’ll stay right here and deal with the problems we’re facing along this border,” Talon Commander Harana suggested. He shrugged when Lord Aras looked at him. “Well, I could hope. Fine, then. You’ll take Ianan’s talon, start off south, swing west, skirt the border of Gaur, cut through northern Evalea and the edge of the Peacock Desert, come back into the mountains south and west of Tamaudan, and try to take the sorcerer there or else drive him in this direction and pin him between us.”

“Yes, that’s much closer.” Lord Aras unrolled a map. “Considering the threat from the Ugaro, you can’t spare an entire talon. I’ll take half of Ianan’s.”

“Aras—”

“Horses for half a talon will already leave you dangerously short of mounted troops. Most likely our enemy’s working with nothing but an ordinary house guard—probably not more than twice that, at the most. I imagine that if he wants a real army, he plans to take mine.”

“Fine,” Harana snapped. “It’s a risk, but plainly you’re determined.” He crossed his arms over his chest, glowering at Lord Aras. “You think I can hold against him? I’m not talking about numbers.”

“I know you’re not. I hope so, yes. I’ve done everything I can think of to shield your mind from him, and the minds of our people. If he were to have time to work on you ... we’ll try very hard not to give him sufficient leisure for that.” He picked up a leather envelope, tapped the edge of it against his palm for a moment, then gave it to Harana. “Contingencies. If you meet circumstances that aren’t covered here ... use your best judgment.”

“Oh, that’s very reassuring. I certainly feel confident now. Suppose our enemy’s not waiting politely in Tamaudan for you to catch up to him?”

Unruffled, Lord Aras answered, “If our enemy was in Tamaudan nineteen days ago—twenty, now—then by this time he’s probably somewhere between Eles and Sova. If he plans to ambush me, as I believe we can assume he does, he’ll most likely intend to do it here or here.” Lord Aras touched the map, indicating places along the road, near the mountains. I stood up to look, but I could not tell much about how the land lay from the notations on the map.

Lord Aras continued, tracing a line on the map. “We’ll proceed up this route, Nikoles. Before we even reach Laudet, we’ll cut away west, but first I’ll send a second courier south.”

Ianan nodded. Unlike Harana, he did not seem angry, but there was a small crease between his eyebrows. “Carrying news you’ve been delayed, I assume.”

“Exactly.” Lord Aras picked up a second envelope. “This expresses my dismay that I have been forced to delay in the borderlands and promises that I will come as soon as possible. It indicates my intention not to delay longer than seven days. I’ll send a courier to carry this south. I have almost no doubt this courier will ride straight into our enemy’s hands. That should focus his attention on the road and keep him in place while we circle around.”

“It’s hard on your courier.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Lord Aras agreed. “That’s why I don’t want to send more than a single man. He may be killed, if our enemy sees nothing better to do with him. More likely he’ll be enthralled and put to whatever use our enemy wishes. Once I’ve put the sorcerer down, even if I can’t clear his victims’ minds myself, they’ll eventually fight free of any pernicious influence.”

“Well, we’ll hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Indeed. If the gods are kind, we’ll get around behind our enemy. Either he’ll face me or he’ll break north. If he faces me, I hope I’ll be able to deal with him immediately. If I can’t, I’ll try to force him all the way north and throw him against Karoles.” Lord Aras met Harana’s eyes. “If I can’t get it done with finesse, we’ll have to do it with brute force.”

“If we have to, we will,” Harana said, smiling almost as fiercely as an Ugaro.

“Yes,” Ianan said again. He did not sound nearly as satisfied at the prospect. He hesitated. Then he asked, “And if the letter from our king was genuine?” He glanced at the scepter, where it lay on the table.

Lord Aras shrugged slightly. “If I let this sorcerer have his way here, Soretes will probably agree that whatever situation he’s facing in the south suddenly seems less critical. If I’m wrong, that’s my mistake and I will answer for it.” He picked up yet another envelope. “This one contains the truth, or as much of the truth as I know now. It needs to reach Soretes. I’ll take it with me, with plans to add to it and send it on when we’ve gone as far south as I plan to before turning back north.”

He turned back to Harana. “Now, Karoles. You’ll need to be prepared either for our sorcerer to come charging out of the south or for a possible Ugaro attack from the north; quite possibly both. I realize this will complicate your situation. I recommend that you break your people into at least four units and spread out so that if it comes to the worst, our enemy can’t take you all at once by means of sorcery. But don’t divide up so far you invite defeat in detail by ordinary military means. String out couriers and be prepared to send up flares. Make certain every unit has at least one sufficiently strong magician for the purpose.” He paused. “Of course you know all this. Forgive me; I fear I’m a little fretful.”

“Fretful,” Harana said drily. He shook his head.

“In the worst possible case, our enemy may prove to be a substantially more powerful sorcerer than I am. I don’t think that’s likely, and I hope I’ll prove to hold the advantage no matter how powerful he is—he can’t have had Lakasha training. But in the worst case, you might conceivably find yourself facing him without any hope of support from me. That’s a contingency I’ve addressed, but I realize your position in that case will be difficult. Keep the men spread out. Be attentive for memories that seem too clear or too inconsistent with the smooth flow of events. Be especially suspicious of memories of Ugaro atrocity ... I do apologize.”

“Fretful, I know,” said Harana, his mouth twisting. He got to his feet. “I’ll tell you, if Marotau isn’t dead after all and turns up, riding cheerfully out of the winter lands, I’ll have him shot before he sets foot on the south bank. Just to be sure.”

“Unless he has a few thousand Ugaro clearly under his thrall, I can’t advise that. Even I might not be able to protect you from the consequences. Especially in the event you were wrong. Possibly not even if you were right.”

Harana snapped impatiently, “Aras, I’m not asking for advice and I wouldn’t ask you to protect me. I’m just telling you. If you’re not here, I’ll shoot him if I see him, Ugaro or no Ugaro. I’ll do the same if I see Amara or Sebastas or Lorellan. If any borderlands lord turns up in my way, I will shoot him the moment he’s in bowshot, and gods take the consequences. I won’t ask you to protect me in that event, either.”

“You wouldn’t have to ask, Karoles. You do realize, all of those men have every right and reason to visit their various estates, or each other’s estates.”

“I know,” Harana said, not quite shouting.

“Of course you do.” Lord Aras stood up and touched his arm lightly. “May the gods be kind, but please try to give the gods as much help as you can by declining to shoot anyone important unless you’re perfectly certain you’ve got your arrow aimed at the actual sorcerer. All sorts of people have a perfect right to ride along the river in any season, though I grant you, I might be a trifle uncomfortable if Lord Marotau turned up just now, even without an immense number of furious Ugaro in his thrall. If that should happen ... do your best.”

Talon Commander Harana made a pessimistic sound, touched his hand to his heart in the Lau salute, stalked to the tent entrance, jerked the flap open, and went out.

Lord Aras sighed. He said, “Nikoles?”

“My lord, I think I understand all of this. I do understand it. I wish you’d agree to take more than a half-talon.”

“I think speed is going to be more important than numbers for my part of the contest, Nikoles. We’ll take extra mounts, and no wagons. No women either, though the men will grumble, I’m sure. Nothing that will slow us. Half a talon should be enough. I believe Harana is far more likely to need the men than we are. If I’m wrong ... I do hope I’m not wrong.”

Ianan bowed his head for a moment. Finally he said, “I don’t like it. But I can’t argue.”

“I don’t like it very much either,” Lord Aras said gently. He turned to me at last. “Ryo, under various plausible circumstances, Talon Commander Harana might find your presence here extremely helpful, but I don’t think it’s either fair or possible for me to order you to obey him and leave you here.” He paused, looking at me. Then he said, “Yes, I thought that might be your reaction. Well. In that case, Nikoles, I hope you don’t object to Ryo coming with us.”

“No, of course not,” Ianan said, with just enough edge that I realized for the first time he disliked me, probably intensely. I had not guessed this at all. I looked away, pretending I had not realized it now.

“Well, we’ll have to manage,” Lord Aras said. He stood up, but paused, studying me. “Ryo, try not to worry. I think with only a little luck, we’ll be able to wrap this whole business up satisfactorily in just a few more weeks. Then I’ll see what I can do to end this war.”

“Yes, my lord,” I said. Privately I thought nothing was likely to prove simple. Or, considering the matter again, perhaps those thoughts were not private. But I did not speak them aloud.

The skies were grey and heavy as we rode south, away from the river once more, hardly a day after returning to it. I did not look back toward the north. Neither did Geras, though he had left his wife. I wondered whether Aedani felt more fear when her husband rode toward battle than a talon wife like Lalani who cared for a whole file of soldiers. That was the sort of question more suitable for a woman to ask another woman. Probably I would never ask it.

We rode across fields because it was the shortest way to the good road that ran south. The hooves of the horses thudded on soft soil, kicking up the scents of mud and damp grass. It began to rain in earnest before we had gone six bowshots. The rain seemed only to make the air heavier, not cooler. I lowered my head to keep the water from dripping into my eyes, wishing for snow, and the cold wind, and my own people around me.

I knew where my family would be. My father and my brother and our warriors would be somewhere in the southern forest, watching for Lau incursions and planning the kinds of raids that would not bring our warriors against talons belonging to Lord Aras. My mother and my sisters and the other women would have gone north, beyond the Little Knife, perhaps all the way to the edge of the northern forest, where the trees become small and sparse. Perhaps they had gone into the wide, windy steppe that stretches away to the north as far as the eye can see.

From the edge of the forest, two great mountains in the distance, the Fangs of the North, would be visible only as a hint of a shadow far, far across the steppe. They are the tallest mountains in the world. Below them and between them, snow falls more lightly, for the mountains capture most of the snow high above. When the cold deepens, we inGara and our closest allies bring our cattle to shelter there in the lee of the mountains. Our tombs are there as well, built of stone, above and behind the long shelters we build for our cattle. The skulls of our dead rest there forever, watching over our cattle and our camps and our land. That is a place no Lau has ever seen.

I bent my head low against the rain and wondered if I would ever see the tombs of my people again.

The heat grew worse astonishingly fast as we rode south. It rained for three miserable days and nights. Then, as we left the borderlands, where the winds from the north moderate the temperatures, the clouds finally broke and blew away. At first I was glad of that, but then the Sun poured down his full strength and I changed my mind. I had not known sunlight could come down like that, like the weight of the whole sky. The Lau opened the laces of their shirts and took off the sleeves and rode along cheerfully as though the heat were pleasant instead of oppressive. The ferocity of the Sun only burnished their dark skin to a richer shade.

“It’ll get warmer,” Geras warned me one evening. He was worried. “The country is drier and more open the farther south we go, until we get up into the mountains.”

“I have no doubt of it,” I answered. I was already wearing the lightest clothing the Lau made. “I can endure it. I will not complain.”

“I know you won’t, but tell me if you feel the heat too much.”

“Yes,” I said, though I had no intention of grumbling when there was nothing he could do. “You Lau truly do not find this weather over-warm?”

“It’s comfortable. It was chilly near the river.”

I shook my head in disbelief.

Geras chuckled, but he studied me with some concern. “Lord Aras wants to see you tonight, Ryo, if you’re not too tired. He knows you’re having some trouble with the heat.”

But I was pleased, so much so that I almost forgot the heat. He had not sent for me for during these days. I knew that he had many more important concerns, but I had not liked being set at a distance.

I found when I came to his tent that the sides had been rolled up. Later, as dusk deepened to night, they would be put down against insects. I would have left them up and endured the insects in return for the breeze, but the Lau felt differently.

“I know it’s warm for you,” Lord Aras said to me first, gesturing for me to sit. He looked at me with concern, adding, “It will get warmer, especially when we leave the woods for more open country. Tell Geras, or any of your guards, if you feel the heat too much.”

“Yes,” I said patiently. I sat down on the floor of the tent. No one now carried chairs or other furniture; even Lord Aras sat on the floor, not very comfortably. I, at least, did not mind the lack, as I had never become accustomed to Lau chairs. I said, to deflect my thoughts from things I did not want him to see, “I have been teaching Suyet taksu. He is quick to learn it.”

He smiled. “Yes, Nikoles has his eye on him for promotion if he comes along well. I imagine he will; he’s intelligent and industrious, and brave enough. He has no serious faults except youth, and time generally corrects that one. I’m delighted he’s learning taksu. That may well be useful, especially as Nikoles hates to speak it ... ah.”

He had not meant to say that to me. I said stiffly, “I am already avoiding Talon Commander Ianan when I can. Now I will do so more assiduously. I would not wish to offend him by suggesting he should speak to me in any language.”

“Ryo . . .” Lord Aras sighed. “I put that badly. Please don’t think ill of Nikoles, who has reason to feel as he does. He’s been making a considerable effort to set that aside, with commendable success, most of the time.”

“What reasons?” I demanded.

“I can’t tell you more than I have, Ryo. I really can’t talk to you about another person’s private thoughts and feelings. Think how that would be.”

Immediately I saw that he was right. I bowed low in apology.

“You’ve had no reason to think of such matters, of course. Long ago I found it necessary to swear the strongest possible vow to that effect—”

“To your uncle?” I thought I could understand this. Of course a king would require such a vow from a sorcerous boy who might come near him.

“Let us say that my uncle was instrumental in causing me to recognize the necessity,” he said, his tone mild.

I blinked, startled by what I thought Lord Aras must mean. “Your uncle tried to make you tell him—?” This was an appalling thought.

“Not precisely. No. That was exactly what I thought. He made me believe it, but it wasn’t true. He wanted, in fact, to be certain I wouldn’t. I did not, of course, realize that. He had by then learned to lie to me, and he ... let’s say he went to some trouble over it.”

“So you swore an oath you would not answer such questions, so that he would stop pressing you.”

“Yes, exactly. The man was not someone I liked: he was an overbearing man, a political enemy of my uncle’s and a personal enemy of my mother’s. But my mother had taught me to keep private things private. So I made that vow, so my uncle would stop demanding I tell him what I had seen in the man’s thoughts. Except he didn’t stop.” He smiled faintly.

I stared at him. “He made you believe he would force you to break your oath? This amuses you?”

“Now, in a way, yes. At the time, not remotely.” The smile grew reminiscent. “I ought to have realized he was putting on a show, but he was very convincing and I was very young. And he’d gotten a Lakasha to help him hide his thoughts from me.”

“You gave him a proud reply.” I knew it was true. “How old were you?”

“Thirteen. Boys that age are often ready to swear great vows and strike noble poses. Quite sincerely, of course. Yes, I gave him a very proud reply, though I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to hold to it.”

“What had he threatened?”

Lord Aras shrugged. “Oh, this and that. He had to be certain, so he made the trial as hard as he could. Don’t be angry, Ryo.”

“I think someone should be angry on behalf of that boy.”

“No,” he said gently. “You see, I had to be certain too. If he hadn’t tried as hard as he could to make me fail, how could I have known I would stand the test? Truly powerful sorcerers are so very dangerous, Ryo. Hence the current situation. I forgave him when I realized that in his place, I would have done exactly the same.”

I should not have been surprised. I had forgotten he was ruthless as well as generous. I remembered it now. I thought now I understood who had helped form that part of his character.

“Well, you’re not wrong, but a king needs to be ruthless. I came to understand that too, not so much later.” His gaze sharpened. “I think that is more than enough about me. Ryo, I haven’t had much time for you lately, and I know you have been unhappy—”

I cursed inwardly, and he paused. Then he said, “I mean, I guessed you might be unhappy. Under the circumstance, it didn’t take sorcery.”

To turn the subject, I asked, “What will you do to defeat this other sorcerer? Why do you think he will not defeat you instead?”

“Well, Ryo, I expect that the primary difference between this sorcerer and the others I’ve encountered isn’t sorcerous power, but noble birth. Or perhaps I should say, the apparent scope of this sorcerer’s ambition and political perspicacity lead me to guess he is also probably of noble birth. But I have ... I don’t think I had better say any more.”

I did not know the word perspicacity, but it seemed clear from the context. The reason he felt he could not speak further took me a longer moment because I did not like the thought that occurred to me.

“Yes, I hope discretion will prove unimportant, but I do think it’s wisest to say as little as possible about certain things. The only mind I’m certain a sorcerer can’t look into is mine. I’ve never met any Lau sorcerer close to my own strength. I doubt this one will be an exception.”

I said, “You told Talon Commander Harana that you had done something to shield his mind. Could you not do that for me as well? I would permit it. I believe I would permit it.”

“Ryo . . .” he paused. Then he said, “I’m glad to hear you say so. I have in fact already done what I can along those lines for everyone in my company, and yes, for you as well. It’s one of the few things I can do to an ordinary person without asking permission. With every oath I’ve sworn, I’ve left myself that freedom. But the protection I can give you is not, unfortunately, remotely infallible. Under certain circumstances, even a weaker sorcerer than I could break through that shield. Please try not to worry. We’ll make every effort not to give our enemy the time or leisure to do anything of the kind.”

I understood his words, but I was not nearly as worried about the possibility as I might have been. I was too distracted by trying to feel the thing he had done to me, the shield he had put in my mind. I could not feel anything at all different. The earlier fear came back to me in a sickening wave: the fear that he might do something terrible to me and I would never know it.

Lord Aras drew a long, slow breath. His expression hardly changed at all. But I saw it. I tried hard to put the fear away. I had said he could do it. I had wished him to do it. I was being completely unreasonable. I asked, “What else does your oath allow you to do without asking permission?”

Another slow breath. Then he said steadily, “I can clear another sorcerer’s influence out of anyone’s mind and heart. I never swore to ask permission for that.”

So. I could see no possible way to object to that. I would be a fool to object to the protection he had put into my mind. I should be far more concerned about his warning that the other sorcerer might break the shield he had given me. I was far more concerned about that.

“If you need time, Ryo—”

“No,” I said. I fixed my gaze on the floor of the tent. “I know the way I feel is not reasonable.”

“It’s perfectly natural. I’m sorry; I knew it would be hard for you, but I could not leave you unprotected. I actually hoped to ask you to permit something significantly harder. Now I’m not certain I should ask.”

I still could not bring myself to look at him. I said stiffly, “Ask what you wish.”

He sighed. “Very well. I asked you some time ago whether you might permit me to put a false memory into your mind, so that I could show you how to recognize that kind of memory. I’d still like to do that. It’s another layer of protection.”

I knew I should be grateful for any protection he could possibly give me. He would not do anything to hurt me. I believed that. I did believe it. Even so, I did not want to say yes.

I said, “Now I need time.” Then for a little while I concentrated on breathing. On relaxing the muscles of my face, my shoulders and back, my arms and hands. On letting go of fear. Lord Aras waited. He did not move or speak. He was always patient. I had learned to trust that he would be. I did trust that.

Finally, when I felt calm enough, I met his eyes. “You may do this,” I told him.

The set of his mouth eased, and he smiled. “Good,” he said warmly. “Very good. Thank you, Ryo. Please try not to worry. This will be a little unpleasant, but not nearly as unpleasant as you’re imagining, and not for long. I’ll give you a false memory you won’t like, so you’ll be glad to reject it.”

I tried to brace myself.

I felt him do it. It was very strange. I felt my memory change, but then I could not remember what he had done. I frowned. I knew he had set a false memory into my mind, but everything I remembered seemed real and true to me.

“It will come to you,” he promised. “While you think about that, I would like to discuss another matter that has come to my attention.” He looked at me with obvious concern. “I was disturbed to hear of your fight with Geras. I thought the two of you had become friends. Which of you deserves a reprimand for that?”

Heat rose into my face. I had almost put that out of my mind. I had hoped he had not heard of that yet and would not learn of it tonight, though I had known he would find it out eventually. I said, “You know the fault was mine, my lord. When has Geras been at fault for anything? I deserve punishment for it, but he does not.”

“Yet he hit you first. Is that not correct? Whatever you said to him, that’s not acceptable in a man of his rank and age. I think I have no choice but to punish him for it. What could you possibly have said or done to provoke him to do such a thing?”

I hesitated. Though I remembered Geras’ anger and my own, I could not recall precisely why either of us had been so angry. I was beginning to get angry again now. I said, “I must have—I think—what does it matter? I said something he took as insulting, and I was too impatient from the heat to apologize. The fault was mine, not his, and I will beg his pardon for it.”

“I don’t believe you need to. It was a hard blow you took; I think he’s the one who should beg your pardon. Your jaw must still hurt. You’re lucky he didn’t break it. You Ugaro have robust bones, of course.”

I was lucky. But, oddly, my jaw did not hurt at all. I rubbed the place, feeling with my tongue for the loose teeth and the cut place inside my cheek. But there was no pain at all. I said, “He did not hit me as hard as it seemed.”

He watched me, waiting. I was not certain what he wanted. I had already admitted fault. My face was still hot with shame. Men may certainly quarrel and fight, but men of good sense should not fight a friend over something so stupid.

“Ryo,” he said. “What did you say that Geras took so badly?”

I rubbed my forehead, frowning. What had I said? It had been something very bad, or he would not have hit me ... my breath caught. I looked up. “I cannot remember what began that fight. I should remember. But I do not.” I could hardly believe this. I rubbed my jaw again, prodding for pain that was not there. “This is ... it did not happen? But I remember it!”

“Yes,” he agreed. “That’s how it is.” His expression was very serious. “A sorcerer can’t create perfect memories. Of course true memory can fail as well, but it’s not the same. Where a false memory begins and ends, there will be things that don’t make sense. Why doesn’t your jaw hurt where he hit you?”

“He did not hit me as hard as ... he did not hit me?” Even now, I could hardly believe this. I rubbed my jaw again. I had to believe it. “You said it would be a memory I would not like. I should have understood at once. But it seems real even now. It did not happen?”

“The true memory is still there, underneath the false. Think about the things that don’t make sense. Try that tonight, Ryo, and tomorrow let’s see if you’ve recovered your true memory. Beneath what you think you know, your mind knows the truth. Trust yourself to reject whatever’s false and keep whatever’s true.” He hesitated, began to say something else, stopped, and looked at me carefully.

“I said you could do it. Why should I be angry?”

He smiled, but he still hesitated. “You may be angry later. Most people are. It’s a frightening thing, even if you gave me permission to do it. It’s not—I won’t be offended if you’re angry, later.”

He would not be offended if I were angry. But he would be hurt if I were afraid. I had already hurt him that way this evening.

He looked away, his mouth tightening. Then he looked back and met my eyes. “I don’t blame people for being afraid.”

“No,” I agreed. “Not setting the fault against a man is different from not being hurt. I was afraid, but I know that was not reasonable. Perhaps I will be angry, but I will know that is not reasonable either. I am glad to see what this kind of sorcery is like. May I go? I wish to think.” At his nod, I got to my feet and stood for a moment looking down at him. He tipped his head back to watch my face. Then he bowed his head, as my people do, to show regret or apology.

“That is not at all required,” I told him. “You asked my leave to do it. I gave it.”

“I pressured you into it. If you hadn’t agreed, I would have asked again, until you gave permission.”

I thought that this time he was not being at all reasonable. “Did you make me agree?” I asked him. “Was that sorcery?”

“No, of course not—”

“Then the decision was mine, not yours. Do not take more than your due.”

His mouth crooked. “All right. Thank you, Ryo.”

“When you send for me tomorrow, I will not be afraid to come,” I told him, and went out.

-16-

The next day, as midmorning approached, we turned off the road and cut across open country, south and east. The woods grew thinner and then thinner again and then disappeared entirely, replaced by grasslands, like the steppe but more rolling. Great trees stood scattered here and there, each alone, lifting enormous branches to the sky.

“Oak savannah,” Geras told me. “It’s mostly oak savannah in this part of the summer lands. Acacia savannah farther south, even drier, but we won’t go nearly that far. We’ll turn when we come to the edge of the Peacock Desert. Now, that will amaze you. It did me, the first time I saw it. Still does. But it’ll be hot.”

“Yes,” I said as patiently as I could. I was weary of people mentioning the heat or casting me worried looks. I was making a point of riding with my back straight, pretending the heat did not trouble me.

All day I had found myself touching the inside of my cheek with my tongue, pressing against the teeth that were not loose. The memory of the fight had become less believable to me, though I could not yet find the memory beneath it. It was very strange to remember something I knew was not true.

“Tell me if the heat bothers you too much,” Geras said.

I answered, “If you say that to me again, I will probably hit you, and then think of the explanations we will be making to Lord Aras.”

Geras laughed.

The heat did trouble me as noon came, and grew worse still as the afternoon wore past. I did not admit it. The land was beautiful: wide and empty as the sky, but it seemed to shimmer in the heat. The grasses were not like steppe grasses, but much taller, tawny or dusty green or almost blue. Many flowers grew scattered among the grasses. The high north flowers abundantly during the brief warm season, but none of the flowers here were the same as those. I thought I might ask one of my guards about the kinds of flowers, but the heat made me tired and irritable and I did not bother to ask. A slow, pounding pain had grown in my head. I concentrated on riding with my back straight and showing nothing of my growing misery.

I had not believed the heat could grow worse, but it did. Or the pounding of my head grew worse; it seemed to me the heat and the pounding both pulsed in time with my heart. The light began to brighten and dim in the same rapid rhythm. Someone riding near me, I think Suyet, said something to me, but I looked at him in confusion because I could not understand him. Then I leaned over the shoulder of my horse and vomited.

For a long, confused time after that, I did not remember very much. There was a time when I was lying on the ground, in the shade, but the earth was hot beneath me. There was a time when I was lying in a wagon or cart. There was a time when someone was holding me down while I struggled to get up. I realized I was fighting Geras and stopped, bewildered. I said, “I am sorry. What did I say? I did not mean to offend you.”

“Ryo, you—” he began, but then he shook his head. “It’s not your fault. Drink this. Can you drink it?”

It was water, with honey and salt. I tried to drink it, but it made my stomach heave.

It was dark, but still far too warm. Then it was brighter, and very hot. Then it was dark again. I hardly knew anything. I think I asked for Lord Aras, but he did not come. I think Geras told me that Lord Aras had ridden ahead, but later I think I asked again, like a child who does not understand anything except what he wants to be true.

Someone put a cup into my hand, but the smell was like burnt clay, only much more unpleasant. I pushed it away, and someone took my arm in a hard grip and tried to make me drink. I recognized him then, and it was Ianan. I recoiled violently, striking his hand away, sending the cup spinning in a spray of brown liquid. I tried to get up, reaching for my knife, but I was too weak and fell back, helpless.

Then Suyet was there, holding my arms, telling me to be still, be still, be still. Everything confused me. I let him push me down.

It was brighter again, and hotter. Lord Aras was there. He put the cup into my hands and ordered me to drink, so I obeyed him. The tisane tasted appalling, but he gave me water with honey afterward to take the taste out of my mouth. That made me feel better, or maybe his presence did. I closed my eyes. Someone put wet cloths over my eyes and on my chest and that helped a little.

I thought I was sick in my mother’s tent, burning with fever. But my mother was not there when I looked for her. Laraut was there. I turned my face away and closed my eyes, but he made me drink some of the bitter tisane. I wanted to refuse, but I was weak and unhappy and he would not give way, so I drank it.

I woke. It was hot, but my mind was clear. All my thoughts seemed to come slowly and at a distance, but they were my thoughts and I recognized them. I knew that I had been sick, and I knew where I was: in the summer lands, with the Lau, looking for the sorcerer who was our enemy. Or we should have been looking for that sorcerer. Except I had been sick. I did not know for how long. It seemed a long time. Maybe it had not been as long as it seemed.

Someone was near me; I heard him breathing. I turned my head and it was Ianan. He was reclining with one leg drawn up and the other out straight, leaning his weight on his elbow. He did not move when I looked at him, only said quietly, “You look much better.”

I turned my head away again and closed my eyes.

“Your friends are tired from caring for you,” he told me, still quietly. “You need to drink more of this medicine. Will you let me help you sit up, or should I call Suyet?”

I said, “I do not need help,” and began to struggle upright. The effort took a shamefully long time. Ianan did not touch me, but he moved a cushion so that I could lean against it. I pretended I did not notice because I could not have managed without that much help.

Once I was sitting, he said, “Aras is asleep. He needs the rest. I can call him if necessary, or you can drink this and let him sleep.” Then he put the cup into my hands, steadying it for me when my hands trembled.

I wanted to make Ianan call Lord Aras. Obviously that would have been unforgivably childish. I drank the bitter liquid. When Ianan gave me water with honey and salt, I said, trying not to sound sullen, “I would prefer plain water.”

“Plain water isn’t good for the heat sickness. Drink this.”

Or he would threaten to call Lord Aras. I understood that. I drank what he had given me. Then I leaned my head back against the cushions and closed my eyes. I felt weak and ashamed and very sorry for myself. “You should go,” I told him. “You must have many tasks waiting for your attention. I do not need your help.”

Ianan did not move. He said, “Fourteen years ago, a long way to the west of here, some Lau crossed the river and began cutting timber without permission. Ugaro killed them all, cut off their heads, put the heads in a net, and hung the net in a tree. I was a commander at the time, under the authority of the lord of that county. I helped bring those heads back to the summer lands and set them out so their families could identify them and lay them to rest in the town’s ossuary. There were thirty-two heads. The lord of the county led a punitive expedition into the winter lands. My division was included. We found a small group of Ugaro warriors. Young men, your age. We brought them back to the summer lands, paraded them down the main street, pilloried them, and cut their throats. I knew some taksu. I knew those young men hadn’t been involved in the trouble about the timber; I knew they were from a different tribe. I was so angry about what had happened that I didn’t speak up on their behalf.” He paused.

I did not open my eyes, but I was listening. I knew the tale; everyone knew it. But I did not know it the way he told it. I had never thought of it as it would have seemed to the Lau.

Talon Commander Ianan went on, speaking calmly, without emphasis. “All this caused trouble between three different Ugaro tribes and the towns in that part of the borderlands. Fortunately, Aras came to sort it out. The lord paid a significant reparation to those tribes. After the whole mess was settled, I resigned my command, went to Aras, and confessed what I’d done. He asked what I thought would have happened differently if I’d protested. I said only the gods can know what might have happened, but the blood of those young men was on my hands as much as anyone’s. He asked what punishment I thought I deserved. I said I should be pilloried and my throat should be cut. He asked what good I thought that would do. I said it would be just. He asked if justice was the highest end I could think of. I said it was. He asked if I would accept his judgment in the matter. I said I would.”

I finally looked at him.

He met my eyes. “Every time I look at you, I’m reminded of all that and ashamed all over again. It’s nothing to do with you personally.”

I said, “I know the story. I did not know Lord Aras was part of it.”

“Officially, the lord of that county was the one who worked it out. That was important for various complicated political reasons.”

“Even if those young warriors had been the ones to kill the Lau who cut the timber, your people would have been wrong to fault them for it. Cutting timber without the consent of the tribe is not permitted.”

“I know that.”

“What does it mean, to be pilloried?”

“Literally, bound between two posts. In this context, bound and whipped to death. Cutting the throat is a customary mercy. In this case, the knife wasn’t used as soon as it should have been because the warriors were too stoic and people were too angry.”

This was far too easy to imagine. “You said that should be done to you.”

“It would have been just.”

“Did you believe Lord Aras would put you to death in that way?”

“I had no idea what he would do.”

I studied him. He looked back, as calm as ever. I asked, “How old were you then?”

“Twenty-four.”

I thought about this. Finally I said, “You would not make that kind of mistake now.”

“No. Some other kind of mistake, possibly. I shouldn’t have allowed you to realize how I felt. That was inexcusable carelessness. I apologize.” He added in taksu, “I will take your blow for it, if you wish.” His accent was not bad. It was a little like the way people speak in the west.

I answered him in darau. “The fault was too small to require notice. I was wrong to take offense. Thank you for explaining. You did not owe me the story.”

“I think I did.” He stood up and went aside, then returned with a bowl of broth with meat and grain. “You should recover quickly. Most of your weakness now is lack of food. Will you let me help you?”

I still did not like to, but I could not object. He knelt beside me, his manner completely matter-of-fact, and held the bowl for me. At least I was strong enough to hold the spoon. I had not realized I was hungry, but I ate it all. When I was finished, he helped me lie down again. “Go to sleep,” he told me. “We’ll move at dusk. You may be able to ride by then, which would be convenient, but don’t make yourself sick trying. We’ll carry you in a litter if we must.”

I realized they might have done this before. I had not even known that much, but I remembered scattered impressions of movement. “How many days has it been?” I asked, suddenly feeling the question was urgent, though it had not occurred to me to ask before.

“Since you collapsed? This is the afternoon of the third day. We’ve been resting from noon to dusk and riding at night. Fortunately the Moon’s been reasonably bright, even if she hasn’t shown us the round face she always shows in your country.”

I was too surprised and upset even to think how much I missed the intensely luminous Moon of the winter country. “It has been three days?”

“The heat sickness can be serious even for a Lau. We wouldn’t generally collapse that fast or at such moderate temperatures, but if we’re careless and don’t recognize the signs, we can die of it. We certainly thought you might die of it.”

I stared at him. I had known from my weakness that I had been very sick, but I had not realized I had been that near to the land of the shades. I said finally, “I should thank you for your care. I do thank you. I think you have often been with me over these days.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes you spoke while you were ill. Sometimes in darau. If you said certain things, better to me than to someone else. Go to sleep, Ryo.” He went out, leaving me alone. A wave of hot air came into the tent as he left it, showing me that someone had used cantrips to cool the air within. I had not realized because it still seemed so warm to me. But nothing, not my unease with Lau magic, not my surprise at the story the talon commander had told me, not my dismay at the knowledge I had been so sick, could have kept me awake.

I woke some time later. The angle of the light was different; I could tell even from within the tent. Geras was sitting beside me. He was scowling at me.

“Geras,” I said, or tried to say. My mouth was dry. Still scowling, he poured water for me and helped me sit up to drink it. This time it was plain water, not the kind with honey and salt. I thought I must be much better if he was giving me plain water. I drained the cup and then said, “Geras, I am sorry you were worried. You told me to tell you, but I did not understand.”

His scowl deepened. “I was a fool not to realize you wouldn’t, and a worse fool not to recognize the heat sickness before you fell off your horse. I’ll take your apology and give you mine: I am very sorry I let you get into that condition—”

“It was in no way your fault—”

“It absolutely was.” He glared at me. “You nearly died!”

“But I did not die,” I said reasonably. “I am perfectly well, except that you are shouting at me. Please do not. I would like to get up. I think I am strong enough. Is it nearly dusk? I should try to stand.”

He made an exasperated sound, but he took my arm. I could stand, with his help, but I was embarrassed to find I needed to sit down again almost at once.

“Food,” he told me. “Stay here. Stay down. If you get up and then collapse, I’ll give you something worse than heat sickness to worry about, hear me?”

“Yes, Geras,” I answered, amused despite my deplorable condition and my worry.

He brought me a bowl of grain and meat, and another cup of the bitter medicine. I made a face at that, which made him roll his eyes. “Drink it,” he ordered me. “It’ll help. Then eat. Go on, hurry up. Get some strength back in your blood. No one wants to carry a gods-hated litter in these hills, and you don’t want to ride in one.”

I drank the tisane and began to eat the food. “We are in hills now?” I asked him.

Before Geras could answer, Lord Aras put back the tent flap, ducked inside, straightened, gave me a swift, assessing look, and said, “You look much better. Very good. It’ll be a day or two before we reach hills worth the term. You might say we’re in the foothills of the foothills.”

“I delayed you. I am—”

“Don’t apologize, Ryo. I’m not angry with you, but I will be if you tell me you’re sorry you collapsed and nearly died because I was too stupid to realize you wouldn’t recognize the heat sickness.”

“I should not be so weak. It was only heat.”

“You aren’t made for it. How do you think a Lau would fare in the winter country, Ryo? It’s foolish to blame yourself for a nature you share with all Ugaro.”

I knew he was right. But I said stubbornly, “I have delayed you. You have far more important concerns. You should have left me and gone on.”

He answered me seriously. “I thought I might have to do that. But in fact we’ve made reasonably good time, though at the cost of extending your illness. You kept beginning to recover at night and then relapsing during the day. If you could have rested properly, I think you’d have been on your feet earlier than this. But I do think you’re past the worst of it. You shouldn’t be in danger again if we take any kind of reasonable care. I doubt you need me to list the signs off for you now, but headache, dizziness, and confusion are the first signs of the heat sickness. Tell Geras the moment you feel anything of the kind.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Drink plenty of water. Any time you feel thirsty, drink something. We’re a little short of water, but not that short. Will you be able to ride tonight?” He did not wait for me to answer, but turned to Geras. “Troop Leader Geras, will he be able to ride?”

Geras answered, his tone a little stiff, “Maybe, my lord, but if he can’t, Laraut and I’ll take the litter.”

That stiffness caught my attention and now I saw the way Geras turned his face a little aside rather than look directly at Lord Aras. That was not his normal manner. I thought of what Talon Commander Ianan had said to me. Sometimes you spoke. Sometimes in darau. I wondered what I might have said while Geras was with me. Enough that he might have put it together with other things and realized Lord Aras was, like our enemy, a powerful sorcerer? That seemed possible. I glanced at Lord Aras, but I could not tell anything from his manner.

Then he said, “Good. I’ll leave the matter in your capable hands, Troop Leader. I’d like to be moving in half an hour. Is there any concern you’d like to discuss with me?” From that, I knew I was right.

After an almost unnoticeable pause, Geras faced him and cleared his throat. “No,” he said. “No, my lord.”

Lord Aras said in a polite, faintly questioning tone, “If you have any concerns, I hope that you’ll feel able to bring them to Talon Commander Ianan, if not to me.”

Geras cleared his throat again. “Yes, my lord.”

“Good.” Lord Aras turned to me. “If at any point you feel the litter might be a better option than riding, say so. I’d like to see you much more fully recovered by dawn, so don’t push your strength too far and force yourself back into a collapse. That’s an order, Ryo, so pay attention to how you feel and ask for the litter if you need to.” He didn’t wait for an answer, but ducked out of the tent again, leaving me watching Geras.

I could not ask him, Have you realized he is a sorcerer? Lord Aras had ordered me to keep his secrets and I did not know for certain Geras had guessed, though I thought so. I could not say, Do not be afraid of him, because even if I had been certain, that is not the kind of thing a young man can say to a man so much older. I said, “I thought he would be angry because I allowed myself to get that sick. But he is always patient and slow to anger.”

Geras looked at me sharply. After a moment, he said, “That’s true.” Then he added, much more in his usual manner, “Much more patient than I am, so don’t give me any trouble when I tell you to get off your horse and get in the litter. I expect it’ll happen about midnight. Come on. Suyet’ll have your horse ready.”

-17-

We rode south and east through rolling hills, by the last ruddy light of the Sun and the silvery light of the Moon and the pale, flickering light of the uncounted stars. I was glad to see the Moon’s face, though she had turned her face partly away.

Geras and Laraut rode together not far from me, but Suyet, happy to see me in the saddle, rode so close our knees almost touched. Plainly he feared he might have to catch me if I fell off my horse again. I told him I was perfectly well, and he said, “Of course you are, Ryo,” in a completely sincere tone of voice and continued to ride at exactly the same distance. I made him say all the taksu words and phrases I had taught him, but he did not retreat even then.

Talon Commander Ianan rode near us for a little while. Twice he corrected Suyet’s pronunciation. Suyet mimed a wide-eyed stare of complete astonishment at the talon commander’s back when he rode away. But he said to me, “I’m glad you and Ianan are all right now. Did he sort it out, or was that you?”

I was not surprised Suyet had seen there was trouble or that he noticed now that it was gone. He paid attention to everything of that kind. I told him, “He corrected a mistake I had made. He should not have needed to.”

“Good.” Suyet nodded in satisfaction. “I’m not surprised. He’s a good talon commander.” We rode on in companionable silence until Suyet asked me to teach him more taksu.

There were few farms in this part of the country, but we passed pastures where cattle grazed. The cattle were a kind I did not know, mouse-grey, with short horns and very high shoulders, very different from the small, shaggy cattle of the winter country, or even the borderlands. Everywhere else, the wide oak savannah stretched out beneath the clear and endless sky, and ahead of us the mountains rose up.

I did not have to ask to ride in the litter until nearly dawn. Geras and Laraut unfolded the litter and slung it between their horses. I endured the uneven rocking and felt completely stupid and pathetic.

Before the morning was far advanced, Talon Commander Ianan came and cooled the air in the litter for me. I thanked him for it, trying to hide my dislike of the magic, and he nodded briskly and said, “I am pleased to do it,” in taksu before leaving again.

We halted at noon. I moved directly from the litter to my tent, still feeling very sullen and useless, though I tried not to show my bad temper. I slept a little. Geras brought me food, and more of the bitter medicine. I drank it without comment and lay down again.

The next day was exactly the same, except I did not have to ask for the litter. I was only a little weak now. We rode through the short night of the summer country and into the bright dawn. The land sloped ever more steeply, until no one could have denied we rode through hills. As the Sun sent his first light over the world, I saw that the grasses had become sparse over the red soil, and the trees were small and scrubby, not the great spreading oaks. The soil was rocky and poor, and in many places huge stone outcroppings broke through the earth. There were more of these outcroppings ahead of us and to either side, many taller than a man and some longer than a bowshot. I could see we would have to turn and turn again to get through them.

“We’ll pick up a decent road right through there,” Geras told me, nodding ahead, the way we were going, where the hills came together, some bowshots ahead. He went on. “Then we’ll pick up a faster pace. The road runs north to south, mainly. We’ll turn north, toward Tamaudan, and ... see what we find, I guess.”

I looked at him. He did not seem to be worried, but there had been that pause. I said, “Lord Aras has faced sorcerers before.”

“I know. But ...”

That pause drew out. I said, “I am nervous of what might happen. Anyone might be, even a Lau, who is perhaps almost accustomed to the idea of facing sorcery.” Then I said, which was as near as I thought I could come to the problem I suspected was actually on his mind, “But I am not nervous of anything Lord Aras might do.”

“No one’s that accustomed to facing sorcery,” he said shortly. “Do you need the litter?”

I told him I did not. The day had grown warmer as the Sun stepped higher in the sky, but we would stop soon. I thought I could go on riding. My head only ached a very little, and I was not dizzy at all.

Then we did halt, the column slowing and closing up. It seemed a little early for that and I hoped no one thought they needed to halt for my sake, but then I saw how Geras stood up in his stirrups and stared ahead, the way we had been going. I followed the direction of his gaze. At first I could not see anything, though I shaded my eyes and peered ahead as far as I could. My eyes were not as good in bright light as the eyes of a Lau, but at last I made out movement, far ahead, at the place where the hills came together. Men moved there. I could not see anything about them, except there must be more of those men than we had in our company. My stomach tightened. I tried not to let that show on my face. I looked for Lord Aras. He was not far, gazing straight up the slope toward the other riders. His eyes were narrowed and his face was still.

Ianan came up beside him then and said, “Aras ... he knew we were coming.”

“Yes,” agreed Lord Aras. He continued to look toward the other men. He said, “I didn’t realize he was there. That many men ... I should have. I think he’s a good deal more powerful than I had hoped. I suspect he may be more powerful than my worst fears ... what would you say, Nikolas? Three hundred or so?”

“Probably close to that. But I’d be surprised if there aren’t more behind the curve of the hill. Do you think he’s got them all enthralled?”

“I don’t think so. I hope not.” Lord Aras paused. “Possibly.”

“If I were guessing, I’d say they’re going to advance on a broad front, curve around, and surround us. Then if that sorcerer can’t break us, his men will crush us with numbers. I recommend we advance to where those rocks up there can stiffen our lines.”

“They’ll still crush us with numbers, if he can’t break us.”

“Not as fast. We can’t run; our horses are tired. We can’t surrender; there’s every chance he’d enthrall us all and throw us against Karoles.” He added in the same level tone, “Unless you’ve got the strength to protect us against that with your own sorcery?”

There was a stir at this, but not the kind of horror I might have expected. Either everyone had guessed already that Lord Aras was a powerful sorcerer, or they trusted him that much. Talon Commander Ianan’s calm question probably made them realize they should be glad he was a sorcerer. I was certainly glad of it. That was a very strange thought.

Lord Aras said quietly, “I probably can’t protect you for long, unfortunately. Not if he’s got the strength to enthrall that many men.”

“Then we’ll have to fight,” Talon Commander Ianan said, unmovably calm. “Every moment we buy you will give you time to ... do whatever you can think of to do. This may be a disaster, but I know you’ll find a way to recover something from it.” His voice was so level that I might have believed him indifferent, except I did not believe that at all.

“Thank you; I’ll certainly try.” Lord Aras looked around at our people. Then he beckoned to Geras. When Geras nudged his horse forward through the press of soldiers, he said to him, “I’d like to put a sorcerous memory into your mind. There’s no time to do this any other way. I would appreciate your consent. If you refuse, I will ask Suyet.”

I looked quickly at Suyet, who had flinched, but now began to say he would agree. Geras also knew what Suyet meant to say. Naturally, as the older man and the higher in rank, he immediately said, “Yes, all right! All right. You can do it.”

“Thank you.” Lord Aras looked at him steadily for a long, long moment. No one shouted or exclaimed or even drew away, though I heard one or two men shift their weight.

Geras blinked. His eyes widened. He blinked again, drew a hard breath and nodded. “Yes, my lord,” he said.

“Good man,” Lord Aras said. “Explain everything to Suyet, or someone, as soon as you’re clear. Then you’ll remember even after your mind rejects the false memory.” He took a leather envelope out of his saddlebag and gave it to Geras.

Then he handed him his scepter.

All around us, there was a startled, disturbed reaction, as there had not been until that moment. Not even the open revelation of his curse had matched that. He did not appear to notice. Nor did Geras, who took the scepter without a word.

“Good,” Lord Aras said again. “Now. Suyet. Laraut’s file, Madrau’s file, Darosan’s file.” He beckoned to the men he had named and said to them all, “Back the way we came, get out of view, cut across country. Geras knows what he needs to do. You’ll be pursued. You must not permit Geras to be taken by our enemy. Your horses are tired; don’t permit this to turn into direct pursuit or you’ll be lost. Use your heads. This is good country for traps and ambushes. Put that to use. Go.”

Geras sent me one fast look, saluted Lord Aras, wheeled his horse, and rode away. Suyet touched my arm quickly and then followed with the other men.

I watched them go, but Lord Aras did not. He said, “Lakan, Inates, Soyen. Most likely, once he gets past us, our enemy will send a fast detachment ahead of his main force to try to come up on Geras and his company. Your specific task is to set up an ambush for that detachment. You’re unlikely to be able to destroy it, but do your best to cut it to pieces.”

The file leaders named all saluted and another group of our soldiers galloped back the way we had come.

Lord Aras said to Ianan, “You’ll take the rest of our men straight forward. If you happen to cut down the sorcerer, that would be excellent, but I don’t expect he’ll give you the chance. If you force his people to stand and fight, that will do. Please slow that advance to the greatest extent possible. You are perfectly correct that every minute you can win here will give me time to work and Geras time to get clear.” He paused. Then he said, in the same even tone, “You have been of inestimable value to me, Nikoles. I will be extremely sorry to lose you, but please don’t allow our enemy to take you alive. When you enter the land of the shades, I pray the gods will receive you kindly.”

Ianan answered in a clear, firm voice. “If the gods judge me half as kindly as you do, that will be more generosity than I deserve. I’m deeply grateful to have had the honor of serving you, my lord.” He touched his hand to his heart.

Lord Aras bowed his head. Then he looked around at all the men and raised his voice. “I have valued you all, and I thank you for your service. The delay you purchase now may well prove crucial, and if I cannot remember the courage you show here today, the gods will make note of it.”

There was a low murmur, but Ianan cut that off with a brisk gesture that made everyone look at him. He said, his voice pitched to carry but as unhurried and calm as ever, “You all see that place up there where the outcropping comes down sharply. They won’t get around us easily if we set ourselves there. Lord Gaur will protect us against sorcery, but that probably won’t last. My lord?”

“Probably not much more than an hour. Possibly less.”

Ianan nodded, not showing the least sign of dismay. He said to the soldiers, in the same cool manner, “So we’ll make use of Lord Gaur’s protection while we have it. If we’re taken alive, we’ll most likely be enthralled and forced to fight our own people. Living through the day is not the aim. The aim is to drive the spear into our enemy so hard the blow is felt right down in the land of the shades.” He paused to let that thought stand in the air for a moment. Then he gave the order, and they all rode forward.

I thought, too late, that I should go with them. But they were already moving, and Lord Aras lifted a hand, forbidding me. I would have gone anyway if Geras and Suyet had been among those soldiers, but as they were not, I checked my horse at his gesture. But I could not stop myself from asking, “There is no other way?”

Lord Aras shook his head. “Our horses are tired, and Geras must get clear, or we’ll face disaster. Worse disaster. How I missed this possibility—I think he must have—” he cut that off and sat his horse in silence, watching.

In a little while, the fighting began. The cries of men and the ringing of metal came clearly to my ears despite the distance. I could not estimate the number of enemy soldiers, but anyone could see it was far too many. Lord Aras had deliberately sent his men to their deaths, and they had gone. I was deeply ashamed I had ever thought the Lau a cowardly people. I could not stop myself from saying, “You should not hold me here. You should have sent me as well. I know I could not have gone with Geras,” I added, because obviously I would not be able to keep up with any Lau in a cross-country ride, not in the thundering heat of full day. “But with Talon Commander Ianan. I could go now. I could kill many enemies.”

He did not even look at me. “You wouldn’t last ten minutes. A day ago, you could hardly stand up. I don’t suppose it would be possible for you to ride away, find shade for the day—”

I was so angry at what was happening that I answered, unpardonably, “Nothing of the kind is remotely possible. Give me your sword and I will stay here to delay them while you ride away and find a place to hide!”

He smiled. It was not at all an amused expression. “If I could possibly do that, I might be required to try. I agree it would be entirely disgraceful, so I’m just as glad it’s impossible. If I ceased working against him, he would overwhelm Ianan immediately. He’s definitely a considerably more powerful sorcerer than I am.”

“Oh.” I considered this. My heart was still hot, but my mind was beginning to work again. I said, “I am sorry.”

“You’re angry with me for letting this happen. That’s perfectly reasonable. I’m extremely angry with myself. Ah. There he is. How very . . .” his voice trailed off. Then he said, “You’d never get away now. He’s noticed you, and he’s curious.”

I knew from this that the enemy sorcerer must be looking into my mind. My stomach clenched tighter. I shied from one thought to another and another, but there seemed nothing safe to think of. “You cannot prevent him?”

“I’m sorry, Ryo. I can’t. He’s too strong for me.”

I could not bear the knowledge that an enemy could reach into my mind. Drawing my knife, I said, “Give me permission to kill myself. Or if you command me to kill you, I will do it, and then myself. I swear to you, I will not flinch.”

He glanced at the knife and then met my eyes. “I forbid you to kill yourself,” he said flatly. “And if you kill me, I can’t—” he stopped. He said instead, “Put it away. Or throw it down. You’ll be surrendering it fairly soon in any case.”

I sheathed the knife. After a little while, the sounds of fighting became much less. I asked, “Are they all dead? Is Talon Commander Ianan dead?”

He answered without expression, “Nikoles is dead. I pray the gods judge him kindly. If they don’t, there’s no hope for most of us; I’ve seldom known a better man.” He paused. “A handful of our people are still fighting. Five ... two . . .” his mouth tightened. “No. Now it’s over.” He looked at the height of the sun. “They did well. Very well, against such odds. Thirteen of our people are alive. I don’t know whether he’ll kill them outright or question them or take them in thrall. My wife would ransom them, but I doubt very much he’s interested in ransoms.” He blinked and drew a breath. “Now only twelve are alive.”

“How many died?”

“A hundred sixty men rode out to force that delay.” He didn’t look at me. “That’s forty, four times.”

His voice was entirely level. I wished I had not made him count the dead. I looked away, at the approaching men. They wore a badge with a blue-and-gold sign on it. Other than that, they looked exactly like any other Lau to me. Except they were enemies, either in thrall or in willing service to a sorcerer. I doubted very much this sorcerer’s nature was generous. This one would be the kind of sorcerer I knew from the tales. Dread ran through me.

“Lorellan’s badge,” Lord Aras told me.

The name meant nothing to me. I wanted to ask many questions, but all of them were really one question. I wanted to ask, Am I going to die here? It was not even a question at all, but a child’s plea for reassurance, unworthy for many reasons. I said nothing. I was glad Lord Aras pretended not to see it in my mind.

Lord Aras swung off his horse and dropped the reins. He made no gesture to me, but I did the same. I thought he would kneel, but of course he did not. He stood with his back straight and his chin up. I put myself at his shoulder and stood in the same way. I left my knife lying at the side of the road. Lord Aras had left his sword in its sheath, hooked to the saddle of his horse.

The first of the enemy soldiers came up to us then. They did not stop or speak, but rode past and on, the way Geras and the others had gone. There were many of them, but I thought perhaps not so many that our people would not be able to deal with them as they deserved.

More of the enemy soldiers came, and with them at last the man I knew must be the sorcerer. I had forgotten the name Lord Aras had said. My mind felt slow and heavy. This might have been sorcery, but probably it was only fear.

He was a younger man than Lord Aras, but not young. I could not put his number of summers more clearly than that. I could not guess whether a Lau would find him well or ill to look upon. To me, he looked like any Lau. He was dressed in black. His horse was also black, an uncut stallion. The animal had good shoulders and a fine, pretty head, but his ears were laid back hard and he carried his nose in the air and fidgeted sideways. I am not by any means a horseman such as my second- and third-elder brothers would admire, but I thought the bit was too severe and that if the sorcerer could not handle a stallion, he should ride a mare or a gelding.

He looked at me when I thought that, and his eyebrows rose.

His name was Lorellan. I remembered that now. That was the name.

When I remembered his name, he smiled. I could not prevent myself from flinching, and his smile widened. His teeth were very even and white in his brown face. “How did you come here?” he asked me. That was too broad a question, and he knew it and asked instead, “How did an Ugaro warrior come to be a possession of Gaur?”

That was perhaps phrased impolitely, but it was not incorrect. I thought involuntarily of kneeling bound in the snow, waiting for the Lau. I said nothing. He did not hit me for my silence, but turned his shoulder to me in disdain and considered Lord Aras.

Lord Aras was standing quietly, his back straight, his hands clasped lightly together. The hard set of his mouth betrayed his emotion, but if I had not known him, I might have believed he hardly cared about anything that had happened.

“What did you dispose of so urgently when you saw me?” Lord Lorellan asked him.

Lord Aras answered without hesitation, “A note to my uncle.”

“Of course. And what did you write to your uncle?”

“Nothing quite as specific as I would write now, unfortunately.”

“My men will come up with yours before dusk, and all your efforts will go for nothing.”

“Perhaps.”

“I’ve met you before, at court. Several times.”

Lord Aras nodded. “I remember. I had no idea you were a sorcerer. You hid that from me completely.”

“I knew you were a sorcerer.”

“Yes, that’s clear to me, now. Erinet wasn’t a mistake on your part. He was bait. I didn’t guess that at all. How did you find out I was coming up and around? You had a spy? Not someone in your thrall; I couldn’t have missed that.” His eyes widened slightly. “It was someone suborned by more ordinary means. That, I missed. Who was it? Someone I didn’t notice, obviously. I should have ... well.” He looked carefully at Lord Lorellan. “Did you suborn Lord Marotau through some ordinary human weakness as well, or did you take him in thrall? I thought at first he was our sorcerer, but certain details made that seem less likely. Is he dead, or have you made it seem so as part of a ruse?”

Lord Lorellan said incredulously, “Do you think you are questioning me?”

“You’ve hardly asked me anything yet.”

For an instant, I thought Lord Lorellan would strike him. Instead, he laughed. He asked “Well, then, tell me, does Soretes suspect me? Was I on your list at all?”

“Yes,” Lord Aras answered without hesitation. “You were fourth from the top, after Lord Amara. You had the power and connections and knowledge a man would need, to do what you seemed to be doing. You were a man who had reason to spend considerable time in the borderlands. But you weren’t connected to Prince Taranis, or we didn’t think you were. And you were so much in Avaras two years ago. I thought a sorcerer would have avoided me much more carefully.” Lord Aras hesitated. Then he said, “It never crossed my mind that my enemy might be so much more powerful than I am.”

Lord Lorellan smiled. “You realize it now. Would you care to surrender?”

Lord Aras glanced pointedly at the soldiers that surrounded us. He raised his hands slightly to show they were empty. “I have surrendered, Lord Lorellan. Plainly I have no choice.”

“You haven’t opened your mind to me. You may do that now.”

“I can’t see into your mind either, except for thoughts you practically shout at me. I’ve never been able to reliably see into the minds of even moderately powerful sorcerers. I’ve always believed this to be a natural limitation. Haven’t you found that to be the case? Or am I the first sorcerer you’ve encountered? Or the first who begins to approach your strength?”

Lord Lorellan stared at him. Lord Aras met his eyes steadily. Lorellan said after a little while, “Open your mind to me, or your people will suffer for your refusal. Your young Ugaro trusts you, doesn’t he? That’s real trust, not anything you put in his mind.” He lowered his voice. “When I break that trust, it will really be broken.”

Lord Aras turned his hands palm up, in the gesture of asking for mercy. “Please don’t hurt him. Please don’t hurt any of my people. There’s no reason for you to do it. It won’t help you. I swear I am not blocking you deliberately.”

I had no idea whether he was lying. If it was a lie, I did not think anything Lorellan did would break it. I breathed slowly and carefully, settling my weight. I could see I might die a tuyo’s death after all. It had been long delayed. I should be grateful for that. I was grateful for it. I would meet my death now with courage as long as I could. Certainly I would not flinch before I saw the knife.

Lord Aras asked, “What is it you want to accomplish?” He paused for a heartbeat. Then he said, “Prince Taranis would be easier to control than his father, I expect. Or than his younger brother. But if you put Taranis on the throne, how would you intend to deal with the Lakasha-erra? He has no chance of managing that situation, no matter how much good advice you might give him ... ah. You think he might be persuaded to appoint Inatet-sa to manage problems there for him? He might, though Taranis isn’t always as easily led as you might expect.” He smiled suddenly. “Do you imagine you can handle Inatet-sa?”

Lord Lorellan held out his hand. One of his soldiers came up and put a short whip into it, and he struck Lord Aras across the face with this. Lord Aras barely flinched, though the blow left a narrow welt across his cheek. An Ugaro could hardly have taken the blow with any greater indifference. I was proud of him. Lord Lorellan ordered him, “Keep silent unless I ask you a question. Then answer it, and nothing else. A blow for every word you speak to me without permission. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” said Lord Aras.

Lord Lorellan reined back, but too sharply. The stallion jigged sideways, tossing his head. I was sorry for the beast. My brothers would have scorned a man with such hard hands on the reins.

Thinking about my brothers’ opinion of a man who would ride like that kept my heart calm—somewhat calm—when the soldiers took me apart from Lord Aras. I did not know what they did with him. They took me to the rear of the column and bound my wrists to a tall stake driven into the soil. They left me there while they went about their own tasks. There were their own wounded to see to; that was mostly what I think occupied them. I hoped they had many wounded, many dead.

The stake had been placed in the full, driving light of the Sun. Other men were bound in the same way, each to his own stake. I counted eight and guessed the others must have died of their wounds. I did not know the names of those men, and I was ashamed of that, although there had been so many men in the half-talon, I would not have known them all.

While I watched, two of the eight also died. I thought they were probably well out of it. I was deeply grateful that Lord Aras had sent my own guards away, though I knew very well that all the dead men also had friends and comrades and families.

If Lord Aras had given me permission to kill myself, I also would have been beyond the pleasure of enemies. I turned my face to the fierce light of the Sun and prayed for the heat sickness to come upon me. But we Ugaro are not the people of the Sun, and he did not hear my prayer. I only had a small headache when Lord Lorellan came to find me. My heart beat fast, but that probably was not the heat.

Lorellan gave me a long look. Then he told his soldiers, “Give him water. Put up a canopy.” He paused, looking at me steadily. Then he said, “If he won’t drink, hold his nose and pour it down his throat.” He went to look at the other captives while his men brought me water and put up shade to keep the Sun’s ferocity away from me. I did not refuse to drink. I poured some of the water over my head as well, and leaned against the stake because the thongs were not long enough to let me sit down. I asked the nearest soldier to take water to the other prisoners as well, but he ignored me. When I asked again, he hit me, a stinging blow across the face, as a man might strike a boy who is behaving foolishly. I asked him again, very politely, and when he raised his hand to hit me a second time, I first swayed away and then, as he stepped closer, pivoted and kicked him in the knee as hard as I could. He collapsed, crying out in shocked pain.

I thought they would beat me; or if I were lucky, kill me. But Lord Lorellan looked toward us and the soldiers left me alone, taking the injured one with them. He could not walk. If I had kicked him accurately, he would not be walking for a long time, and he might well be lame for the rest of his life.

A worthless gesture. It helped nothing except my pride. But I could not regret it.

I could not hear what Lorellan said to the other prisoners, but I knew he was asking them questions. He paused often, and I knew that though they kept silent, he was taking answers out of their minds. I doubted they knew anything very useful. I had already understood why Lord Aras kept his own counsel. Now I understood that better still.

After some time, the soldiers cut the thongs that bound me to the stake and brought me to a horse. After I had mounted, they bound my hands again, this time to the saddle; and my feet to the stirrups. Most of Lord Lorellan’s men were already on the road, riding north. I did not see Lord Aras anywhere, but the column was long and I supposed he was here somewhere.

Lorellan’s men did not take the other prisoners. They left them behind, tied to those stakes, in the hard light of the Sun. No one had given them water, and no one cut their throats when they left them. I had already realized this was a bitter enmity. Because my tribe had never during my lifetime been involved in such an enmity, I had not realized what it would feel like, to see men who had been companions left to die slowly. Perhaps it might seem different later, but at that moment, it seemed worse to me to leave those Lau soldiers to die that way than to see them taken as slaves of an enemy sorcerer. I did not look back at them as I rode away. I should have looked back, to remember them. But the act was beyond my strength.

-18-

We rode through the long afternoon of the summer lands. My head pounded and my heart raced and I felt dizzy. I pretended to be perfectly well, but before I collapsed, the soldiers took me aside, to a place where a tent had been put up. The air in the tent was cool. Not merely endurable, but comfortable. I had not known any cantrip could cool air as much as that. I thought perhaps such strength with cantrips might also mark a powerful sorcerer. If that were so, then Lord Lorellan must indeed be far more powerful than Lord Aras.

Lord Lorellan waited in the tent, sitting in a chair by a little table. He watched as his men forced me to my knees before his chair. I would have knelt without being forced. It was his due as the victor. But he did not speak to me or tell me what he wanted, only waited for his men to shove me down.

He did not speak to me after I was kneeling, either. He only sat in his chair, leaning his elbow on the table, and looked at me. He asked me nothing. I knew he must be looking into my mind. I did not want to show him anything, but it was more difficult with an enemy than it had been with Lord Aras. I could not help but think of my family, my mother. I could not help but think of my brother, of how he had left me for the Lau. I was bitterly ashamed that my angry words had been the last between us.

I could not help but think of Hokino inKera, of Lord Aras asking him questions, as Lorellan had asked questions of the prisoners bound to the stakes.

I could not help but think of Lord Aras. I thought of my terror when I realized he must be a sorcerer. Now I was ashamed of that fear. I had known all the time Lord Aras was a generous man. I could not believe I had ever imagined he could be like Lorellan.

He chuckled at that.

“What have you done to him?” I asked.

“You actually care.” He sounded pleased, but not surprised. I doubted very many things surprised him. He added, “Nothing. Soon enough he’ll be useful to me. So will you. I think he’ll be very useful in giving me a way to get a hold on that little army of his. You actually swore to obey him? Freely? Tell me about that.”

I tried not to think of that day, that moment, but it was impossible.

After some time, when Lord Lorellan was satisfied, his men took me back to my horse and tied me to the saddle again, and we went on. It was not yet dusk, but long shadows stretched out through the heavy light. The summer country rolled out before us, tawny gold and dusty green and silvery blue, with here and there bright flowers among the grasses. At intervals, one or another of the soldiers gave me water to drink, with honey and salt in it. Whatever use Lorellan had for me, he did not intend to let the heat sickness come on me.

We rode into the night. The Moon rose pale, thin, her face turned mostly away. I tried to pray to her, but I knew she was too far away to hear me. At last I gave up the effort and closed my eyes again. When we halted at last, I was so stiff that when I dismounted, I had to catch at the stirrup leathers to prevent myself from falling. They took me aside from the road, to a tent. Again, Lord Lorellan was waiting there.

There was food. I meant to refuse it, but Lorellan glanced at me and said, “If you don’t eat that, Aras will be given nothing.”

I picked up the bowl, awkward because my wrists were still bound, and began to eat. It was grain with meat. It tasted like nothing. But I ate it.

“Remarkable,” said Lorellan. He went back to what he had been doing. Now and then he asked me a question, mostly about the places Lord Aras had been, the movements of his talons. I did not answer, but I knew that did not matter. I was too tired to think coherently about anything. That probably helped more. In the end, Lorellan sent me away, and the soldiers took me somewhere else and made me lie down, and I slept.

In the morning, Lorellan had me beaten. He brought Lord Aras to the place to watch it done, so I learned that he had not, so far as I could tell, been harmed. Lorellan watched him, not me. Lorellan smiled. That was what I noticed of him.

Lord Aras did not look at him, but only at me. His calm remained impenetrable, even when they stripped me and bound me between the posts. I kept my face still and my muscles relaxed while they bound me and while Lorellan’s man, Markas, took up the whip. I looked into the distance, past all the Lau, and thought of what I had told Suyet: that the pain of a beating was not important. I breathed slowly and set myself to stand. But even before it began, I knew that this would be different. No one who had ever raised his hand to me had wished to break my pride, only correct my disrespect or carelessness. I knew this would not be like that.

I was right. It was not at all the same. Markas began at the top of my shoulders and laid one stroke below another almost to my knees. He laid each stroke evenly, directly below the one before, all the way down. Then he began again at the top and did it again. And a third time. And a fourth. After that I did not know how much more he did.

For some part of it, I kept silent and stood firmly, but my pride broke long before it ended. Eventually I flinched, and some while after that I could not prevent myself from crying out, first between my teeth and then aloud. Later I fought the bonds, and finally I sobbed like a child. It went on even after that, for a long time, until I had no more strength to struggle and only hung from my bonds, utterly helpless, without breath even to sob aloud.

They carried me on a litter that day, and for two days afterward as well. After that I could ride, though I could not mount the tall horse by myself, and then fell when I dismounted. Nor could I get up after I had fallen, so that the soldiers had to pull me to my feet. But I could walk, after a fashion, once I was up.

The next day I was better, and the day after that I was almost strong again. I still found it difficult to bear the touch of even the lightest shirt against my skin, but blood no longer soiled the cloth. By the next day after that, I was able to notice the country through which we passed. We rode more directly north now, and a little west.

I expected every day that Lord Lorellan would have me beaten again, or do something worse to me. When he had me brought to him at last, I thought it would come then. When I knew the soldiers were taking me to him, I almost could not walk. The fear was much worse now. I had not realized that fear of pain would be so much worse after the first time.

I looked up, at the flawless sky, where the uncountable stars glittered. The Moon had not yet risen. I was sorry for that, though I knew she could not help me here.

Lorellan was alone in his tent. I was glad of that. I thought if he meant to torture me, Lord Aras would be present. Lorellan did not speak, only glanced at the soldiers, and they forced me to my knees. This time I would have refused to kneel to him, but I was given no choice.

Then Lorellan looked at me, and I felt my memory begin to change.

It took a long time, what he did to me. I felt it happen, but I could not tell what he did. It hurt. I wept from the pain, from the grief of it ... when Lord Aras had done this to me, he had not hurt me ... that was a strange thought. I could not remember any time when he had done anything of the kind, but if he had done it, he would have made certain it hurt me. He had shown his cruelty to me so often, in so many ways.

“You will soon have your vengeance,” Lord Lorellan told me gently.

“Yes,” I said. I looked up at him, blinking through shameful tears. I rubbed a hand across my face and hardened my expression because it was not seemly to show grief to a man who was not of my tribe, even if he was my benefactor.

All my tribe was gone. Vengeance was all I had left. I would seize it with both hands and wring from it every drop of satisfaction it could give me. It would not be enough. But it would be something.

I bowed my head to Lord Lorellan. “Yes,” I said. “You are generous to give him to me. I know you also have a claim.”

“After what he did to your family, your claim is much stronger than mine,” he said. “He’s been a political enemy of mine all my life, but he’s a personal enemy of yours. Think what he did to your brothers. Your mother. Your sisters.”

I did not have to think of it. The memories were burned into my mind in bitter images. I whispered, “He should have contented himself with my death. That would have been his right. Nothing about his death will content me. But I will take what vengeance I can.” I realized I was speaking aloud and bowed my head in apology. “Forgive me, my lord. I do not mean to impose on your time.” I could not recall why he had summoned me or what we had been talking about. I did not really care. Most of my attention was on the days ahead, on the time it would take to come to the border. On the vengeance Lord Lorellan had promised me when we came there.

Too many days. But I would wait. I had waited so long already, and so hopelessly, until Lord Lorellan had freed me. I could wait a little while longer before I took the revenge I was due.

“You may go,” Lorellan said kindly. “It’s almost dawn. Markas will escort you back to your tent. But we’ll delay a little here before we ride on. Rest. Be sure and eat something. You haven’t been eating enough, Ryo. You’ll soon need your strength.”

I bowed to show I would obey, and rose to my feet. I was stiff, and my back hurt, which seemed strange. The beating Lord Aras had ordered had been very bad, but it was the least part of what he had done to me and it had been many days ago. I could not truly be feeling pain from that. This must be a memory of that pain, lingering because in my anger and grief, I clung to it.

I went out of the tent, and paused, puzzled, because I had forgotten where my own tent stood. Markas put his hand on my arm to guide me. I jerked away from him, but then I did not know why I felt offended. He had not meant any insult. Lord Lorellan had commanded his people to treat me with respect.

For an instant I seemed to recall Lau soldiers teaching me to play a game called sestaket, with pegs that moved on a board. But the faces I recalled were not the faces of Lorellan’s soldiers, but of enemies. Esau ... he had been the one to take up the whip when Lord Aras ordered I should be beaten. The one named Geras had done worse than that. During that bitter raid upon my tribe, after Lord Aras had accepted me as tuyo but then pressed ahead anyway, that was the man who had impaled my younger brother through the belly and laughed as he struggled and writhed.

It had taken Raga a long time to die. I prayed he had not been aware of what had been done to the rest of our family. His own death had been terrible enough.

I would never have permitted men who had done such things to teach me a game. It had been someone else. The Lau all looked alike to me.

The men had brought me to my tent, and I went in. When someone brought food, I remembered Lord Lorellan’s command and ate it. It tasted of ashes and dust. I lay down after I had eaten and stared at the darkness of the tent.

After a little while, I got up and went out of the tent. A man stood there, guarding me. To keep me safe, because some of the Lau soldiers did not like Ugaro. Even though Lord Lorellan had ordered them to respect me, he had thought it best to appoint men to guard me. He was overcautious, but generous in everything.

“Go back in your tent,” the man ordered me.

He was not a man I had sworn to obey. I began to step past him. When he grabbed my arm, I seized the sword from his belt and slammed the hilt of it upward into his jaw with all my strength. The crack of his teeth snapping together sounded loud to me, and when he fell, that made a loud thudding noise as well. But no one else seemed to have heard. This was the time before dawn, when men sleep most heavily. When Garoyo had planned raids, we had waited for this time to attack.

Garoyo was dead. After Lord Aras had ordered all the other warriors killed, he had staked my eldest brother out in the snow and cut off all his fingers, one joint at a time. Then—I did not want to think of what he had done after that. I tried to push the images away. But I had seen everything, and I could not forget.

I knew the place where they held my enemy. I knew it was the right tent because of the guards, and because it was the part of the camp where one would keep a prisoner: in the center, surrounded by many, many soldiers on all sides. I went there openly. I was not disobeying Lord Lorellan. He had not forbidden me to go there.

One of the soldiers guarding that tent said something to me, but I did not pay attention. The other started to put a hand on my arm, but whatever he saw in my face made him hesitate.

“Do not offend me,” I said to them both. “Lord Lorellan commands that you respect me.”

The soldiers looked at each other and backed away, and I stepped between them and went into the tent.

He was there. He was not asleep. He was on his feet, facing me. His face was still, his expression remote. I had seen him look like that so many times.

Lord Aras had looked exactly like this when he ordered me beaten. When he had his men shoot down the injured warriors of my tribe, and put my brother to death in such a terrible way. When he had my mother thrown onto the fire, and killed my elder sister, flinging her corpse down atop the tiny, torn body of her little son, my nephew. He had no kindness in him. He had shown me that.

He had looked exactly like this when he killed my father. Unmoved. Impenetrable.

Only when he had taken my younger sister had he shown the lust and cruelty that ruled his nature. I knew what was behind the still expression he showed me now.

He said, “Ryo,” very softly.

I could hardly endure the sight of him. I longed to break his composure. I said, my voice thick, “Why are you on your feet? Kneel when you speak to me.”

He dropped to his knees immediately. But he did not plead. He said, speaking quickly, “Your mind will break through false memories and recover true ones once you’re away from the sorcerer.” His voice was quiet, but intense. He added, looking at me carefully, “Or it should. I must admit, I’ve never imagined anything like this. Ryo—”

Lord Lorellan put back the tent flap and came into the tent.

Stepping close, I hit Aras across the face. I did not put all my strength into the blow. I knew I was not to kill him here. Not yet. It was important to Lord Lorellan that I wait. I was willing to wait. Not long. But a few more days would not matter.

Aras caught himself without quite sprawling, and moved to gather himself back to kneeling. I hit him again, a little harder, and this time he went down all the way and did not try to get up. It would be very easy to beat him to death—

“Ryo!” said Lord Lorellan.

But I had sworn to wait, and besides, it would be too easy a death. I stepped back. “I am sorry, my lord,” I said sincerely. “I did not wish to disturb you. I would not have killed him. I know you do not wish it to be done here.”

“You killed Taras,” he reproved me.

Turning, I knelt at his feet. “I am sorry,” I said. I had to think for a moment to remember who Taras might be. The soldier I had struck outside my tent. That was probably the man. I said, “I am very sorry, my lord. I do not know how I could have been so careless. But you did order your people to respect me. He should not have laid his hands on me. But if I have displeased you, I am sorry for that.” I bowed my head. “I deserve your punishment for it, my lord.”

He sighed, looking down at me.

I waited. If he ordered me beaten, it would be nothing I did not deserve. The twinges of the ghost pain made themselves felt. The pain seemed real. I had never realized the memory of a savage beating could linger so in the mind, many days after the pain had gone. I did not want to suffer such a beating again. But I knew Lord Lorellan was too generous a man to have me beaten so brutally.

If he did, I would accept it. He had been so generous to me. I should not have killed the man. I had no idea why I had done it. I would not protest any punishment he gave me, so long as he did not change his mind about allowing me to kill Lord Aras myself.

“I suppose I should have expected something of the kind from an Ugaro,” Lorellan said, and sighed. Then he said to me, speaking clearly and slowly, “Ryo. Get up and go with Markas. Go back to your tent. Rest. We’ll ride out soon, but you may have an hour to rest. I won’t change my mind. You’ll have your revenge soon enough.”

I bowed to the ground.

“Don’t kill anyone else,” added Lord Lorellan.

“No, my lord,” I promised. I got to my feet and looked at Aras with disdain. He had not tried to get up. He lay where he had fallen, only he had drawn in his arms and lifted his head a little. He was not looking at me, but at my benefactor. His gaze was steady. He should have been shaking with terror. The hatred swelled up within my heart. I wanted him to look at me. I wanted him to know what death was waiting for him. I wondered whether Lord Lorellan would punish me if I hit him again, and whether I cared.

He turned his face aside. I saw his mouth tighten, and knew he was afraid at last, and I was pleased. “The tales of your death will frighten children until the stars fall from the sky and the world ends,” I promised him. I turned and went out before I could disgrace myself by disobeying Lord Lorellan.

We rode all that day. When the heat came, they brought a litter for me, and Lord Lorellan cooled the air within the litter with a powerful cantrip. I should have been embarrassed to need such care, but I was too much occupied with considering what I would do to Lord Aras when the time finally came. When the terrible memories of my family and my tribe pressed on me, I pushed them aside and thought of the revenge I would take.

When I rode astride, Markas rode on one side of my horse, and a soldier named Baran rode on the other side. When we halted and my tent was raised, they stood outside it. They were partners, though they did not seem to be friends. Once I had been guarded by men who were friends as well as partners, but I could not remember their names. It was not important. I put it out of my mind. I had no idea why I disliked Markas and his partner so much. They had never done anything to earn my enmity.

Twice Lord Lorellan brought me to his tent for a long time; once for nearly the whole night. I did not remember what we discussed and did not care. Hatred and anger and grief filled my heart until there was no room for anything else. When he rode near enough to me, I watched Lord Aras constantly, thinking about what he had done, what I would do to him in turn. He never looked at me if he could avoid it. I knew he was afraid, and this gave me a bitter pleasure.

I did not have any other chance to approach him. I did not try to make such a chance. My thoughts were enough, and the knowledge that every day brought us closer to the borderlands, and the river, and my vengeance.

-19-

The days blurred into one another, but we came to the borderlands at last. I could not be sure how many days had come and gone, and I did not care. But I was glad for the cooler air here, where the breath of the north wind sometimes came. I remembered when I had found the borderlands far too warm, and smiled at my ignorance. I had had no idea.

I had been so much more innocent, in so many ways.

Or, no, that did not make sense. By the time I had first seen the borderlands, all my people were already dead, their bodies left in the snow for the wolves. I had not been remotely innocent any longer.

Frowning, I put the confusion aside. It did not matter. What mattered to me now was that my vengeance was at last at hand.

Lord Lorellan left his men near a village, where they would make their camp and carry out whatever instructions he had given them. I did not care about any of that and forgot about them the moment they were out of sight. My benefactor himself rode with me east of that place to a more private spot. Markas and Baran rode with us as well, and between them, his wrists bound, Lord Aras. That, I cared about very much.

When we came to a place that seemed good, Lord Lorellan drew up his horse. His hand was too heavy on the reins, and the animal threw up his head and fretted, but that was completely unimportant. What mattered was my benefactor’s generosity to me. I dismounted and stood on the bank of the river, where the grassy verge fell away to the ice below. Markas dismounted as well, and pulled Lord Aras out of the saddle, pushing him down to kneel on the ground. He and Baran stood on either side of him. Baran watched me, but Markas watched Lord Lorellan. My benefactor was smiling at me. No one looked at Aras except me. I barely paid attention to anyone else. Aras gazed at the earth where he knelt.

Soon I would make him forget everything but me, and pain.

I knew this place, where we stood. It was familiar to me. To the east, hills rose up, the rocky slopes given to timber because they were no use for farming. To the west, not so far away, lay the town of Dumau Sen. Beyond that, much farther west and north, lay the bones of my family. I saw again my father’s dead face turned up to the sky, my mother’s body thrown into the fire ... my little sister, whom death had not gathered up soon enough.

Lorellan turned his gaze from me and smiled down at Aras from the back of his tall horse. It was the smile of malice triumphant. I did not think about that, but lingered on the vivid, terrible memories of what Aras had done to my people. I kept my eyes on Aras and saw his shoulders tighten. But he did not look at me even then.

Lord Lorellan turned his attention, and his smile, to me. “This is a good place,” he said. “See, you can cross the river immediately when you are finished. No one can possibly pursue you. You’ll have no need to be quick. But you must be sure to leave the body recognizable. That isn’t too much for me to ask, is it?”

“No, my lord,” I agreed. “It is a small thing.” I thought of what I would do to Aras, dwelling on each detail. I would not touch his face. Except perhaps his eyes, that had looked upon my little sister as he forced himself on her. For that, I might put out his eyes.

His hands twitched upward and then stilled again.

I smiled, glad to let him see the thoughts in my mind. Very soon I would do much worse to him. After it was done, I would be so very glad to go back into my own country ... except that nothing waited for me there. My home was gone, my people were gone.

He had done that. For what he had done, I would carve every bone from his hands. First.

“Whatever you wish,” Lord Lorellan said, smiling still. He gestured to his men. “I doubt you’ll need any help, but Baran and Markas will stay to make sure.”

I nodded, but most of my attention was bent toward considering the small, delicate task of taking the bones out of a living man’s hand. It would be much like jointing a bird. I would take care to pop the joints and pull out the bones without making very large cuts. I wanted those long hands of his recognizable after it had been done. That would please Lord Lorellan, and it would please me to do it.

“Very good,” Lorellan said. “Remember your promise to me, Ryo. Do whatever you want, as slowly as you want, but he must be dead by dawn and the body must be recognizable.” He turned his horse and urged it away.

The long, swinging walk of a Lau horse covered a great deal of ground with every stride. Already Lord Lorellan was over the crest of the hill behind us. If he kept that pace, soon he would be a bowshot away. Then two. I put him out of my mind, turning to examine Aras once more. I remembered how impenetrable he had seemed to me at first. Now I had no difficulty seeing that he was afraid. His face was smooth, but his mouth gave him away. And the tightness of his chest and arms. And the shudder of his breathing. He had not looked up, and did not now.

I said, “Shall I tell you what I will do? After the hands?”

He did not answer.

I told him some of it. He listened, his head bowed, flinching now and then. Baran moved a step away from me. Markas merely looked bored.

Finally, when I could not bring myself to delay any longer, I drew the knife Lorellan had given me and stepped toward Aras. Baran backed away, and Markas moved away as well, leaving Aras to kneel alone. He lifted his gaze at last. “Ryo—” he began, but there was nothing he could say and he stopped.

“Do you wish to beg?” I asked him. “I remember how my sister begged you for mercy. I remember it very clearly. You gave her none.”

He said nothing.

I took one more step forward, raised my right hand, flipped my knife to grip it by the blade, and threw it with all the rage I had held back so long. The knife took Baran in the belly, but I saw no more than that because I had already flung myself at Markas. He grabbed for his own knife, but I hit him in the chest and took him to the ground. Despite his astonishment, he fought hard. But he was not as strong as I was, and Esau had taught me Lau wrestling.

I remembered that, a flashing, broken memory that I was sure was true because I used the moves Esau had taught me, a hold that forced his torso around at an awkward angle so that he could not use his knife. Then I stopped wrestling and used a different kind of blow I had learned much longer ago, from my brother.

Pushing away from the body, I turned quickly to make sure of Baran. A thrown knife seldom takes a man out of a fight for long, but he was dead. Aras had gotten to him first, grabbing the knife with his bound hands and completing the killing stroke. Baran lay in a curled position, most of his blood pooling beneath him.

Aras stood a few steps from Baran’s body, still holding the knife, though awkwardly. He had been trying to cut his bonds, but had not managed it yet. He dropped the knife immediately when I looked at him. “Ryo—”

“Be quiet,” I snapped at him. “Do not speak to me.” Shuddering with hatred, I bent and pulled the coat Markas was wearing from his body. It was the kind of coat the Lau wore in the borderlands, too light for them in the winter country, but better than nothing. I thrust Markas’ knife through my own belt and turned back to Aras. He had not moved. He looked at me, his expression questioning.

Seizing him by the arm, I thrust him over the verge of the riverbank to the ice below. “If you feel the ice crack, drop to your belly,” I ordered, following carefully. I did not want to hear his voice, but I asked reluctantly, “Would Lorellan have heard them die?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps.” He spoke very quietly, not looking at me.

That was not the answer I had wished to hear. I should have delayed a little longer. But if I had delayed too much, Markas might have realized what I was doing.

Aras slipped. I steadied him before he could fall. Any Ugaro child would have known how to walk on the ice. I said nothing, but breathed out in relief when the air suddenly chilled against my face and I knew that the ice below us was safe. When we came to the northern bank, I jumped up into the snow, reached down, and pulled him up after me. I took one moment to cut the thongs that bound him, pushed the coat into his hands, and shoved him toward the edge of the forest. He stumbled, caught himself, pulled on the coat, and wordlessly went in that direction.

I followed, taking the lead as he came to the trees and slowed, uncertain. The snow was deep there, but I broke a way through the high drifts, straight north and a little west, and came out, as I had guessed from the lie of the ground, on the other side of a narrow finger of forest, to clear land. On this open ground where the Sun could reach down, the snow had melted in the short days and refrozen in the long nights. An inch beneath new snow, the frozen crust was strong enough to bear my weight. And I weighed more than any Lau.

For now, I wanted speed above all, and broke into a jog, barely picking up my feet, a light, skimming jog that seldom broke the crust. It was not fast, but it was a pace I could hold for a long time. The cold air felt good in my lungs and against my face.

Aras did not have to run to keep up with me. He walked fast, his longer legs covering the ground as fast my jogging pace. The forest spread out before us. Soon there would be no open country, but by the time we came that far, speed would be less important.

“Ryo—” Aras began, coming up beside me.

Swinging around fast, I hit him across the face. I had not known I was going to do it, so he had not known either. He fell hard and awkwardly, and knelt in the snow even after he recovered, his hand pressed to his cheek and mouth.

“Do not speak to me!” I said, and was almost shocked at the ferocity of my tone. But I meant it. I said, meaning every word, “If you touch my mind at all, I will kill you. Do you think you could stop me?” I took a breath again and added, not quite so fiercely, “You may answer.”

“No,” he said, not looking up. He might have been lying, but he went on quietly, “Your mind now is so precarious, anything I tried to do would send tremors in a thousand unpredictable directions. You would feel that instantly, and your hatred is so intense, nothing I could do would prevent you from killing me.”

I wanted so badly to do it that the longing made me tremble. But I was almost certain I would be killing an innocent man. Precarious. That was exactly the word for how I felt in my mind and my heart. I said harshly, “We will go west and north. If you did the things I remember, I will find that out. I will try not to kill you until I prove your guilt with the bodies of my people. I will try not to hurt you. Get up.” Despite my hatred, seeing him shaking, I added almost gently, “Can you get up?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s only the cold. Thank you for getting me the coat.”

Seizing his arm, I jerked him to his feet. I said roughly, “We cannot rest here,” and turned back to the north. I gave him my shirt and jogged to keep myself warm. He wrapped my shirt around his shoulders and neck, covering his mouth as well, and walked fast to keep the pace.

The snow beneath the trees was soft and deep. I broke a path for him, swinging my legs out wide with every step and wishing for the flat woven paddles my people make for travel in such conditions. But I found a ridge with shallower snow on the windward side, and that was better. He did not complain, but his breath came hard. He was not used to walking a long way. Certainly not in the snow. I did not slow, and he did not ask me to.

As we went, I looked over the land and listened to the wind. If anyone came after us, I neither saw nor heard any sign of it. I listened for the clapping of wings as startled ptarmigan burst into the sky, I watched for a hawk to drop low as a company of horsemen startled up a hare. But there was nothing.

Late in the afternoon, the temperature came up a little. Soon after that, it began to snow. Flat, featureless clouds stretched out overhead, the kind that mean snow will fall for a long time and over a large area. I stopped fearing pursuit after that. In three hand’s-breadths of time, our trail would be lost—at least to the Lau.

The light began to fail, and it grew colder again; then cold enough even I felt it. Aras fell, twice and then again. The third time, he was slow to get up. I pulled him to his feet and turned aside into a thicket of young spruces. I found a good place where trees grew close to the face of a shallow cliff. The open space there was not large, but a small fire would warm a small space better, and the cliff face would help by casting the warmth back again. I began to make a fire, irritated at the long effort involved.

Then Aras called fire to the tinder, exactly as he had done many times in front of me, calling fire to the wick of a lantern. I had forgotten he could do that. Rage came, that he had dared to use Lau magic. I swung to face him, but he bowed immediately in silent apology. Even furious, I could see how stupid it would be to hit him because he had started a fire more quickly than I could.

Turning my back on him, I built up the fire. I built it up higher than I would have made it for myself, and told him curtly to sit between the fire and the rock face of the cliff. Then I took back my shirt and went to find something to eat before the long night stretched too deeply across the winter lands.

Wild plums grow in rocky country such as we had come to. I picked some of the frozen fruit that clung to the branches, wishing for a proper basket. Yes, and if I had a bow, I could shoot the stars from the sky, if I had arrows. I carried the little plums in my shirt.

Then I followed a rabbit trail. I managed to spot a rabbit before it dashed away, and was ready with a stone to throw. If my eldest brother were still alive, I would be glad to tell him how right he had been to make me learn to throw fast and straight, when I had complained that a bow was better.

Garoyo was still alive. I was certain of it. Aras had not staked him down in the snow and cut off all his fingers, nor any of the rest of it. I was certain he had not done that. Almost certain. The memory of Garoyo’s death was so clear. I trembled with grief and fury and told myself at the same time that it was not true, that none of that was true. But I could not tell whether I believed the one thing or the other.

Someone had said to me, I don’t believe you are naturally an angry or fearful man. I could not remember clearly, but I thought it had been Aras who said it. His tone had been kind. I thought of that as I crept back beneath the spruces, and by the time I straightened cautiously below the branches, I almost did not want to kill him. It helped that he did not look up at me, but kept his eyes on the fire. He sat as near the fire as he could get, but he was still shivering. I could hardly believe even a Lau could feel the cold so much in so snug a place. But I remembered how I had suffered in the overwhelming heat of the summer country when all around me the Lau did not even seem to notice the ferocity of their Sun.

Aras did not speak, and I remembered I had ordered him not to, and regretted my harshness. I struggled not to remember the reasons for my anger, but the images came back to me. I saw him flinch, and was glad my thoughts hurt him, and ashamed for being glad of that, but I could not help it. I said harshly, “Use a cantrip if you wish. If it would help warm the air.”

He looked up in surprise. Then he bowed his head. I did not see him do anything. Maybe the air grew a little warmer. I could not tell.

I had already skinned and cleaned the rabbit. I threw it on the ground beside him, tumbled the frozen plums out beside it, put my shirt on again, and crawled back beneath the spruce branches.

I found an aspen tree easily and peeled off some of the smooth bark. Long grass stems, frozen but strong, could be found where the dim light of the snowy dusk made its way through the branches of the trees. It is hard to melt enough snow to satisfy thirst, but eating snow will make even an Ugaro feel the cold. I wished for one of my mother’s large bowls. But I could make a basket reasonably fast, sufficiently watertight to serve the purpose.

I went back again to the shelter and found the rabbit threaded onto a skewer and set over the fire. Aras plainly had not known what to do with the wild plums. I made a bowl of aspen bark for the plums and a little more snow and set that near the fire to warm. Wild plums are very sour without honey, but some things one cannot manage when traveling rough.

The rabbit was tough and lean and would have been much better if my mother had been the one to cook it. I tried not to think of her because even though I did not believe the terrible memories of her death, I could not get them out of my mind. Aras stopped eating his share of the rabbit when I thought of her. “Eat it!” I ordered him, and he turned his face away and put the meat in his mouth. He ate the entire portion I gave him, and his share of the plums, and drank water bitter with the taste of the aspen bark. I put more wood on the fire. Then I stood up and said, “Give me the coat.”

He looked up at that. Then he got slowly to his feet and took off the coat and gave it to me, and wrapped his arms around his body instead, trying not to shake with cold.

I spread the coat out on the ground where he had been sitting. I said roughly, not looking at him, “If you only have one covering, always find a sheltered place out of the wind and put it beneath you. The earth will pull more heat from your body than the air. Come here.”

He stepped close, not looking at me. I lay down, pulling him down to lie with me, against my chest, his hands between our bodies where they would be warm. I put my arm over him and pulled him close. It was the way a man might lie with a lover, and I hated him, and he knew it and held very still. But his shivering eased at last.

“Go to sleep,” I told him, and tried not to think of what he had done to my younger sister, of how he had pushed her down—

He shuddered against my chest. “Please,” he said in a low voice. “Please, Ryo. Think of something else.”

“Shall I think about what I will do to you if you did that to her?” I asked, and hated myself for saying such a thing, for believing he might have done those things when I knew the memory was false, but I could not help believing it. My arms tightened. I could pin him down exactly that way, do to him exactly what he had done to her . . .

He was shaking again. Not with cold. I enjoyed his fear, the power I felt over him. “Please,” he said again, his voice strained, and I enjoyed that too. He did not try to push away from me, even now. Whatever I did to him, he could not prevent me, and he knew it. I was stronger than he was, and Esau had taught me how to wrestle—

Esau had taught me how to wrestle. He had taught me the moves I had used to kill Markas. If my body remembered that, it must be true. The other was false. It must be false. I knew it was false. I eased my grip on Aras. The anger and hatred were still there. But shame at what I was doing to him—what I was doing even though I believed, or almost believed, or wished to believe he did not deserve it—overcame the bitter wish to hurt him. “I am sorry,” I told him. “I am sorry. Go to sleep.”

Casting around for gentler things to think about, I thought of a song. It was the song we sing to the Dawn Sisters. That brought memories of my sister back to me, but I shoved away everything bitter and terrible and remembered her instead as a baby, putting her doll into my hands, falling asleep in my lap. She had been perhaps three winters then. I must have owned about ten winters myself, much too old to bother with a baby sister, but I had not moved because I did not want to disturb her.

No sorcerer had any reason to interfere with memories from so long ago. I knew this memory was true. It felt true, in a different way from any of my recent memories, that seemed true one moment and false the next, brittle and ambiguous.

I sang a few words of the song under my breath. Aras had stopped shivering at last. His breathing evened and deepened as he stopped holding himself rigid against me. If he had not been exhausted with effort and cold—and with long fear and helplessness before that—he might have lain awake much longer. I, younger and beset by memories I did not want to think of, did not sleep for a long time.

The next day was like the first, except I was no longer concerned about pursuit by the Lau. I had other concerns instead. I did not know whether the land here belonged to the inTerika or whether we might already have come far enough west to have entered inKera territory. If they caught us moving secretly through these forests, an Ugaro in company with a Lau, warriors of either tribe would surely doubt there could be good reason for this trespass. They would probably kill us both, and while I had nothing now to live for, no people to return to, Aras might not—probably did not—I was almost certain he did not deserve that death.

If he deserved death, I wanted to kill him myself.

Still, the land was wide. If I paid attention, I should be able to avoid any war party.

I allowed an early stop so that Aras could rest and so that I could warm aspen twigs by the fire, bend them into shape and bind them into place. Once I had the frames, I wove strips of bark through the twigs to make snow paddles, such as my people use to walk on top of loose snow. Making such paddles is a tedious, difficult task, one that is more suited to a woman or a craftsman than a warrior. My elder sister made very good snow paddles. Mine were terrible, but I hoped they would be better than nothing.

Once the Sun stepped below the world, Aras did not hesitate to lie down close to me. The cold was a greater goad than fear of my anger or hatred. This time, as soon as we lay down, I managed to think about quiet things, peaceful things. Wolves running single-file across a snowfield. An eagle, turning and turning in a wide and luminous sky. Curtains of light, wavering and melting against a field of infinite stars. Aras fell asleep at once.

I lay awake for a long time, trying to sort out memories that were false from the truth that had been hidden from me. I could not do it. The more I thought of a memory, the truer it seemed, even when I was almost certain it was false. Only distant memories of my boyhood came easily to me, and those memories were tainted by what had happened later ... by what I remembered happening later.

When I finally slept, all my dreams were confused, filled with grief and rage.

On the third day, I led us directly onto a party of inKera warriors.

-20-

Perhaps a bird had flown up, disturbed by our approach. Whatever gave us away, I did not notice it. Whatever signs might have revealed the warriors we approached, I did not notice those either, which was indefensible carelessness.

Even with the snow paddles, I had found I had no choice but to take a slower pace than I wished. Aras tried to obey my demands for a better pace, but the cold exhausted him. Though I had known the cold would be hard for him, my best imaginings had fallen short. I was beginning to believe he would die of the cold before we came to inGara territory. That was not the death I wanted for him. If he had done the things I remembered, he deserved far worse.

Then, early in the afternoon, I came down a small ridge and put out my arm to steady Aras, and he stilled above me. I turned quickly. But it was much too late. The warriors were no more than two bowshots ahead. They were spreading out, stringing their bows with slow, ostentatious movements. They did not mind if we saw them because we were too close for us to get away from them and too outnumbered to fight. There were ten of them: a scouting party.

I was furious with myself, but fury would not help. I made myself speak quietly. “We will go down to meet them. We have no choice now.”

Aras nodded, but he asked only, “Do you remember Hokino inKera?”

“He is the inKera warleader. I have never met him.” Perhaps that was him before us; it might be. I could not remember hearing any suggestion that he was unjust. But it could hardly be seen as anything but just to punish a man who had brought a Lau into the winter country for some evil purpose. I could think of no argument that would persuade the inKera warleader I had done this for any honorable reason, not during this year of bitterness and blood.

Perhaps I could persuade him to take us to his brother. That might at least delay our deaths, though from everything I knew of him, Soro was even less likely to listen to us or show us mercy than Hokino.

After what he had done to my people, Aras did not deserve mercy from any Ugaro. After what he had done, I had no reason to wish to live. Except perhaps he had not done those things. It was impossible to sort out truth from lies, and now was not the time. I shoved the whole tangled mass of doubt and rage aside and told him, in the steadiest voice I could manage, “These are not Lau. When we come to them, you must kneel rather than stand up straight—” I broke off. Someone had told me the guest of Lord Aras should not cower like a dog. Had that happened? The fragment of memory came and went. I blinked, ran a hand across my eyes, took a deep breath, and lengthened my stride.

When we came near, I recognized Hokino, though I could not remember having met him. When I dropped to my knees, it was not only to acknowledge that these men had caught me at a severe disadvantage, but because the confusion was so great I could not keep my balance. I said, “Hokino inKera—” in a voice I hardly recognized as mine.

“Ryo inGara,” he answered, and examined Aras with amazement. “And the Lau warleader, is it not? Far out of place and a little more ragged than when we last met.” The taksu came strangely to my ears after so long.

As I had warned him he must, Aras knelt as well. He did not lower his gaze, but watched Hokino intently.

I bowed my head, hoping Aras would understand he should show a much more humble manner. I said, “Please, warleader, I ask you to be generous. We only wish to pass through, to the lands of my people.” It occurred to me that I could ask him, Have you had any news of my tribe, has anything terrible befallen my people? Only now, when I might find out immediately, I was afraid to ask, for fear he might tell me.

“Ask him,” Aras said quietly. “Ryo, ask.”

Drawing a breath, I said, trying to keep my voice level, “Warleader of the inKera, permit me to ask, have you heard ... anything of my family?”

Hokino’s eyebrows rose. “A curious question. You cannot expect word to have made its way here yet. Even if your mother would wish to send a reply to my wife, I doubt your letter has even come to her tent.”

I did not remember a letter. Or I did, in a way, now that he spoke of it. I could almost feel my hand on the stylus as I wrote down words, but I could not remember what I had written. When I searched Hokino’s face, I could see nothing of pity in him, such as any man might feel on hearing of such a great loss, even if it had befallen an enemy. I thought I should have seen it in his face, if my tribe had been destroyed and he knew it. But I could not feel relieved, only confused and angry.

Pressing all that down, I bowed my head again. “Please be generous, warleader. I swear before the gods, I have not brought this Lau into the winter country to act against the inKera or against any Ugaro. I know it may seem I must be lying to you and swearing falsely. If you believe that, you will be angry, as any just man would be, but you would be wrong.”

“It hardly seems fitting that an inGara warrior should come without leave into inKera lands, in such a way as this and in such company, and yet question my judgment,” he observed.

I bowed lower. “I meant no insult, warleader. I only meant to speak the truth. I know I am trespassing on inKera lands. I will not protest a beating if you consider my words insolent, but whatever your opinion of me, please do not beat my ... my companion. He is suffering enough from the cold.”

I had not intended to ask that mercy for Aras. I did not know why I had asked it. I breathed deeply, forcing myself to pay attention to this moment rather than the fear and confusion in my mind, and finished, “If you decide we should be put to death, I ask that you refrain. I ask that you take us instead to the lord of the inKera so that he may decide what is best to do.”

Hokino regarded me without speaking for a moment. Finally he said, “If you had intended to cast this important Lau warleader at the feet of the lord of the inKera, that might have won even a son of Sinowa inGara my brother’s good regard. But plainly that is not what you intended, passing so softly through this territory. I think if I took you to my brother, he would dismiss your words and put you to death. He might send your head to your people, but I think he would consider even that more generosity than you are due.”

I held out my hands in the gesture that asks for mercy. “Warleader, I swear I have done nothing to harm your people or any of our people.”

Hokino looked down at me for a moment in silence. Finally he said, “I wish to hear how you came here, and with such a companion. Then I will decide what to do.” He moved his hand, and some of the men began to bend young trees down to make a windbreak while others arranged kindling in the lee of the break and filled a small pot with snow to melt.

In a very little, we were all seated in a rough shelter, with two fires burning for warmth and bowls of rosehip tisane. Hokino did not give me a bowl, because one does not offer such things to a man one may put to death. But he gave a bowl to Aras, saying with an edge of mockery to his voice, “Tell him this is not a gesture of hospitality, inGara, but I don’t wish him to freeze to the bones before you tell me why he is here.”

I bowed my head in gratitude and said in darau, “He may kill you later, but for now he thinks you look cold.”

Aras accepted the bowl, bowed his head as I had, and sipped the steaming liquid slowly. His shivering began to ease.

“Now,” said Hokino to me. “Tell me.”

If I told him I had fallen into the power of a sorcerer, he would probably kill me. If I told him Aras was a sorcerer and that I wished to take him to my home, where I hoped to introduce him to my family, except sometimes I believed they were all dead ... if I told him that, he would certainly kill us both: Aras because he was a sorcerer and me because I was mad.

Beside me, Aras said, his voice rough with cold but steady, “Tell him an enemy of mine, a powerful sorcerer, wishes to use your people to create problems in the borderlands. Give him Lorellan’s name: that can’t hurt now and it might help. Tell him Lorellan wants to create a situation in which he may seize power in the summer lands. Realizing I might be able to prevent his design, he moved against me before I was ready to stop him. He outmaneuvered me, and was going to kill me in such a way that he might put the blame on your people, but you rescued me, Ryo. As I have been divided from my Lau allies, I hope to ally with whatever tribes of the winter lands I can persuade to help me. Though I am now at a serious disadvantage, I think the situation may be recoverable if the gods favor me rather than my enemy. If I win the coming struggle, all my allies on both sides of the river will prosper.” He paused, then added in a pained tone, “It’s true that if I fail, I can promise no such benefit. But whatever happens to my allies at home, at least any tribes of the winter country will be no worse off if they help me. I swear before the gods, I’ll do what I can to help them.”

I stared at him.

“Tell him,” he said. “Please, Ryo. It’s all true. He already knows a sorcerer is involved. You warned him yourself that might be so. He remembers that, even if you don’t.”

It was a good story. And it might be true. Probably at least some of it was true. I explained to Hokino inKera as Aras had explained to me. I fought back the confusion and steadied my gaze, but I could not tell what Hokino was thinking.

“Your Lau is very arrogant, for a man in dire need,” he commented. He looked speculatively at Aras. “A man who has been overpowered by a bitter enemy may well hope for mercy from one less bitter, but he should not offer gifts when his hands are empty. If a great sorcerer defeated this man, what good is he to anyone?” He glanced at me and added, “Do not answer for your Lau, inGara. I wish to know what he will say for himself.”

I had not known Aras could understand or speak any taksu, or if I had known it, that memory was hidden from me. But he met Hokino’s eyes and answered, speaking haltingly but without hesitation. “Maybe my hands empty. Maybe I offer only ... only empty breath. But if a man have honor, then if he take mercy, he give it back. Ryo inGara ask me mercy for you, warleader. I ask you same for him. You say no, I say inKera a people have no honor.”

I had no memory of any events such as he seemed to have in mind. Perhaps that was why I did not see those last words coming quickly enough to stop him from saying them. I could not apologize for another man’s words, but I immediately bowed low, hoping Aras would understand he should do the same. But he did not even lower his gaze.

All his movements unhurried, Hokino set his bowl aside and stood up.

Aras glanced at me, drew a breath, let it out, and visibly set himself to take the blow he had certainly earned. He did not look like a dangerous or an arrogant man. He looked cold, and older than his years ... if I knew how old he was. I seemed to know he had fifty summers and one, though I did not remember anyone telling me such a thing.

Hokino drew his knife, turning it in his hand to strike with the hilt rather than the blade.

I had not meant to protest: for what Aras had said, a blow was certainly the least he could expect in return. But when I saw Hokino did not mean to strike with an empty hand, I began to move, and when he swung, I was in front of Aras so that I would take the blow instead of him. Hokino was a man in the prime of his strength, and he did not hold back. I had not had time to brace myself and his blow sent me sprawling, completely off balance. For a moment I was blind from the shock of it, as will happen with a heavy blow to the face. But the pain was not the kind that signals a broken bone. Ugaro bones do not break easily. If he had hit Aras so hard ... once I had recovered somewhat, I pushed myself up to one knee and glared at Hokino. “Be more moderate, inKera! A blow is well enough, but if you hit a Lau like that, you might kill him. That would not be a just return for the words he spoke.”

He eyed me in return; a considering look. I realized he had wanted to find out whether I would take that blow for Aras, and he had discovered that I would. I was probably at least as surprised as he was. Especially since he did not seem surprised at all.

He said, that edge of mockery back in his voice, “Passionately spoken. Are you his dog, inGara, that you speak so vehemently in this Lau’s defense?”

I could not let that insult stand; not only would my pride not permit it, but also Hokino would certainly kill us both if he guessed from my silence that Aras was a sorcerer. Getting to my feet, I drew my knife and threw it into the snow before Hokino. “Bare hands, inKera,” I said sharply. “Unless you are afraid to fight me.”

I could not begin to match the warleader of the inKera in a fight: he had weight on me, and many seasons of experience, and this was inKera land besides, where he had the right to stand and I did not. But as I had no choice but to challenge him, I hoped that he might agree to bare hands. He would defeat me quickly, I had no doubt of that, and then he would certainly beat me severely, for the insult I had thrown in his face if not for the belief I had lied to him. But he had not denied the words Aras had spoken. In return for whatever I had done for Hokino or for his people, I hoped he might not kill me at once, but agree to take us to his brother, or better—and I should have thought of this at once—to Royova inVotaro.

But instead of stepping forward to take up my challenge, he picked up my knife and held it out to me. “Take it,” he said when I did not move at once.

So I knew he would not be satisfied with a beating. He meant to fight me with knives and kill me. There was nothing I could do except die with pride so he might send my head to my father.

My father was dead. Or alive. I could not tell. I shoved the confusion aside with all my strength and took the knife Hokino was still holding out to me. I raised it to guard myself. But then I lowered my knife again, holding up my empty hand to ask Hokino to wait. I spoke quickly and urgently. “I am no man’s dog, warleader. But I hope I may speak for a friend without scornful words being thrown into my face. Please do not put Aras to death. Please take him to the warleader of the inVotaro, if not to your brother. Please let him speak to Royova—”

Hokino held up his own hand to stop me. “Put it away,” he said to me. When I hesitated, he said, patiently, “Your knife, young warrior. Put it away. I agree you are not his dog. I apologize for the insult. I will take your blow for it, if you wish.”

I stared at him. Then I sheathed my knife and bowed my head. “I have forgotten your words,” I said. “They were never said.” Kneeling, I bowed to the ground at his feet. “Forgive me for the insult I gave you, Hokino inKera. I know very well you would never be afraid to fight me. I said it to provoke you, and I beg your pardon.”

“I knew why you said it. Any insult you may have given, I have forgotten. Sit down, young warrior.”

He was most certainly amused. I went as commanded to sit by the fire, beckoning Aras to come sit beside me, where it was a little warmer. He was shivering again, probably with cold, but perhaps with fear or shock. I could hardly call him a coward for that. My hands were shaking as well. I closed them into fists on my knees to hide this.

My brother would never have called a man a dog just to see if he would give a proud answer. But I could see Hokino had found out many things he had wanted to know, very fast. His men were settling around us, but not so guarded as they had been. They mostly looked amused. They had known all the time what their warleader was doing. I realized Aras had undoubtedly seen it in their minds. I had been the only one who had not guessed. I knew my face was hot.

Hokino came to sit across from us. He said to me, “Even though our people are enemies, even though you have brought this Lau warleader into inKera lands, I certainly cannot kill you. Even if I believed you lied to me in everything, throwing such an act in your father’s face would be foolish. Nor would I wish my brother to do such a thing. I have no wish for either of us to have to guard our backs while we face south.”

I bowed silently, acknowledging this, though I knew that Hokino would be able to justify the act to our king and to Royova inVotaro, and then even my father would have to agree I had earned the stroke.

Hokino certainly knew that too, but he went on. “I think if I took your Lau to my brother, Soro would kill him. I think Royova inVotaro would kill him slowly. Yet I thought when we met that you were an honest young warrior, Ryo inGara. Maybe you are lying to me, but I hope I am a better judge of men than that. I think it would be best if I gave you leave to pass through inKera territory. I will let your own people judge you. Perhaps your father will choose to kill your Lau. But perhaps he will choose to put a knife into his empty hand. I think I will leave that decision to the inGara and the lord of the inGara.”

This was much more generosity than I had expected. I bowed to the ground, staying with my face against the snow for ten breaths.

When I finally straightened, Hokino nodded to show he accepted my gratitude. He said, “I forgive any discourtesy you might have shown me. I remember perfectly well that you spoke for me and for my men when we were the ones who hoped for generosity. Your Lau had no need to remind me of that, nor to speak slightingly of inKera honor.”

I bowed low once more. This time Aras bowed as well. When he straightened, he said quietly in taksu, “I apologize for the insult, warleader.”

Hokino gave Aras a long, assessing look. “I forgive it. I would forgive you more than that. You suggest I should remember the mercy you showed to me. I do remember it, and return it now. I hope this is not a mistake. But I do not think it is.” He shifted his level gaze to me. “I do not know whether your Lau’s hands are truly empty, but I know he will never cross the Little Knife in those boots. He may have mine. You will need snow paddles as well. These you carry, you made yourself? They are disgraceful.”

Because of his great generosity, I was unable to take offense. Also because he was right.

He went on, “You had better take an extra blanket as well. Two blankets. A bowl for heating water. Willowbark. I think you have permitted your Lau to take a fever.”

I knew Aras had taken a fever. I had intended to collect willowbark when I found the chance. I did not say so. I said, “Thank you, Hokino inKera.”

“You may hunt within inKera territory; I give you leave.” He raised his voice slightly. “Though if you had a bow, that permission might stretch a little farther.”

There was almost no pause before a man stood up and came to lay his bow beside me, and with it a handful of arrows. I sat with my head bowed, not looking up so that I would not be taken as insolent.

The man nudged my shoulder, a little rough, but not unfriendly. He said, “My sister’s husband was badly injured in that raid. Your Lau’s healers saw to his injury, or he would certainly have died. As you would take a blow for your Lau, you may take the bow.”

“Thank you, warrior,” I said in a low voice.

Each of the other men brought something: a spare coat, warmer than the one we had; a packet of herbs for tisane; a thin skin for water, the kind one packs with snow and then carries next to the body so that the snow will melt. That was a welcome gift; water had been very short at times, as snow was hard to melt except when we halted for the night. Another blanket, which made three. A horn packed with moss in which to carry smoldering embers so that fires need not be started from nothing each time. A packet of meat.

“Beaver,” the man said, who laid down the packet. “He needs the fat.”

For each small gift, I gave quiet thanks. At the end, I bowed again with my face to the snow, gesturing for Aras to do the same. “Thank you,” I said to Hokino. “I will ask my father if he thinks it might be time to consider that inKera is no longer an enemy—if it so happens Soro inKera might wish for that.”

“Interesting days we have before us,” Hokino said. “My brother does not like your father much, inGara. But who knows what might happen?” As he got to his feet, I straightened, though I did not rise. He stood looking down at me for a moment. Then he started to turn away.

Before he could, Aras said, in rapid darau, “Ryo, warn him Lorellan is almost certainly going to strike into the winter lands soon, if he hasn’t yet. I don’t know exactly what he intends, but I’m certain he means to take many Ugaro prisoners and use them somehow. Hokino must remember the man is a sorcerer, and trust nothing. Tell him to be careful and suspect anything that looks too easy.”

“He knows all this already,” I said impatiently. “Do you think we have no tales of sorcerers trying to do such things?” But I said to Hokino, “He thinks you may wish to watch carefully. He believes his enemy—our enemy—may soon try some sorcerous deception to make many Ugaro his fools or his slaves.”

“We will be careful,” Hokino promised. He glanced at the sky. “You have a little daylight left, and the Moon will throw down a good light tonight if the sky stays clear, though I think perhaps it may snow later.” He gave Aras one more long look, shook his head, and walked away, he and his, the inKera warriors melting into the trees before they had gone a hundred paces, leaving only tracks behind them. And the gifts.

-21-

I could hardly believe I was still alive. I could not believe that Aras was alive. I wished very much I remembered whatever had happened between him and Hokino. But I said what had struck me most in all of this: “He had not heard anything of my people. If you had murdered them all, he would surely have known.” Then I thought of my brother’s body, spread out in the snow—my father’s dead eyes turned up to the sky—in a rapid series of terrible memories, I heard my mother weeping, my elder sister wailing, saw my younger brother pinned to the snow by a laughing Lau soldier. I heard my little sister screaming—

“Ryo,” Aras said with quiet force. “If Hokino’s memories are true, you know yours must be false. Please, let me help you—”

I jerked up, my knife in my hand, my mind a blank white of terror and rage, ready to kill him the moment he touched me, the moment he touched my mind. But he was not looking at me. He had bowed to the ground. I wanted to beat him; I wanted to break all his bones. All the furious hatred I had pushed back while facing the inKera rose up, hot and violent. I took a step toward him.

He said, not looking up, “No matter what he owed me, Hokino would never have spared me now except that he judged me according to your opinion. Thank you for taking his blow.”

I had moved without thought to put myself in the way of that blow. My body had remembered a truth even though my mind had forgotten it. I breathed deeply, remembering how fast I had moved. Only certainty could have made me move like that. Slowly my reason came back. I was breathing hard with the force of the storm that had crashed through me ... but I was able to press down the desire to hurt him, kill him.

I stepped back. Then I picked up the bow and ran it through my hands, to help me think of the generosity of the man who had given it to me. I longed to string it and shoot Aras where he knelt. I tucked the string away instead, and gathered up the arrows. By then he had straightened, though he had not yet dared to get to his feet. Nor did he look at me, but only at the snow.

I said harshly, “You carry the rest.” Then I walked away, leaving him to follow.

A hand’s-breadth of time later, I dropped back beside him, showing him how to use dried aspen leaves to pad his new boots, how to bind the snow paddles onto his boots in the proper way. They were much better snow paddles than mine, which I threw away.

Then, as I felt calmer, I strung the bow and walked with it in my hand. It was a light bow, someone’s spare, likely made for his sister first. But it would be perfect for ptarmigan or other small game.

We walked north, and only a very little west. Now that we had permission to travel through these lands, it would be better to cross the Little Knife here in the east where it did not cut so sharply toward the sky. The forest was quiet. Now and again I heard a fox call, or a falcon. The peace of the long cold settled into my bones, so I could almost forget I was not in my own tribe’s territory, almost forget what man accompanied me.

Late in the afternoon, while we walked along a ridge that led almost directly north, I put up a hand and pointed out a white tiger lounging near the top of another ridge a short bowshot from ours. For a long time, Aras could not see the tiger, though he lay in plain sight. Then the tiger flicked his tail, and Aras caught his breath. “How big is it?” he asked me in a low voice

I smiled. “Big. That is a male. You see how broad his face, how heavy his shoulders. He will weigh six times what I do. Eight times. Maybe more. His teeth will be longer than my hand – as long as yours. He has seen us, but he is pretending he does not care. You see how he turns his face away.”

“He’s beautiful. Is he dangerous?”

“Oh, yes. He is very dangerous. But probably he will not follow us.” I led the way forward. I said, “That is the king of the forest. But the little deer are easy prey for him in deep snow, and the big deer are not much more difficult. Probably he will leave us be.” But I added, “If I tell you to climb a tree, do not wait to ask why.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he promised me. “He can’t climb?”

I shrugged. “Not as fast as he can run. No tiger likes to climb after he realizes someone is shooting arrows at his face.”

Aras laughed, and I realized I had been speaking to him almost as though he were a friend. That he had been speaking to me almost as though I were not an enemy. Hatred knotted in my belly, and I swung around. He shied back just before I moved, so I did not hit him very hard. But he staggered, and rather than try to keep his feet, dropped to his knees.

I stared down at him. “I could cut across your belly,” I said softly. “You would beg for the tiger to come kill you. Perhaps the blood scent would draw him, if the gods were merciful.”

He did not move. He only asked quietly, “Does your face hurt where Hokino hit you?”

I felt the bruise then, a deep ache. The whole side of my face hurt. I would feel that ache for many days. That had been a hard blow ... I took a breath. Another, drawing the cold air deep into my lungs, trying to pretend it cooled my anger. It did not really help. “It is worse than before!” I said in despair. Looking away from him, I said, “I will kill you before we even come to the Little Knife.” But I started walking again, because what else could I do?

Before I had gone very far, he came up beside me, not too close. He did not look at me, but at the snow where he set each foot. He took a breath as though he would speak, but then he bowed his head and said nothing.

I glared at him. “Speak if you wish. I will not hit you. Or perhaps I will. How can I tell?”

He turned his face away. “How far is it to the Little Knife, Ryo?”

“Seven days, eight, nine. Another day to cross it. Once we are past the Knife, we will go west. The women’s camps will be there in the north, beyond the Knife.” I thought about the distance that lay between us and the nearest place we might find my mother’s camp, and could not find strength in my heart to go so far. “Twenty days, twenty and five, twenty and ten! I will kill you long before we come there.”

“Perhaps you will. I’m surprised you haven’t already done it. But you’re a very stubborn man, Ryo.” When I glared at him, he bowed his head a little more, not looking at me.

In a little while, when I thought I might hear him speak without hitting him, I said, not quite a question. “It is worse now.”

He glanced at me, but looked away again at once, gazing into the winter forest. “Yes, it is. Your mind is trying to fight free of the lies, but there are so many and they’re so vivid, and the growing confusion is feeding into the compulsions to kill me.” His voice was quiet. “I know I should not speak to you, or look at you. Is there anything else I can do to help you?”

I could not think of anything, and walked in silence until I judged it time to make a shelter. I took care to choose a place where great stones lay close together. As Hokino had predicted, it had begun snowing, and snow sifted down between the stones. Usually I found a better-sheltered place, and Aras looked at me questioningly.

“A tiger would have difficulty reaching us here,” I explained. “The gap is too narrow.”

He nodded, casting a glance back the way we had come. Of course there was nothing to see, but if the tiger were stalking us there would be nothing to see then either. A little wind found its way between the stones, and Aras shivered. He asked in a low voice, “May I send the snow aside and make the air a little warmer?”

My anger stirred at the suggestion and he bowed his head immediately. But I knew my anger was unjust. I said curtly, “Do it if you wish,” and walked away to gather wood.

The air was warmer when I came back, and the snow had ceased to fall into our shelter. Aras had started a fire and put the meat to roast and laid out the blankets. He did not look at me when I put down the wood, and I tried not to look at him either. I stared into the fire and tried to forget how much I hated him.

The meat was rich, good in the cold, and the man who had packed it had sprinkled it with salt before making up the packet. I gave most of it to Aras, and made an infusion of water with willowbark. He glanced at me when he tasted it.

“Drink it,” I snapped. He obeyed immediately, which finally eased my anger a little. I was able to explain, “If you have taken a fever, it will help. The earliest signs of the lung fever are a tightness in the chest and a sharpness in the throat. Do you feel those things?”

“No,” he answered.

“Tell me if you do.” The lung sickness is dangerous even to Ugaro, though ordinarily after the first time, it comes more lightly. But for a Lau, I was certain it would be a very dangerous illness. The blankets and the new coat were good, though the coat was short. The air here was now almost warm, but he was still too cold.

“Drink all the tisane,” I told him. “I will teach you the song to the Dawn Sisters.”

I taught him the words in taksu because it was the right language for the song. Then I taught him the words in darau so that he would understand what he was singing. I had never imagined that song in his voice. I tried not to think of anything but the song. When we lay down together, he murmured the words of the song, and even when his voice died away, the song lingered in my mind. I slept more easily that night than I had for many nights.

I woke early. It was still dark, but the skies had cleared, and the Moon cast down her light. That had not woken me. Nor Aras, who had tucked himself tightly against me, completely hidden by our new blankets. He murmured in protest when I moved away from him, and hatred stirred, the desire to hurt him, but I looked up at the sky and the worst of the hatred eased.

I moved quietly, building up the fire, melting snow, making an infusion of willowbark. Aras sat up and began to roll up the blankets, but I stopped him and led him out of the shelter, into the light of the Moon. The sky was silvery in the east, and the snow cast back the pale light so that the world was bathed in silver.

“The Dawn Sisters,” I told him, indicating the three brightest stars. They stood almost due north, one a little above the others. “We see them only during the long cold. They travel a short path above the mountains, so they can be seen for only a little while, near dawn.” I showed him the path, tracing it with my hand. “They bring luck. When famine comes, or the long storms, or in any time of hardship, we pray to the Dawn Sisters. Sometimes they are silent, but sometimes they answer.”

He was shivering in the pre-dawn chill, but he nodded with no sign of impatience. “We don’t see them in the summer lands.”

“Of course not. They belong to the winter country, and to the starlit lands north of our country.” I turned my face up to the three stars, standing now near the apex of their path. “We say that a difficult oath should be made by their light, because they will bring luck to keep the oath.” Now I looked at him, meeting his eyes. “I swear before the gods and before the Moon and beneath the gaze of the Dawn Sisters, I will not harm you before we come to my people.” I turned my face up again to the silver light. “Sing the song when you are afraid of me. I will try to remember this dawn.”

He bowed his head to me. “Thank you, Ryo.”

I made the gesture that denies a debt and turns away gratitude. “Probably I will break that oath. Then at least you will have vengeance for anything I may do to you. Go in by the fire. Drink the willowbark tisane. I will look for willow today.”

We walked a long way that day. Better snow paddles made a great difference. So did the bow. I shot a ptarmigan and a hare and collected wood to make more arrows. I found willow, too, and barberries frozen on the shrub. I watched carefully for tigers, and for the smaller tawny lions that can sometimes be more dangerous than the tigers because they are clever and fierce. I saw a wolverine once, and a file of the great deer with their broad antlers, forging their way down toward a little river that glittered, icy, at the bottom of the ridge. They do not yard as the little deer do, not unless the snow is very deep indeed, and then not for long.

Wolves sang, too far away to disturb the deer. Like us, the wolves our cousins sing to the gods. We honor them for that, and for their bravery on the hunt and their care for their families. The wolves’ song, rising into the high and infinite sky, carried away some of my anger. I held that song in my heart as long as I could even after they fell silent.

The land ran up and up. All that day and the days after that, we walked uphill more than down. We had not glimpsed the Little Knife yet, but I knew it would be soon. The skies were clear. Every dawn I went out and stood in the cold and looked up at the Dawn Sisters. Aras hummed the song, or sang it quietly, in darau or in taksu, whenever he had breath for it.

Sometimes I saw him as he was; thin and cold and quietly relentless. Sometimes I saw him as he had been when he cut off my brother’s fingers or laughed while his soldiers impaled my younger brother. Sometimes he would turn his head at just the wrong angle or smile at just the wrong moment and I would remember him as he forced my little sister down and feel again my rage and helplessness. Then I would walk fast until I was a bowshot or more in front of him, far enough that I could pretend to myself that I had forgotten he was behind me.

When we finally came to the foot of the Little Knife, he stopped and looked up at the sharp-edged, naked ridges of black stone and said helplessly that he could not do it. I feared he was right. His length of limb would be an advantage, but I doubted his strength and endurance. My fear made me furious. I told him savagely that my little sister could have made that climb, that he would climb or I would do to him everything he had done to her. I thought viciously and deliberately of all those things, driving him up when he fell. Twice I hit him when he thought he could not get up, until fear of me drove him to his feet despite his exhaustion.

But by the time we crested the highest ridge, my hatred had eased as I remembered he had not done the things I remembered—I was almost sure he had not done them—maybe he had not done them. He had fallen again, but I tried to be gentle when I pulled him up. “We cannot be here on the Knife when night comes,” I told him. “The wind will be bitter, and you can see there is no shelter. You would die. Even I might die. You must go on.”

He nodded, not looking at me. His face was drawn and his breath came in hard, painful gasps, but he began the descent. I carried everything, bow and snow paddles and bowl and the hare I had killed before we came to the naked stone of the Little Knife. As we neared the base, I went ahead and found a place where scrub spruce and hemlock grew hard against the face of the Knife. I cut branches to clear a place and piled the branches up to block the wind, and brought wood for the fire, and made a tisane of spruce needles and willow and rose hips. Then I went back to find him. He was coming, but slowly, stumbling with exhaustion and cold. I half-carried him to the shelter I had made and showed him where to call the fire. For a moment I thought he might be too weary to do it, but the little flame came at last. I arranged wood so it would burn for some time and then lay down with Aras until he had stopped shaking.

When his breath came more easily, I left him and made soup with the meat and a handful of barberries. I brought him this and helped him sit up to drink the broth.

“I hit you,” I admitted finally.

“I climbed the mountain.” His voice was husky with weariness. “If you hadn’t forced me to do it, I don’t think I could have.”

“It is not a mountain,” I told him. “It is the Little Knife. The gods set it here long ago. To the north lies the high forest and then beyond that the steppe. Far to the north beyond the steppe, the true mountains rise up. Fortunately we will not need to go that far. My mother and her camp will still be in the forest.”

“Yes,” he said. He bowed his head over the bowl.

His hands were shaking. I thought it was weariness as much as cold. I took the bowl away from him before he could spill it. “Lie down,” I told him. “Tomorrow you can rest. I am sorry I hit you.”

He did not answer. But after he had lain down, he said, not looking at me, “I don’t mind when you hit me, Ryo. What you do to me with your thoughts hurts me much worse.”

I was silent. I had known that. I had known it all the time. I built up the fire, and lay down with him, to the north so my body would shield him from the wind that made its way through the piled branches.

Two days later, the fengol cold came down from the heights.

If the fengol cold had descended while we clung to the heights of the Little Knife, we would both have frozen there. But we were in the forest, where the snow lay deeply among the trees, and I heard the cold falling while it was still high above. Perhaps I had been listening for it. It was the kind of bright, cold day that we say calls the fengol down.

First I stopped to listen. Then I signed to Aras to wait while I found a protected place midway down a slope where the snow was deep and heavy. Taking off my snow paddles, I used them to dig into the snow, carefully, packing the snow as I went because if the cave collapsed, I would not have time to do it again.

“It must be small,” I told him. “We will warm it with our bodies. But it must be big enough to hold some air. More will come in through the snow, but not enough if the shelter is too small.” I gave him the knife. “Cut spruce branches.”

The branches he gathered, I spread on the snow where we would lie, and packed into the extra space to help hold the snow. If the snow is too tight, air cannot come through it. Spruce branches would make more space for air while also keeping the shelter a little warmer. I spread the blankets over the spruce branches and beckoned him to crawl in before me, rolled into the little cave, and began to pull snow across the opening. The light dwindled and then all but vanished. The only light now came filtered through an arm’s-length of snow. It was enough to know there was light, but not enough to see.

Twisting around again, I put my back to the entrance, since if the killing cold crept into the shelter anywhere, it would most likely be there. “Lie close to me,” I told Aras. “Do not talk. There is not enough air to talk. Breathe slowly and quietly. Do not be afraid. We will not freeze, or if we do, we both know how much worse a death can be. Let yourself sleep.”

He laughed a little in the dark. “I don’t think that’s very likely, Ryo.”

I laughed as well. The hatred had left me, driven away by the descending cold. I forgot everything that was past, watching the faint light brighten and sharpen. I knew that the cold had come down. But the snow protected us, and the blankets and coat held the warmth of our bodies. Already I was warm and comfortable. Soon I hoped Aras would be warm enough to sleep. “Just wait,” I told him. “Work a cantrip if you wish. All the world will be calm and quiet. There is no danger anywhere. We will both sleep. Close your eyes.”

Aras had been shivering, but gradually he stilled. I felt his breathing slow and knew he was asleep. I did not feel near sleep at all. I felt light and clear, all the past stripped away so that I rested in a moment caught out of time, a moment in which grief and anger and confusion dissolved into crystalline silence.

The fengol lay on the earth for the rest of that day and the night and through most of the next day. Though we had very little to eat, only a little meat and a few raw mushrooms, hunger did not much trouble me. I put snow in the bowl to melt in the warmth of our bodies. It was enough that thirst was not a torment. I slept and woke and slept again, suffering neither dreams nor nightmares. Despite his doubt, Aras slept deeply most of the time, resting in the peace the fengol had brought me.

At last, when I felt the fengol had lifted, I pushed carefully out of our shelter and into the light of a clear and beautiful evening. The Moon waited in the sky for the Sun to climb down beneath the world so she could hold up her light. To the south, the edges of the Little Knife had turned gold as the Sun threw the last of his light across the black stone.

Aras stirred, but I said, “Wait. Only wait. I will find something to eat. Rest.” Taking the bow, I walked into the forest.

I came back in the light of the Moon, with a porcupine that had not sought shelter quickly enough. Slow animals like porcupines suffer more from the fengol than creatures swifter or more clever. This one should have stayed tucked up in his shelter, but clear weather had tempted him out at the wrong time. He was frozen too hard to skin quickly, so I had made a little travois so that I could drag him without risking his quills.

Aras had made a fire, so I sat there to skin the porcupine. There is a trick to that. It is more difficult when the animal is frozen and besides that I was clumsy with hunger, so I had to draw two quills from my thumb. The pain was trivial, but I think irritation at my own clumsiness was enough to wake the anger and hatred that waited for me. Or perhaps it was only that the peace of the fengol had lifted farther from the world by that time. I set the quills aside, thinking of my elder sister, who liked to sew porcupine quills into complicated designs on cloaks and boots. I knew, I thought I knew, that she would sew many more quills all through the years to come. But I remembered her wailing over the torn body of her young son until a Lau soldier slashed her throat and left her body tumbled over her child’s. I remembered her blood in the snow, her husband crying out in despair because he could not protect her or the boy . . .

Aras drew a breath and bowed his head. I could see he was setting himself to endure, and I remembered him saying, What you do to me with your thoughts hurts me much worse. I remembered feeling sorry for that, but I could not imagine why I should have been so weak. After what he had done to my sister, my people, he deserved anything I did to him. I had been cutting slivers of porcupine meat and threading them on twigs to cook, but now I stopped. Changing my grip on the knife, I began to get to my feet.

He did not look at me, but he asked, his voice not quite steady, “Does the fengol always bring such serenity? What do you call it? The hammer of the gods?”

The worst of the hatred eased. I remembered, as though from a far distance, that my sister and her son might still be alive. None of that had happened. Maybe it had not happened. Probably it had not.

Shuddering, I knelt down again and returned to cutting the meat from the bones. The porcupine was a young, fat animal, big enough to make a good meal for both of us. I said slowly, “The soft hammer of the gods. Yes. It brings quiet to the world. I did not realize it might take the memory of the past and the fear of the future.”

“Do your people have a song for it?”

We did, of course. I taught it to him, in taksu and in darau, while I skewered and cooked the porcupine meat and made broth with the bones. I had not felt my weakness until the meat brought strength back to my limbs, but I thought I would rather have had the fengol back with its peace, even if I died of hunger before it lifted. The song ran through my mind, and though I did not sleep much that night, neither did I give way to the hatred.

-22-

In the morning, we walked on, west. That day and the next and the next, Aras sang the songs I had taught him, quietly, though his voice roughened and cracked. Nevertheless, one afternoon I found myself standing with the bow drawn, studying him over the arrow. If he had said a word, if he had backed away or come toward me, if he had moved at all, I would certainly have shot him. He knew it. He did not move or speak, only stood with his gaze lowered.

Overhead, a falcon called. I glanced up, tracing its flight across the perfect, empty sky. I thought of the fengol, of the gods, of the oaths I had sworn. I lowered the bow. “Soon,” I promised him. “It cannot be long now. Soon we will come to my people. Then I will kill you very slowly, where the graves of my people surround us.”

He nodded, not protesting. “Twenty days, you said, Ryo. Twenty days or more from the time we met Hokino inKera. Have we come farther than you expected?”

I was puzzled. I felt we had been walking for twenty days. At least twenty.

“Fifteen days,” he told me. “Only fifteen from that day. Nineteen days altogether.” The corner of his mouth crooked up. “It seems longer to me as well.”

Nineteen days. I turned in a slow circle, letting myself feel the land and the sky. “We have come farther than I expected,” I told him. “You have learned to walk with snow paddles, and with the bow I have not had to delay to hunt. Three more days. Five, maybe. Though I do not know exactly where my mother’s camp will be once we come to inGara territory.” I realized I expected to find my people in the forest. This made no sense to me, since they were all dead ... they had died far south of here, on the other side of the Little Knife; it did not make sense to seek living people so far north ... confusion shook me. I turned and walked away, due west.

And paused, though I did not immediately know why.

Aras stopped, not coming too close to me, looking at me questioningly. “The fengol again, Ryo?”

“No,” I snapped, impatient with such a foolish suggestion. I could feel the sky above us was only an ordinary sky. But I could not decide what was not ordinary.

Then I realized. “Smoke,” I told him, gesturing west and north. “Can you not smell it? It is not close, but there, that way. Someone is cooking meat ... baking bread.”

“Your people?”

“Not here. No,” I said sharply. “That will be inGeiro.” I stood irresolute. Then I said, “The inGeiro are close allies. Some of my people may be there with them.” I strode away, walking fast, knowing he would follow.

As I had expected, it was an inGeiro camp. A camp of women, of course; the warriors would be in the south. Four great tents centered the camp. Those belonged to older women with large families, many children and grandchildren. Designs had been worked into the sides of the great tents, showing that they were inGeiro. They would show the family as well, but of those, I recognized only the design of Lutra inGeiro, who was the wife of the inGeiro warleader and the foremost singer of their tribe.

Among and around the great tents stood many smaller tents, round instead of five-sided. Those were the tents of younger women, or some would be shared by boys near to becoming men. Ponies were picketed to one side, and on the other, children guarded racks of drying meat from the dogs and from ravens. The racks were full, and I could see many rough-cured furs that had been rolled with the fur on the inside, set to freeze until they could be finished. Here in the forest, the war that had come to us was not evident. Nor was the hardship that lay upon the herds out in the steppe. This was a prosperous camp.

But they were not my people.

But they would know what had happened to the inGara.

If they told me my family and all the inGara were dead, then I would know all my grief and rage were real after all. I could not bear to discover that it was all real.

Taking Aras roughly by the arm, I turned to walk back into the forest. West. I would take him to the places my own people should be, and if they were not there, I would look again farther north—I would not have to know—

“Ryo,” Aras said quietly.

“I don’t want to speak to these people,” I said, and thought, sudden and vivid and sharp as shattering ice, I want to kill you.

He twisted his arm sharply, breaking my grip, and backed away, his face guarded. I took a step toward him, setting my hand on the hilt of my knife.

“Ryo!” cried a different voice, utterly unexpected, utterly familiar. I turned sharply, forgetting Aras completely.

My younger sister hurled herself into my arms, wrapped her arms tightly around my neck and her legs around my waist, and demanded, “What are you doing here? We thought you were dead, but then the inKera sent us a letter—well, they sent it to our mother, of course, but it came here first, we just sent it on some-some days ago—is that a Lau? Is that the Lau in your letter?” Pushing away from me, she whacked me on the shoulder. “Put me down!” she ordered. “You must not pick me up like a child in front of a Lau!”

I put her down. I was not able to speak. She was alive, her face alight with curiosity and confidence as she stared at Aras. She had not been old enough to go, when our women had still traded with the Lau of the borderlands. She had never seen one before. “He’s so tall!” she exclaimed. “But his hair! Did he do something wrong? No, I remember, they all cut their hair so short. Is his skin that color all over?” She turned to look at me accusingly. “He looks cold, Ryo. Were you just going to stand out here and let him freeze?”

I picked her up again despite her squeak of protest. I held her up in the air, and stared at her, filling my eyes with the sight of her and my arms with the real, living weight of her. “Etta,” I said in wonder as she glared down at me. She tried to box my ears, but I set her down before she could. “What are you doing here?”

She faltered. Then she said quietly, “After Garoyo told us ... told us what he ... what had happened ... our father—our mother—anyway, I told our mother I wanted to go somewhere else, live somewhere else for a while. She talked to Lutra inGeiro. They arranged for Lutra to be my inGeiro mother.” She brightened. “Lutra is Iro’s mother’s sister.” Then she began to blush.

I laughed at her. “Iro? And who is Iro?”

She glanced around, and I followed her gaze to a young warrior, seventeen winters perhaps, who was watching from a distance. None of the inGeiro had approached, giving a sister a chance to greet her brother. This young Iro was trying to look unconcerned, but despite the chill of the air, he was wearing a sleeveless shirt and silver armbands on each arm, showing off prizes he had won so that my sister would know he was strong and proud and could make a woman happy. He was careful not to meet my eyes when I looked his way. A young man always has reason to be very, very polite when he meets the older brothers of a girl he admires.

Making my face stern, I said to my sister, “I am sure you could do better than a boy like that. Does he even have fifteen summers yet?”

She hit me on the arm, hard. “Do not dare embarrass him, Ryo!”

I laughed again. She was alive. Alive! She was perfectly well. She was thinking about that young warrior. She had obviously made a place for herself among the inGeiro. She had been teasing the young men, letting them strut and put on their finery and brag and fight each other so that she would admire them.

It was staggeringly different from what I remembered. Obviously no one had ever hurt her, forced her, killed her, while I struggled, helpless and desperate, unable to save her.

It had not happened. None of that had happened. But I remembered it. But it had not happened. I knew she was dead. But she was clearly not dead. Hatred choked me, hatred for the man who had hurt her, murdered her ... he had done nothing. Nothing I remembered was real. I had known that. But I had not been able to believe it. But now I filled my eyes with the reality of my sister and I had to believe it.

“Ryo, are you all right?” Etta asked, her voice going high and breathless.

I turned. Aras met my eyes. Furious hatred shook me, and he bowed his head immediately.

I took a step back, trembling with the desire to kill him. “Can you help me?” I asked him. It was not a question so much as a plea. I realized only gradually that I had spoken in taksu, as I had spoken to my sister, forgetting he did not know it. I lifted a hand to rub my face, my forehead, searching for the darau words as though I had not been speaking almost nothing else for many days. “Is it too late?” I asked him. I knew he would say no, he could not help. I was certain he would say it was too late.

I thought, I will kill myself, and knew it was true. I could not live with the way I was now. Very soon I would kill him, if I did not die myself. But first I must explain to the inGeiro. I could not imagine how to explain anything. I did not know what to say to persuade them to help him. He was Lau, and our peoples were at war. And he had killed so many of my people ... no. No. That was not real.

Now I could not speak in any language, and only looked at him, helpless.

“Ryo?” my sister said uncertainly. “Ryo, what is it?”

“I don’t know if I can put everything right,” Aras said, his eyes on my face, his voice quiet. “I can try.” He looked past me, toward the inGeiro camp, where now everyone was watching, barely pretending not to. Then he came forward a careful step, wary in case I might strike at him. I braced myself to endure the fury that shook me.

He said to my sister, in slow, careful taksu, “Your brother is hurt by a sorcerer. He is hurt very much, in his mind. In his heart. The sorcerer is my enemy. He wish to use your brother to kill me. Your brother save me. Many days he save me. He bring me here. I can help him. I wish very much to help him. I need warm, quiet. Days of warm and quiet.”

Etta stared at him. Her expression was completely different than when she had chattered at me, happy and confident. She asked him in darau, “Are you a sorcerer too?” Her voice was calm, as our mother’s voice would become when some terrible thing happened.

Aras did not look away from her. He said, in darau, “I am the man who can help your brother. I swear before the gods and by the honor of my father and the name of my mother that I will help him if I can. I swear I will not harm anyone here.”

She bit her lip. She looked at me, and back at Aras. “What will happen to my brother if you cannot help him?”

He opened his hands in token of uncertainty. “He might kill himself. If you prevented that, he might get better. Or he might get worse. It’s hard for me to know. I have never seen this kind of damage before.”

“Please,” I said to her. “Etta. I think everything he said is true.”

“Wait,” she said to both of us, breathlessly, and whirled around and ran away, toward the inGeiro.

I knew they would put Aras to death, and probably me as well. What else could they do? Aras had as much as confessed his curse, and what could they think but that I was his slave? I knew I was too far lost in madness to explain why they should not kill him. But perhaps I might be able to tell them why they should let me do it, why I was the one who had the greatest right to his life ... no, that was not real, that was all lies. I fixed my attention on Etta, where she spoke with rapid passion to Lutra inGeiro, so that I might know one thing that was real, one person I loved was still, indisputably, alive.

Confusion and hatred still filled my mind and heart when I looked at Aras, and he flinched, bowing his head and staying very still. I took the sheathed knife from my belt and threw it away, into the snow, and the bow after it, partly because I was afraid I might kill him even now, and partly to show the inGeiro I would not fight them when they came to kill me. They were coming now. Not all of them. Some of the women were taking the children; some of the young men were harnessing the dogs. I saw Iro, Lutra’s son, run away in a different direction, carrying the warning to someone else at a distance from this camp. I knew all those people would leave everything and go north, into country where no Lau could follow, sorcerer or not. They would run north into the high country because there were no warriors here and they could not be confident they could kill him before he enslaved everyone.

But Lutra inGeiro and a few of the other women and a handful of older boys came to look at me, and at him. I had met Lutra several times; I knew her a little. She was a prosperous, rounded woman with a beautifully round face. She reminded me of my mother, not only in her looks, but because she was the kind of woman who was used to getting her own way. She was a singer, like my mother, and singers are expected to be forceful.

Lutra did not even glance at Aras. All of the inGeiro who came with her pretended not to know he was there, except the boys. They had their knives or bows in their hands, but they did not kill him immediately. They watched Lutra, who came close and said to me, “Ryo inGara. Your letter came here. I think it did not say everything important. What should that letter have said?”

I wanted to answer her. I opened my mouth to answer, but too many things crowded onto my tongue, until I could not speak at all. Nearly everything in my mind was false, and I knew it, but I wanted to say, He killed them all, he should die every death for what he did to my people. It took all my strength not to say it, and then I could not find anything else to say. I shook with hatred and misery. My sister came and leaned against me, and the shaking eased a little. I put my arm around her and managed, “Singer of the inGeiro . . .” but I could not say anything else.

Aras knelt. No one kneels to a woman, but he dropped to his knees in the snow. He held his hands palm up, asking for mercy. That was also not a gesture anyone would make to a woman, but it did not seem wrong now. He said quietly in taksu, “Singer, please. A sorcerer did very bad hurt to his mind. I can help him. Please. I wish very much to help him.”

Now Lutra turned her head, considering him. Her calm expression did not change at all. She said in the same language, “You are a sorcerer also. Or have I been carelessly informed?”

He could not deny it, but he plainly did not want to say it was true. He said instead, this time in darau, “Please let me try to help Ryo inGara. Whatever you do to me afterward, I swear before the gods, I will not do anything to harm your people.”

Still Lutra’s expression did not change. She said, “Tell us how it happened. Speak in taksu.”

He nodded and took a moment to gather his thoughts. Then he began. “Garoyo inGara leave Ryo as tuyo. I take him. I take him into the summer country. Brave young warrior. Good heart. I like him very much. He speak good darau. I think he can help me fix war between Lau and Ugaro. I think someone make this war. This person make trouble in borderlands, in summer country, in winter country. I think this person is sorcerer. I am not certain, but I think so. Many time my king send me to fix trouble when people disagree. Some time, he send me to fix trouble with sorcerer. This time, I find out, both problem. I think I know what I should do, but I make very bad mistake. My enemy is much more strong sorcerer than I think. He defeat me instead. He do this to Ryo, he try to make him a knife to use against me, against everyone. But knife turn in his hand, cut him. He think small ... little ... of Ugaro. Then this happen. I think he is very surprise. Surprised. Ryo save my life, bring me here. Please let me help him.” He hesitated. Then he added in darau, “Singer of the inGeiro, please. If I’m forced to leave him in this condition, I will die ashamed. If you let me help him, then even if you put me to death afterward, I swear I will not use any forbidden acts to prevent you.”

Lutra inGeiro studied him. Then she considered me. I could not speak at all now, and I was ashamed to look her in the face, so I dropped to my knees and bowed my head. If they killed me, I would not protest. I said, though I had not known I was going to speak or what I would say, “I should die. You should not set the fault against Aras, but you should kill me. I want to die—”

“Ryo, be quiet!” Aras snapped. He said urgently to Lutra, “Singer, please. Putting Ryo to death would be completely unjust. I can help him. I’m sure I can help him.”

Etta said quickly, “Lutra, I think this sorcerer is telling the truth—I think he is telling the truth at least this far: that his enemy did something terrible to Ryo and that he wants to help my brother. Let him do that, and I promise, my father will give the inGeiro anything they ask, even if the inGeiro put the sorcerer to death afterward. Even if my father decides he still has to put Ryo to death afterward.”

“That is a rash promise,” someone else said, behind me. “But I will stand behind it.”

Though it was very bad manners for me to turn away from the singer of the inGeiro without permission, I spun, up on one knee, then immediately on my feet.

-23-

“Ryo,” my brother said.

“Garoyo!” He was here, my eldest brother, standing beside a three-dog sledge, his hand on the brake. The young man, Iro, was behind him. The dogs were panting and my brother and Iro were both breathing hard, but Garoyo was alive, unhurt, here. As when Etta had first run to me, all my doubt fell away. I took a fast step toward him before I remembered Lutra inGeiro and her people. The inGeiro were not our family and Garoyo was my warleader as well as my brother. I began to kneel to him, but he strode forward, caught my arms, and pulled me into an embrace. He was no taller than I, but heavier, a man in the prime of his strength. His arms closed hard around me as though I were the boy I felt myself. “How?” I asked him. I could not imagine how he could be here, even if I could manage to believe he was alive.

“Your letter came to your mother.” His voice was husky. He pushed me back and looked at me from that small distance. “She sent boys south to find us. They came first to me. I told Tokavo if he wanted a chance to prove his ability as warleader, here was that chance. Then I came north. Your mother read me your letter. I meant to go next to the inKera, to ask them how it had happened. But I came here first, because it was not out of the way and I wished to see Etta. I had just left, but then young Iro ran after me and told me that a sorcerer had brought Etta’s brother to this place and who knew what might happen next? So I came as fast as I could.”

His gaze went from my face to Aras and then came back to me. He added, “I think I heard most of what your sorcerer said. This is the Lau warleader who spared your life? I did not expect to find him here, begging the inGeiro to spare it again.” He paused and then said to Aras, “You are that warleader who took my brother as tuyo.”

“Yes,” answered Aras. He still knelt, but he looked my brother in the face and said, “I am very glad you come here. Please, warleader. I will help him if I can.”

Garoyo nodded, reserved acknowledgment rather than an agreement. He asked me, “Should I believe this Lau, even though he is a sorcerer?”

I could not answer at first. Then I said, “You are here. He did not put you to death. He did not kill all our warriors.” My voice tightened. “He did not kill them? His people did not come after you and shoot them all? No one is dead?”

My brother pushed me back from him, gripping my shoulders hard, studying my face. “Yakoba died of his wounds long before we came to your mother’s camp. No one else died. The Lau did not pursue us. They took you as tuyo and went back to their own country. I thought they put you to death. I told our father that was how it happened. I went back to see if they had left your head, but there was nothing.”

I stared at him. I saw something now I should have seen at once. “Garoyo, your hair.” I could not believe it. “But what happened was not your fault!” Then I stopped because I did not know what had happened, only I knew Aras had killed everyone, Garoyo, all our people. But I knew that was wrong, only I did not know what might be the truth. But I knew my brother could not have done anything so disgraceful he should have cut his hair for it.

As though he had forgotten his cropped head, my brother lifted a hand to touch the fingerwidth length that was all that remained. “I did it for the shame of leaving my younger brother to take the tuyo’s place when I should have taken it myself.”

I tried to find words, but at first I could only stare at him. Finally I said, “You had to leave me!” I knew that was true. Even as terrible as the events that had come after that ... as the events that I remembered had come after that. Even if everything had happened the way I remembered, Garoyo would still have been right to leave me. And none of that had happened. I asked him, “Did I speak bitter words to you for leaving me there? I remember that. Did that happen?” From his expression, from his lack of expression, I knew it had.

“I deserved everything you—” he began.

I tightened my grip on his arms. “No.” No matter what was true or false, I knew that was wrong. I said, “You should have hit me and told me to remember my name and my pride. I let you walk away with that between us. It was a bad way for brothers to part, and it was my fault, and you died before I had a chance to apologize and ask your pardon for my disgraceful behavior. I have been ashamed ever since that day.” I hesitated, because he was not dead. Then, since the gods had been kind and he was here and alive, I bowed my head and said, “I beg your pardon, Garoyo. The disgrace was mine, not yours. You were right to do as you did, and I am deeply ashamed I let my fear poison my last words to you.”

He gazed at me, wordless.

Etta commanded, “Say you forgive him, Garoyo.”

He blinked. Then he said to me, “I forgive your words, Ryo. I have forgotten them. They were never spoken.”

“Now you,” Etta ordered me. “Say you forgive him for leaving you, Ryo.”

I smiled at her. I said to our brother, “Even if I had died that way, even if you had died that way, you would still have been right. It was the choice that offered the best chance for all our people. Please let your hair grow, Garoyo.”

Garoyo drew a breath. Then he nodded. But he said to me, “I am perfectly well, but you are not. You remember things that did not happen. You said you want to die.”

I had said that. Everyone else was dead; everything was lost in terrible grief and rage and confusion. But out of that storm, this new certainty: my brother was alive. No one had done to him the terrible things I remembered. I said helplessly, “I do not know anything.”

“His sorcerer ordered him not to say such things,” Lutra inGeiro said to Garoyo. “You said he begged me to spare your younger brother. You are right: he has asked most urgently in both languages. He swore that in return for that generosity, he would not use sorcery to defend himself against an inGeiro knife. Warleader of the inGara, I will hear your opinion. Should I believe what he says?”

Garoyo looked at me, raising his eyebrows.

I shook my head, helpless to answer. “I do not remember anything real,” I repeated. “All my memories are lies. I tried so hard not to kill him, Garoyo, I tried so hard. If he had done all those terrible things, I would have killed him. I think all my memories are lies. They must be lies. You are not dead, and Etta is not dead, and our people are not dead. I think everything I remember is false and everything he says is true.”

My brother nodded. He looked for a long moment at Aras. Then he shifted his gaze to Lutra. “This is inGeiro land and so the decision belongs to the inGeiro. But if the inGeiro are so generous as to permit this sorcerer to help my brother despite the risk this clearly brings to their people, than I stand behind the promise my sister offered: my father will give the inGeiro anything they ask in return for that generosity. What the inGeiro decide to do with the sorcerer afterward is their decision, but—” he touched the hilt of his sword. “I may step in front of any knife. That will be my decision.”

Lutra listened to all this carefully, but Aras spoke before she could answer. He said quickly and quietly, in darau, “I ask for a chance to speak on my own behalf, but that is all I ask. Whether the inGeiro grant my request or not, if you permit me to help Ryo inGara, I swear I will not use forbidden acts against your people.”

Lutra listened to him as gravely and calmly as she had listened to my brother. Then she asked, “How long a time do you need?”

Aras looked at me. He drew a breath and turned back to Lutra. “Days,” he said in taksu. “I do not know how many.”

“A handful?”

Aras shook his head. “More than that. I am not sure. The hurt is very—” he held up his hands, spread them wide. “It is a big hurt. Two handful. Three. Not more than three.” He added in darau, “I think if I can’t do this in fifteen days, I can’t do it at all. But I ask for that long.”

Lutra raised her hands to show that she was making an important decision and everyone should listen. She said, “The inGeiro are willing to shelter both Ryo inGara and this sorcerer. We offer shelter for two handfuls of days, or three if two are not enough, but not more than three. We are willing to take this risk in return for two oaths, both already spoken clearly before the gods: that in return the inGara will repay our generosity with open hands, and that the sorcerer will not defend his own life by sorcery nor bring harm to the inGeiro.” Then she lowered her hands and asked Aras, in taksu, “What do you need from the inGeiro in order to take the madness from the one harmed by your enemy?”

Before the Sun had moved a hand’s-breadth farther along his path through the sky, Aras and I were in a small tent, not very near the inGeiro camp. The tent was lined with felt and hung with blankets inside the felt. More felt and blankets lined the floor of the tent. All the blankets were tightly woven, mostly red, also yellow and purple, with complicated designs worked into the weave, so sitting inside the tent was like sitting inside a red jewel.

A brazier glowed in the center of the tent and another to one side, so that inside the tent it was almost as warm as the summer lands. A bowl of hot water flavored with rosehips and sweetened with honey rested on a short-legged table.

Aras sat to one side of the central brazier, his back straight, his hands open and empty. I knelt on the other side. My wrists had been bound together behind my back. Garoyo knelt beside me, gripping my arm lightly. Etta sat cross-legged to one side, by the door. She held a bow, an arrow to the string. Her expression was solemn. She would try to kill Aras if she decided he was evil. She might be able to do it. She was a good shot. I had taught her to shoot myself, when she had eight winters, and I had fourteen. His fourteenth winter is hard for a boy. When the long cold ends he will be fifteen and a man, but before that he is still a boy. My sister had made me feel older, stronger, superior. I had enjoyed showing her my skill. I had enjoyed teaching her the things I had learned. Now she held a bow and she had the eye and hand and nerve to use it well.

“It will be bad at first,” Aras said to me, or perhaps to my sister. He spoke in darau. Then he repeated it in taksu for my brother. “It is bad to begin. He will fight. Hold him.”

“Yes,” said Garoyo, his expression unreadable.

Aras nodded, and began. I tried to kill him the moment he touched my mind. I might have done it, even bound as I was, but Garoyo pinned me. I fought, but no matter how hard I fought, I could not throw him off; he was too much stronger than I was, and he used his strength ruthlessly when I would not stop fighting. He jerked my arms up until my vision swam with the pain, and forced me down, and set his knee against my back to hold me.

Then ... then the rage was gone. I lay still, panting, my brother’s weight still pinning me. I had no sense at all of how much time had passed, but I knew I had fought hard. My wrists hurt. I could feel the trickle of blood where I had torn them, trying to get to Aras. My shoulders hurt. My throat hurt, as though I had been shouting. Or screaming. But the blinding rage and the bitter, consuming hatred were gone.

“You can let him up now. You can cut those thongs and give him something to drink,” Aras said. His voice was steady, but there was something in it ... not fear. Horror, perhaps.

He had spoken in darau. I did not even realize it until my sister translated for Garoyo. My brother eased back, still cautious. “Ryo?” he asked me. The same edge of horror was in his voice. I was too ashamed to look at him, but I made the sign one does, to show one acknowledges a fight is over. Garoyo let me up. I pushed myself slowly up to kneeling. I ached all over. But the quiet in my heart was so astonishing that I hardly noticed the pain. It was like the quiet the fengol had brought, but different.

My sister was staring at Aras. He did not return her gaze. He did not look at anyone, but kept his gaze on the bowl of rosehip tisane he held. Though his hands seemed steady enough, the liquid in the bowl shivered. He repeated, “You can give him something to drink. His throat hurts. You can cut the thongs. He won’t do that again. That part is past. Thank the gods.”

I coughed, and that hurt too. I managed, in a voice that did not sound much like mine, “Etta ... please. I would like water.”

My sister looked at Aras and then at me, but she did not move until Garoyo signed to her. Then she put down the bow and brought me a bowl, not of water, but of the tisane. Even after she cut the thongs, my hands were shaking so much she had to hold it so I could drink. The hot tisane soothed my throat a little. After a while, I was able to hold the bowl myself.

Growing more sure of the quiet in my heart, I said to Aras, “It is ... gone. I hated you so much. The memories ... I still remember all those terrible things you did. That he made me believe you did. But the hatred, the fury. That is gone.”

“Yes, I hoped it would help to lift the compulsions first,” he answered quietly. “You actually still feel a great deal of anger, Ryo, but the compulsions were so much worse, I can understand why you can barely tell there’s anything left. I’ve learned a great deal about compulsions from what Lorellan did to you. I never realized ... I don’t believe I understood how a sorcerer might take natural grief and anger and build them into a compulsion.” He paused, looking at me. Then he smiled. “You stubborn Ugaro. I cannot believe you held off such violent compulsions for nineteen days.”

“I did not hold them off. I hurt you.”

“Yes, you did,” he agreed, his tone matter-of-fact. “But you could have done far, far worse to me. Many times I thought you would. You distracted yourself, you taught me to distract you, and you set one oath after another in your own way. I am exceedingly grateful for your stubborn heart, Ryo.”

I could not meet his eyes. “I swore I would not hurt you. I broke my oath.”

We were speaking darau. My brother did not understand those words. But my sister grew still.

Aras answered, “I don’t agree. But if you did, then I set the fault against Lorellan, not against you.”

“The gods will know the fault is mine,” I said.

“No. They will judge you kindly, as I do; and set the fault against Lorellan, as I do. Anything else would be unjust. Every time it mattered most, you protected me. I say you have held to every oath you swore to me, even the oaths you don’t remember making. Would you say you are fit to judge any truth, just now?”

My sister had been looking anxiously from one of us to the other. She leaned forward, waiting for me to answer.

I could not say so. I shook my head, mute.

“Then accept my judgment. You are not at fault. Lorellan is at fault. You are not an oathbreaker. Every oath you have ever sworn to me still holds.”

My sister sat back, drawing a long breath. I bent my head. Perhaps it was true. I said helplessly, “If I could remember . . .”

“Yes. I’m going to take care of that.” His tone of calm confidence put heart into me. Shifting to taksu, he said to Garoyo, “This part is not so bad. I think it is not so bad. My enemy make him want to kill me, hurt me. That part is much better now.”

“I understood that,” Garoyo said shortly. “You explained that.”

“Yes, warleader. This part is not like that. He has many lies in his mind. I move each memory to the ... to the front. Then I make it so he see it is a lie. It take a long time. But I think he is not ... will not fight like that. But maybe I make a mistake, so please watch.”

“Yes,” said Garoyo. He laid a hand on my wrist and came to one knee, ready to force me down if I tried to get up. I leaned my cheek against his knee so that he could set his other hand on the back of my neck. He would be able to stop me very quickly with that hold.

Then I steadied myself, or tried to, and waited. When Aras set aside the bowl he had been holding and knelt facing me, I was able to meet his eyes.

He said, “Ryo. Think of Etta. Think of what I did to her.”

The memory leaped into my mind instantly, complete and terrible. The soldier dragging her to him, throwing her at his feet. Him, grabbing her, pulling her up, tearing the dress down her front while she struggled. She had been so terrified, she had fought so hard, he had hurt her so badly ... He had smiled at me when he cut her throat afterward . . .

Suddenly I could see these were the edges of the memory, which was complete and distinctive in a way that no memory ever is complete. Like the hem around a blanket, the memory had boundaries. As I saw the border, the memory faded ... it did not become less clear. But it became transparent. Where that memory had filled my mind, now it was like ice coating a stone. I could see the stone clearly through the ice. When the ice melted, the stone would still be there, unchanged.

“It was not real,” I said, in uttermost relief. “It never happened.” I had known that. But now I could believe it.

“Lorellan has the most revolting mind,” Aras said tiredly. He rubbed his eyes, pressed his hands against his forehead, took a long, slow breath and let it out again. “I am so very glad you won’t be throwing that one at me any longer, Ryo.”

“I—”

“If you apologize, I’ll hit you, and then your sister will shoot me, so please don’t.”

I laughed. It felt like I had not laughed for years. It hurt my throat. But it felt like moonlight coming into my heart.

“Good,” Aras said, smiling. “That took a while, but it wasn’t as difficult I thought it might be. I think lifting just that one false memory out of your mind might unravel the rest, eventually. But we won’t wait to see. If you’ve got the strength to endure it, I’ll take another now, before we rest. Can you see how the edges of the false memories fray where they come against the true memory?”

I could. I could see that. I remembered my younger brother struggling, dying, impaled through the belly, Geras laughing as he leaned on the spear. But at the same time, I remembered Geras speaking kindly to me. Both things seemed true, but one was false. I knew which. “Take it out,” I said, furious and sickened. “I cannot bear this. Take them all out, all those lies—”

“Yes,” he said gently. “That one next.”

My younger brother struggled, impaled through the belly ... The memory lifted and lightened and faded, transparent as ice. False. It had never happened. I remembered instead trying to kill Aras the first time, when I knew nothing at all about sorcery. I was glad to recover that memory, but I flinched with embarrassment.

“It was a perfectly natural mistake for an Ugaro, Ryo. I think you showed admirable flexibility of mind.”

“You were much too kind to me,” I told him. I had thought so then too. The true memories ran against the false, making me feel dizzy and exhausted, but I could tell the kindness I remembered was true.

He smiled. “I think we both managed the incident fairly well, everything considered. You’re very tired. Go to sleep.”

I did sleep. I did not wish to; I wanted all the lies gone immediately. But when I lay down, I slipped at once into the dark.

I woke to find another false memory lifting, and another after that, until I saw beneath them. I remembered riding through the borderlands, my distress as the Lau took the inKera warriors on their raid. I remembered discovering that Aras was a sorcerer, how afraid I had been ... I remembered becoming sick from the heat ...

“I was scornful because you cannot bear the cold,” I confessed.

Aras smiled at me. “I know. I would have despised my own weakness, except that I remembered so clearly how you despised yours and how I told you that was foolish. We are each made for our own country, Ryo. Drink some water. Your voice is giving out. Stop trying to speak. Rest. Tomorrow I want to try to take out the memory of Garoyo’s death. That one is big and important. It’s feeding a great deal of confusion, but I think you’re less precarious now. If it’s too much, I’ll stop and take care of some of the smaller, less intense memories first.”

“Take that one now,” I said, shuddering. “Even if it hurts me, take it out.”

“Trust my judgment, Ryo. I’ll take it soon. I’ll take all the false memories back to where they begin, and then forward to where they end.”

It took a long time. I did not know how long. Sometimes I came back to myself with a bowl in my hands and the taste of food in my mouth, or the taste of wild plums and honey mixed with snow. Sometimes I woke and it was dark; sometimes I came to myself and it was light. Sometimes Garoyo was present; sometimes he was absent. Sometimes Etta was present; sometimes she was absent. Always, when I looked for him, Aras was sitting across from me, watching me steadily.

Then a time came when I looked down and Etta was curled against me, fast asleep. I did not know how I had come to this peaceful tent with my sister tucked against me, but the lack of memory did not trouble me. I put my hand on her hair, and she stirred in her sleep, but she did not wake.

“Your memory is still settling,” Aras told me, his voice quiet. I looked up. He was there, as he had always been there. His voice was worn; he seemed unutterably weary. But when I met his eyes, he smiled. “Your memory is ... stretched out of shape. I couldn’t take any of the false memories out completely; you need to weave them into your true understanding of what happened to you. But you’ll be able to do that, now. Give your mind time to rest.”

“Is this real?” I asked him.

“Go to sleep, Ryo.”

“You go to sleep too,” I told him. “You are very tired.”

He laughed at that. I did not mind. Lying down where I sat, I put my arm over my sister and let the warmth pull me into sleep.

I woke slowly, feeling warm and contented. I knew where I was. I knew how I had come to this place. I had many questions, but the truth of my own mind was not among them.

My sister slept near me, mostly hidden beneath blankets and furs. Garoyo was sitting by the brazier, looking into the coals, lost in thought. He glanced up to show he had noticed me, but he did not speak.

Aras was also awake. He was sipping an infusion of rosehips and plums and honey. The sweet scent of it had woken me. He did not speak, but he smiled at me and poured a bowl and held it out.

I nodded, but first I stood up—stiffly, as though I had not moved much for a long time—and went out of the tent to find the trench.

The morning was clear and bright, the sky high and cold, the forest immense and silent. Two or three bowshots away, I could see the inGeiro camp. Except it was no longer only a woman’s camp, and no longer only the inGeiro. There were many great tents now, with many different patterns worked into them, and many more smaller, plainer tents, and some of the wagons we usually use on the steppe rather than in the forest. Ponies were picketed along a windbreak that had been made for them, and dogs lounged about the camp.

When I went back in, my sister was yawning and sipping the sweet tisane from my bowl. I poured another and sat down cross-legged beside her. “That is all the inGeiro,” I said to her. “It is more than the inGeiro.”

My sister gave me a sidelong look, as she had done as a child when she was going to tell me something she knew I would not like. “Lutra sent word in every direction. I do not know who has come, except many-many inGeiro. Yavorda is here, and Naroya.” The lord of the inGeiro, and the warleader. She added, “Royova inVotaro has come.”

I nodded. Of course Royova had come, once he heard what was happening here. He would come for himself, and he would come for our king, to see how it happened. Or to make it happen as he wished.

Another thought struck me. Garoyo must have seen it in my face, because he told me, “Our father has not yet come, Ryo. Lutra sent for him. But he had gone west, into inSorako territory, to help there because it would have been wrong for inGara to face the soldiers of your warleader. That is a wide territory. He may not have heard yet that anything is happening.”

I bowed my head to show I had heard him. I thought of facing my father after everything that had happened, and my stomach tightened. Then I thought of dying without ever seeing him again, and that was worse.

I looked around at the tent, glowing with warmth; at the braziers and the furs and the blankets and the bowls. Aras was wearing Ugaro clothing—Etta must have made it for him during the past days, as it fit him. The tawny color of the clothing and the red of the blankets gave a rich color to his brown skin. To my eyes, he seemed at once familiar and very strange. I thought of my father standing in judgment of him, and of me. I both wanted and did not want that. My father was not a forgiving man. But I trusted his judgment. I did not trust Yavorda inGeiro as much. I did not trust Royova inVotaro at all.

I studied Aras, wondering how he might seem to Ugaro eyes. But I could not decide. I remembered my first sight of him. I remembered everything, from that moment to this. All my memory ran smoothly back and forward. I remembered all the lies as well, but Aras had made them transparent, and he had made me see clearly how and when they had been made. I remembered now, as I had not before, Lorellan putting those memories into my mind, one and then another and then another, until falsehood lay over all the truth.

I remembered the sick agony of grief and rage he had put into my mind. No wonder it had hurt me. I remembered the pain vividly. A bright, hot anger rose in my heart.

Aras bowed his head, his long hands tightening on the bowl he held.

I had not even known I was watching him until I saw him react to my anger. I said immediately, “I am sorry,” and began to breathe deeply, trying to put down the intense fury that still filled me.

Setting down the bowl, Aras held up his hands. “No. You should be angry at what was done to you. This is a clean anger. It doesn’t hurt me, Ryo. Even if your anger did hurt me, you are most certainly entitled to it. Only—” he paused, his mouth crooking. “I am still extremely sensitive to your anger, Ryo. I imagine that will wear off. Eventually.”

I had hurt him very badly.

“Let’s not argue over that again, Ryo. If I hadn’t brought you into the summer country, Lorellan could not have taken you for his use. I am more at fault than you.”

He was not at fault for anything Lorellan had done.

“If you don’t set the fault against me, you should hardly take it yourself,” he pointed out.

I could not help but be amused. “Very well!” I said. I looked at Garoyo. “Do they know I am better now?”

“Everyone will soon know it,” he answered. “Etta has been speaking to Lutra every day.” He raised his eyebrows at her, and she jumped to her feet and went out of the tent.

Aras watched her go. Then he asked Garoyo, “What will happen next?” He spoke in taksu much more easily now, and with almost no accent.

Garoyo shrugged. “I think the inGeiro would rather wait for my father to come. Except Royova inVotaro will probably want the inGeiro to make use of your oath and put you to death immediately. He might think that best. In his place, I might think so,” he added.

“I see.”

My brother tossed a small handful of charcoal into the brazier. He said, “Everything depends on whether Royova inVotaro understands my father. I will tell you how it might happen if Royova makes this demand and forces Yavorda to yield to him. I would step in front of you. Royova is . . .” Garoyo paused. Then he shrugged and said, “Royova would almost certainly kill me. Then Ryo would step in front of the knife.”

“No,” Aras said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Ryo would step in front of the knife,” Garoyo repeated. “Royova would fight him. Even after fighting me, even if he were injured or tired, Royova would certainly kill my brother.” He glanced at me. I shrugged. This was true. It did not slight my pride to say so.

“Then you would die,” Garoyo told Aras. “Unless you are actually so very dangerous a sorcerer that you could make everyone into your slaves very quickly, and so dishonorable you would do so despite your oath to the inGeiro. In that case, I would be sorry not to have killed you myself while you slept.”

Aras nodded. “If you must kill a sorcerer, that is always the best way,” he agreed. “Very well. So you and Ryo and I would all be dead. Then what? Everyone would go south again to fight my people? Because in that case—”

“No,” Garoyo said.

Aras raised his eyebrows. “No?”

“No. Our father would come soon after that. He would find out what had happened. He would not forgive anything. He would not accept any apology. He would not even accept Royova as a tuyo if that were offered. He would demand that Royova offer him a son. Two sons. Royova would never agree. My father would declare bitter war on the inVotaro.”

“Not yet,” I said. “We are all already at war—”

“Yes,” my brother told me. “He would be very, very angry. He would not wait. He would do as I have said.” He continued, speaking again to Aras. “Obviously our king could not permit inGara and inVotaro to turn against each other, not when all Ugaro should be facing south. These are powerful, important tribes, especially inVotaro. You know this?”

“Yes,” agreed Aras. “So what would Koro inKarano do?”

“He would probably demand that Sinowa inGara and Royova inVotaro fight until one was dead,” said Garoyo. “Then he would probably put to death whichever man won, to appease the anger of the other tribe. That might not prevent disaster, but I see nothing else he could do that would offer a better chance.” He paused. Then he said, “Royova would not want any of this to happen, but if he does not understand my father, he might not believe how sharp a knife he holds by the blade until it cuts off all his fingers.” He studied Aras for a moment. “I will say you should be given a chance to speak, as you requested. I think the inGeiro will agree that this request should be granted, even if Royova protests. I think you should consider now what you might say. If you speak for long enough, many things might happen. One is that you might persuade Royova not to kill you. Another is that my father might come.”

Aras tilted his head. “Yes, I see. But there is a problem with that?”

“If Royova decides that waiting would give you a chance to enslave all our people, then he would not wait even if he understands the risk, because that would be even worse than what I have described. If he thinks you might do such a thing, then it will all happen as I said.”

Aras sighed. He said, “I can promise not to use sorcery against your people. I can take oath not to do it. But I can’t make Royova inVotaro, or anyone, believe me.” He hesitated. Then he added, “Garoyo ... if this begins to happen, all you described ... I do not want you to step in front of me.”

“That is not your choice to make,” Garoyo told him, not unkindly.

Aras sighed. “It’s going to be a long day,” he said in darau, not to me so much as to himself.

Etta returned soon, but she did not know when the inGeiro might send for us. She brought sugar dumplings as well as meat, and avila wine saved from years past. These were feast day foods. While we ate the dumplings, Garoyo told me small tales of my family, things he knew I would like to hear. His wife, Nisig, had had her baby, a girl, born while the Dawn Sisters were in the sky. The baby was small, but she seemed now to be thriving. Our mother had drawn the signs for the Dawn Sisters on the baby’s face and said she would live if no mischance took her. This was my brother’s third daughter. His face softened when he spoke of the baby, even though he did not yet have any sons.

He told me other things of that kind. If friends fell out and fought, if any man was unkind to his wife or any wife disrespectful to her husband, if any warrior was less than generous to his brother, he did not tell me of that. It was a long day, but I would have enjoyed it, if everything had been different.

The next day was longer still.

The one after that was excruciating.

The morning of the fourth day crept past, until I could have shouted for boredom as well as fear. I could not stop myself from looking at Aras, but he shook his head and said everyone was too far away, and there were too many people and too many he did not know, and emotions ran too hot and high. The glimpses that came to him told him nothing important.

At midday on the fourth day, a girl-child came and told us we were all to come to the main part of the camp. The relief was immense, even though I was afraid of what might happen. When the child had gone, I looked at Garoyo. He sighed. Then he said, “I cannot think there has been enough time for our father to come.”

Aras got to his feet. But he said urgently, “Garoyo inGara, warleader of the inGara, no matter what anyone decides, you must not fight Royova inVotaro, nor allow Ryo to fight him.”

My brother answered before I could. “If events come in such a way that a man decides he must fight, it is not your place to protest the decision. I will remember your request, but I will not permit anyone to believe I think you guilty of crimes you have not committed.”

Aras nodded, but he knelt, holding out his hands in the gesture one uses to ask for mercy. “It is not a request. It is a plea. Only try to make Royova permit me to speak. I will give your people the best advice I can, no matter what they decide.”

“So,” said Garoyo, acknowledging this without agreeing.

The day was crisp and clear. It was not too cold. The main camp had been shifted farther away; so far it was not visible from where we stood. I looked at Aras, but he shook his head, his mouth tight with strain. Etta stepped close to me. She put her arm around my waist and I put mine around her shoulders. We walked like that, close together. I wanted to tell her not to be afraid, but I could not slight her pride that way. I said instead, “The morning is beautiful. I am glad to have seen it.”

Etta looked up at me, smiling, and I smiled back.

As we came closer to the camp, Aras stumbled suddenly. I caught his arm, steadying him, and he straightened at once and went on. I realized then that he must have come close enough to see more of the thoughts of those waiting for us. He was surely too proud to miss a step in fear, but I could guess that the sudden awareness might come as though it were a physical blow.

“Ryo—” Aras said under his breath.

“Be quiet,” Garoyo ordered. “This is not the time.” We were coming close now. I could see them waiting. Most of the warriors were seated on the ground or on logs, but those who were foremost among them stood. I saw Naroya, warleader of the inGeiro, on his feet; and Yavorda, lord of the inGeiro. To the other side, I saw Royova inVotaro.

Then we came the few more steps necessary to see past the rest, and I saw my father, standing with his arms folded and a scowl on his face, straight ahead, standing exactly between all the others, at the center of the gathering.

-24-

I had not expected this at all. The stab of relief I felt was so strong and so unexpected that I stumbled myself. Aras turned and caught me. He was not smiling. His expression was more contained and more intense than a smile.

Garoyo had stopped, a little distance in front of us. He glanced at our father and bowed his head, but he faced Yavorda because we stood on inGeiro land.

“This seemed too difficult for inGeiro to sort out on our own,” Yavorda told him. “And it did not seem properly a matter for us to judge—nor even for Royova inVotaro.” He did not glance at Royova when he said this, which was more than I could likely have managed in his place. He merely went on. “I thought it best to wait for the lord of the inGara. He has come, and he has heard everything. Now this is for him to judge.” He did not sit down, but he folded his arms to show that he was finished speaking.

My father stepped forward, and my brother faced him. They looked more alike than I had realized, though our father’s face was lined and his hair grizzled tawny-white, which is the way for Ugaro as we age. He glanced briefly at me, looked thoughtfully at Aras, and studied my brother for a long moment. Finally he said, “So, my son, are you the slave or the fool of this sorcerer? Are you his dog, or in any way subject to his will?”

Addressed in this way, Garoyo knelt, but he did not bow his head. He looked our father in the face. “No, lord.”

My father turned to me. “My son, I believed you dead. Yet here you are. This Lau warleader spared your life and treated you generously, though he is a sorcerer.”

I stepped up beside my brother and went to my knees. “Yes, lord,” I said.

“Are you his slave, or his fool, or his dog, or in any way subject to his will?”

“No, lord,” I said. Then I blinked and said, “I beg your pardon. I misspoke. I swore an oath to obey him.” I paused. Then I said clearly, “I swore to obey him as though he were my father. I swore I would obey him as though I were his son. I meant no disrespect to you, lord. But that is what I swore.”

I was aware of the stir among the warriors. My father’s eyes narrowed. Other than that, I saw nothing in his face. He said quietly, “That could put you in a difficult place now, my son.”

“Yes, lord,” I agreed. “I did not think of this moment when I gave that oath.”

“I release you from it, Ryo inGara,” Aras said, in taksu. He had knelt too, behind my brother and me.

My father frowned at him. “Are you dissatisfied with my son’s obedience? Has he failed in respect? Has he shown himself lacking in courage or honor?”

“No, lord,” Aras said. “In everything he has done, Ryo inGara has demonstrated the honor and courage of the Ugaro people. I free him now because I have no right to hold him when his father stands before him.”

My father immediately shifted his attention back to me. “Are you in any way subject to the will of this sorcerer, my son?”

I said, “No, lord.” I had not expected to feel the sense of loss that cut me. I put it aside and kept my gaze steady on my father’s face.

My father turned to my sister. “My daughter, are you the slave or the fool of this sorcerer? Are you his dog or subject to his will?”

“No, Father,” Etta said earnestly.

He said in a pained tone, “You promised I would give the inGeiro anything they asked.”

“Yes, Father,” Etta said in a very small voice. Because she was a girl, she was not kneeling, but she looked very young and small: the only girl among all the warriors. The women were elsewhere. I wondered whether my mother had come. I thought that if my father decided he must put me to death, I would like to see her first. I could not guess whether he would permit it.

“I am sorry, Father,” Etta said. “I had to do something very fast, and that was what I thought of.”

Our father sighed. He said to Garoyo, “You said you would stand behind that promise.”

“Yes, lord,” my brother agreed. “I wished very much for the eldest son of your second wife to be cured of the madness set into his mind, so I said this. I will not protest your judgment if you say I was at fault for my words.”

Our father answered, “I set no fault against you, my son, though in the future, I hope all my children will try to be more moderate in their promises.” Turning to Yavorda, he said, “Ask what you will.”

Yavorda inclined his head. “I want all the land from our border as it is now, west to the middle of the gap that runs through the Little Knife, for a day’s ride north and south of the Knife. And I want to have this decision taken out of my hands.”

“All that land belongs to the inGeiro now,” said my father. “The decision I take for my own.” Neither he nor Yavorda looked at Royova inVotaro, though Royova was frowning, his expression hard and disapproving. He was a big man, very tall for an Ugaro, almost as tall as a Lau, but broad to match his height. I had seen him fight once when I was a boy. He had awed me completely. That had been eight winters ago, ten maybe, but save for tawny streaks in his hair, he hardly looked older and certainly no softer. He had at least thirty more winters than I, but it is the way for Ugaro to keep our strength for a long time and then age all at once in our last years. I had no doubt Royova inVotaro was still astounding boys, and grown men, with his speed and skill and sheer power.

From his manner, my father might not have even known Royova was present. He said to Etta, “Child, your mother is waiting in her own tent, that way.” He nodded the way he meant, toward the center of the camp. “Go to her.”

Etta gave the small bow a daughter owes her father and obeyed. She did not look back.

As soon as she was gone, my father drew his knife and offered it to me across his forearm. “If I order you to take my knife and put this sorcerer to death immediately, will you obey me?”

I took the knife, turned it in my hand, and drove it to the hilt in the snow between us. “No, lord.”

“If I say this proves you are his slave or his fool or his dog or subject to his will?”

“I am his friend, lord, and I will not do it.”

“If I say you are a disobedient son and lacking in respect?”

“I would be sorry my father had reason to say such things of me, but I would not do it, and I would not beg your pardon for refusing.”

“So.” He looked at me for a long time, his expression unreadable. He said, “You swore to obey another man as though he were your father. You declare now you would refuse my orders and that you would not even beg my pardon for it.”

I bowed, and straightened, and braced myself as he raised his arm.

He did not hit me. He touched me lightly on the cheek with the back of his hand, the merest token of the blow I had earned. I tried to keep my face still, but probably everyone saw my astonishment at such leniency. Certainly my father saw it. But he only said, “Give me back my knife.”

Jerking it out of the snow, I held it out, hilt first.

He took it and stood looking at me, tapping the blade thoughtfully against the palm of his other hand. Finally he asked, “If I step forward to put your sorcerer to death at this moment, will you set yourself in the way of my knife?”

I answered, “I would never wish to do such a disgraceful thing. I ask my father not to put me to that test.”

“So.” He touched his hand to my cheek again. Then he turned to Garoyo. “And you, my son: if I ordered you to put this sorcerer to death, would you obey my command?”

Garoyo said in a level voice, “No, lord. If you give me that order, I will set my sword at your feet and you may give it to whomever you chose. But even if I had no sword, I would step between any knife and this sorcerer.”

“You would also defy me.”

“In this matter, I would be forced to it, lord. I would take the disgrace on myself because honor compels me beyond even the obedience I owe my father.”

“To protect a sorcerer.”

“No, lord. To protect an honorable man to whom I owe a debt.”

“What debt do you owe this man?”

“He spared my brother’s life although he had no obligation to do so: that is one debt. He cured my brother of madness: that is another debt.”

My father nodded. He looked at Aras. “Both my sons refuse my orders. Do you hold either or both subject to your will, in any way great or small, in any manner obvious or subtle, by any means at all?”

Aras met his eyes. “No, lord.”

“Yet you are a sorcerer. You do not deny it.”

“No, lord. It is true. But long ago I swore I would not make men subject to my will by means of sorcery. Your sons make their own choices, in this and every matter.”

My father considered him. “You took my son as tuyo, but you did not put him to death. You took him into the summer country and bound him by oath to obey you, but not by sorcerous means. But you made a mistake. My son was taken by your enemy, also a sorcerer. This sorcerer set a madness upon my son to make him kill you. Because he is your friend, my son resisted this madness, defied your enemy, and brought you here. Now you have freed him from that madness. This is my understanding. Is this how it happened?”

“Yes, lord,” agreed Aras. “All of that is how it happened.”

“Do you see my thoughts now? Are you looking into my mind?”

“Yes,” Aras admitted. “I cannot not look. But your thoughts are not clear to me. Your joy at finding your son before you is so intense, it is difficult for me to see anything else.”

I blinked. My father’s expression did not change. He said, “Your enemy put many lies into my son’s mind. He made him believe many things that were not true. This is the means he used to make my son into his weapon against you.”

Aras hesitated. Then he took a breath and answered, “Yes, lord. But I had already taught your son to conceal his thoughts from a sorcerer and recognize false memories. Using what I taught him, Ryo fooled our enemy completely. Then for many days he fought powerful compulsions to kill me. In all the winter country, probably no other Ugaro could have resisted for even an hour the compulsions our enemy put into your son’s heart.”

My father had let him speak. But now he said, with an edge to his voice, “My son is a brave man. No one doubts it. But so much braver than every other Ugaro warrior?”

Aras shook his head. “No, lord. It is not courage you and all your people lack, but training and experience in this other kind of battlefield. To my enemy, it would be as though even your bravest warrior stood before him weaponless and bound hand and foot.” He paused. Then he said, “When a man has no weapon, what he needs is for someone to give him a sword. If you will permit me, I will set a false memory into your mind—”

A frightened, angry mutter, on all sides. My father stilled this with an uplifted hand. Royova lifted one eyebrow. I knew my father must have felt a sharp thrust of fear and anger into his heart. Any man would. But he showed nothing.

Aras went on as though he had never been interrupted. “If you put me to death, my enemy will still live. Who knows what weapon you may need in your hand as the future unfolds before you? If you permit me to do this, I will show you how to recognize a false memory. If my enemy bent his full attention upon you, this would not be enough. But if you only endured a moment of his attention, it would help. I ask you to allow me to do this. I would teach everyone to recognize sorcerous lies if I were permitted to do so. But whether or not you permit it, I swear before the gods, I will not use any sorcerous means to influence your choices or your actions. If you put me to death, I swear I will not attempt to use sorcerous means to prevent you. To this I bind myself by the honor of my king and uncle, and by my mother’s name.”

There was a long silence. I had not expected anything of that. I could not guess what my father might do or say. If he gave permission, I was not sure what Royova inVotaro might do. He might consider my father tainted by sorcery. I wanted to protest. But Aras was right. It was not a weapon he was trying to give my people; it was a shield, and one they needed. I said nothing.

Finally my father nodded. He said to Aras, “You may set a memory into my mind. I wish to see what this is like. Put a memory of my son into my mind. Not a false memory. A true one. Show me ... show me the moment you found my son waiting for you.”

Aras answered, “I will give you that memory if you wish. But I have a different memory I would show you, if you permit me.”

“Show me what you choose. Show me something in the way that it happened.”

“Yes,” said Aras.

There was a little silence while they looked at one another. Then my father smiled. A moment later he gave a sharp crack of laughter, half raising his hand. Then he glanced at me and lowered his hand again. I could not imagine what memory that could have been.

Then my father returned his attention to Aras, who immediately bowed his head and said, “I did not intend disrespect.”

“You intended to correct me,” my father said. He was amused. “But I forgive it. You were not wrong to say it.”

“You know you were not there. Yet you still feel that it happened. Do you see how you try to explain to yourself how you came there, even when you know it was impossible?”

My father frowned, his attention turning inward. “Yes, I see that. How very strange.”

“That is how it is. There are other ways for a man to recognize a false memory, if he is not certain. The memory is too bright; it is too clear. You see how that is. If you notice that, you should doubt that memory. You should look for ways the memory does not make sense. When the memory might have been true, it is harder to resist the urge to explain away the things that make no sense.”

“Yes,” my father acknowledged. He blinked and focused on Aras. “This is a dangerous curse. I knew that. But I see it myself now. You are a dangerous man.”

“Not to you,” Aras said, his voice quiet.

My father frowned at him.

I wished very much to know what memory Aras had put into his mind, but it was not my place to ask. But Royova inVotaro demanded, “What did he show you?” He added, barely quickly enough for courtesy, “If you are willing to say, Sinowa inGara.”

There was a little silence as my father considered this demand. Then, though his mouth did not curve, I could see he almost smiled. He said, “Yes, I will tell you.” He looked at me. “I saw you in the summer country, fighting with some Lau warriors. Not fighting. Playing. Not with weapons, but with empty hands. You won twice, pinning your opponent and making him yield to you. The third Lau defeated you, but you did not mind it. You were laughing. You were happy.”

“That day,” I said, remembering. I smiled. That had been a very good morning. Nothing bad had happened yet. I had learned not to be afraid of Aras. I had been happy. “Yes. The Lau call it wrestling. Esau is the only man who can beat me every time. I made him work for his victory.”

“I was standing to one side, watching you,” my father told me. “No one noticed me. You did not see me. Then he stood beside me.” He indicated Aras with a tiny movement of his hand. “I did not see him come. He was just there. He said to me, ‘That is a young warrior any man would be proud to call his son. His father should tell him so. What if the gods are unkind and the chance is lost?’”

I had not expected that. I felt as though the breath had been driven from my lungs.

“He was right,” my father said. “I could not answer him. That is why I laughed.” He had not been speaking loudly, but now he spoke more quietly still. “Ryo, I have always been proud of you. I wish very much to hear everything. All that happened, in the way that it happened. I know I will be proud of what I hear.”

I swallowed. “I hope you would be, Father. But I have often disgraced your teaching. I have often been ashamed of myself.”

“That is how a young man should feel,” answered my father. “Conceit is bad for the heart. But I doubt very much I will be ashamed of you.” He came forward and touched my cheek gently with the tips of two fingers. “The gods have been kind.”

Then he stepped back and said to Royova, not quite looking at him, “Are you answered, inVotaro?”

“I am answered,” Royova agreed, frowning. “If you will permit, inGara.” He barely waited for my father’s nod, but looked at me and said, “This sorcerer you say is your friend. The other you say is your enemy. Tell us something that shows us all the difference between this sorcerer and the other one. Not something false. Something real, that a man can understand.”

I thought about this. I thought of something that made the difference very clear. The heat came into my face, but I thought this was a thing that might make everyone understand. I said to my father, “You will not be proud of me when I tell you this, lord. But this is something any man can understand.” Then I explained about listening to a private conversation between Aras and another man, and how he had ordered ten strokes of the whip because I had not been able to persuade him that twenty would be more appropriate. No one laughed, certainly my father did not laugh, but I saw he was amused.

“His sorcery shows him pain and fear. His nature is generous, so he is kinder than he should be,” I explained, in case anyone had not understood this. Then, bracing myself, I went on, “His enemy, Lorellan, ordered me beaten as well, not for any fault of mine, but to punish Aras. I do not know how many strokes Lorellan ordered—”

Aras said quietly, “Five hundred. That is twenty strokes, given twenty and five times.”

Appalled, I turned to stare at him. “So many? How did I not die of it?”

“Our whip is not as brutal as yours. But it is brutal enough. A Lau might have died. He did not want that. He was actually watching you very closely.” Aras met my eyes. “It was not precisely meant to punish me. He did it because he was certain I was lying to him. He wanted to force me to open my mind to him. Above all, I could not do that.” His voice thinned, though he did not look away. “I stood there for an entire hour and watched that done to you, and I could not stop it.”

“No,” I said. “Of course not. I lay the act against him, not against you.” I was silent for a time, remembering that terrible beating. My pride had broken completely. I did not want to admit such a thing before Garoyo, far less our father—far less all these other warriors. But it was important that they understand Lorellan’s nature. That was more important than my shame. It was why I had begun to tell them this at all. Only it was harder to say than I had believed it would be. Looking only at Aras because I could not bear to look at anyone else, I admitted in a low voice, “I screamed aloud. I cried like a child. I could not walk for three days. And he did not even take the act on himself. He made me believe you had ordered that done to me. That is the nature of your enemy.”

“Our enemy,” Aras said softly.

There was a long silence. Finally, my father asked me, “How long did you stand before your pride broke?”

I had no idea. Even if I had known that, I could not bring myself to face him or answer. But Aras answered for me. “Your son stood for twice forty strokes and eight more before he flinched enough for me to see it. He stood for forty and one more after that before he cried out aloud. Is there any man here who would say he could do better? I would call the claim false until that man showed me his courage.”

There was absolute silence. Among all the gathered warriors, no one moved or spoke. I could feel the heat in my face. I was very glad Aras had said that, but I still could not look at my father or my brother.

Then Royova inVotaro ordered curtly, “Take off your shirt, young warrior. We wish to see your back.”

Now I had to face him. I made myself do it. “It was many days ago,” I protested. “And the Lau whip does not leave scars.”

“That kind of beating leaves scars,” Royova corrected me. “I have seen it before.”

Aras nodded. “Royova inVotaro is right. There are scars.”

My father said to me, “Take off your shirt, my son.”

I knew I had flushed even more hotly. But I took my shirt off and bowed low so my father could look at me as he wished. Everyone moved to look, not only Royova inVotaro but also Yavorda and Naroya inGeiro. Some of the other warriors nearby stood up and looked as well. I was embarrassed, but I did not move.

“You can indeed still see the marks,” Yavorda observed, his tone neutral. He asked me, “How many days since this happened?”

I did not know exactly.

“Twenty and fourteen,” Aras said quietly. “If that had been done to a Lau, the man would have been unable to stand for at least seven days.”

“You were on your feet in three days?” my father asked me.

“Yes, lord. It was longer before my strength returned.”

He grunted. “You may put on your shirt,” he told me. “I am not ashamed of you, my son. For a young man, you did very well. Even older men would be unlikely to do better. No one would say otherwise.”

I had not expected that. I bowed to the ground.

To Aras, my father said, “I wish to see this beating. Show me that memory. Show me how it happened.”

“No,” I protested, jerking upright.

“No,” said Aras, not looking at me.

My father’s eyebrows rose. He said sharply, “I wish to see it.”

“You most certainly do not,” Aras answered, equally sharp. Their eyes met, and held. Aras said, each word hard and precise, “I am entirely aware you could force me to show it to you. If you wish to see it so badly, you will have to force me. I will not show it to you willingly.”

My father half lifted his hand.

“I will take your blow for my words, but I will not apologize,” Aras told him. “You are wrong to ask me and wrong to insist, and you know it, Sinowa inGara.”

My father made an exasperated sound. But to my astonishment, he lowered his hand. Instead, he demanded, “How can any man judge you correctly, when you can see into his mind and his heart?”

Now Aras bowed his head, breathing out slowly. He answered at last, much more softly, “You should judge me as you would judge any man, lord: by my actions and not by your fears.” He added at once, as my father’s head went back a little in surprised offense, “For that, I will apologize. That time I did not mean to be insolent.”

“You were insolent. But I will not strike you for it, because your words were also true.” My father looked at him for a moment longer. Then he said to Garoyo, “Warleader. You say this is an honorable man. How do you arrive at that judgment?”

Garoyo thought for a moment. Finally he said, “He put a good memory of your son into your mind. He refused to put a bad memory into your mind. That shows his nature. He is honorable and generous; or if that is all lies, then I confess he is too subtle for me and I admit defeat.” He paused. Then he said, “I judge this Lau sorcerer as I would judge any man: by what he does and what he refuses to do, and not by my fears.”

Our father smiled a little. He said to Aras, “If you would correct an Ugaro lord without insolence, that is how it is done.” Then he said, “I will hear your opinion, warleader. What should I decide?”

My brother said immediately, “You should return this man’s life to him, and ask him what he wishes to do in his war against his enemy, and consider whether it might be good to assist him to do it."

My father nodded. He asked, “Warleader of the inGeiro? Lord of the inGeiro?”

With a little gesture, Yavorda gave his warleader permission to answer. Naroya inGeiro sighed. “You should probably return his life to him,” he said. “I think if there are two strong Lau sorcerers in the world, and they are enemies, this is the one I would not wish to see die before the other. I think he should fight the other, if he will. If both die, that is one solution, and if the other dies and this man does not, perhaps that may do. If this man dies and the other sorcerer lives ... I would not choose that. But even then, the remaining sorcerer is Lau. The battle should make his people know what he is. Let his own people deal with him.”

My father nodded thoughtfully. “The warleader of the inGeiro seems wise to me.” He looked at Yavorda. “Does the lord of the inGeiro have anything to add?”

Yavorda barely smiled. “I have nothing to say. I am glad it is not my decision.”

“So am I,” my father said. “Hard though it may be, I am glad to take this decision on myself. I am very grateful you sent young men of the inGeiro to find me and tell me why I must come here, and that those young men made such strenuous efforts to carry out your command. Today or tomorrow or in years to come, I will listen with favor to any request from the inGeiro.”

Yavorda inclined his head. “My wife arranged that before I even knew myself what had happened.”

“My wife arranged it,” Naroya corrected him. “Your wife permitted it.”

“My warleader is probably correct,” conceded Yavorda.

“So,” said my father, smiling now. “If the women of the inGeiro ask my wife for anything, I think she will listen to their request. But if she will not, or if it is a request more suitable for a man to hear, then I will listen to them, or to you.” He paused to show he was finished with that matter. Then he said, “Warleader of inVotaro, arm of the king, if you wish to speak, I will hear your opinion.”

Royova said in a level voice, “Sinowa inGara lacks information he might wish to have. This is what he should know: the war is going both too well and too badly for Ugaro east of this land. I think now that the confusion there may be laid against the other sorcerer. As your son’s sorcerer seems possibly to be a man of adequate character, I say you should spare his life in order to confound this enemy. All these things, we should discuss.” He paused. Then he added, “I will not challenge any decision the lord of the inGara makes, so long as the sorcerer swears he will stand for my knife at a later time if I demand it.”

Aras began to answer him. I knew he meant to say he would stand, and drew breath to protest, but before I could speak, my father said curtly, “I will not permit the sorcerer to make that oath, nor will I permit you to require such a thing, Royova inVotaro. We stand upon inGeiro land. I do not agree you have precedence when the inGeiro have given their rightful decision to me. If you attempt to step in front of me in this matter, I will fight you in earnest.”

I held my breath. I think everyone held his breath as the two men looked at one another.

“I would not wish to fight you, Sinowa inGara,” Royova said at last. “If it should come to that, I hope you will not wish to fight me.”

“Do not challenge me, and we need not discover whether our tempers are so hard,” my father said, still curt. “Do you say you have precedence?”

“There will be an accounting for this,” Royova warned him.

“And I will make that accounting. But it will not be today, nor here, nor to you. Do you say you have precedence?”

“No,” said Royova. He stepped back.

My father immediately turned to face Aras. He lifted his hands to show he was prepared to make an important decision, and said in a clear, hard voice, “This man’s life is in my hands. My decision is to return his life to him. It is his. Let no inGara raise hand or blade against him. As the inGeiro gave this decision to me, let it bind them as well. Let those of other tribes recognize that should any blow be struck against this man, I will take that as though it were a blow struck against me.” Then he lowered his hands to show he was finished.

-25-

I stood up. This took an effort, but I think I managed to conceal the embarrassing weakness of my legs. All around us, men were getting to their feet and walking away, silent until they were a little distance apart and could argue without offending my father or Royova or Yavorda or anyone else important in the tribes. I offered Aras my hand, and he took it and pulled himself up too, a little stiffly. He was visibly trembling with cold, or perhaps with reaction. No one looked at him, which is the kindness my people grant when we live too closely with one another to have privacy as the Lau understand it.

My father said to Royova, his tone curt, “We shall talk.”

“Is that what you wish?” Royova asked drily. “To talk?” But he glanced at Yavorda, who nodded permission. Then my father led the way through and among the many tents until we came to one of the largest. My brother and I followed, and Royova. Yavorda and his warleader and some of the others went elsewhere, probably to tell their wives everything that had happened.

The tent to which my father led us was not the largest nor the closest, but one set on a slight rise, near the middle of the encampment. The tent was decorated with porcupine quills and lined with blue and purple felt, and its floor was covered with rugs of purple and gold and a few blue. I knew those designs and colors. I paused. Then I went in.

My mother sat in the center of the tent, beside the brazier, where the warmth was greatest. That was her place because it was her tent. Etta sat behind her, and to my astonishment Darra inKarano sat at her right hand. I looked at Darra with pleasure and concern, but most of my attention went to my mother.

My mother was perfectly well. No one had ever cut her belly and thrown her into the fire. That memory had been almost as bad as the one of Etta. I had known it to be false; it seemed false to me now; it had no power to harm me any longer. But I remembered believing it.

My mother had also believed me dead in a terrible way. Her face was as round and calm as the face of the Moon, but I saw the echo of that belief in the way she paused and studied me for a long, careful moment, to be sure it was true that I had not died. Then she held out her hand to me. I went and sat down in front of her. She touched my face and looked at me for a long time. At length she patted my cheek and I stood up and went to the place that was rightfully the place for young men, nearer the entrance.

Then my mother studied Aras, who stood with his hands tucked beneath the furs he wore. His dark, fine-boned face looked strange to me again in this familiar tent, with my mother gazing up at him. If she thought him strange, that did not show at all. She said in darau, in the tranquil way she said everything important, “You are the Lau warleader who took my son as tuyo, but did not put him to death.”

“Yes,” Aras said cautiously in the same language. “I do not wish to offend. I do not know how to address you. Should I speak darau or taksu?”

“My name is Marag inGara, daughter of Marag inKarano. I am the foremost singer of the inGara,” my mother told him, in taksu. “If you can speak taksu, you should, but because I spoke darau to you first, if you speak to me in that language, no one will be offended.” She held out her hand to him as she had to me and added, “You are my guest in this tent. You may sit here by me, where it is warm.” She also beckoned to my father and brother, and nodded gravely to Royova, granting him permission to enter her tent. My sister stood up and began to pour tisane into bowls for everyone, but my mother continued to speak to Aras, now in darau again. “You are a sorcerer. My daughter tells me you see all the thoughts in our minds.”

He took the place she had offered as the other men settled quietly on the other side of the tent. Even Royova inVotaro would not lightly interrupt my mother in her own tent, though from his thoughtful expression, he did not mind keeping silent. He watched Aras carefully and my mother hardly less carefully. It occurred to me that he might speak at least a little darau.

Aras sipped from the bowl my mother put into his hands. His shivering eased, either because of the warmth or because her calm nature calmed him in turn. The hard set of his mouth relaxed a little. He answered her carefully, in taksu, “Not all the thoughts. Some, yes. I cannot do otherwise, singer. It is as though people were speaking aloud near you: you must hear them, even if you do not listen deliberately. If you think of a song or a story with the front part of your mind, that can prevent me from hearing more important things you may be thinking. Or strong emotions make it hard for me to hear your thoughts clearly.”

My mother nodded gravely. “You are an uncommon sorcerer, to explain such matters ... if that is true.”

“It is true,” I told her. “It is one way I hid my thoughts from Lorellan. I was so angry. I let myself be that angry, and turned my thoughts away from doubts I did not want him to see.”

My sister had finished serving the men. She had served Garoyo first and then Royova inVotaro, and our father last, to show he had precedence over even the warleader of the inVotaro because it was the tent of his wife. Now she came and sat next to me and leaned against my shoulder, and I put my arm around her.

Aras was saying to our mother, “My enemy made Ryo believe I had killed all his people. Those false memories gave birth to great anger and grief and hatred, which my enemy then built into powerful compulsions. That was too clever, because Ryo used those compulsions to conceal his real thoughts. I had taught him to recognize false memories, but when he began to doubt Lorellan or question the lies that had been put into his mind, he poured his attention into those emotions instead. This prevented either Lorellan or me from seeing the thoughts Ryo wished to conceal.”

“Yes,” said my mother. “My daughter told me your enemy made my son believe terrible things, even when he knew those things were not true.”

Aras set down his bowl and leaned forward. He spoke in taksu, quickly and intently. “Given a false memory, you will always try to explain to yourself why it must be true even if there are things in the memory that do not make sense. If you find yourself puzzled by something you think you remember, look for edges to that memory. Look for a strange clarity to it. Ask yourself whether you have been acting as though you believe that memory is true. When Ryo believed Lorellan was his benefactor, he still killed a man of his. For no cause. He made up a reason he did it. But the real reason was that beneath the lies, he still knew Lorellan and all his people were enemies. His body moved according to the truth he knew.”

“The sorcerer wishes to teach everyone this,” my father said, his tone dry.

My mother nodded thoughtfully. “Everyone should wish to learn it. Our tales agree that even when a sorcerer holds a person’s mind in his fist, still the body may move as that person should wish to move.”

Aras bowed in acknowledgment. “This is exactly true, and I am glad your tales explain this. Ryo’s advantage was that I had taught him some of these things before we met Lorellan. His other advantage . . .” he stopped. Then he said, still in taksu but now speaking only to me, as though we were alone. “Your other advantage was that, despite everything Lorellan did to you, even though I had failed you completely, you still trusted me to help you. That was why you came to me that night. I failed you again. I could do nothing.”

I bowed my head. It seemed too private a thing to speak of. But I was not surprised he spoke of it. I already knew he was ruthless. He had spared himself no more than me in that admission.

“So you had won my son’s trust,” observed my mother. “How long did that take you?”

This was the kind of question she always asked. Aras did not seem surprised. He merely considered and then answered, “Not long. I could not help but trust him because I saw his heart, and it is your son’s nature to give trust where he receives it.”

I lowered my eyes, embarrassed, but my mother smiled. “You are right. That is true. That is my son’s nature. Did he know then that you are a sorcerer?”

“No. He was very upset when he learned that. I was careless to let him realize, but it is hard for me to guard myself against a man whom I know is honest and trustworthy.”

My mother smiled again. “What is your name and your tribe—your house?”

“My name is Aras Eren Samaura. I am lord of Gaur—a county a little to the east, not so very far south of the borderlands. I am a scepter-holder for my king, who is my uncle, my mother’s brother. In some matters, I think you would say I am the arm of my king.”

“You are a powerful man.”

“In the summer country, when I am not so careless as to be taken in an ambush by my enemies, yes. Here, I am completely dependent on the generosity of your people.”

My mother nodded. “Here, Ryo inGara is a son of the lord of the inGara, which is a powerful tribe: not the first nor the second nor the third, but perhaps the fourth and not less than the fifth. Many tribes are our allies. Some are our dependents. Our enemies respect us. Any of our enemies would have put my son to death and been satisfied. No one would have thought the sacrifice was not enough. You took him alive instead, and took him into the summer country. There, he was completely dependent on your generosity. When that was so, what did you put into his hands?”

Aras hesitated.

I said, “He gave me his hospitality: he made me a guest of his house. He gave me his trust: he put his own knife into my hands. He gave me his friendship: he told me private things of his life in return for the private things he saw of mine.”

My mother nodded thoughtfully. “When you brought him into the winter country, my son, what did you give him in return?”

“Blows and bitterness.”

“Ryo,” Aras said.

I bowed to acknowledge the reproof. Straightening, I said, “I protected him from myself as well as I could. I guarded him against the cold and the dangers of the winter country. I persuaded my father to spare his life, even though he is a sorcerer. I brought him to the tent of my mother.”

“A sound beginning,” my mother said, without the least hint of a smile. “But not enough.” At last addressing my father, she said gravely, “My husband, if my guest asks anything of the inGara, it is the wish of your wife that you hear him, if your judgment allows.”

My father nodded. He said to Aras, “If you would ask anything of the inGara, I will hear your request.”

Aras straightened his back, drawing a slow breath and letting it out. “I am an enemy of Serat Aneka Tasaras. He is lord of a county called Lorellan, south and west of mine. He intends to seize power in the summer country, casting down my king.” He turned to Royova inVotaro. “He intends to use the people of the winter country to do this. He has already begun. You said that the war goes both too badly and too well in the east?”

Royova tilted his head. “Do you not see in my mind what has happened there?”

“Anything you explain out loud is clearer to me, lord.”

“Do not address him that way,” I said quickly in darau. “He is not a lord. Say ‘warleader’ or call him by name.”

Aras nodded. “Thank you, Ryo. Should I apologize for my mistake?”

“You should always apologize for a mistake.”

His mouth relaxed in genuine humor. “Of course I should.” He turned to Royova and said in taksu, “I apologize for addressing you incorrectly, warleader of the inVotaro. I did not intend offense. I will take your blow for it if you wish.”

Royova had an ironic look in his eyes; I was more and more certain he must speak at least some darau. He said gravely, “The mistake was too small to offend.” Then he glanced at Darra and his tone hardened. “But this is not so for all the faults we may reasonably set against your people. Let us first consider how the complications began. Darra inKarano, daughter of our king, will explain how that happened.”

Darra bowed her head politely. She was a young woman, having one winter less than I, but already a singer and respected by everyone. I had been among the Lau so long I looked at her now with a new appreciation. Her beauty was very different from the beauty of a young Lau woman: she was softly rounded everywhere, cheeks and breasts and hips. She was everything a man would want in a woman. But there was a shadow in her eyes, in her face, in the set of her mouth, that had not been there when last I had met her. Her quiet now was not like the serene quiet of the Moon. It was like the stillness of the lioness who waits for the deer to walk below her tree. Beneath Darra’s calm ran a new anger, deeper than the river.

She said in taksu, “I went to the borderlands, to the town called Erem Sen, because the wife of the lord there, a woman called Lady Marotau, sent to the inKarano. She asked for someone to come and discuss whether the problems with trade might be examined.” Her voice was quiet, pitched low for a woman. I knew that among the singers, she sang the lower harmonies. She spoke with her eyes modestly lowered because she was so much younger than my mother. But modesty was not Darra’s true nature. I had seen her at every convocation since we were children, and I knew how forceful she was beneath her demure air. Whatever offense had been given her, I thought her nature had not changed. I hoped her nature had not changed, despite the bitterness that lay barely concealed beneath her calm manner.

She went on steadily, not looking up. “This woman sent one letter and then another and then a third. She said to the inKarano that men of both our peoples might be pleased to raid and fight and burn homes laboriously raised up, but she thought the war had lasted long enough and perhaps women might settle matters more sensibly. I said to my aunt that I should go there, and then I said so to my father, and finally they agreed. So I went there, with an escort of inKarano women and inVotaro warriors. All seemed well. Lady Marotau received me graciously.” Darra paused. Raising her gaze, she looked at me. Then she looked at Aras. When she went on, her voice had hardened. “But when I went aside with this lady to discuss all these matters, the lord of that county, her husband, met us and sent his wife away, saying that he would speak to me himself, that his wife had no more understanding of matters of trade than his dog. Speaking of any woman so slightingly was an insult and an offense to me, but I would have permitted it to pass. But Lord Marotau offered greater insult. I will not repeat his words or refer to his actions. Nothing of that is fit for male ears.”

I did not like to imagine the kind of insult it might have been. And this to a daughter of Koro inKarano himself. I saw by Royova’s still face and hooded gaze how angry he still was at all that had happened there.

“I came away,” continued Darra. “I told Royova inVotaro, who had escorted me to that place, the part that was fit to tell. I told him this Lau lord wanted the war to become bitter and we should give him what he wished. I did not know then that a sorcerer might also want that. Since that time—”

“If I may,” Aras interrupted her. Royova raised his eyebrows, frowning. Aras bowed his head and said, “I beg your pardon. I did not mean to be discourteous. I have something important to say. Darra inKarano, no such insult was given. The offensive actions you remember did not occur. That whole memory is false.”

-26-

I had seen how his hands tensed and relaxed before he began to speak, and I think I had guessed from that what he would say before he spoke. But I was still surprised. I would never grow accustomed to suspecting such a thing might have happened. Royova inKarano set a hand on the hilt of his sword, though his expression did not change.

Darra inKarano frowned as well, her attention turning inward. “I remember it clearly.”

“That is how it is,” I told her.

She transferred the frown to me. Then she lifted her chin slightly. “False memories should fade.”

“They should, and do,” Aras agreed. “But our enemy is very powerful, and he has a way of linking his lies to compulsions that makes those lies hard to reject. Also, because you hate the memory, you will not let yourself look at it. Thus the false memory remains tightly woven into your mind. I need to lift the compulsion and show you the falsity.”

Darra looked at once to Royova, saying forcefully, “I do not want any sorcerer to touch my mind!”

Royova tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, studying Aras. My father set a hand to his sword, though he did not look directly at anyone. I rocked forward, ready to come to my feet.

In the midst of all this sudden tension, Aras bowed his head. He said softly, “It is very important to see the truth. Perhaps your real memory will tell us nothing useful, but perhaps it will tell us something important. I must lift this false memory whether you give me permission or not, but I would prefer—”

I was already moving, putting myself between Aras and Royova inVotaro. My brother was almost as fast. Garoyo did not draw his sword, but he seized Royova’s arms, preventing him from drawing his own. They braced like that, strength against strength. For a heartbeat, anything might have happened.

Then my mother said, her words measured, “Certainly my guest will not set any kind of sorcery upon any person here without permission. My guest, please agree.”

“I agree. I will not do such a thing,” Aras said at once. His eyes were wide. We had all surprised him. I thought emotions must have been running too high for him to understand what would happen when he said that. My mother’s words had shown him the problem when I had not realized I should explain.

“Then surely none of my guests will break the peace of my tent,” my mother said firmly.

Another heartbeat passed. Then Royova said quietly, “I will step back.”

Garoyo answered immediately, “I will as well.” Both of them did so, easing away from each other.

My mother said, “All my guests should sit down. Let us pause. For forty breaths, let no one speak.”

Everyone sat down again. My father moved his hand from the hilt of his sword. Etta rose and added honey to the tisane, to sweeten the moment and soften hard tempers.

After the pause, Royova sighed. He said to my father, “I should not have attempted to draw against your wife’s guest in her tent, no matter the provocation. I apologize. I will take your blow for it if you wish.”

My father stood up, crossed the width of the tent, and hit Royova across the face, hard enough to snap his head to the side. He said grimly, “I forgive the insult. I do not forget it. There will not be any repetition.”

Royova straightened, blinking. “There will not,” he agreed. He looked at my brother. “Warleader of the inGara, I apologize to you as well, and ask you to forgive my discourtesy. I do not consider there is any reason for a quarrel.”

“I forgive it, and I agree,” Garoyo said.

I thought none of that was important. I said urgently, “I ask the singer of the inKarano to permit this sorcerer to lift the false memory. It would be better if she agrees.”

Darra glared at me. “And if you are mistaken regarding the nature of your sorcerer?” she demanded. Her voice was tight and angry. “I notice that you have been in his company for many days. I mean no offense when I wonder whether your opinions may be reliable!”

I nodded. “At first all those doubts were also mine. But these doubts were answered by this sorcerer’s actions over many days. Darra, please agree. This would be better for you as well as for everyone.”

Darra drew a sharp breath to answer me. But Aras said softly, “Singer of the inKarano, beneath the false memory, you know what is true. I mean no offense when I say you are too angry and too afraid. If you consider, you will realize the force of those emotions in your mind is not natural. Those feelings have been made into a compulsion. I ask you to consider whether my words are true.”

Darra inKarano sat back, surprised and thoughtful as well as angry. She began to take the deep, slow breaths singers use to settle their minds and steady their voices. After some time, she said, “That may be true. Perhaps it is so.” She drew one more long breath and let it out. Finally she said, “I think that is so.” She turned to me. “You have no doubts?”

“Many,” I told her. “But not of this sorcerer’s generous nature. The lies our enemy put into your mind hurt you. You should permit Aras to lift away those lies and show you what is true.”

Darra looked at me for another long moment. Finally she braced herself like a warrior expecting a blow, turned to Aras, and said, “Very well. You may do this.”

Aras nodded. He looked at her steadily.

Darra jumped to her feet. I began to stand, but Royova was already up, gripping her arms, holding her firmly. I sat down. Darra did not cry out, but she blinked, and blinked again. She frowned. She drew a long breath, raised a hand to her forehead, and lowered it again. “That is very strange,” she commented. Her tone was calm, but her voice shook a little.

“Yes,” I agreed, heartfelt.

She looked at me. “Yes,” she said. “So. You may let me go, Royova.” When he did, slowly, cautious, she sat down again and said to me, not looking at the inVotaro warleader, “You were right to insist, Ryo. No one should set any fault against your sorcerer for demanding this.” She paused. Then she bowed her head. “Everything was different. The insult I remembered was never given.” Then she turned to Royova and said, “The first part was almost as I remembered: Lady Marotau came and showed me a place apart, but then she went away. Lord Marotau came instead, and also another man. This man I did not remember at all until now. Everything else was the same to the time when Lord Marotau said his wife knew less than his dog about trade.”

“After that, it is different?” said Royova.

“It is very different. Lord Marotau did not insult me as I remembered. He said, ‘You might as well try to negotiate with wild animals. You might as well say wolves and bears own land as say Ugaro own it.’” Her lip curled. “He thought himself brave to say such a thing, but he was not speaking to me when he said it. He was speaking to this other man. The other man said, ‘A short, victorious war often brings great things for the man who wins it.’ Lord Marotau laughed and said, ‘You are ambitious to think we can eradicate the barbarians, but push them back into the steppe and claim the forests, why not? Anyone who can do that deserves great things. But the Ugaro are dangerous.’ The other man said, ‘Not to me, and you don’t mind dying in a great cause, do you, Marotau?’ Lord Marotau laughed and said not at all, he looked forward to it. I thought he was joking.” She looked inward for a long moment at that memory. Then she said to Aras, “He was not joking. He was a slave of the sorcerer. I did not understand until the sorcerer began to change my memory. Then I knew. But it was too late.”

“Yes,” Aras said. “You understand, our enemy deliberately arranged matters so that an important woman would come there. He must have been very pleased that a daughter of Koro inKarano came. He altered your memory so that you would be angry not at him, but at Lord Marotau and at the people of Erem Sen. Then he built your anger into a compulsion so that you would demand bitterness against those people. You would not rest until Lord Marotau was dead and the town burned to the ground, all its people dead. He wanted to push the war to a much more bitter level.”

“Yes,” Darra agreed, frowning darkly. “I see that now.”

Aras nodded. “Once he had put that false memory and the compulsion into your mind, he could turn his attention to me. He must have been very pleased you came to him just when you did. The timing of events favored him from that moment on. He hardly had to bait me at all to push me into doing as he wished.”

“A clever man,” Royova commented. “More clever than you?”

“Perhaps. He certainly took the initiative, and kept it, until Ryo inGara broke it. He may have been too clever. If he had simply killed me himself rather than setting compulsions on Ryo to do it, I would be dead and he would be rid of his most dangerous enemy.”

Royova raised his eyebrows. “Why would he do such a thing? For the pleasure of it?”

“He might have found that enough reason,” Aras said wryly. But then he said, “No, warleader, he meant for my own people to find my body. He wanted them to see all the marks of a terrible death, and he wanted them to set the fault against Ryo and all Ugaro. Their rage would have made them less mindful and thus more vulnerable to his power, when ordinarily they would be difficult for him to influence.”

“Difficult for him because they belong to you.”

Royova spoke without emphasis, and no one flinched that I saw, but Aras glanced at me, aware of my alarm. Turning back to Royova, he said, “They are my people because I am their lord. They belong to me in the way that the inGara people belong to the lord of the inGara, not in any other way. Of course I protect them as well as I can, with all the abilities I possess.”

The inVotaro warleader could not object to that. He nodded thoughtfully.

“It was not really over-clever. It ought to have worked. Ryo resisted everything Lorellan did to him far better than either of us suspected he could. It was a lesson to me regarding the limits of sorcery. It may have been a lesson to Lorellan as well, but I hope he is too arrogant to have learned it.” Aras picked up his bowl, but then he only held it, thinking. Finally he said to Royova, “Some things are clear to me now. Lorellan needs a series of atrocities to engage the attention of my people to the south, who are not ordinarily very concerned with matters having to do with the borderlands. To achieve that, he needed to bring many Ugaro warriors to him, out of the high north, to the southern forests where he could get at them. He will enthrall as many as he can and kill the rest.”

“Can he enslave many Ugaro at once?” Royova asked, frowning.

“I believe he can, especially as he gains a better feel for your people. He is a much more powerful sorcerer than I am, warleader.”

“That is very unfortunate.”

“Yes, I could not agree more, especially given that the warriors of at least three tribes have put themselves into his hands.”

“Have they?” my father asked Royova.

The inVotaro warleader sighed. “Yes. If all this is true, then I have probably sent many of my own warriors into that danger. Also many of the inYoraro and the inKera—”

I straightened. “The inKera?”

“The inKera are our enemies,” my father said, frowning at my reaction.

“Yes,” I acknowledged, though in my surprise and dismay, I had actually forgotten this. “But Hokino inKera is a brave and honorable man. He was generous when he came upon us in the forest—”

My father held up his hand, stopping me. “You met the warleader of the inKera in the forest?” he asked. “In their own territory? While you were mad, and in company with a Lau sorcerer who is also a warleader and the arm of the summer king? What explanation could you possibly have offered Hokino inKera at such a moment?”

My face grew hot. “I did not mean to meet anyone until we came to inGara lands. My carelessness was disgraceful, lord. I had no choice but to ask him to believe that I had not brought the Lau warleader into the winter country for any disgraceful purpose, even though I could not explain anything. I am still astonished he believed me, but Hokino inKera was extraordinarily generous to me—to us both.”

My father frowned at me. Then he said to Royova, “What happens to an enemy tribe is of little concern to inGara. But recently I have decided I might consider a request to cease enmity with the inKera should such a request come to me. Tell us what has happened.”

Royova nodded. He said, “In addition to inKarano and inVotaro, we gathered six tribes to strike against the borderlands at Erem Sen and east and west of that town: inSeniko, inTerika, inYoraro, inKatara, inGerenaro, and inKera.”

This made sense to all of us who knew those tribes and the way their territories lay.

“I was first among the warleaders there. At first my strategy seemed good. We began at Erem Sen. We lured Marotau and his soldiers into the winter country and killed them all. Then we destroyed the town. I meant for the Lau to come in force to that area. But they delayed. I grew impatient and suggested other towns that might be destroyed in the same way.” He looked at Aras. “Now I think your enemy wished me to provoke your people. I think he caused this delay because he wished Ugaro to burn more towns. If he wished that, he succeeded. Of the towns I meant to destroy, only Kosa Sen and Loran Sen remain undamaged. I think that was your doing. I think your enemy had his way elsewhere.”

“Our enemy. Yes, warleader, I think everything you say is correct. Loran Sen was defended successfully?”

“It was.”

Aras sat back, nodding thoughtfully. He made no further comment, but asked, “What happened after that?”

Royova considered him. Then he said, “Eventually, as I intended, many-many Lau crossed the river into the territories of the inKera and the inYoraro. I had set my own warriors to support those tribes. Tirowa inYoraro and Soro inKera should have sent me word of their victories; or if our strategies had gone badly, they should have sent word of that. No one came. I sent men to see. Some of those men returned, but others did not. Then at last warning finally made its way to me: word that a sorcerer might be using this war for his own purposes. I think now that warning came too late. The sorcerer had already come upon us.” Royova paused again.

I asked quietly, “This was the warning that Hokino inKera brought? Had that warning been delayed in some unusual manner, warleader? I would have thought it would come to you much faster than that.”

Royova gave me a long, measuring look and then a slow nod. “It had been delayed by ordinary problems ... or I thought so then. Now I wonder if the man who brought that warning might have been the sorcerer’s fool.”

Aras said, “This is not unlikely. That tactic was one our enemy used against me.”

Another nod. “I was considering what I should do next. Then word came from Lutra inGeiro, regarding another sorcerer here. So I came to see. Now I understand better what our enemy wishes to do. I thought I was drawing many Lau soldiers into my trap, but I think now I sent many Ugaro warriors into his trap. I think he means to use them in such a way as to create bitter feeling among all our tribes. Some he will use to inflict atrocities against the summer country, creating bitterness there as well.”

Aras sighed. “Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Yes, warleader, I think this is exactly so. Certain things that have happened in the summer country over the past few years make far more sense to me now. He means to use your people to make the southern counties support his war. I am sure he means to unseat my king through, no doubt, a complicated series of machinations.” That word was in darau. It was not a common word. I said in taksu, “Schemes.”

“Yes, thank you, Ryo. Schemes. He probably first means to use your warriors to destroy my own soldiers. Too many of them know about him, and he will fear I am not dead and might return to challenge him. He will have difficulty enthralling—enslaving—them, and even if he does enslave them, I may be able to free them if I can come near them. Therefore they will be a danger to him. He will want to kill them all. I hope he may not find this as easy as he hopes, but he will probably try.”

“Some of your people will have escaped when he ambushed us,” I said. I was asking for reassurance, but I made my words confident. “Geras will have escaped, and some of the others. Talon Commander Harana knows some of this, and he will have learned more. He will be careful. Lorellan will not be able to do as he wishes.”

“I certainly hope you’re right,” Aras said gently in darau. Then he switched back to taksu and went on, his manner once more calm. “If Lorellan can take the borderlands, he will not need to enslave many southern Lau in order to seize power more broadly. After what he has arranged, he expects to be acclaimed. But I think he plans more widely than that. The things Darra inKarano heard explain glimpses I saw in Lorellan’s mind. I think he means to harness the dedicated strength of the summer country to drive your people far into the north. He will claim your forests for the summer country, possibly forcing the river itself to shift north. I expect he intends to trade timber to the country of the Son of the Sun ... well, that is not important now.” Aras paused. Then he said, “I think he need not have everything as he wishes. But striking at him will be difficult. Among other problems, it will be difficult because if anyone but me comes near him, he will see that person’s thoughts. Yet in order to destroy him, we have to lay plans; and to carry them out, we must face him.”

He was right. Whenever a powerful sorcerer made this kind of trouble, someone had to risk everything to come near enough to kill him. My stomach tightened at the thought of any Ugaro warrior, perhaps someone I knew—my brother, even my father—making that attempt and failing. Being brought before Lorellan. I tried not to imagine that, but the images were hard to push out of my mind.

For the first time, I realized that I would never have the courage to risk such a thing myself. The mere thought sickened me: a powerful, appalling wave of nausea. Lorellan had taught me fear, which I had known, but I saw now I had allowed him to teach me true cowardice. I would never have the courage to go anywhere near him. If I realized he was approaching, if I feared he might seize my mind, do to me again the things he had done before, I would forget everything else and bolt for the high north, where no Lau could follow.

I did not want to believe this of myself. But I knew it was true. I lowered my eyes, drawing a slow breath as I struggled with this new knowledge.

“Stop!” Aras said to me sharply in darau. “Fear is natural. But if you had to face him again, you would do it. Don’t condemn yourself for cowardice now, in advance of a trial you haven’t faced and wouldn’t fail.”

I stared at him. Then I said coldly, “My mother speaks darau.” Darra also spoke darau, but I was far too embarrassed to say that.

“Your mother knew what you were thinking almost as clearly as I did. She couldn’t speak to your fear because she isn’t a warrior and it’s not a woman’s place to correct you in matters of courage or honor.”

My mother was pretending to be lost in thought about something else. My sister had turned to Darra, and they were speaking quietly to each other, pretending they were not listening. This did not help at all. “It is not your place to correct me either,” I reminded Aras, even more coldly. “You no longer hold authority over me.”

His head went back a little. He had forgotten this. But he said, every word sharp and precise, “I have the right of a warleader to correct a warrior, and the right of an older man to correct a younger, and, Ryo, I am not going to keep silent when you are that badly mistaken.”

Though I had not realized I was going to move, I found myself on my feet. Aras did not flinch, though his mouth tightened. He said, still in darau, “I will not apologize. You may strike me if you wish.”

I stared at him, now truly furious. “You know I will not strike you!”

“I can’t be sure when you’re this angry. I’m fairly certain your people would say I had earned a blow, and I don’t think I would be able to disagree.” But then he said more gently, “Ryo, this is a young man’s mistake. If you were older, you would know better. If this concerned someone else, you already know better. Do you think your brother would feel differently in your place? Geras? Even Esau? Would you accuse them of cowardice? Would you doubt they would each do whatever they had to do, if they came to the moment? Think of Suyet. If he thought he was too afraid to face some trial, you would tell him what I’m telling you now. It’s wrong for you to judge yourself by so harsh a standard, especially one you know is false if it’s set against anyone else.”

He was right. I could see it when he said it that way. Sitting down again, I said in taksu, not very graciously, “I take no offense.”

For a little space, no one said anything. Royova watched Aras, his expression thoughtful. I remembered that he, too, might speak some darau. If he did, I did not want to know it. I did not look at anyone. My sister got up and came to sit beside me. She leaned her head on my shoulder. That made me feel a little better. She said, “If you go to face our enemy, I wish to go as well,” and that made me forget about myself completely.

“No,” Aras and my father said together, in exactly the same tone. My father raised his eyebrows, and Aras flung up his hands in complete exasperation. “I cannot help it! Very well! I apologize, lord. I had no right to speak. If you wish, I will take your blow for it.”

“Your nature is not that of a humble man,” my father observed. “No rebuke would teach you to be humble. You are not inGara; I am not responsible for your manners. I believe I will not trouble myself.”

Aras smiled, but then he bowed his head. “You are a generous man, Sinowa inGara. I am glad of it, because I have a suggestion you will not like.”

My father’s eyes narrowed, but he said, “I will listen.”

“I sent my nephew—a talon commander, an important warleader of mine—west. This was many days ago. He was to take three talons, set himself in the way of Ugaro raiding parties and looking for certain signs that might indicate a sorcerer had been putting his will on people in that part of the borderlands. He had a list of names—well, that is not important. Some days ago, I sent men of mine to him with information and advice. Now I would like to send someone again. This must be a person who speaks good darau. Someone intelligent and brave. Someone willing to permit me to set a false memory into her mind—”

“Oh!” said Etta, sitting up straight. “You mean me! I would not be afraid of that!” She turned eagerly to our father. “I would—”

“No,” he said flatly. Now he was not amused at all. His shoulders and back had tightened. He was angry, but he did not move.

My brother frowned, but said nothing. Royova inVotaro watched my father, his expression unreadable. My mother merely waited, perfectly calm. I thought this suggestion must have surprised her, but she did not show that. Darra inKarano tried to put on that same imperturbable air, but she was not old enough to show that unbroken serenity. The suggestion had distressed and angered her. I said, not quite looking at Darra, “When Aras does such a thing, it is not the same as when Lorellan does it. The false memory would not hurt Etta.”

“It would not hurt her,” Aras agreed. “But the lord of the inGara is not afraid I would hurt his daughter that way. He is afraid something else might happen that would hurt her.” He looked steadily at my father. “Sinowa inGara, there is no safety in life or in living. But right now, any Ugaro woman who goes to my nephew may be safer than any woman who stays anywhere in the forests, even as far north as this. I need someone to carry this message for me. Who else would be a better choice?”

“I would do it,” I said, glancing back and forth between Aras and my father. I feared my father would declare himself bitterly offended; I did not know what might happen then. But neither of them even glanced at me.

“I need you for something else,” Aras told me, but even then he did not look away from my father. “Lord, I would not suggest this if I thought it was too dangerous. Her eldest brother could go with her to protect her from the dangers of the winter country—”

Garoyo began to speak, but Aras lifted a hand with such authority that he checked himself, though he frowned. Aras had already forgotten again that he held no right to command, and his gesture had been so assured that for that instant my brother had forgotten it as well. I knew our father had not. But he only listened, his eyes hooded, as Aras went on. “Garoyo could make certain my own men were there before Etta crossed the river. He could go into the summer country with her. There, he would protect her from any offense and she would also protect him from any misunderstanding. My nephew would make certain that no one insulted your daughter. He is an important asset. It is time to bring him into play.” He used a darau term from sestaket for that last phrase.

I said, “The moment is upon us when we should take up the knife left ready to the side.”

“I understood,” my father said shortly. He had never looked away from Aras. His stare was hard.

“I would not expect anything else,” Aras said. “I would not protest. But will you consider my suggestion?”

“I think,” said my father, “that you are not very accustomed to offering suggestions.”

Aras blinked. He drew a breath, let it out, and bowed to the floor. “Lord.”

My father said curtly to Royova, “You and I should talk.” He jerked his head at Garoyo as well, stood up and walked out.

Royova barely smiled. He said to Aras, “Not remotely humble.” Then he stood up and followed my father. Aras straightened slowly, gazing after them.

My brother glanced at me, but he said to Etta, his tone resigned, “Try not to seem so enthusiastic. That is not at all appropriate.”

Our sister only laughed. “I would like to see the summer lands and the Lau,” she told Garoyo. “Do not scowl so! I know this is important! You do not need to say so!” Garoyo tilted his head skeptically, but his mouth crooked out of its stern expression. Etta went on earnestly, “I would not embarrass our father or our people. Tell Father I would not! I speak very good darau, you know I do, and I am not afraid of our sorcerer.”

“You are not afraid of anything,” Garoyo said, his tone dry. “I do not need to tell him that.” He got to his feet and went out, walking quickly to catch up with the older men.

Aras sighed, a long breath, and pressed his hands over his eyes. He said in darau, “You might have corrected me before it was too late, Ryo.”

“My father is not irretrievably offended,” I told him. “Did you think so?”

“I couldn’t quite tell. He’s furious. I don’t blame him. I shouldn’t have proposed anything of the kind ... at least not today. But tomorrow would have been no better, and the days rush past ... I’m surprised he didn’t hit me.”

“My husband feared that if he raised his hand, my son might put himself between you. He would not risk such a thing before the witness of Royova inVotaro,” my mother explained. I looked at her in surprise, but she went on, her manner perfectly serene. “Darra, what would you say to your father if my daughter took this false memory and went into the summer lands, as our sorcerer suggests?”

Etta stilled.

Darra considered her folded hands. She said eventually, “I would tell my father that Marag inGara approved, so probably it was not a terrible idea.” She glanced at Aras. “I would tell my father that this sorcerer is far too arrogant to be false-hearted, that a man who wished to deceive would be more circumspect. I would tell him that the sorcerer is forceful in correcting mistakes, and that his judgment seems good to me.” She glanced at me and then away again. I knew she was thinking of what Aras had said to me about courage. I looked away, my face hot.

Darra pretended not to notice. She said, “I think I might say that Ryo inGara has been changed by the things that have happened to him, but that a man is changed by everything important that happens. I think I might say it is too early to know whether the change is a good thing or a bad thing.”

I had not expected her to say that last part. I could not declare she was wrong, but I had to make a sharp effort to stay where I was rather than jumping to my feet and walking out.

“Perhaps both,” my mother suggested. “As is often true for important changes that come to the heart.” She picked up the pot of tisane and offered it to Aras. “Do not fear my husband,” she said. “That is not something I would say to an Ugaro warrior, but I do not think you will be offended.”

“I cannot imagine I would be offended by anything you say, singer.” Aras held out his bowl and allowed my mother to fill it.

“My husband is swift to anger and his anger is slow to ebb,” my mother told him. “But he never permits his anger to rule his hand. Let your heart be calm, and tell me of your nephew, and your people, and your country.”

That was when I knew my father would permit my sister to go south, with my brother to escort her. I was grateful because it meant neither of them would go east, toward Lorellan.

Then it occurred to me that this was not a chance benefit of the suggestion. When I turned toward Aras, he was already looking in my direction. When I met his eyes, he lifted one shoulder in a tiny shrug and I knew my thought had been true: he did think it important to send a message to Talon Commander Samaura, and he did think Etta would be a good choice for that and Garoyo a good choice to escort her. But he had also suggested my sister and my brother because he wanted to protect them for my sake.

He did not say anything to this thought. He only lowered his gaze to the bowl he held. But I knew it was true.

-27-

We traveled through the northern forests of the winter country: twice twenty and ten inGara warriors, and more than that inGeiro, and some inVotaro besides. Darra inKarano and some of the inVotaro warriors took a different direction. Obviously they would go to Koro inKarano. I wondered what our king would think when he heard all the things that had been happening. He might think that Aras had made all of us into his slaves and his fools. I hoped he would not think that. Darra would say otherwise. But then Koro might think our sorcerer had made Darra his fool. There was no end to the doubts a sorcerer scattered along his path; that was one reason we Ugaro hated sorcerers so much. But there was nothing I could do in that matter.

All the rest of the women, except my sister, would go north, into the high steppe. I was sorry Garoyo was not with us, but very glad he had gone south with our sister. More than anything, I was grateful the gods had been so kind as to allow me a better parting with my brother. I held to that thought to turn my mind away from other thoughts that were less good.

We traveled almost the same route by which I had brought Aras, but this time we traveled by dog sledge, which is by far the best way to travel when the deep snows come. Our dogs are bored in the warm season and happy when snows come; they love to pull. To travel in that way, a man stands at the back of the sledge to direct the dogs, his partner running alongside, then trading places as he grows weary.

Aras did not travel like a warrior, or even like a woman. He rode upon my sledge like a bundle of supplies, wrapped in furs, even his face covered. The first night, I fought one warrior and then another who made comments about this—bare hands, of course; the offense was not severe enough to demand knives. The first was an inGara warrior, a young man named Keyova, who was ordinarily my friend. He was ashamed of his words when he saw I thought them shameful, so he did not fight hard. The second was an inGeiro man, older than I, and heavier. That was a hard fight, but I won. If Esau had not taught me to wrestle, the matter have might have gone otherwise.

Aras said nothing about the fighting. Neither did my father, except to observe, as I packed snow against a bruise afterward, that as I had so much strength that I wished to waste it in fighting, I might do well to run beside the sledge all the next day and give the dogs less work.

“Yes,” I said cheerfully. I was glad to have fought and glad to have won. I did not mind the bruises and, as I could see he was not angry, I did not mind my father’s punishment.

The next day, I ran beside the sledge. Keyova came to run beside me, and by the end of the day we were friends again. I was very tired by the evening, but it was a good feeling. I felt as though the cold and the exercise and the wide forest and Keyova’s friendship had worn away some brittle edge I had not known was there, that had been left from the dark things that had happened.

The evening after that, to my complete astonishment, my father suddenly stood up from beside the inVotaro fire, where he had been talking to Royova inVotaro. Drawing his knife, he threw it into the snow at the feet of an inVotaro warrior, a younger man who evidently had not learned to keep his tongue between his teeth when he should.

My father never bothered to fight anyone; no inGara warrior would have dreamed of challenging him. But he fought this man. He won so quickly and decisively that anyone could see his arm was strong with pride and anger and the other man’s arm weighed down by shame. When the inVotaro man knelt to acknowledge defeat, my father struck him two hard blows across the face, so if that fight had involved knives, it was plain how it would have ended.

As the man was inVotaro, I was afraid Royova might be angry, even though the fight had not ended in blood. But he only stood by with his arms folded and no expression on his face. After my father won, he paused and looked at Royova. They nodded to each other before my father walked away, so probably there was no trouble between them—no additional trouble.

Rakasa inGeiro, a man a little older than I, eldest son of the inGeiro warleader, stood beside me to watch that fight. Afterward he said to me, “That should soften hard tempers. No one will want to offend your father after seeing that. I hope my arm is as strong when I am that age.”

He was smiling, so I smiled in return and answered, “My father’s arm has lost none of its strength, as I have had reason enough to know.”

Rakasa laughed. “I have no doubt of it,” he said in the same friendly way. “My father’s arm is the same.” He tilted his head toward the fire he shared with some other young men. “Come tell us about the summer lands, Ryo. We are all very curious. Does your Lau wish to come to the fire? We will build it high so that he does not freeze to death.”

His manner was a little mocking, but still in a friendly way. If he was afraid of Aras, that did not show at all, so I went with him to his fire. Many of the younger warriors were there. Aras came, settling as close to the fire as he could get. To help make sure no one said anything I would have to notice, I described how, as I had ridden south, the heat quickly became so great I had not been able to tolerate the Sun’s power. “I did not know a man might die of the heat,” I said. “How should I guess such a thing might be possible? I was so sick I did not know anything for three days.”

“Three days!” a young man said, disbelieving. “Because of the Sun!” His name was Bara; he was an inGeiro, Rakasa’s friend. He mimed astonishment, but in a way that made the other young men laugh at him rather than at me.

I laughed too, but I said seriously, “The Lau find the same heat comfortable. Both peoples have their strengths.”

“The Lau are weak, even in their own country,” a different man commented, not quite looking at me.

This was the inVotaro warrior who had fought my father. I pretended I had forgotten that. “It is not their nature to be as strong as Ugaro.” I told him. “They learn to fight in ways that make their weakness less important. Some of them can beat me in a bare-handed fight.”

The inVotaro man looked me up and down. “Could any of them beat your father?”

I smiled. “That is not very likely. I have never seen a Lau who could match my father at anything.”

The man grunted, satisfied. He stood up and walked away.

Aras said quietly to me in darau, “This was the man whom your father fought?”

I glanced at him in astonishment. “Yes, of course. Did you not recognize him?”

He smiled. “Only by the bruise on his face. Many of your people look very much alike to me, Ryo. I no longer think it strange that you had such difficulty recognizing one Lau from another.”

I had been staring at him. Now I laughed. “I was afraid all the time I would make a mistake and embarrass myself completely. You knew, of course.”

“Yes, and I was arrogant enough to think it was your own particular failing, or perhaps a failing of the Ugaro, rather than a failing we Lau might share, I as much as any other man.”

“Does your sorcery not tell you?”

“Well, a lot of them are thinking very nearly the same thoughts when they look at me. Would it help if I fought someone? With swords, obviously. I would not dare wrestle you strong young Ugaro warriors.”

“We have no practice blades. No. Do not suggest such a thing.” Then I thought again.

“I would be perfectly happy to spar Royova. I’m reasonably confident he could avoid injuring me.”

I laughed, hearing that exactly as he intended. “Arrogant Lau. He is a very great warrior. He would win, but he would not injure you unless he meant to. Your sorcery should tell you whether he would do such a thing . . .” Unless the inVotaro warleader decided to do it impulsively, during the match.

“I don’t believe he would do anything of the kind. Later it might be different, but right now he’s almost certain Lorellan is a much worse threat than I am.”

So. That was probably true. Perhaps such a match might be a good thing, if it showed everyone that Aras was not a man to despise.

He smiled and rose, touching my shoulder lightly. “Go tell your father about the heat sickness, Ryo. I think he might like to hear about that from you, not from a chance comment another man makes.”

He was right, so I went to my father’s tent to do that. Every evening I had been telling my father a little. He always listened carefully, seldom asking questions. This night, after I had knelt to greet him and he had gestured that I might sit, I said first, “I hope matters are calm between you and Royova.”

My father lifted one shoulder to say he did not care about Royova inVotaro’s opinion. But he said, “Royova knows the man was stupid to speak to me in that way. That man was born inTarana and believes his new name means he may speak as he pleases, even to me. If I had not fought him, very likely Royova would have beaten him for embarrassing the inVotaro.”

“He said you were the sorcerer’s dog.” I knew that must have been the insult.

But my father said, “No, Ryo, he said you were.”

I looked at him. Then I said, “I should have fought him. I would have won.”

“Of course you would have won,” my father agreed. “But when young men fight, no one pays attention. When I fight someone, everyone notices. Now everyone will know better than to speak so carelessly.”

This was true. I said, not very graciously, “If I fought him now, it might cause trouble with the inVotaro. You would probably beat me for that. I suppose you would be right to do it.”

My father answered seriously, “You are old enough to know what your honor requires. I will not beat you if you fight him. Will you?”

I could feel my face getting hot. “No. You already defended me. Not only might it cause a quarrel between the inGara and the inVotaro, it would make too much of the insult, which you already answered.”

“So,” said my father. “Good.” He sat back, smiling a little. “You are old enough to make wise decisions, Ryo. This is as well, as I would not wish to beat you even if you deserved it.”

I had not realized he had guessed the terror of the whip that still lingered. Embarrassed, I said sharply, “No doubt eventually I will earn a beating from you, and I will stand for it. I will not bring shame either to myself or to you.”

“I am not remotely concerned that you would not stand,” my father answered, not sharply at all. “It is my own heart I guard when I ask you to behave perfectly. I apologize for taking your fight on myself. If an inVotaro warrior speaks carelessly again, you may fight him.”

I stared at him. Then, as I could make no other answer, I bowed. After a little while, when enough time had passed to let the subject turn, I told him about the summer lands and the heat sickness. I told him more than I had said to the young men. I knew that if he did not think less of me for that weakness and confusion, I would not have to think less of myself for it.

He made no comment about my weakness, only said that it might be useful if the early signs of the heat sickness were better known among Ugaro. But he said, as I got up to go, “I remember the problem in the west. So one of your sorcerer’s warleaders was in part responsible for that trouble.”

I stopped and turned back. I did not want to say anything sharp or anything that would cause ill feeling, but I felt I had to speak. I said as respectfully as I could, “Nikoles Ianan was a proud man and a respected warleader. He had made a mistake, but he was ashamed of that and tried to do better. He was kinder to me than I deserved, and he died bravely. I would prefer my father refrain from saying anything against him.”

My father raised his eyebrows. “Wise the man who learns from his mistakes. I meant, your Lau sorcerer took up this man and gave him a way to restore his honor. That was well done. It was the act of a lord who is confident of his own honor.” He paused.

I started to apologize because I had misunderstood him so completely, but he only turned his hand palm up to show he took no offense and told me, “Go to sleep, Ryo, and let me go to sleep as well, or we will both become so hard-tempered with weariness we accidentally offend each other.”

I had to laugh at that. He had responded so kindly, I could only be a little embarrassed I had mistaken his meaning. That comment about hard tempers had not been something he would have said to me a season ago. It was something he would have said to Garoyo.

I went to sleep in the tent I shared with Aras. He did not say anything when I came in, but he smiled.

The next day, we crossed the Little Knife.

The climb was easier with so many men, though the sledges were a nuisance and sometimes the dogs had to be lifted or lowered by their harnesses, which they did not like. Still, we were through to the southern forest well before dusk, arranging shelters and setting up tents as the evening stretched out over the winter country. I looked into the forest and wondered where the inKera might be now. I wondered whether any of their warriors still lived, or whether Lorellan had done to them the things he had made me believe Aras had done to my own people. Or whether he had already forced them to cross the river and do such things to Lau.

“Probably not yet,” Aras said, coming to kneel beside the fire. “I don’t believe he’s gotten quite that far with his plans. I hope not; I would much rather face him here in the north than be forced to try to stop him after he’s already established himself in the summer lands.” He tilted his head back, looking up at the sharp heights of naked stone. He went on, switching to taksu. “This was not bad. I should thank Rakasa and the others for helping me. What is the proper form for that?” He had managed the climb much more easily this time, with warmer clothing and fur-lined mittens and willing hands to help when Lau strength was not enough. Not only Rakasa had helped, but also Rakasa’s friend Bara, and my friend Keyova, and Keyova’s younger brother Tyo, and so we had not had much difficulty even with the worst parts of the climb or the descent.

“One simply expresses gratitude for a kindness,” I told him. “You already did so.”

“Well, I should do it again. Rakasa has several times gone out of his way to be kind to me. His nature is both bold and curious, and his confidence means he seldom worries about his pride.” He gestured up toward the Little Knife, “Does the gods-hated thing run across your entire country, Ryo?”

“It is not gods-hated,” said Royova, coming up to us before I could answer. “The Little Knife was a gift from the gods, set into the world at the plea of the singers to end a bitter war that had spread to all the tribes. Ryo inGara could tell you the tale, but perhaps not this evening. I have blunted two swords. I would not put one into the hand of a boy; they are not fit for that. But they should do for a man who is reasonably skilled.”

“So.” Aras stood up. “Let us by all means find out if we are both reasonably skilled.”

By the end of the first cautious match, everyone was watching. Royova won, of course, but Aras had no reason to be embarrassed. Because he could not begin to match Royova’s power, he fought the way a boy fights a man, leading the warleader’s sword rather than blocking it. But he was much more skilled than a boy. Anyone could see that Royova had to exert himself in order to win.

Royova won the second match as well, and then the third. But when he won the third time, he did not let Aras kneel to acknowledge defeat. He said, not loudly, but clearly enough that everyone could hear, “You fight well. Many of my warriors would learn useful skills from sparring you. Does your sorcery help you fight?”

Aras was breathing hard, but he managed to answer in an almost steady voice. “Only a very little, warleader. No one thinks much when he is fighting.”

Royova nodded acceptance of this obvious truth. He said, “You may come to my fire if you wish. I would like to hear how it happened that a Lau learned to fight properly.”

“Soldiers don’t duel, generally,” Aras told him. “But Lau of a certain rank often do.” They went to Royova’s fire to discuss the ways men fight—the first time Aras had been invited to sit there. My father and Naroya went to sit with them as well.

Rakasa came to stand beside me. Like everyone else, he had watched the fight with great interest. He said, “Your Lau fought like a man, not like a sorcerer.”

I nodded. “When I first thought he was a sorcerer, I tried to kill him. He did not prevent me with sorcery, but defended himself as any man would. I broke two of his ribs. He did not punish me for that. He said he had made a mistake to frighten me.”

Rakasa nodded thoughtfully. “I would like to hear that tale. My father is not sure of him even yet, but I think you must be right about his nature, Ryo. Unless he is lying about everything, and I do not think that can be so.” He paused. Then he added, “My friends and I would spar if you wish. Your Lau as well as you. Tomorrow evening, if you like.”

He meant they would not be held back by the probable embarrassment of being bested by a Lau. It was the offer of a friend. I said, “I will tell you how it happened, if you wish,” and we went together to the fire he shared with his friends.

We traveled more quietly over the next days, watching for enemies. If we had come upon Lau soldiers and they had seen us before we saw them, every warrior among us would have died of shame, saving our enemies the trouble of killing us. We watched very carefully, and sent men out before us to look for anything unexpected that might lie in our way.

I watched Aras more than I watched the woods. I thought he would know first if we came near enemies. But I remembered how, in the summer country, Lorellan had hidden his presence and his men until it was too late for us to escape his ambush, and I was not sure.

“This time I’m watching for that,” Aras told me quietly.

“Yes,” I said, but still I was not sure. My stomach felt tight now that we had come nearer to the place we thought Lorellan might be. I found myself listening all the time, as though if I listened hard enough, I might hear some inaudible whisper of sorcery behind the ordinary noises of the world. The sound of snow sliding from a fir branch to the ground seemed loud to me. When a nuthatch hopped his way headfirst down the trunk of a tree, even the little noises of his claws against the bark seemed loud.

On the seventh day, while I walked behind the sledge with my hand on the brake to help the dogs come down a steep ridge, Aras put back the furs with which he covered his face and asked, “Do you know how far it is to the river from here?”

I looked around at how the land lay, but I did not know. “Five days, six? It might be more than that.”

Rakasa and his partner Bara had been traveling near us. Now they guided their dogs to come up beside our sledge. Rakasa corrected me. “I mean no offense, Ryo, but you have mistaken the land. On better snow, I think it would be no more than two or three days to the river from this place.”

I nodded to accept this correction. “You know the land here?”

“Bara and I raided the inKera three times as boys.” He grinned at me. “When I had fourteen winters, I left a knife thrust into the snow beside Soro inKera’s tent. They nearly caught me. Bara got me out of that one.”

His partner chuckled. “And then half a heartbeat later, I nearly got us both caught, letting my silhouette show against a fire. Rakasa never tells that part. The next winter, when we were men, we tried to do it again, which was complete foolishness.”

I was smiling now. They made me remember some of the things I had done when I had just become a man. “If the gods were not kind, no young men would survive to grow old. They let you go with a beating?”

Bara chuckled again. “I am sure they intended to, but at the time we were convinced they would put us to death. Rakasa’s father had been frightening us with stories of raids that went wrong—he wanted us to be more careful, but as you see, at that age, we were not inclined to learn from stories. When Hokino inKera caught us in the middle of their camp, we were certain we would die there. Rakasa asked Hokino to send his head to his father. He asked very, very politely. I have never seen him so humble before or since.”

Rakasa aimed a cuff at him, but Bara leaned away and went on. “He asked them to spare my life so that I could take his head to his father and explain how it had happened. He told them he was Naroya’s son and I was no one important, so they would gain no honor from killing me anyway. Hokino said if Rakasa was a warleader’s son, maybe he should offer himself as tuyo for me, and Rakasa said yes, he would do that—”

“And Bara, who is a fool now but was a worse fool then, stepped between me and the warleader and declared he would fight them all, each in turn, before he let them touch me—”

I laughed.

“You may well laugh,” Rakasa agreed, grinning. “Hokino agreed to fight Bara, which went exactly as you would expect—”

“And then he let Rakasa fight him, which went even faster—”

“And after he had humiliated us both, he declared we were both very brave and completely stupid and he had wasted enough time on us. He said although we deserved a severe beating, he would let our fathers see to it. He gave me his knife and made me swear to drive it into the snow beside my father’s tent—”

“So Rakasa did, and of course he had to explain why to his father. His father beat us both as severely as any inKera could have wished, but the next time we caught inKera boys raiding, Naroya did not beat them nor cut their hair, but only gave them that knife to return to Hokino,” Bara finished.

Aras was smiling too now. “I gather boys raid all the time?”

“Of course,” I agreed. “Boys steal trinkets from allied tribes to prove their cleverness, or they leave a knife in the camp of an enemy tribe to show off their courage. If they are caught, they are usually beaten. If they were careless or clumsy, their hair may be cut, to shame them and teach them to be more careful. Men sometimes raid an enemy tribe to kill warriors, so if a man is caught by enemies he will often be put to death. But no one honorable would put such a young man to death only for trying a boy’s trick. I am sure the inKera tell that story too. That is exactly the way an incident of that kind should go.” I stopped, remembering, and said, “I hope they will continue to tell it. I hope nothing too terrible has befallen them.”

Rakasa soberly shook his head, agreeing.

“Quiet,” said Aras. We all stilled immediately. I slowed the dogs a little, and checked to be sure my bow was ready to my hand. Aras tilted his head back, closing his eyes. After a little while, he said, “Ryo, we need to pull back, the way we came, at least half a mile—two or three bowshots. More would be better. Can you tell your father?”

It was not necessary to tell anyone. I only called out quietly to my dogs, urging them to circle, signaling to the other warriors near me to do the same. The change in direction rippled out from us, first to those who had been traveling farther back, but then forward as well. Everyone closed up as well, coming close together. Very soon my father swept out of the snow, swung his team around, and came up beside me. He did not speak, only looked at Aras.

“We need to go back a little,” Aras told him. “I’m masking us all behind snow and silence, but it would be better if we were farther away.”

My father grunted. He urged his dogs to a faster pace and they took the trail ahead of us, back along the packed snow the way we had come.

We did not retreat two bowshots. We went twenty. Even then, no one really liked to stop. But we could hardly run all the way to the high north, so when we came to a place where the land lay well for a camp, with a big stand of firs all along the lee side of a high ridge, we halted.

Ordinarily the young men would have made fires at a little distance from the older warriors so that they would not have to behave with as much circumspection, but this time all the fires were laid close together so that everyone could gather in one place. No one had to suggest this. Uneasiness pushes men together; we say that when the tiger comes, all quarrels end. Everyone settled close around the fires. The firs cast long shadows and the land folded into irregular ridges. I could not prevent myself from imagining Lorellan hidden somewhere near us, reaching out with his sorcery to make us all into his slaves ... most of all, to force me to come to him and put myself into his hands. I stared at the fire, at the snowflakes swirling down through the high fir branches and into the flames. I tried not to think about anything but the fire and the snow.

“He doesn’t know we’re here,” Aras told me quietly. “That many Lau stand out much more clearly in the winter country than this many Ugaro. Ryo, this time will be different. For one thing, the initiative will be ours.”

“He took you by surprise that time.”

“Before this is over, I hope he will be very surprised.” He raised his voice a little. “Warleader of the inVotaro, one of your scouts is approaching.”

We were so nervous that even though the dogs showed by their cheerful behavior it was one of our people who came, without that warning, someone might have shot the returning scout. We had already been quiet, but when the man came to the fire to say what he had found to the south, the silence was so great the forest might as well have been empty, save for the crackling of the fires.

“There is a palisade,” the man told us. He gestured, describing the size and shape of this palisade with his hands. “It is two bowshots wide at least, and longer than that. It is the height of four men, but there is a walkway built inside so that the Lau can stand at the top and look down. Inside are many tents in long rows. Not only Lau are there. I counted twice forty Ugaro warriors. There were more than that, but I did not continue to count and I might not have seen them all. Most are bound, but some Ugaro walked free among the Lau. I think those must have been made the sorcerer’s slaves.” The man hesitated. Then he said, “I heard a baby crying and looked again. There is one large tent set to the side. I think Ugaro women are there.”

Everyone looked to see what Royova would say. He asked Aras, his voice level and calm, “How would your enemy have taken Ugaro women? We knew enough of the danger to send our women north. They should have been safely beyond the Little Knife. Do not say this sorcerer reached beyond the Knife and forced them to come to him. I have heard all the tales, but I have never heard of a sorcerer as powerful as that.”

Aras looked Royova in the face. Then, perhaps realizing how angry the warleader was, he bowed his head. He said, “I suspect some of the warriors have been so deeply enslaved that our enemy was able to force them to go north and return, bringing with them their wives and children. He might have done such a thing as a test of his control over those warriors he has enslaved. He might have done it to demonstrate his power and frighten your people. He might have done it to have a way of controlling the warriors he cannot put his will on so completely. He might have thought of all those reasons or some other reason.”

This made a different kind of silence.

My father stood up. He asked the scout, “How did you see inside the palisade? And how is it that you came close enough to see all this, but the sorcerer did not take you as his slave?”

The scout, who was an inGeiro, looked at Naroya.

“Those are good questions,” the inGeiro warleader said impatiently. “Let us not quarrel over precedence. Answer the lord of the inGara.”

The scout nodded. He said, “Hills overlook that place. The hills are not high enough to see well, but I climbed a tree so I would have the height I needed. But I do not know why the sorcerer . . .” his face tightened and voice trailed off. He looked at Aras.

Aras said quietly, “You are not his slave or his fool. One Ugaro moving quietly through the forest can be hard for me to notice. Lorellan is more powerful than I am, but surrounded by so many people, probably he did not notice you at all.”

The man let out a breath and looked at Naroya, who nodded and asked, “If the palisade were set afire, would the Ugaro prisoners die or escape?”

Before the scout could answer, Aras said, “Many of the Lau will be skilled enough with magic—” he used the darau word—“that they can smother small fires before they grow into big fires. Also, any man who comes within a bowshot of Lorellan will become vulnerable to his sorcery as soon as he reveals himself by shooting. I cannot recommend that strategy.”

“Perhaps you can suggest some other strategy,” Royova suggested, his tone dry. “In the past, on occasion, Ugaro have simply waited for the Lau within such walled camps to grow too hungry to stay behind the walls, or to run out of wood to burn. But this sorcerer can force their Ugaro prisoners to hunt for them. If we interfere, the prisoners will be the ones to suffer.” His tone was perfectly level, but I remembered some of those prisoners were probably inVotaro and his own people.

Aras nodded. “I agree this is true. Ugaro are not suited to attack a fortified camp of this kind. Lorellan must be made to leave this camp, with all his men and with the captive Ugaro.”

“Yes, that would be better,” Royova agreed drily. “How shall we cause our enemy to leave his strong position?”

Aras sighed. “I will think about that, warleader. May I ask for some time to think?”

“The rest of this day and the coming night,” Royova told him. “After that, I will think of something to do.”

After that some warriors prepared food from the supplies we carried; others set up the small tents. Usually every tent would be scattered through a grove of trees, each in a place where the ground was reasonably clear and level and the trees provided shelter from the wind. But this time, the tents were set close together, in a rough ring around the fires. No one wanted to be away from the rest, and those who ordinarily preferred to keep their distance from our sorcerer now felt otherwise. Everyone spoke in low voices, of simple things, ordinary things, as men do when important things become too frightening to speak of.

I stayed by the fire, but I did not speak to anyone.

For a little while Aras sat within the ring of fires where the warmth was greatest. His mouth had that hard set to it that meant he was upset or hurt or angry, and trying not to show it. When the shadows lengthened with dusk, he stood up. He shook his head at me when I started to get to my feet, but he looked at my father. He did not say anything, only went into his tent, and put down the opening. My father frowned at me. Then he made a gesture that I should stay where I was, stood up and followed Aras. I heard them speak in low voices, and I thought perhaps I should go into the tent and make certain they did not offend each other. But disobeying my father would have been disgraceful, and I heard no anger in their quiet voices. I stayed by the fire.

Some small time after that my father came out of the tent again. He stood for some time, his gaze on the fire. Then he beckoned to me and walked away into the forest, west, along the slope of the ridge. I built up the fire a little and arranged the logs one way and then another way. But that kind of minor task could only excuse so much delay, so presently I rose and walked along the ridge, the way my father had gone.

My father had not gone far. He was sitting at the base of a great fir. He had taken an ember from the main fire and kindled a small one there so that I might find him easily. The forest crowded close, quieting whatever breeze might have stirred. Snow drifted down all around us. Snowflakes settled on my father’s pale hair and on the sleeves of his coat and disappeared into the flames of the little fire.

My father glanced up at me when I came to join him. I knelt on the other side of the fire and waited for him to speak. I think I knew already something close to what he would say.

He said, his tone gentle, “Ryo, our sorcerer does not need time to think. You are the one who needs time. If you agree, then Aras will set false memories into your mind. You will let yourself fall into our enemy’s hands. What he sees in your mind will tempt him into rash action.”

After that, we both sat in silence for a long time. Eventually I said bleakly, “In war, a warleader must be ruthless. I know that. But you are both more ruthless than I could be.”

“Yes.” He still spoke gently. “You have not yet learned to harden your heart. When you are Garoyo’s age, you will be a fine warleader, if you live, and if your courage and pride have not been broken by being asked to take on a task you could not bear.”

I did not answer.

“This is something no one but you can do. You speak darau. And Aras knows your mind well; far better than our enemy knows it. Even your fear is a weapon in your hand: it is set too deeply in your heart for our enemy to take it from you, and he will find it hard to see anything else in your mind past that fear.”

“Aras explained all this to you.”

“Is anything he told me untrue?”

I shook my head.

“None of this has been explained to Royova. If you refuse, only Aras and I will know.”

I did not say that in all this forest, no one else’s opinion mattered to me. He knew that. They both knew that.

After a time, when I did not speak, my father said, “If you cannot bring yourself to do this, I swear before the gods, I will not think less of you, Ryo. I know you would think less of yourself, and I also know nothing I say now can persuade you otherwise, but the failure would not be yours. It would be mine, because I asked you to take on a task beyond your strength. There is no worse mistake a warleader can make with a young warrior, or that a man can make with his son. Have I made this mistake?”

I could not answer that. I did not know.

After some time, my father stood up. He said, “However you decide, if you forgive me this before I die, that will be more generosity than I deserve.” He walked away, leaving me alone with the tiny fire, and the silent press of the great firs that stood sentinel all around, and the softly falling snow.

I knelt where I was, by that tiny fire, until it burned down to ash. I stayed there until the ashes grew cool and snow began to cover the remnants of the dead fire, clean white across powdery gray. Snow swirled gently down, and more snow, not too fast but steadily. When it had covered the place until there was no trace of the little fire left, I stood up. I felt distantly surprised I managed it; I felt I should have frozen into the silent immobility of the trees and the hills. But it seemed I was still capable of movement after all.

I walked slowly back along the ridge, and past warriors who still lingered by the fires, and past my father’s tent, to the one I shared with Aras. When I came to that tent, I unpegged the opening, stooped down, and entered.

He was sitting at the far end, wrapped in furs, his hands tucked out of sight, his dark face almost invisible. But I could see his eyes when he looked at me, and I knew how he would look if I could see him better. I knew the exact set of his mouth.

As the tent was not large enough for me to stand up, I knelt, facing him. I asked the only question that came to me to ask. Like a child, I asked him, “How can you do this to me?”

He did not tell me that was a childish question. He bowed his head. “Ryo ... I honestly have no idea.”

“You knew you would ask this. From the time you forbade me to judge myself a coward because I had not faced the trial. You knew then you would ask me to face it.”

“I knew I might have to. That’s why it was so important not to let you believe you couldn’t. If it’s not corrected immediately, a belief like that can get into the heart and make itself true.”

“Yes,” I said. I could see how that might happen. I added, “I do not hate you for this. I am not even angry.”

“I know. You’re still in shock. I won’t blame you if you hate me later. Please try not to hate your father for it. In some ways, this is even harder for him than it is for you.”

“I know.” I was silent for a little time. Finally I said, “I will do it. Of course I will do it. What choice do I have?”

“You have a choice. Royova has a different plan in mind. It might be better than mine, at least for your people. It’s certainly simpler.”

“What is his plan?” But I knew what it must be. I said, “He would offer you to Lorellan.”

“In exchange for all the captives, and for Lorellan leaving the winter country. Yes. In the short term, that would probably achieve what Royova wants. In the longer term, it’s problematic. Royova is willing to take that risk. I am not. The threat Lorellan poses to both our peoples is too great. I think we can defeat him, and I think it’s worth almost anything to do that now, before he can establish himself in the summer lands. But you’re the key to putting my much more complicated plan into motion. And I have to admit, even if you agree to let yourself be used this way, my plan could still fail. Overly complicated plans have been the downfall of many, many warleaders.”

I hardly listened to him. My attention was too taken up by the part of the plan that put me into Lorellan’s hands. I said stiffly, “I said I would do it.” I had said it, and I thought it was true, but I feared I might change my mind. I asked him, “But can you take away my fear? At least for a time?”

He sighed, a long, slow exhalation. “I can blur the edge of it, for a little while. I’m going to build a shield over your mind. He will break that, but below the shield I’ll set multiple layers of false memories and at least one compulsion. I expect he’ll get through some of that, I intend for him to get through some of it. But I don’t believe he’ll be able to work his way through everything. He may be more powerful than I am, but I think I know what lies he’ll want to believe. Below everything, I’ll set a very deep tie between your mind and mine. That should let me protect you from some things. He will not be able to make you his thrall.” He paused. Then he said, “I will be as gentle as I can, but some of what I do will hurt you. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I said. And then, “No. But you may do this.”

I felt my memory begin to change.

-28-

I jogged through the snow at a steady, easy pace that I could hold for a long time. It was still snowing and the fresh snow slowed me a little, but I was glad of the overcast sky and falling snow. A Lau would be almost blind on a night like this.

Lorellan’s palisade had been built in the only good place for such a fortification; flat and wide, the place would become a rocky meadow in the brief warm season. I knew when I came near it by the feel of the trampled snow underfoot and by the cut stumps of the trees that had been felled to make the palisade. I went more slowly then, circling wide to the west so that I would come to the palisade from the west and south. There was a pond there, with the palisade built to enclose the pond. It had not occurred to the Lau that they should guard the stream that fed that pond. Even though they knew Ugaro could bear far more cold than Lau, they did not believe the extent of the difference.

Upstream of the pond, I took off my coat and boots and then the rest of my clothing. I hid all this, taking only my knife. I broke the ice, breathed deeply and then took one more breath, and went into the water. Even an Ugaro could not find the icy water pleasant, but the cold did not prevent me from pulling myself along the bed of the stream below the ice, under the palisade, and into the pond.

I came up very quietly and stayed still for a heartbeat and another heartbeat. Then I eased softly out of the water, slid between the nearest tent and the logs of the palisade, squeezed the water from my hair with my hands, wiped the water from my body as well as I could, and edged around the tent to look out at the dark camp. I was almost warm enough, even naked. The air within the palisade was much warmer than the air outside. This much warmth had not come from fires, though many smoldered here and there, all along the rows of the tents. The warmth was something many Lau together had made, working their cantrips. The snow melted as it fell, so underfoot the ground was covered with a mix of beaten slush and water and mud, much more unpleasant than clean snow.

Most of the Lau were in their tents, asleep. Some went here or there about one task or another. One came to the pond to draw water, and then I had Lau clothing. The boots were impossible, and the shirt was so tight I could not put it on, but the coat was wearable if I left the top buttons undone. I turned up the cuffs of my new clothing and left the shirt behind a tent with the body of the Lau soldier.

The warriors who were bound, and thus probably not yet Lorellan’s slaves, were held near the opposite side of the palisade. I began to make my way toward them, walking quietly but not trying to sneak. A man’s eye will find threat in a surreptitious movement where he will not notice purposeful motion, and in the dark, the Lau should not see an Ugaro where he should not be, but only the hint of movement. My hands and face were pale, of course, but I put my hands into the pockets of the coat and bowed my head so that any Lau who might glance up might see only a man of his own people, however short and heavily built.

If Lorellan had been within this palisade, ordinary sight would not have been the danger. But he was not here; he had gone south already, leaving only ordinary men to finish the tasks he had ordered. I did not know why he had gone; I had not asked because I did not care; only that he was not here. I was not afraid of ordinary Lau. I reminded myself of that because for some reason I felt more fear than I should. I tried to put that out of my mind. Even if I failed, nothing more terrible than death waited for me.

It was so late in the night that I saw only a few Lau going about their business. Sometimes a dark face turned toward me, but I only walked on my way and those faces turned away again, knowing the fortified camp was safe and that no enemy could be here; knowing that no enemy would walk as openly as I did. Once a man called out to me, asking my business. I answered in surly tones, careful of my accent, that I was in a hurry and wanted to get out of the gods-hated cold and what should he care. It was the kind of thing I had heard soldiers say before to that kind of challenge. It must have been right, because the man did not come after me.

The Ugaro warriors were in the place the scout had said, each man bound separately to a stake driven deeply into the earth. I could not distinguish inKera from inYoraro from inVotaro. I looked for Hokino inKera, but I did not see him.

But I saw his brother. Soro inKera was older than my father, perhaps seventy winters, but he looked ten years older than that. We Ugaro show our age little until suddenly we show it all at once, and Soro looked like he had come to that time in his life. His weight was less than the last time I had seen him, at the Convocation just this past spring, and his face more lined, and his shoulders had begun to stoop. My father disliked him, and I disliked him because of that, but I did not wish to think of what had made the lord of the inKera age that fast when he was not that old.

When I looked away from Soro, I finally saw Hokino. He was to one side, standing because of the wet ground, as nearly all the Ugaro were on their feet. Hokino was bound as carefully as the others, and he stood as still, but there was something in his stillness that drew my eye. He was watching me. His attention caught more eyes than mine; other warriors turned their heads to look at me as well. I thought that might be trouble, but then Hokino clicked his tongue in reproof and they began to look away.

Now my Lau clothing was not useful. But boldness still seemed a reasonable choice. I drew my knife and walked toward Hokino, cutting the thongs that bound the warriors as I went. None of them moved, but I felt the tension in their muscles as their stillness stopped being the stillness of helplessness and became the stillness of patience.

When I reached him, Hokino said in a low voice, “You are completely stupid, inGara. Brave, but completely stupid. How did you get in? No, do not tell me, but can you get out again?”

I was impatient with his tone and astonished by his faint-heartedness. “I came in through the pond. If a small number of you make noise, maybe the rest can get out through the gate, with your women. That would be—”

“Impossible,” he said sharply. “Do you not realize he has made most of us his dogs and the rest his slaves? Half a heartbeat after he realizes we are not bound, he will have us on our knees, but while his attention is on us, you may get clear.” He caught my arm and shoved me away, but he added, “Perhaps a few of my people might get away, and I would thank you for that, inGara—but you were still completely stupid to come within his reach.”

I protested, “Lorellan has gone south. He is not here—” Hokino’s expression stopped me, and I said, my stomach knotting and the words coming with difficulty to my tongue, “He has gone south?”

“No,” Hokino said, almost gently. “Leaving all his men and all his captives? Why would he have done such a thing? Why would you have thought so?”

I did not know. I had been certain of it, but now I did not remember why. I took a step back from him, but it was too late. I knew it was too late even before I turned, because almost all the captive warriors suddenly went to their knees, exactly as Hokino had warned me. Soro kept his feet, setting his weight and closing his eyes. Hokino did not. He went down with the rest, more slowly than some, fighting the pressure of the sorcerous leash. All his muscles tightened with the effort he made. But he went down.

I did not run. It was too late to run. I waited where I was, and when Lorellan came himself, I still waited. I felt as though all my bones had turned to ice. I felt as though my mind and heart had turned to ice as well, very clear and still. Above that clarity, a storm of terror and rage and hatred raged; but beneath that, I waited poised in perfect quiet. A Lau soldier came and took my knife. He gripped my arm, and another did the same from the other side, and I did not fight them. They led me forward, and I did not fight. I hardly knew they held me. I hardly knew anyone was here in this moment except myself and Lorellan. I looked at nothing but him: his elegant, narrow Lau face, his warm smile, his cold eyes.

Gazing at me with amazement, he said, “Ryo inGara. This is—”

I broke the hold of the man to my right and drove my elbow into the stomach of the man to my left. He let me go with a whoosh of breath, bending involuntarily, and I slammed the back of my fist into his throat, felt the cartilage crunch under my blow, and forgot him immediately. I could see nothing but Lorellan. I had my knife in my hand again. Blood had spattered across my face and arm, and I knew, distantly, that I had gutted the Lau on my right, but I had not really noticed and did not really remember and did not care at all. Lorellan filled all my view. He was backing up, raising his arms, his mouth opening and closing, but to me he seemed to move very slowly and I heard nothing. Lau soldiers put themselves in my way and I ducked and drove my fist in a hammerblow against the chest of one and felt his ribs give; I slashed my knife across the side of another soldier, then dropped my knife, caught it with my left hand, bent, and thrust it into the belly of another man. I lost the knife then, but I did not care because I had the Lau’s sword. I was almost to Lorellan—

—an Ugaro warrior hit me from the side, using his weight to slam me down. I hit the ground hard, bucked, twisted, threw him off, and staggered back up to my feet. But another was there before I could catch my balance. I had lost the sword, which did not matter, I would get another, or a knife, or I could use my bare hands, except the warrior threw his weight against me, and the first one was back, flinging himself against me from the other side, bearing me down again. I fought them with concentrated fury. Neither of the Ugaro who fought me had a knife, but weapons surrounded me, I only had to get clear of them for an instant—Lorellan was still close, I could still kill him, I only needed to get up—

—the silence of my mind shattered, and I was myself again. I was breathing in ragged gasps, and my side burned where someone had cut me. The warriors who held me had pulled my arms up so hard that my shoulders screamed with pain; I had not noticed that any more than the cut. Now I felt it. I stopped fighting them, arching my back to try to take the pressure off my shoulders.

“That’s better,” Lorellan said. He sounded breathless, which might have been satisfying, except he was still alive and I was his captive. The terror I had hardly felt a moment earlier crashed through me. I would have given anything to have the cold stillness back again, but it was gone. The warriors eased their grip, but I did not move, except to lower my arms. I could not bear to look at him.

“Ryo,” he said, his tone cautious. Then, when I did not move, he repeated my name, this time with brisk confidence.

Raising my gaze to meet his was perhaps not the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life, but it was very, very hard.

“That was a very interesting compulsion,” he said to me, or perhaps more to himself. “If you had been a few feet closer to me before I said your name, it might have enabled you to kill me. Instead, it nearly got you killed, and for nothing. He should have keyed it differently. To proximity, perhaps. Did he not know how to do that?”

I wished fervently it had gotten me killed, if not him. I was shivering. I could not stop, even though I knew Lorellan could see it. I wished I were Lau and could claim that I was cold.

Lorellan continued to study me. He said thoughtfully, “But setting the compulsion below the level of animal emotion, and wrapping it up in that kind of extreme focus ... that was very interesting. I might be glad you didn’t kill him. He might be worth taking alive, if I can. I wonder if he would let you near him now? I doubt he would believe you escaped.”

I bowed my head, concentrating on stopping the shivering that beset me. That was a small thing. I should be able to do that. I reminded myself that Hokino could probably see me, that Soro certainly could, that I was surrounded by Ugaro warriors, that they could all see me trembling. But I still could not stop.

“How did he make you save him?” Lorellan asked me. “How did he get past the compulsions I set into your mind? I suppose it doesn’t matter. What is he planning now? Not just to send you after me; that wouldn’t make any sense at all. He has to have deeper plans than that.” He stared at me. I could not meet his eyes. The wet slush had soaked through my clothing. My bare feet were cold. Perhaps I was shivering from cold after all.

“Bind his hands, hobble his feet, and bring him to my tent,” Lorellan told his people. He looked at the warriors he had made his slaves and they pulled me up. They bound me as he had said and took me to his tent and forced me down, facing him, and there was nothing I could do to prevent them.

The tent was plain, but there was a table and a chair. Lorellan sat there, with a goblet of hot wine cradled in his hands, and looked at me. I knew he was looking into my mind, but there was nothing I could do to prevent that either. I felt a little less afraid. I knew he had done that, that he was trying to make me less afraid so that he could see my thoughts more clearly. I doubted he had everything as he wished: the fear was set too deeply in my heart for him to smother it.

My father had said that would be so. I had forgotten he had said it. I remembered it now. I had forgotten because Aras had put lies into my mind and the lies had covered over that truth. I remembered that now because Lorellan took the lie out of my mind. I had told Aras he could do it. I had told him he could put the compulsion into my mind and make me forget Lorellan was here ... I could not stop myself from remembering that.

But the plan had failed.

“It wasn’t the real plan,” Lorellan told me. “Though I’m sure he’d have been very pleased if you’d managed it. But what is the real plan?” He looked at me some more, frowning.

I tried to think of nothing. That was hopeless. I thought about the Ugaro he had made into dogs and slaves and rage came into my heart along with the fear.

“Calm yourself,” Lorellan ordered me. “Or I’ll put ten of your people to death. Deep breaths, Ryo. Think about Aras. Tell me out loud what he plans.”

The captive warriors were not my people. They were inKera and inYoraro and inVotaro. But I did not want to see Lorellan put them to death. I took deep breaths and thought about quiet snow falling. It did not help very much, I was too afraid and still very angry, but Lorellan said, “Better. What does he plan?”

I did not know what he planned.

“You do. He’s made you forget. He’s also put a second shield into your mind below the first ... he’s made your fear and anger into a kind of shield rather than a kind of compulsion. That’s very interesting. He’s more powerful than any other sorcerer I’ve encountered, but it’s more interesting to me that he’s come up with such clever techniques. I wonder if he learned this from the Lakasha-erra? Either way, his plan will certainly be more subtle than turning you loose with a direct compulsion to kill me. What is it?” He looked at me for a little while longer and then sighed and said to one of his people, “Ircaras, have the lord of the inKera brought here: I’m going to have his own men strangle him if Ryo doesn’t begin cooperating—”

“No,” I protested. “Do you think that would make me less angry?” A thought came to me and I said quickly, “Let him go, let ten of the inKera go. The ten youngest. Or ten of the Ugaro women, if you will not release warriors. That will make me feel better. Maybe then you will be able to see what you wish.”

Lorellan stared at me. Then he laughed. He told me, “After I see what I need to see, I’ll let ten of the women go. Think of that, Ryo. Deep breaths. Calm yourself.”

I tried to do as he said, though I was certain he lied. He was not lying about forcing his inKera slaves to murder their lord, I was certain of that too, but I tried not to think of it. I fixed my gaze on the floor of the tent and breathed deeply and slowly, as he had ordered.

“You gave him permission to do this to you. Think about that, Ryo. Obviously he has a deep hold on you, but it’s ludicrous to think you owe him anything. Look at how he’s used you . . .” He leaned back, cursing under his breath. That had not helped him at all. Even I could feel how my surge of anger at his words had strengthened the protections Aras had put into my mind. I thought I could feel that. I told myself I could feel it.

Lorellan stood up and snapped his fingers to make his inKera slaves look at him. “Bring him,” he ordered them, gesturing to make his meaning clear because they did not speak darau. He said to his own people, “Get the four women with the youngest children and bring them to the gate. Bring the lord of the inKera as well.”

I could hardly believe he would do what he implied, but I did not resist as the warriors pulled me to my feet and took me out of the tent. I had to take very small steps because of the hobbles, until Lorellan gestured impatiently. They lifted me then, and carried me along the rows of tents until we came to the gate. Four Ugaro women were led up, each carrying a child—one woman held two, a baby and also a toddler on her hip. They walked with their heads high and their shoulders straight, pretending they were not surrounded by enemies. They did not look at the Lau soldiers who surrounded them, nor at Lorellan, nor even at Soro inKera when he was brought from another direction. He did not fight the soldiers who brought him. He looked at the women and then at me, his lined face expressionless. I had seen before how his back was a little stooped, but that was not so now. He stood straight. I knew he would not flinch from anything.

“Open the gate,” Lorellan told his people. “Put the women out. Ryo, you see I’m letting them go. Once they’re outside the gate, I’ll give you five minutes to calm yourself enough for me to get through that shield. If you can’t or won’t, I’ll have the inKera lord killed. If that doesn’t work, I’ll try something else. You’ll probably like that even less. There they go. Breathe. Five minutes.”

I watched the women walk away, into the dark and the falling snow. They did not run. The one with two children would not be able to run, and the other three kept her pace rather than leave her. They were very brave. I thought of that, their courage and pride. Very soon they were lost even to my sight. After that I watched the falling snow and tried to settle my heart into the peace of the clean cold. I did not care about Soro inKera, but I did not want to see Lorellan kill him. And I did not want to know what else Lorellan might do, to his other captives or to me. I breathed deeply and slowly.

“Better,” Lorellan said. “I admit, this was not a bad suggestion. Captive infants are nothing but trouble anyway.” He was silent for some time. From the way he looked at me, I knew he was looking into my mind, trying to find a way past the protections Aras had set upon me. Eventually, he said, “Think about your last conversation with Aras. You remember it now, don’t you?”

I did. I could no longer remember what false memories Aras had put over the truth; it was as though the lies had shredded and blown away on the cold wind that carried the snow. I knew I should not have permitted Lorellan to make me help him see the truth. I should have let him kill Soro; I should have used that to strengthen the fear and anger that Aras had made into a protection for my mind. But it was too late. I remembered that whole conversation perfectly.

Lorellan cursed. He cursed for a long time, and then he laughed. “Now, that’s ruthless,” he said. “And you agreed to it. That’s remarkable. You barbarians don’t lack courage. It’s one of your few virtues.” He turned to one of his people, “We’ll go south at dawn. We can expect some trouble from the Ugaro out there. We’ll handle that as we’ve discussed ... with certain complications, granted; I didn’t expect to face a real enemy yet.” He glanced at me and then added, “Put him with the others. Where’s Ircaras? Never mind, I know where he is.” He walked away, to all appearances forgetting me completely.

They took me to where the warriors were held and bound me there as the warriors were bound. They bound Soro inKera to the stake next to mine and left us. I turned my face away from him and rested my cheek against the smooth wood, closing my eyes. Now that I had failed, I felt less afraid, but I was very tired.

“What was that?” Soro asked me. His voice was level and cool. “What will happen now?”

I would have ignored him, except I remembered how he had stayed on his feet when even his brother Hokino had been forced to his knees. I did not want to look at him, but I answered without turning my head, “He wanted to see the truth in my mind. He saw it. I should have let him kill you. That would have made me too angry for him to see the truth. I should have thrown defiance in his face so that he would punish me for it; that would have made me too afraid for him to see the truth. Instead, I let him persuade me toward calm, and he saw everything. It did not even take him a whole night.”

“What truth did he see?” Soro asked. His tone had not changed at all.

I did not want to explain my failure. But he had a right to ask. His people were among those who would suffer most now that I had failed. I still did not look at him, but I said, “Aras sent the Lau messages, explaining what Lorellan is and what he means to do. They know how to defend against even a sorcerer of Lorellan’s strength; they have tales that tell them how to do it. If they had time to prepare, they could arrange that kind of defense. Lorellan was supposed to be distracted by trying to see into my mind, and then he was supposed to see a lie that made him linger here, delaying him until the Lau in the summer country have time to prepare. But I let him break through the protections Aras put into my mind and he saw everything. Now he will move swiftly and come against the Lau who are his enemies before they have had enough time to prepare. He is so powerful he will defeat all their efforts and take power in the summer country, exactly as he wishes, and no one will be able to stop him.”

For a long time, Soro was silent. Finally he said, “You are Ryo inGara.”

“Yes,” I said wearily. “I mean no disrespect, lord of the inKera, but please do not talk to me. I am tired.” Sliding down the stake to kneel in the cold slush, I rested my forehead against the stake and closed my eyes. I was shivering again. I could not help it and did not care very much anymore.

“This Aras you speak of is another sorcerer,” he said, ignoring my request. “When you met my brother in our forest, you were taking a Lau north to your people. That Lau was this Aras. You had escaped from an enemy—his enemy. That enemy was this sorcerer.”

“Yes, all that is true. Please do not talk to me.”

“Why did Lorellan let those women go?”

I sighed. Plainly he did not mean to stop. Giving up, I answered, “Because I stupidly told him that if he did, I might feel calm enough to let him see into my mind as he wished.”

“Why did he have me brought there?”

“Because if I had not been calm enough, he would have punished me by forcing one of your warriors to kill you. Though at the moment that hardly seems like a punishment. I mean no disrespect by saying so, lord.”

Ignoring that insolence, he asked, “It seemed like a punishment at the time? Our people are enemies.”

“Not at this moment, lord. At this moment, no matter the direction I look, the only enemy I see is Lorellan.”

“Surely this other sorcerer is also an enemy?”

I was too downhearted to argue. I said only, “No. He is the best hope we have. But he is not as powerful as Lorellan, and now that I have failed him, I do not know what else he can do.”

Soro was silent. It was impossible to sleep, but I let my mind drift.

After a time, Soro asked me, “Are you the slave of this other sorcerer? This Aras?”

“No.” I did not open my eyes.

“Why would that sorcerer believe you could lie to this one, if he has not made you his possession?”

In his place, I would have asked all the same questions. I explained wearily, “Lorellan tried before to make me his fool. He put many lies into my mind, but Aras had shown me how to see that a memory is false. I did not believe those lies, so Lorellan failed. I showed him what I wished to show him and hid from him things I wished to hide. I know how to lie to a sorcerer ... I thought I knew how to do it. Aras thought I could do it. We were both wrong. I think Lorellan is even more powerful than Aras feared.” I stopped, letting out my breath. “Lord of the inKera, none of this matters now.”

“The truth always matters. Why did you care which sorcerer kills the other? Why do you care which seizes power in the summer country? How is any of that your concern?”

I opened my eyes and looked at him. Soro was leaning against his stake in order to stay on his feet. The lines in his face were deeper than before. He looked as weary as I felt, but he was still standing. His back was even straight. I had to respect him for that. I told him, “Aras will never seize power anywhere. He is not that kind of sorcerer. Lorellan is a danger to us all. Aras is not. There is not the remotest similarity between them. I know you will not believe me. I do not set any fault against you for that. But you said you wanted the truth. That is the truth. Let that answer any other questions you want to ask me, lord of the inKera. I am very tired.” I closed my eyes again. Perhaps I even slept, after a fashion. If Soro inKera asked me anything else, I did not hear him.

-29-

At dawn, Lorellan and all of us left the palisade behind and walked south.

The Lau formed up into two long rectangular formations, each framed by three rows of men. The men on the outside carried the spears and swords and shields that made the kind of line our warriors could not break through, and the men on the inside carried bows so that they could shoot out of the formation while still protected against our superior bows by the shields of the men in the middle, which would be lifted high the moment arrows began to fly. On the inside of the line were more men who could take the place of anyone who fell and also guard against the Ugaro warriors, who walked in the center of the rectangles.

Also in the center of each formation came the carts that held supplies and tents and axes and all the tools needed to raise a palisade or fortify a position in other ways. The horses might have been vulnerable to arrows, but men with long shields rode them, ready to guard against that kind of attack. A few riding horses were tied behind the carts. I saw Lorellan’s tall black stallion. The horse looked happier and more relaxed without his rider on his back. I felt I understood him very well.

The Ugaro warriors walked in the center of one formation, and the women and children in the center of the other. Now I could see that there were not so many women: two twenties or so. Warriors from several tribes might be captive, but I thought all those women probably came from one tribe—almost certainly inKera. That was at least better than seeing evidence that Lorellan had taken more than one women’s camp.

Most of the men were bound. The rest, perhaps one in five of the number, were those Lorellan had succeeded in making into slaves. They carried swords and walked between the bound warriors and the Lau. Plainly if the inKera warriors tried to attack the Lau, they would have to tear down their own people first—and by the time they did that, Lorellan would have tightened the sorcerous leashes by which he held them. The women were not bound, but many of them carried young children. I wished I had pretended I could not be calm until more of the women were free. I had not even thought of that.

I did not walk with the inKera warriors. I walked at the rear. My wrists had been bound together and then to my belt, and I walked surrounded by Lau soldiers, two of whom held cords that led to running nooses around my throat. If either soldier pulled hard, I would not be able to breathe. If I attacked one of the men, the other could choke me. They had demonstrated this to me twice, once so I would know and the second time because they took pleasure in it. I had killed some of their companions, so I hated them less for that than I might have. Also, one of the young men looked very much like Suyet. It took some time for me to be sure it was not him, and even after I was certain, the resemblance made me remember that many of these soldiers might be Lorellan’s slaves, not willing followers.

I did not know where Lorellan was, except not near me.

Sometime during the night the snow had stopped and the clouds broken, and now the sky was high and clear. Though the Sun had stepped into the sky, the Moon still showed her face, though modestly, her light dimmed in respect for his strength. It is always lucky when the Moon lingers in the sky after the Sun comes there. I looked up at her sometimes, to help myself remember that.

The palisade fell behind very quickly at the fast pace set by the Lau soldiers, and then we walked through a narrow belt of forest, and then out again into the more open country that the Lau preferred, and south along the top of a ridge where the snow was not deep. Then we passed through another belt of forest and our pace slowed. The trees were spruce and fir and larch, very old trees, with high, heavy branches that blocked the Sun so that suddenly we walked in twilight.

Suddenly wolves were singing. Many-many wolves, very near. The formation seemed to stutter as men missed their step. I tried to stop, but the men with the cords jerked hard and I stumbled and then walked forward.

They were not wolves, of course. These were Ugaro warriors. Mounted warriors swept suddenly into view, riding fast, weaving among the huge trees, their ponies flinging up great clouds of snow as they plunged through the high drifts. These were not men who had come with Aras and my father and Royova; we had not had any ponies. Probably they were inVotaro warriors.

The warriors began shooting the moment they were in bow range. They shot once, twice, three times, and then they stopped singing like wolves, stopped shooting, slung their bows over their backs, and clung to their ponies. I knew what had happened. They were seeing something they knew was not true, so they were letting their ponies decide what to do. That was in an old tale of a sorcerer. He had been defeated that way: by heroes who knew they could not trust their own minds and trusted their ponies’ good sense instead. No man could strike this sorcerer with a sword or an arrow. In the end, he had been trampled to death.

Before they came against the formation, the ponies turned east and west and then plunged back into the forest and out of sight. Our ponies are far too wise to run onto Lau spears. But as they turned aside and galloped back into the forest, other warriors stepped out from behind the trees and began to shoot, aiming carefully so that some of their arrows passed between the uplifted Lau shields and struck home before the soldiers realized arrows were coming from a different direction. The Lau were disciplined and adjusted quickly, but some had been struck. I heard cries all around me—

—and someone fell on top of me. He had leaped out of one of the great trees, I understood that after the first astonished instant. He had not fallen, exactly, because there was a rope—more than one rope. But he had hit me hard enough to knock me down. His sword flashed as he cut to one side and then the other, cutting the cords of the running nooses. Then he flung his sword at a Lau soldier who, recovering from the shock faster than the others, began to attack him. I had no time to see whether the sword struck home, because the warrior jerked me to my feet and then up off my feet. He had locked his legs around my hips and wrapped his arms around my chest, and we both rose sharply into the air. Lau were trying to catch at my feet, but at least one warrior was shooting down from above, and then it was too late, we were too high for even a tall Lau to reach, and then higher and higher, and hands grabbed and hauled, and we were lying across the great naked branch of a huge larch.

I was too stunned to think at all, but I tried to cooperate as a knife cut my hands free. I turned to stare at the man who had hauled me up to this place. It was Rakasa inGeiro, and he was laughing, so breathless he made almost no sound.

“You are completely mad,” I told him.

“Not completely,” he assured me, barely able to speak because he was still laughing. “Quick, this way.” He shoved me and I turned and scrambled that way, following the ropes that had been strung between this larch and the next and then the one after that. I was not at all surprised to find Bara, Rakasa’s friend, helping me. My friend Keyova was with them, and young Tyo. All of them were young and strong, not nearly as heavy as a warrior in the prime of his life, and completely, ridiculously stupid.

“Lorellan—” I began.

“Yes, that is why we are trying to be quick,” Keyova told me. “Here, we go down here, you have no gloves, wrap your hands with this.” He gave me a piece of leather. I was glad someone had thought of that, though I would have been more than willing to sacrifice the skin off my palms to get away from Lorellan. I still did not really expect to escape; I thought at any moment he would reach out with his sorcery and take some or all of these young men for his slaves or his dogs, force them to bring me back to him—something of that kind. I thought so even as we came down at the base of a massive spruce, and my father, waiting there, put the reins of a pony into my hands.

I swung onto the animal’s back, and we all rode together, fast, the ponies laying their ears back and crow hopping to show their opinion of deep snow and winter forests and mad riders who wanted to go plunging through the drifts instead of sensibly seeking warmth and shelter. We skidded down slopes and forged up ridges, leaving a trail a blind Lau could follow. Behind and to the west, I could hear many-many Ugaro, singing out with the voices of wolves.

I drew what felt like the first real breath I had taken in more than a day. But I said furiously to my father, “Lorellan could have taken you all as his slaves! You were completely stupid to do that!”

This was not something a young man should say to his father. He pretended not to hear me. Rakasa was still too breathless with hilarity to answer, but Bara said from my other side, “Our sorcerer protected us. He put silence and patience into our minds and made us forget why we were there. We waited with the quiet minds of hunters, until everyone else made a great deal of noise. Then we remembered. But I admit I was not happy to have Rakasa take the most demanding place. Look at him! He might have laughed so hard he dropped his sword before he cut you free.”

I could only shake my head, but Keyova reached over and punched me on the arm. “As though we would leave you there, Ryo! It would have been completely disgraceful! Even Royova agreed!”

“Speak respectfully of the inVotaro warleader,” my father told him, his tone severe, but he said to me, “But Keyova is not wrong. No one argued we should not try.”

“But—” I began, but I did not know what to say. Finally I said, “All those warriors and the inKera women are still trapped.”

“Their situation is not the same,” my father said firmly. “Do not argue with me.”

I closed my mouth.

We came out into a clearing and climbed a long slope and went back into the forest, and there was a tethered pony, and a fire, and Aras sitting by the fire, wrapped in furs so that only his eyes were visible. I slid off my pony and went to him, and knelt, and said, my voice husky, “I failed completely.”

“Ryo,” he said, and stopped. All the lies lifted out of my mind.

I stared at him. Then I covered my face with my hands.

He stood up and set his hand on my shoulder. “You should be given time to recover,” he said gently. “But there is this battle, and I need to concentrate on that. I hope the worst is over for you, but I need you now.”

I was still shuddering, but I lowered my hands and began to breathe deeply, trying to put everything that had happened at a distance so that I could pay attention to the present moment.

“Good,” Aras said. He stepped back, tugging the furs more closely around his body. “I need you to protect me, Ryo. Lorellan is going to try very hard to kill me now, and you will be able to recognize and resist his sorcery better than anyone else.” He turned to my father and went on, “I am mostly watching with my mind, not my eyes, but it would help me if you could see; I would like to use your judgment to help me assess the changing situation. I need you to find a place with a good vantage.”

“Yes,” said my father, his tone unreadable.

“Later you may have the opportunity to judge all my acts,” Aras told him. “If the gods are kind.” He mounted his pony, closed his eyes and covered his face with the furs. Even bundled in furs, he looked strange on the pony, with his long legs coming down much farther than an Ugaro’s legs. He did not touch the reins, but left his animal free to follow the others.

I also mounted again. I tried not to meet anyone’s eyes, but not even Rakasa seemed remotely amused any longer. My father chose which way to go, and eventually we came to a rise and turned east and found an open place where stone fell away to a small cliff. We all dismounted and walked forward to the edge of the cliff so we could look out over the trail the Lau were following. The Lau were walking fast, along the ridge. Arrows stood in some of the Lau shields. Other than that, nothing seemed to have come of the earlier attack, except that I was here and not there. I wondered if Lorellan thought that a significant loss. I could not see why he would. I wondered if Royova, wherever he was now, thought it gain enough for the risk that had been taken. That also seemed unlikely.

Aras uncovered his face. He glanced out at the Lau, but most of his attention was obviously turned inward. He said to us, “Soon many things will happen. Some of those things will be real, but some may not be. When you are not certain what is true, trust your body to know. If you cannot tell, then trust Ryo to tell you.” Then he wrapped himself in his furs until he once more disappeared completely, and became still.

After a few moments, Rakasa said to my father, his tone faintly questioning, “The young men and I should go down and find my father?”

“No,” my father said curtly. “Stay here. If I need warriors at all, my need will be greater than your father’s. He has plenty of warriors.” As though it came in counterpoint to the order, the long singing cries of wolves began again.

“Lord,” Rakasa said, acceding.

“Our people will not be able to break those formations,” I said.

“No,” my father agreed. “We can harry them and prevent them from resting, but if they are determined, we cannot stop them.”

“Lorellan—” I stopped. Something else was happening. The inKera women were trying to break through the inner edge of the Lau formation, the western edge, where the line was closest to the forest. All of them together, all at once. The soldiers should have thrown them back without effort. Instead the precise lines of the Lau formation bowed and rippled. I could hear the hoarse, alarmed cries of men from where we stood, and the line broke.

The women surged into the gap, those who were strongest clearing the way for the children and the girls. I clearly saw how one woman threw herself onto wavering swords to make a way for others to break through the line. I could imagine how the women would snatch at bows and try to pull knives from belts. They were women, but they were Ugaro and they would fight hard. They did fight hard. The entire westernmost line of that formation dissolved into confusion.

“Brave,” applauded Keyova.

My father clicked his tongue in disapproval, not of the women, but of the poor courage the Lau showed in failing to stop them. “Pidila,” he said with contempt.

I said, “I think those soldiers are seeing something other than Ugaro women attacking them.”

“Even so,” said my father. But everyone, even I, glanced at the still form we guarded.

Our own warriors were stepping out from behind trees, shooting at the soldiers to distract them as the first women and a handful of children broke free and disappeared into the blowing snow, and then more after them. But then our warriors ceased shooting, calling out in horror.

“Now our people see something that is not real,” Bara observed, his tone grim.

The Lau began to sort themselves into better order, but the mounted Ugaro warriors rode back out of the forest, driving their ponies hard and screaming in high, thin voices, like the cries of the small lions. The Lau formation wavered again, but enough of them managed to raise their spears, and then suddenly they were moving much more decisively and I knew they now saw the truth and not whatever lie Aras had put into their minds.

The ponies would not run against the spears, but turned sharply and went around, pouring back into the forest on the eastern side of the formations. But the mounted warriors drew their bows three or four times on the way, which was enough of a distraction that our own warriors caught themselves out of whatever terror Lorellan had shown them and began to shoot again. Some of the women were dead or wounded, but I thought more had gotten away.

“This is much better than I thought—” I began.

My father reached over and cuffed me lightly. “Would you tempt the gods to be unkind?”

He was right. I observed instead, “The Lau still hold all those warriors.”

“They did not even attempt to break out,” my father agreed.

Tyo began, “Even bound as they are, I can hardly believe Ugaro warriors would be so meek! I wonder—”

I realized the mistake we were all making. “They are his dogs!” I said sharply. “He holds them with his sorcery. Even if he did not, they are unarmed and helpless. How many women are dead? Count them! Put your attention on that.” I began to count the sprawled bodies myself. There were not so very many, but enough to make me very angry. I made no attempt to push aside the anger and grief.

My father took a breath and let it out. “So. I am sorry for the women, with such useless men for their husbands. If inKera does not survive as a tribe and inGara survives, we will take in the inKera women who live.”

“I am certain Yavorda would say the same,” Rakasa said immediately, not to see his people outdone in generosity. “The inGeiro would do the same.”

If it came to that, the offer was a generous one, especially for a tribe that had been an enemy not long ago. The enmity had not been settled: they were still enemies. But what I had told Soro inKera was the truth: it was hard to think of them that way now. I began to say so and then Lorellan said, sharp and pleased, “There you are. There you both are.”

I spun, and he was there, smiling. Markas was with him. He came forward, running the whip through his hands. Lorellan said, “This time he won’t stop at five hundred, Ryo. You’ll die screaming.” He gave me a mocking salute, his hand to his heart, and disappeared.

Markas walked toward me, exactly as I remembered, not smiling at my fear and rage, but indifferent. My knife was in my hand, but Aras was suddenly there also, not huddled silently in furs, but standing beside me in the light clothing of the summer country. He told me urgently, “This isn’t real, Ryo,” and I snapped, “I know that, I killed him, I am not completely stupid,” and Aras said, “If you forget, trust yourself anyway. I’ll do what I can, but Lorellan is so much stronger than I am. As soon as you can, see if you can take me south.” He disappeared.

Markas stepped forward and seized my arm, but I did not stab him. Someone was gripping my arm, someone I did not want to fight. I could not remember who was actually with me, but my muscles did not want to deliver the blow. My memory stuttered, uncertain images of the Lau and the captive inKera coming and going. I said, “I see an enemy here.” The grip immediately vanished.

I took a breath, let it out, and my memory smoothed out, lies lifting and becoming transparent. My vision cleared. I blinked, blinked again, and shuddered.

“Better? Can you hear me?” my father asked. He had stepped back from me. He watched me closely, but he also gestured, and the four young men with us, who had been staring at me, all turned to watch the forest around us instead.

“I think so.” I turned my back to the others, taking my share of the duty to watch for enemies, checking again and again that the things I thought I saw felt real to both my mind and my body. “I saw an enemy,” I said, though perhaps I had said it before.

“Yes,” said my father. “He wanted you to strike me down, so you would be crippled by the guilt of the blow.” His voice was perfectly level. He added in exactly the same tone, “That sorcerer should die every death.”

“We cannot stay here,” Rakasa said urgently. “He knows we are here.”

I nodded. He was a warleader’s son: of course he had realized we needed to move quickly from this place. “Aras said so as well.” I looked at Aras, sitting in the snow wrapped in furs. “He said he must go south.”

“My pony is the wisest for a man who cannot guide him,” my father said. He lifted Aras bodily, and put him on the pony. This was a stallion, snow-colored. He tried to bite when my father settled Aras on his back. My father slapped him lightly on the nose and gave Keyova a look, and Keyova took the reins and made the pony turn his head to the side. The rest of us mounted as well. We turned south. Everyone else watched for real enemies. I watched for the sharply vivid images of sorcerous visions and lies.

We jogged south for some time. The deep snow made speed difficult, and the ponies blew hard. They tried to turn aside into every kind of cover we came to, except for the snow-colored stallion, who pinned his ears back, but was too proud to notice hard going. I listened to the forest and waited for Lorellan to do something terrible. Perhaps Aras protected us, because nothing of that kind happened—yet.

The land sloped here, rising and then rising more steeply. The Sun blazed down, not with the power he showed in the summer country, but brilliant and almost warm. Firs stood tall to either side, carrying heavy loads of snow. The land was very quiet. The only sounds were the muffled thuds of our ponies’ hooves and occasional distant shouts behind us.

The land climbed and climbed, the trail weaving to follow the easiest slope. Then we crested the long hill and jogged down and down. The forest spread out below us, white and dark green, endless and silent, brilliant as the snow cast back the light of the Sun.

Suddenly, when we had come nearly to the foot of the hill, Aras straightened and said sharply, “Here will do.” I was so startled I embarrassed myself by flinching sideways, as though a dead man had suddenly moved and spoken. The only thing that saved my pride was that everyone else flinched too, except my father, who only grunted in response and gestured the way he thought we should go.

We made our way through the heavy snow until we found a good place, higher on a neighboring slope, at the base of a leaning spruce, sheltered from the wind, with a good view of the trail as it came down the face of the long hill. We might have gone eight bowshots, probably not more than ten or twelve.

Aras slid off the pony, staggering as he caught his balance, looking first up the long hill and then down the trail to the south. He looked at the sky, measuring the distance lying between the Sun and the western horizon, and asked, “How far from here to the borderlands?”

We all looked at each other. My father said at last, “We are perhaps half a day from the borderlands.”

Aras nodded. “How long before our enemy reaches this position?”

“If I had known you would ask, I would have measured their position and pace more carefully,” my father said drily. “Four hand’s-breadths of time. Six. Eight.”

“Can your people delay them a little?”

A short pause. Then my father said, “I have no doubt we could do that.” He looked at Rakasa. “Now is the time to find your father. Take the stallion; he is the strongest.”

Rakasa gave Bara a sign to stay with us, took the reins, pulled the stallion’s head around when he tied to bite, swung into the saddle, and rode away, the pony breasting the deep snow with great, heaving lunges.

“A very good stallion,” Bara commented. “But hard-tempered.”

“Bred by the inVotaro,” my father said absently. Everyone knew the inVotaro bred good ponies, but did not value good temper in their animals. They trained them to trample enemies, which is something an easy-tempered animal does not like to do.

Aras sat down again and pulled his cloak across his face. I tried not to sigh.

-30-

Our warriors must have delayed the Lau, because it was at least ten hand’s-breadths of time before we heard them coming. We could not see them at first, only hear them. They were not shouting or cursing or singing as my people might have done in their place. They were only walking in step, all those boots striking the snow at once. I thought that they would be very intimidating to any opponent just for the sullen quiet and the power of their steps.

Then they crested the hill, and yes, they were very intimidating.

The Lau must surely have been angry and tired now. Yet they still moved with the same precision, all together, in those two long formations. The Lau wounded were being carried on litters in the middle of the rear formation; the Ugaro captives walked in the center of the front formation. Some of the warriors were carrying wounded women. No one had given them litters. They carried their wounded as carefully as they could, in their arms or on their backs. Fortunately, there were not many Ugaro so badly wounded they could not walk.

Our people rode down from the north, shooting at the formation, and then racing away again to the east and west. Others leaned out from behind great spruces and shot, then stepped back into cover. But they were not shooting as fast or aggressively as they had at first.

“They will soon run out of arrows,” I observed. Warriors normally did not ride to war with fewer than sixty arrows apiece, but a long running battle like this would use many arrows. If as many as one arrow out of sixty had actually struck home in Lau flesh, I would be surprised.

“So will the Lau,” my father returned.

I shrugged. This was probably true. That would be a good thing, but it would not help us break those formations. That, we could not do. Unless Aras could do it by putting visions and lies into the minds of the Lau. It seemed to me that if he could defeat them that way, he would have done it already.

The Lau were not out of arrows yet. While we watched, arrows struck an Ugaro pony and the animal went down, screaming like a child, its rider falling hard. Though another warrior tried to take up the fallen man, both were struck, and struck again as they tried to rise. They both fell, sprawling in the snow.

“Such things happen in war,” I said, more to myself than to anyone else.

My father nodded. His face was like stone. “Their heads will be set into the tombs of their people. We will cut down all the Lau and leave their bodies for the wolves—”

I was bound between the posts, the pitiless Sun above in a blank and brilliant sky, the whip coming down, and down, and down again. I could remember nothing but the Sun and the whip; the world beyond was lost in endless pain. I could see Aras watching, his face expressionless, his mouth set hard. My pride broke, it had broken long since, I cried out, begging him to do anything, to make them stop—

The memory shattered and I was in the winter country. I had fallen to my knees. My father was gripping my arms, staring into my face. I had never seen him so utterly furious.

He let me go and spun, drawing and throwing his knife in one movement, his arm snapping through a short, hard arc. The warrior who had been hurling himself toward Aras dropped like an arrow-shot deer, crashing into the snow and rolling.

There was another warrior behind the first, but Bara took him, and others beyond that, but now I was up, my own knife out. The man I faced did not want to stop to fight me; he wanted to get past me to Aras. I took him down into the snow and drove my knife into the base of his throat and flung myself up again, staggering. Other warriors were coming, but suddenly I could not see, I was blind. I caught my breath and stilled my mind, and when my body wanted to twist to the side and move and reach, I let it happen, and caught a man’s wrist. He grunted. I dropped to my knees and twisted hard, throwing my whole body into that move, bringing my opponent down, forcing him to drop the sword he held. I thought I was blind, but somewhere behind the blindness, my body knew I could see; when my opponent tried to gut me with his knife, I caught that wrist too. But he was stronger than I was and I could not hold him—he was forcing me back, the knife touched my chest, just below my collar bone—

The strength went out of him. For an instant I thought that, too, was a lie. But I pushed him off me and then my sight came back, and I could see that Aras had come to his feet, snatched up one of the scattered swords, and driven it into the warrior’s back. Now he was fighting yet another warrior, one who had overwhelmed Tyo and come near killing him. Aras was using his skill and his superior reach to keep the man at bay, but there were others, too many, Tyo had put his back to his brother’s, but he and Keyova were plainly overmatched and my father was fighting two men himself.

Rakasa inGeiro came plunging through the trees on the snow-colored stallion, guiding him with his legs. He held a sword in one hand and a knife in the other, and the stallion had his ears pinned flat, ready to bite and trample enemies. Behind Rakasa, I saw his father Naroya, and behind him other inGeiro warriors.

“Keep me safe,” Aras said tersely to me, and collapsed, boneless and limp, the sword falling from his hand.

What we might have lost in the moments he was forced to fight for us and for himself, I could not begin to guess. I threw the furs back over him, pushed him into the shelter of the leaning spruce, and put myself in front of him. I had a sword now, and I lunged toward the man who came at me, forcing him back. I let my arm drop as I recovered, and the man took advantage of what he thought was a mistake to come in with a killing stroke, and I surprised him by catching his sword with mine. I jerked his weapon out of his hand, and cut across his belly, and he fell.

Rakasa threw his knife at a bowman, so the man flinched and forgot he had Keyova at his back, and Naroya killed the last of our opponents with three fast arrows, and then at last we seemed to be done with fighting for at least a little. Bara had a cut across the chest, but he was on his feet, snapping at Rakasa, who was trying to make him sit down so he could tend the cut. Many men were dead around us. Most were Ugaro warriors who had been enslaved, but also four of us, including young Tyo, who had been so brave that he had let Aras put sorcery into his mind so he could help rescue me. Keyova knelt by his brother’s body, stricken and silent. Such things happen in war, but it is never easy for a man to see his brother die, or carry that word to their father. Or worse, their mother.

“I will make that gods-forsaken sorcerer die every death,” my father said grimly, breathing hard, looking at Keyova and at Tyo’s body.

“I would be satisfied if he dies one death,” Naroya said, equally grim. “But I do not know how to make that happen. Why did we make those Lau come out from behind their palisade? True, we could not touch them there. But this is not the kind of battle we can win.”

Out on the open slope, the Lau were still coming, still in their formations. Naroya was right: everything we had done to make them leave their fortified camp, and still they were not vulnerable enough. I could not see how Aras had expected that we could do anything but harass them and die.

“Look!” said Rakasa suddenly, his voice stunned. Everyone turned quickly to look.

Up from the south came all the Lau in the world, their horses at a dead gallop, banners floating above them. The ones in front carried the long, heavy lances they use to break a formation.

Lorellan’s formations wavered and then steadied, the sharp calls of the officers coming clearly to where we stood watching.

Unlike our ponies, Lau horses will run into a wall of spears; they are bred for it and trained for it, but even so, they will only do it once. If the formation did not break on the first charge, they would not be able to try again. Also, the horses were galloping uphill, and they had already galloped a long way. I could see their red nostrils and the foam on their necks even from this distance. The Lau breed brave horses, but within Lorellan’s formation, the men in front set the butts of their spears against the ground and stood fast. The bowmen slung their bows and leaned against the men in front, bracing the line where the blow would come.

Then the captive Ugaro warriors flung themselves against that line from behind, and it began to break.

Some of the Ugaro, weaponless as they were, died at once, but not many. Those who had been enslaved were not there to strike against their own people; they were here, dead in the snow around us. I had known that, but I had not realized what it meant. Lorellan ought to have tightened his leashes on the other captives; he should have forced them down, but plainly something had broken his power over them. Plainly Aras had broken his power over them. Now they forced the Lau to turn to defend themselves even as the charge bore down.

Then the inKera warriors all began to fling themselves down on the ground. Naroya hissed between his teeth in shocked disapproval.

“No,” said my father. “That is not cowardice. Those are brave warriors and bring honor to their tribes.”

I did not understand at once. But then as the charge struck, I saw how those warriors tucked themselves low against the beaten snow, their arms over their heads. Most Lau horses are easy-tempered, and no horse likes bad footing, and their riders were shouting, urging them to jump. Many of the horses did jump the men who had fallen down before them.

Lorellan’s second formation was pressing forward. That formation had opened to let what remained of the first through, and the soldiers who had not been killed in that first charge turned again to reinforce the second formation.

“Those Lau are not entirely without courage,” my father said grudgingly. “But those who are our allies cannot charge like that again. Not uphill, on spent horses, with no distance to gather speed.”

“If they did, that other formation would not break,” Naroya agreed. “They have not left themselves vulnerable from the rear.”

I nodded. They were both right.

“Look! Some of the captive warriors still live,” Rakasa observed, pleased. A pause had come, as sometimes happens in battle. The remaining warriors, no longer captives, were trying to get off the open ground. Other Ugaro warriors ran out of the forest to help them get the wounded to better cover beneath the trees.

By this time, the Sun had made his way down toward the horizon. As she had lingered in the sky far into the morning, the Moon now stepped early into the sky to join the Sun. She stood translucent in a sky that glimmered now with the deep, soft light of approaching evening.

The Lau on both sides were collecting themselves into decent order. The banners that snapped in the cold wind were red, with a yellow sun. I said, because perhaps the other men might not know, “That is the king’s banner. The king of the summer country.”

“So,” said my father, acknowledging this.

Even after what had happened, our enemy’s position was strong: he held the high ground. But I could not imagine how he could recover now. His king knew Lorellan was his enemy; and many more men rode under the banner of the Sun. Long, clear horn notes sounded. I did not know the signals, but the music of those horns made my skin tighten and shiver.

The lines of the summer king’s army shifted and gathered and began to move, slowly now. The last of the Sun’s light flashed on the points of their spears. They were walking slowly, but gathering speed. As they came to fallen Ugaro or Lau, they stepped over them without pausing. When they met Lorellan’s men, I did not know what would happen. The summer king’s Lau were more numerous, but they would have to walk up almost the full length of that hill to engage, and then they would have to fight uphill against enemies armed and shielded as they were. I thought the Lau might well struggle on that hill all night, if they were too stubborn to break off. At least fighting might keep them warm.

Then Aras made a sound as though he had been struck. Everyone looked, and I knelt beside him, but of course I could not see anything wrong. It was plain to me that Aras was meeting some sorcerous attack now, an attack none of us could help him win. His face was tight with effort or pain. His eyes opened, but his gaze did not focus on me or on anything I could see.

My father hissed. I turned, and discovered that half the summer king’s soldiers had turned against the other half. They were fighting one another, and Lorellan’s men were advancing down the hill toward them. The horns called out again and again, but the summer king’s soldiers did not draw back from their mad battle against their own people. I could hear them shouting, and screaming. One after another, the horns were falling silent.

My father hissed again, but I was not even surprised. I had not realized it before, but now I discovered that I had always felt in my heart that Lorellan would win. Aras was losing his part of the battle, or he had lost it. The strain showed on his face. I could not see what he was doing, but the effort of it was plain. He had always said Lorellan was the stronger of them in sorcery.

Lorellan was there, high on the hill, shielded from any attack by the men he had made his slaves. He was advancing slowly, but he would not stop, and before him his enemies tore at one another because he had made them his fools.

In the forest, Ugaro warriors began to raise their voices, singing like wolves, but we had seen plainly, we had always known, that Ugaro were not going to break the Lau. In not very long, I thought he would take these new Lau as his slaves as well—those that survived. Some of the fighting was easing now, but not in a way that promised anything good.

It was very much like all the worst stories my people had told about sorcerers. I wanted to shake Aras, order him to stop our enemy, but if anything would have been more useless and probably more harmful, I could not imagine what it could be. I looked up instead, at the luminous sky and the lowering Sun and the translucent Moon. She rested near the horizon, round and beautiful and serene, untouched by the struggles of men. We could pray to her, but not for victory in battle. The Moon is not a warrior, and she understands women better than men.

Then I thought again. I knelt by Aras, set my hand against his cheek, turned his face to mine, and said very quietly, “We may die, but he need not win. Aras. We may not be able to win victory, but we need not be defeated. Can you hear me? Can you tell the inKera women the thing that is in my mind?”

He opened his eyes. His gaze locked with mine. He said, “I don’t know them well enough to find them now,” and then he closed his eyes again. I closed mine as well, in despair.

Then a single voice rose, far away, but so high and pure the sound of it came clearly. I knew that voice. Somewhere in the forest below, my sister sang to the Moon in a voice like the voice of one of her children the stars; like the voice of one of the wolves who are also her children and honor her as we do; like the voice of the high wind that cuts across the high, sharp stone of the Knife. It was not a warrior’s song. It was a song that asked not for courage nor for honor nor for victory, but for peace.

The breeze died. High above, I could hear the air become still and clear as ice. I could feel it start to fall.

Out in the open country, some of the Lau suddenly flung themselves onto their tall horses and fled south, their brave horses leaping instantly into a terrible pace that might carry them out from under the falling cold, if it did not break their hearts. Other Lau staggered where they stood and stood bewildered, trying to understand where they were and why they had been fighting their companions.

Above, near the crest of the hill, I saw Lorellan clearly at last. He had abandoned his people. He was on his black horse, the animal stretching out into a gallop down the long slope. I wished someone might shoot him, I wished I had a bow and was near enough to shoot him myself, I longed to be standing in his way with a sword in my hands and my brother and my father at my back, ready to cut the legs out from under that fine horse of his and then cut the sorcerer to pieces before he hit the ground ... it was impossible. If he could get clear, then he would; there was no time for anyone to stop him. The fengol was dropping fast, very much faster than I had ever felt it come before. The clear, pure voice of my sister carved the stunning, crystalline cold into long, smooth phrases of song.

Though I knew it could not make enough difference to matter, I dropped down to cover Aras with my body, pressing him into the deep snow, putting my back to the falling cold. Someone dropped down on top of me, and someone else flung a cloud of snow over us, and someone said furiously, “Get to shelter yourself!” I could not even pray the fengol might not drop so fast. I covered my face with my arms and prayed for peace.

The soft hammer came down. It kissed the earth. I held my breath. I had forgotten to warn Aras to hold his breath. I thought very hard that he should not breathe, even though his furs and my body should protect him for a moment and then nothing would protect him and it would not matter whether he breathed or not. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, but the peace of the fengol came into my heart and even though I knew we would freeze and die, I was not afraid . . .

. . . it lifted as fast as it had fallen. The fengol never lifts so fast. But this time the gods raised up their hammer almost before it had touched the earth. I felt it rise, and I was still alive. I could hardly believe any of us were still alive, but my father’s weight came off me as he got to his feet. He shook the snow away, reaching down his hand to me. I let him pull me to my feet and looked at him carefully, but he seemed well enough, though from the cautious way he stretched, I knew the cold had struck against his back deeply enough to bruise.

All around, everyone else was getting up as well. Naroya’s coat was missing. He had thrown it over Bara and his son, who had sheltered on the windward side of a fir where the snow had drifted deep. Naroya had been cold-struck at least as hard as my father; I could see the bruising on his arms where he had covered his face with them to take the stroke of cold where it might do less harm. Now Rakasa gave the coat back to him, frowning, but unable to shout at him for taking the greater risk on himself because a young man cannot shout at his father and a young warrior cannot shout at his warleader. I knew exactly how he felt.

A Lau who took such damage from the cold ... I turned fast, but Aras was already putting back the furs, moving slowly to get up.

Taking his hand, I lifted him to his feet, then steadied him when he staggered. I was worried, but he closed his hand on my arm and managed to straighten. The peace of the fengol lingered in his face, but he looked very, very tired. So far as I could see, there was no bruising from the cold that had fallen across us, but I was not entirely certain what such damage might look like on a Lau.

I asked him, “Aras, are you well?” I did not dare ask him anything else.

He turned his head to look into my face. His voice came weary and slow, but every word certain. “Lorellan is dead. He died when the cold came down.” He added as an afterthought, “I’m perfectly all right, Ryo. Even a Lau can’t freeze that fast through so many layers of fur and Ugaro.”

I sat down in the snow and leaned against the spruce that had sheltered us, too spent to manage another word. Too spent to think. But the peace of the fengol seemed once again to come into my heart, and spread from the center of my body to my fingertips, and beyond, outward into the wintry forest.

-31-

We walked slowly down from the place we had sheltered and out onto the open land. Lau and their horses lay everywhere, stiff and glittering with frost. I could never have counted so many. It was impossible to distinguish now between the ones who had fought for Lorellan and the ones who had fought for the summer king. The bodies of Ugaro warriors lay here and there as well, but my people had mostly died of wounds, not of the fengol cold. Their blood had frozen into shining beads and pools on the snow.

“I tried to tell them to run,” Aras said wearily. “Those Lorellan had in his grip couldn’t hear me. But some of my people listened.” He nodded toward men who were now coming cautiously out onto the packed snow, walking in quiet awe among the many dead. Most of them were Ugaro warriors, but there were surprisingly many Lau as well.

Aras followed my gaze toward the mingled Lau and Ugaro. “Yes, I asked your people to shelter them, any Lau who threw down his weapons and asked for help. I begged my people to throw down their weapons and ask. There was so little time. I’m amazed so many survived.” He drew a slow breath and let it out. “Some of my people managed to get out of range, thankfully. The fengol struck only here.”

I looked at him, but I said nothing.

We went on, still slowly, until we found Lorellan.

He had not gotten nearly far enough to escape the cold. The fengol had come first to the high places, as it will, and he had been only halfway down the slope when it took him. On his horse, he had been even more exposed than a man on the ground. The stallion had been galloping so fast and Lorellan had fallen so hard that his frozen body had shattered when it struck the ground. His head lay many paces from where the horse had fallen. His face was much broken, but I recognized him. I had not realized before how he did not look like any other Lau to me. I should have been glad to find his head, I was glad of it, but I could not bear to touch it.

My father picked it up and looked at it in silence. Then he said to Aras, “You can take it back to your people. We will not want it here in our country. If the decision were mine, I would crush the skull to grit and scatter the grit in living water. But no doubt your people have your own customs.”

“Yes,” said Aras. “Thank you. It should go to my king.” But he did not reach to take it. I could not tell whether he felt the same revulsion I did. He glanced at me. Then he looked past me and smiled. “Ah, Lucas! I thank the gods.”

Lucas Samaura was walking toward us, and my brother Garoyo. I was very glad to see him well and went to him so I could make certain he had not been hurt. His arms were bruised from the cold, and probably his back and shoulders as well, but other than that, he was perfectly well. “Etta?” I asked him.

He smiled at me, gripping my arms and pushing me back so that he could look at me in turn. “Recovering,” he told me. “Her mind is still in the sky.”

I nodded. Our sister had never truly sung before, not like that. I was not surprised she had not yet recovered. “You found our sorcerer’s nephew. The Lau were polite?”

This time Garoyo laughed. “They behaved like civilized people, Ryo—eventually. Going among them in their own country was an interesting experience.”

I smiled. “It is easier for a person who speaks their language.”

“Etta said so too,” he told me, and cuffed me lightly on the arm. “You should teach me a little darau. I would be willing to learn it.”

It was my turn to laugh. I had not expected that at all, though after all that had happened, I should have.

Lucas Samaura had obviously been stunned by everything that had happened. He was still gazing at his uncle, his eyes wide and dazed. He said, “Aras ...” but plainly did not know how to go on.

“Yes, I know,” said Aras. “Fortunately, it took Lorellan entirely by surprise as well. Soretes got clear. If I’d gotten our king killed through a little too much cleverness, I’d have been seriously embarrassed.”

“He did get out of it, then,” Lucas Samaura said in relief. “Karoles?”

“Yes, I’m glad to say. They’re some way south of here.” Aras raised his eyebrows and added, “As you should be. I did tell you to take your horse and run.”

“Yes, but ...” Lucas looked around. Other Lau were coming to join us, some of them wearing the brown badge of Gaur and some different badges.

“Ah,” said Aras. “Of course you couldn’t abandon our people. Well done, then.” He looked around at the gathering Lau soldiers. “I thank the gods you all survived. I am so deeply grateful you trusted me enough to ask the Ugaro for help.” He did not wait for any answer, but shifted to taksu, bowing his head to Garoyo and then to one warrior and another. “I am deeply in your debt for sheltering these men. Many of them are my own people, and I would have been very much grieved by their deaths.”

The warriors glanced at one another.

“Can no one answer courteously?” demanded my father.

One of the warriors, an older man, stepped forward and inclined his head to Aras. “They had been fighting our enemies. They threw down their weapons. What else could we do? You owe no debt.”

My father nodded curt approval of this answer. He said to the warrior, “I am Sinowa inGara. What tribe is yours?” The warriors murmured their names, and he nodded to them all equally. “Convocation law rules here,” he said flatly. “No enmity permitted, no matter the tribe. Do I need to say so?”

“No,” said the warrior who had spoken before, who was inKarano. “Our king said so already.” He glanced north, to where more Ugaro were making their slow way over the crest of the hill. Most of them were mounted on ponies. Unlike the Lau horses, our ponies know how to seek shelter from the fengol cold. They would have crowded together beneath the thickest trees and lain down in the snow. I knew many of my people would have survived by throwing a coat over their pony’s head to protect its face and eyes and then tucking themselves tight against its belly.

A few of the Ugaro coming down that hill were women. I looked at Aras.

“No, your sister’s over that way,” he told me absently, nodding toward the forest. “Her mind is still very far from the world. If I look too closely, it makes me lightheaded. You know, Ryo, I can’t believe my people think yours don’t know any magic.”

“It was not magic,” I told him. “It was a song. She is a singer. The gods were kind to answer, and very, very generous to lift their hammer before we all died of it. I did not expect it. You know that.” I paused. Then I added, “You knew she was there. You asked her to sing. From how far away? I thought you were so much less powerful than Lorellan.”

He smiled at that, a sudden vivid humor coming to his face. “Yes, he thought so too. The lies that most insidiously seduce a man are the ones that make him feel superior. In some ways that was true, but as you’ve guessed, not in every way. You’ve been suspecting that lie for some time—and doing very well at concealing that suspicion—but I’ve been wondering how I gave myself away.”

“You said it so often, to so many people. I guessed from that you might wish Lorellan to believe it. But even when the thought came to me, I was not at all certain.”

He nodded. “I couldn’t prevent him from enslaving anyone if he got to them first, and he could take far more people at a time than I could protect. He truly was much more powerful in that way; it was very hard for me to free men once he had them.”

“But?”

His smile widened. “But in some ways, you’re right, he was much weaker than I am. He couldn’t close his mind to me nearly as completely as I could close mine to him—and he never realized that. I couldn’t free your people from his sorcery except one at a time, rather painfully, but he didn’t expect me to be able to do it at all and he didn’t realize I was doing it. A remarkable lack of sensitivity. And there were one or two other advantages I had that he might not have suspected. Altogether, I almost had the skill and strength to defeat him. But not quite. When he began taking my king’s people a hundred times faster than I could get them back, I thought I—we—had lost after all. Defeating him took your people as well as mine. And the gods.” He paused, looking at me. He touched my arm. Then he looked at my father.

My father had been watching the Ugaro riders come down the hill. He said to Aras, his tone curt, “This is hardly the place or the time to greet our king. It is especially not the time for you to greet him.” He raised his voice. “I know we are all weary. But our wounded need warmth and quiet. Let the dead wait for dawn. We will need shelter for ourselves and for the Lau. Fires. Food. Let young men respect older men; let warriors respect warleaders; let no one quarrel. This is not the time.”

Eight hands-breadths of time later, we had made a proper shelter in a huge grove of young firs at the foot of a wide cliff, with the snow packed down and great fires roaring in a wide half circle. There were not enough tents for so many, but warriors had taken those we had and opened them up and set the canvas to break the strength of the wind. Some of the young men who were not as tired had gone to get the dogs, left out of the way during the battle. Our dogs do not like to fight, not with each other nor with men, but they like to hunt almost as much as they like to pull. The young men had taken them out to find game, so there was enough meat for everyone. Now even the Lau almost looked warm.

I could not count the Lau, except that there were many. But there were many times that number of Ugaro. Some of the Lau were armed, but most were not. They were all very quiet. I knew they felt keenly that they were out of place.

The wounded, Lau and Ugaro alike, had been given the warmest place, between the fires and the face of the cliff. Mostly each people kept to his own, but I saw an Ugaro warrior closing a long cut across a Lau soldier’s thigh with many meticulous stitches, and a Lau working to set an Ugaro warrior’s badly broken hand and wrist.

Aras had settled quietly to one side, not among the other Lau, but surrounded by inGara and inGeiro warriors. Bara sat beside him, his chest stitched and bandaged. Rakasa hovered over them both, bringing extra furs and bowls of tisane, until his partner threatened to hit him. Aras looked nearly asleep, but he was smiling.

I had been busy about many tasks, but came now to sit with them. Some of the young men had been preparing food and now began to bring bowls to the wounded. I took a bowl, passed it to Aras, and accepted another for myself.

He sipped the broth and sighed, leaning his head back against the trunk of the tree behind him. He said to me, “Most of your king’s people have made a different camp, three or four bowshots that way.” He nodded to the west and north. “Have you noticed the inKera aren’t here? Your father’s not here either. Nor Naroya inGeiro. Nor Royova inVotaro. The only warleader here is Garoyo.” He paused.

I said nothing. I had not realized he had noticed that. I had been trying not to think of it.

He did not seem worried. Only very tired. He asked, “Is dawn an appropriate time for your king to call for me? I have the impression that might be his intention.”

Of course dawn was a very appropriate time. “The Dawn Sisters are lucky,” I reminded him. But I did not know if that luck would be enough. I asked, unable to hide my unease, “What will your uncle do if our king condemns you? That would be completely unjust and I know my father will argue against it, but I think Royova would prefer to see all sorcerers dead.” I studied his face. “Do you know what our king will decide?”

“I don’t. He’s changing his mind constantly. I’d say he agrees with whomever is speaking and never settles on an opinion of his own, but that doesn’t seem likely for a king everyone respects.”

I thought about this. Then I said, “Koro inKarano was a poet before he became king. He would know every way described in every tale by which a man might baffle a sorcerer.”

“I see. Well, this is a technique I haven’t encountered before, but it’s certainly effective.” He paused. Then he said gently, “I know which decision would be easiest. It’s all right, Ryo. Soretes won’t do anything, no matter what happens to me. It was his people who caused all this trouble, and he’s the king who raised his standard in a country not his own. He’ll want his surviving people returned unharmed if at all possible, and he’ll want to collect the dead. He won’t ask anything else and if your winter king chooses not to grant him those things, he will accept even that. He hasn’t the remotest standing to do anything whatsoever. He knows that.”

“He knows it because you have told him so,” I said. “Over how great a distance can you speak to him?”

His gaze stilled. He said after a moment, “You’re beginning to understand me too well. No, don’t say it. You’re right: given the correct conditions and a certain amount of assistance from a ... friend, I can speak to Soretes over quite a long distance. He’s beyond my range now, however. He’s been moving south since the fengol came down.” He paused.

“A friend?”

“A colleague, you might say. Don’t be concerned; she’s no danger to your people.”

I was skeptical, but I said nothing, and in a moment he asked, “The war became bitter at the end. Will your king permit my people to return to the summer lands?” His glance took in the Lau soldiers, his own and those bearing other badges.

I raised my eyebrows.

“I’m glad you’re so certain, but I must admit I don’t understand your reasoning here, Ryo.” He looked at me and smiled. “No, I truly don’t. You’re taking it for granted that I understand customs that aren’t familiar to me at all.”

I said patiently, “These warriors here saved your Lau when the quiet hammer came down. Each Lau who survived lives because a warrior protected him from the cold. If our king took their lives now, that would insult every warrior who choose to protect them. Our king would never do such a thing. Your people are safe.” I considered him. “Now will you rest?”

He set his bowl aside with a steady hand, lay down where he sat, closed his eyes, and was instantly asleep. I glanced at Rakasa.

“Yes,” the young man said. “Go to sleep.”

I lay down beside Aras and also slept.

-32-

Our king’s tent was five sided, with patterns worked into the felt with porcupine quills and different kinds of leather, but three of the five sides had been rolled up despite the brittle cold of the dawn. The air was utterly still. Low in the sky, to the north, the three Dawn Sisters glowed. To the east, the sky had grown pale and the first edge of the Sun had appeared above the horizon. To the west, the Moon stood translucent in the brightening dawn. This morning held a great deal of good luck. I was glad the skies were clear.

A huge spruce stood to each side of the king’s tent. The land rose up on all sides, many such trees spreading their great branches above this place. They were all ancient trees here, with bare trunks to many times a man’s height and great branches reaching out above that. These trees were too big and too old to make it a comfortable place. It was a place for awe, not for comfort.

Our king sat just within the entrance of his tent, far enough forward to be seen from all sides. He was a big man, a little older than my father. His back was straight, his arms strong, his face round and calm, his eyes narrow and unreadable. His hair, grizzled with the tawny-white of his age, fell down his back in a thick braid. Koro inKarano had been king since long before I was born. My father was his second cousin and my mother had been a cousin of his first wife. I had seen him several times, but of course he had never noticed me. When I was Garoyo’s age and had won as much regard, he might consider me worth noticing.

My father and the lords of five other tribes sat to his right. The warleaders sat among their warriors, where I sat also, beside Garoyo, and Aras next to me, wrapped in a long lynx-fur cloak someone had found for him.

Darra inKarano sat at her father’s left hand. Siwa inKera, the wife of Hokino inKera, sat there as well. My sister was there too. She sat with her back straight and her hands folded neatly in her lap. She had put her hair into a complicated braid and seemed a little older than her winters, but still very young. She had not looked at me, aside from one quick glance. Her expression was solemn. Some other women sat to one side, a little apart from the men. No Lau was present other than Aras.

Our king stood up and raised his hands. My sister rose gracefully to her feet and sang the song to the Dawn Sisters in her pure voice. I had never heard her sing anything but the descant of that song before, not like this, without pausing to repeat anything or try a different note here or there. She sang the full melody now, all by herself. Her voice soared until it seemed the light itself was singing. She held the last note for a long time, until it faded into a perfect silence that was like song itself. Then she sat down. She had not looked at anyone as she sang, and she did not look at anyone when she was finished. For a long moment, no one moved or spoke

Then our king said in a quiet voice, “I think the lord of the inKera has something to say.”

Soro inKera stood up. He stood very straight, not stooped at all, and I thought he looked younger now than he had two nights ago, though still older than his years. He said, “My brother’s son, Arayo inKera.” He sat down.

A boy who had been sitting beside Hokino stood up. He made his way to the front, stopping a little distance in front of my father. He held out his hands, showing that his wrists were bound with a leather thong. Then he knelt, bowed his head, and said in a clear voice, “Lord, my father and my uncle offer me as tuyo, to end the enmity between our tribes.” His voice shivered and broke on the last word, and he cut it off sharply, flushing. I was aware of my own rapid heartbeat, and of how still Aras had grown beside me. Siwa inKera, Hokino’s wife and the boy’s mother, did not look at her son. She gazed away, into the forest, carefully serene, as a woman should be when warriors decide matters of that kind.

My father stood up. He asked the boy, “How old are you, Arayo inKera?”

“I have thirteen winters, lord,” Arayo answered, stammering a little, but not badly.

“Have you no elder brothers?”

The boy swallowed and then answered, without stammering at all, “Lord, my elder brother died yesterday.”

My father scowled down at him. Then he scowled even more darkly at Hokino inKera, glared at Soro inKera, and snapped, “Very well! I accept the offer.” He drew his knife and said to the boy, “Come here.”

Arayo inKera rose to his feet. He had to pause before he could walk forward. But he did it, and knelt again directly in front of my father. He made me ashamed. I doubted very much that he had disgraced himself by speaking bitter words to his father or his uncle when he had been told he would be offered as tuyo.

My father bent, gripped the boy’s arm, and cut the thong. He said to him, “I do not know what kind of death will satisfy my anger with your uncle. While I consider, you will stay with the inGara. Present yourself to my eldest son and obey him as though he were your father.”

The boy rose, came to Garoyo, and knelt by him. This close, I could see he was shaking. But his behavior had been very creditable throughout. My brother touched his arm to tell him he had done well, and the boy bowed his head, his shivering easing.

My father did not sit down. He said, “You are not under any obligation to satisfy my curiosity, Hokino inKera, but I would like to know what you expected me to do.”

Hokino stood up and faced him. “Your own son lives because of the generosity of the man to whom he was given as tuyo. Everyone knows that tale now. Everyone knows you are a hard man, Sinowa inGara. But I have never heard anyone say you are unjust. I judged you by your son, whom I had met, and by what I would do in your place, and I told my brother I wished to take the risk.”

My father glowered at him. “You wished to take the risk! I might have chosen otherwise! What would you have done if you had mistaken my temper? How would you have explained your mistake to your wife?”

Siwa slanted a glance at my father, but she said nothing. She was as proud as her husband. I admired her calm.

Hokino said, “No matter your decision, I would not have had to endure my wife’s rebuke.” He drew an illustrative hand across his stomach. “If I had been mistaken, then I would have asked you to let my death appease your anger. I think you would not have refused. But if you would not relent even then, my brother agreed he would humble himself in whatever way you required to beg your mercy for the boy.”

My father’s glower eased. “Soro inKera agreed to that?”

Soro stood up. He said in a level tone, “I am glad it is not necessary, but I would have done it. When your son and I were both captives of the Lau sorcerer, he told me that wherever he looked, he saw no enemies except the sorcerer. I ask you to forgive any insult I ever gave you, Sinowa inGara. I do not wish to be an enemy of your son’s father.”

I blinked in surprise, but I was not so astonished I did not understand I should answer. Getting to my feet, I said, “Lord of the inKera, you are generous to remember those words and not my insolence to you. I apologize for my disrespectful words. I will take your blow if you wish.”

Turning to me, Soro answered in the same level, unemphatic tone, “Ryo inGara, I would be ashamed to remember any insolent words you spoke to me.” He smiled, very slightly, but I saw the tuck in the side of his mouth. “I believe you were very tired at the time.”

I laughed, caught myself and bowed in apology, then knelt and bowed again. Then I straightened and looked at my father. Soro turned back to my father as well, and waited.

My father considered Soro. Then he said to Hokino, “We have not yet determined whether this kind of tuyo belongs permanently to the man to whom he was given. Perhaps that will be decided soon, or perhaps not.”

Hokino nodded. “Whatever your decision on the matter, and whenever you come to it, I will accept it.”

“Yes.” My father looked at Hokino for another moment. Then he said, “I am sorry to hear of the death of your elder son.”

“Yes,” said Hokino. He sat down.

My father said to Soro inKera, “I no longer remember our quarrel.”

Soro answered, “If we quarreled, I have forgotten it.” Both of them sat down.

Our king let a pause draw out long enough to turn the moment. Then he asked, “Does anyone else have anything to say?” No one moved. “So,” he said. “Let the sorcerer approach.”

Now Aras rose to his feet. He probably saw what he should do in my mind, or perhaps in everyone’s mind, because he walked forward and knelt a little way in front of our king. He bowed his head.

Our king studied him for a moment. Then he glanced at me and said “Let Ryo inGara approach.”

I was only a little surprised. I stood up, went forward, and knelt. Koro inKarano told me, “Stay here, in front. You need not stand to speak. Do not abuse the privilege.” Then he looked around. “Anyone may speak,” the king said. “Tell me the things I should know.”

There was a little silence. Then Siwa inKera stood up. She said, “When we were walking within the Lau formation, the sorcerer came into my mind. I saw him walking beside me, though he was not really there. He said to me, ‘If you would run, watch the western line. Soon the Lau in that part of the formation will see a white tiger where you are walking. When the line breaks, take your chance.’ In a little time, the line broke as he said it would. We ran then, and fought them, and got away.”

Our king nodded. He asked, “How many inKera women died?”

Siwa answered, “Eight women died then and two have died of their wounds since. Three children died then and one has died of his wounds since. Twenty women and seven escaped into the forest, but one may yet die. Seventeen children escaped. Four women with young children had already been released because of something Ryo inGara said to the sorcerer who was our enemy. That was good, because breaking through that line while carrying a young child would have been much harder. Enough of our women and children live that inKera should recover from what was done to us.” She sat down.

Royova inVotaro stood up. He said to Aras, “The captive warriors did not escape when the women escaped. Your enemy prevented you from making the Lau see a second tiger?”

Aras answered, “As you have realized, warleader, I had other reasons to leave those warriors where they were. I knew my people were coming, and I knew they would need help to break the Lau formation. I knew it would be dangerous for those warriors, but I chose to leave them where they might be most useful in the battle.”

Hokino inKera rose immediately, not waiting for Royova to sit down. He said, “We were walking there. I saw the sorcerer walking beside me. He said, ‘Given too early, a blow strikes your enemy’s shield and turns aside. A blow struck at the right moment is deadly. If you will trust me, I will tell you when to strike.’ After that sometimes he was there again. Each time he said, ‘Wait, this is not the time.’ Finally I said, ‘You need not tell me every heartbeat to wait. Only tell me when to strike.’ Then I did not see him again until he was there, calling to me that the moment had come.” He paused. Then he said, “He chose correctly. That was the right moment.” He looked at Aras. “The Lau fought very badly, especially at first. That was sorcery?”

“They had forgotten you were there,” Aras said softly.

Hokino nodded. He went on. “Then he said to me, ‘Down, down, flat to the ground, cover your head.’ I remembered myself crouching low, a horse leaping over me. I remembered this even though I was still on my feet and the horses had not yet come. I did as he said, and the other Lau broke through the line. Two horses jumped over me. I took a hoof to the hip. The bruise will pain me for many days, but the blow did not break the bone.”

Other men among the gathering were nodding. One and then another stood up and said, yes, he too had seen a horse leaping over him and heard the sorcerer urge him down.

“That is how it happened,” Hokino said. “This sorcerer was correct to want us there, behind the Lau lines. The strategy was sound.” He paused for another moment to let his statement stand in the air. Then he sat down.

“The strategy was probably sound,” Royova acknowledged, though with obvious reluctance. He also sat down.

Soro inKera stood up. He considered Royova for the space of a long breath. Then he glanced at me. Finally he said, “The other sorcerer had put his leash into our minds, making us his dogs. We could not fight him, except a very little. But this sorcerer broke his hold on us. After that we could fight.” He looked at Aras, his expression bleak. He said, “You broke his leash in my mind by replacing it with your own. I felt you do it.”

The whole gathering became absolutely still. I think all the people held their breaths. I know I did not breathe for that heartbeat.

Aras admitted quietly, “Yes, it happened as you say.”

A great many people all tried to speak at once, some of them leaping to their feet. Our king clapped his hands and shouted. He had to shout twice before there was quiet enough that he could be heard, and he had to shout a third time before everyone else stopped. He was furious, as any king would have been. As everyone realized this, a much deeper silence fell. He declared, “Everyone will sit. The next warrior who shouts over another man will be beaten. The next woman who raises her voice to be heard will be sent to tend the wounded. For forty breaths, no one will speak.”

There was a long pause. At the end of forty breaths, the king demanded, “Who was the last man to sit?”

One man got slowly to his feet. So did another. Then a third.

My father stood up. He said, “The last man to sit was the man farthest to the west.” He sat down. So did two of the other men. The one farthest to the west came to the front and knelt to our king, bowing to the ground. Liyo inTerika stood up. He said, “This man belongs to inTerika. I ask to judge this man myself.”

“I do not grant the privilege,” answered the king. “I will speak to you later.” He said to the man, “Go sit down.”

The man stood up and went back to his place. I would not have wanted to be in that place for anything. I bowed to the ground to be sure, and when the king did not forbid me, I straightened and asked Aras, “Was there a different way to break the other sorcerer’s leash?”

“No,” he answered. “Only a deeper tie can break one that is already there.” He had not looked up, and did not now, but knelt with his head bowed.

“Did this sorcerer use his leash to make you fight the Lau?” I asked Hokino. “Did your people fight the Lau because they were forced to fight?”

Hokino inKera stood up. He said, his tone dry, “No one had to force us to fight. We were very glad to fight.” He looked at his brother and then around at his warriors and everyone else. “Many times the other sorcerer tightened his leash. I also felt this sorcerer set his own leash in place as he broke the other, but I never felt his leash tighten. I do not know if the leash is still there. I do not feel it at all. If he could use his leash in the way the other sorcerer used his, he might have prevented my brother from speaking just now.” He sat down again.

Soro considered Aras. “Did you not know what I meant to say? Could you have prevented me from speaking? Is your leash still in my mind?”

“I knew,” Aras said. “And I cannot take out the tie once it is in place. But long ago I swore an oath before the gods not to use sorcery to cause any man to act or to refrain from acting.”

“You swore an oath,” Soro repeated. “Everyone knows Lau cannot be trusted to keep their oaths. Do you say you have never broken this oath? Do you declare that no necessity could make you do so?”

“Pressed too hard, anyone will break an oath,” Aras answered, his voice steady. “If I had needed to break this oath to defeat Lorellan, I would have done it. But no such chance came. I have never broken this oath.”

Soro raised his eyebrows, but he sat down.

Koro nodded thoughtfully, which did not mean he believed Aras. He asked, “Have you put such a leash into the mind of anyone else here, or only the warriors who had been bound by the other sorcerer?”

Aras drew a slow breath. He said, “I set a very deep tie into Ryo inGara’s mind. I wanted to be certain Lorellan could not make him into his slave, and I wanted to be sure I would be able to protect him, and find him no matter where he might be. I set a more shallow tie into the mind of every man who traveled with me from the west, so that I could protect them and find them.”

Royova inVotaro stood up, scowling. “You did this to me?”

“Yes, warleader. To everyone who traveled with me. What I did made it substantially more difficult for our enemy to take you for his thralls – his slaves.”

Royova did not seem to find this a good enough reason. I could not imagine many of our people found it good enough. If I had not come to know Aras better, I would have felt the same. I could not think of anything to say.

Then Rakasa inGeiro got to his feet. He spoke to Aras very seriously, with no trace of his ordinary easy humor. “During the battle, when the enslaved warriors attacked you, I knew you were in danger. I came as quickly as I could. So did my father. Was it this leash that drew us? Did you force me to come to you then?”

From the way he asked that question, I thought he believed Aras would say no. I held my breath.

“It was the tie,” Aras admitted. He refused to use the Ugaro word, only that other term. He went on at once. “But I did not force you to come. You chose to answer my need.”

Many people hissed in disbelief, but Koro inKarano asked, “Who felt the tug of this sorcerer’s leash? If you felt it and you did not answer it, stand up. Everyone else, sit down.” He looked around at the men on their feet, which was most of those who had traveled with us, including Royova inVotaro. “Royova?” Koro asked.

“I was busy elsewhere,” Royova answered. He had been glowering at Aras, but now he looked at our king. “I remember now I felt the sorcerer was in danger, but I was too much involved where I was.”

Koro nodded. He looked around at the other men and chose one of them. “Sarivo inGara?”

The man addressed answered, “I was fighting. I did not have time to go anywhere. I knew the sorcerer needed me and I wanted to help him, but I would have had to let the Lau come too hard against my companions.”

“You may sit,” the king told him. “Davorya inGeiro?”

A second warrior said, “I also knew he was in danger. I was needed where I was. I could not go.” He sat down, and one at a time the other warriors said much the same thing.

When they had all spoken, I asked Aras, “If you had not been defended at that time, what would have happened?”

He answered, “I do not know what might have happened later, but I would have missed the chance to signal the captive warriors to attack their captors. Then our enemy’s formation might have held against the warriors my king had sent to break it. But I can hardly imagine Hokino inKera would not have recognized the moment.”

Hokino stood up. “I would have recognized it, but perhaps too late. We could not see the horses until they were nearly on us. Also, I would not have understood we had to fling ourselves down to let the horses go over us. Even if the line had broken, many more of my people would have died then. I am glad we had that warning.” He paused. Then he said, “I am ashamed some of the warriors who permitted themselves to be enslaved were inKera. I regret very much any harm that came of that.”

My father stood up and said, “No fault attaches to the inKera warriors, nor to any other warrior who was made a slave. No fault attaches to inGara either, but I regret that inGara warriors did harm to those who were enslaved.”

Soro inKera stood up and said curtly, “I lay all the harm that came to inKera entirely against the other sorcerer. No fault is laid against any other person.”

Before Soro sat down, Geroka inYoraro got to his feet and said, “I agree with that. I do not consider that any inYoraro warrior is to blame for anything he did while enslaved, nor is any Ugaro at fault for harm that came to inYoraro warriors. I lay all the fault against the other sorcerer. I lay no fault against this sorcerer.” He looked at Royova and added, “Any other decision would be unjust.”

Royova frowned, but he sat down without answering. Everyone sat down again except our king. No one else stood up immediately. Everyone was thinking about what had been said.

Finally Koro said to Aras, “You say you have never tightened your leash. I find this difficult to credit. You have never made any man obey you? You have never tried to do so? How old were you when you swore you would not?”

“I had thirteen summers then, o king.”

For a long moment, he and Koro looked at each other. Our king said, “Ugaro boys that age sometimes swear oaths that are too strong for any man to keep. Our tales warn against that.”

“Yes,” said Aras. “So do Lau tales. But I have kept this one. I will keep it still, whatever your decision.”

“Can you see what I have decided?”

“You are changing your mind very quickly, over and over. I think you are probably doing that deliberately to baffle my sorcery. If that is so, it is an effective technique, but it is not necessary for you to go to the trouble, o king. Whatever your decision, I will not defend myself by any use of sorcery.”

Koro continued to look at him. “How will you defend yourself?”

Aras answered deliberately, “No man needs to defend himself against the decisions of a just king. Whatever decision you make, Koro inKarano, I will accept it. But returning me to my king would be a gesture that I hope would please him.”

“Ah.” Koro was smiling a little: a dangerous expression. He said, “If the summer king is pleased, then no doubt the winter lands may find calm within the borderlands, and all easy manner of trade.”

Aras shook his head. “I think Soretes Aman Shavet will offer that and more, whatever decision you make, o king. He knows very well the trouble came because of Lau, not because of Ugaro. But if you decide it is just to show mercy to me, I think that would please him.”

Koro raised his eyebrows. But finally he said in a clear, loud voice, “I will now hear the lords of the tribes.”

Liyo inTerika stood up and said, “If the decision were mine, I would put this sorcerer to death. He is too dangerous to live. But if he goes back to the summer country, I will be satisfied.” He sat down.

Geroka inYoraro rose to his feet. “It would be wrong to put him to death. I would be satisfied if he returned to the summer country.”

Tyo inKatara stood up. “I would not put him to death, though I do not think it would be wrong to do it. I would be satisfied if he returned to the summer country.”

Soro inKera rose. “If the decision is made to put him to death, I will step in front of the knife, o king. I do not care whether he goes back to the summer country or not, but,” with a bare smile, “he is obviously unsuited to the winter lands. He will go back to his own country.”

Our king looked at him. “I would not wish to see you fall to my knife, Soro inKera.”

“I would not wish that either,” agreed Soro, and sat down.

Yavorda inGeiro got to his feet. “It would be wrong and dishonorable to put him to death. I would not put myself in front of your knife, o king, but I would be ashamed of us all. If he enters inGeiro territory, we will receive him as a friend.” He sat down.

Our king nodded thoughtfully and turned to my father. “You made your decision some days ago, Sinowa inGara. I believe Royova inVotaro warned you there might be an accounting for it, but I do not imagine you have changed your mind.”

My father stood up. He said, “If the decision is made to put this sorcerer to death, I will declare that inGara is an enemy of inKarano. I will not relent until either inGara or inKarano is destroyed.” He did not sit down, but stayed on his feet, looking steadily at Koro inKarano.

I felt I had been struck in the chest so hard I could not breathe. But when I looked at Aras, I saw that although his head was bowed, his mouth was not set in the way that meant he was upset. I relaxed.

Koro inKarano said drily, “So. You are a hard man to rule, Sinowa, and I understand you are determined to get your own way. Do not sit. Stay where you are. Royova, I will hear your opinion.”

Royova inVotaro stood up. He said, “I am seriously offended by some of this sorcerer’s actions, but I think he is probably a man who keeps his oaths—when he is not pressed too hard. If you choose to put him to death, I will take the task on myself. I will be quick so that neither fear nor pain force him to break his oath. However, if you decide to spare this sorcerer’s life, I would not say you were wrong. I will not press a quarrel if he stays out of my way.” He paused, shrugged, and sat down.

Our king turned to Darra. “My daughter, I will hear your opinion.”

Darra inKarano rose gracefully to her feet. She was very young to be asked for her opinion, but I was not surprised. Though this was a decision for warriors, it was too important a decision for men to make without asking women, and she was the oldest singer here. She said, “When the fengol came down, the Lau who should have died, died then. Those who lived were spared by the gods.” She paused. Then she added, “This is a decision for warriors. But war between honorable tribes is a disgrace. Honorable men should find a better path.” She sat down.

Koro lifted his hands. He said in a clear voice, “The sorcerer’s life is in my hands. My decision is to return his life to him. It is his. Let no one raise hand or blade against him. I will take such an act as though the blow had been struck against me. He may return to his own country, or he may walk freely within the territory of any tribe that offers hospitality. He is forbidden to trespass within the lands of any tribe that denies him leave.”

He paused to show that this decision was finished. Then he went on. “Convocation law applies all day and for seven days longer. Any person too badly wounded to travel even then, I ask the inKera to shelter, no matter their tribe. In return for this generosity, I will hear no charges against inKera during the coming year. I am certain inKera will not abuse the privilege.” He lowered his hands and added, “Sinowa inGara, remain. All others may go.”

All around there was a stir. Everyone knew our king would punish my father for his defiance and no doubt some people wanted to stay to see what he would do, but everyone wanted to go away so they could talk about the things that had happened, so I was not surprised by how quickly the gathered people disappeared. The lords of the tribes and the warleaders lingered, of course, and no one of inGara moved. Aras slowly gathered the lynx-fur cloak around himself, but he too stayed where he was.

My father went to his knees before our king.

Koro inKarano said in a pained tone, “Sinowa, I was going to decide as I did decide.”

“Yes,” said my father. “I did not say it to correct your honor, but to declare my own. But I knew there would be an accounting. I do not expect you to let it pass.” Drawing his knife, he offered it to our king.

Koro considered him. Then he sighed. “Put your knife away,” he told him. “I will strike you for it. One blow.”

“Yes,” said my father. He braced himself.

Our king hit my father across the face, very hard. My father fell to the side so that he had to catch himself on his arm.

Koro nodded. “I am satisfied,” he said. “You may have responsibility for the sorcerer, since you value him so highly. And all his men, all the Lau. Deal with them as you see fit, so long as you abide by my decision. Can you get up?”

“Yes,” said my father. “Soon.” He was blinking and cautiously fingering his cheek, where the bruise was already showing as a red mark.

“Is the bone broken?” Koro offered him a hand.

My father smiled suddenly, then winced and touched his cheek again. “You would have to hit me harder than that to break my bones, Koro.” He allowed our king to help him to his feet. I had known my father was the king’s cousin, but I had not realized they were friends until that moment.

Our king turned to Aras, who stood up at last, moving stiffly in the cold. Aras tucked the furs he wore closely around his body and said, “If you had not led your people against our enemy, distracting him until my own people could come up on him, everything might have happened in a different way. Thank you, Koro inKarano, winter king. If you wish to make any requests of my uncle the summer king, I am very certain he will hear you.”

“Your sorcery tells you so?” our king asked him. “My people tell me your king has nearly reached the river. How far can you hear?”

“About four bowshots. Farther, sometimes, if the matter is urgent and I know the person well.” I said nothing. Aras did not glance at me, but he added, “Under certain conditions, I can speak to my uncle over a greater distance than that, but not so far as he has gone now. I spoke only from long familiarity with my king.”

Koro inKarano nodded. “Soretes Aman Shavet is courteous to withdraw without requiring me to request it. I imagine he will wait for you on the other side of the river, if you have not come to him before that.”

“I think that is likely. But he would not have moved against you even if all you had sent him was my head. Not even if all you sent him were the heads of all his people. You probably know that.” He paused and nodded. “You do know it. I thank you again for your generosity.”

“I return to you what you gave first to Ryo inGara and then to us all,” Koro inKarano told him. “If you had not poured out your own strength and skill against our enemy, my people would probably have suffered much more. What the sorcerer did to the inKera, he would have tried to do to us all, in time. You understand, he forced the warriors to bring him their own wives and sisters and children?”

“Yes, I know. He might not have succeeded in destroying your people—I think he would have found you Ugaro more stubborn and resilient than he expected. Still, allowing the people of the winter country to suffer because of a sorcerer made by the summer country seemed entirely unjust to me.”

“There we certainly agree,” said Koro. “And the gods as well, fortunately. If I have made a mistake today, then the gods will have an accounting for it. But I do not think I have made a mistake.” He looked around at all of us. “Go. I give you all leave. I will send someone with you to the summer king. I will wish to hear exactly how it happens.”

We all bowed. Aras knelt and bowed to the ground. Then he stood up again, and bowed in the manner of the Lau, which is only a small gesture, and Koro inKarano turned and walked away, and the second trial Aras would have to face was over.

I knew there might still be a third. I said to Aras, “We will come with you to the summer country.”

“I know,” he answered. “I doubt it will be as difficult as you’re thinking, Ryo.”

I said firmly, “Nevertheless, we will come with you.”

He smiled. “Well, I admit I will be grateful for your company.”

“I should come,” my sister said firmly. “After all, I know the Lau much better now. I should certainly come with you.” She looked sidelong at our father. “If my father thinks it wise,” she said, very meekly.

My father laughed. I tried to remember when I had last heard that, but I could not remember any such moment. I laughed too, and a lightness came into my heart. No matter what lay in the summer country, I was not afraid at all.

-33-

Five days later, at noon, we came to the river. It had not been a great distance, but no one had seen any need for haste.

We were not many, except for the Lau. Forty and forty and twenty had survived, and some over that number, but some had been too badly wounded to travel even bundled on sledges. To those, the inKera had offered shelter until they should die or recover. Most of the rest traveled with us. They had been permitted to take weapons and shields, but they did not appear remotely warlike. They did not walk in step, but easily, talking to one another and looking around at the winter country. Lucas Samaura walked with them, speaking to one and then another, his manner unconcerned, setting the example for any who might otherwise have been uneasy.

All the uncountable dead of their own people, those who had been enslaved by Lorellan and those who had come with their summer king, would be laid aside to wait. The Lau prefer to claim the entire body, not only the head. Some few Lau would stay in that place to gather their dead and keep the beasts away until the dead could be brought back to their own land. The only dead man we brought with us was Lorellan, and only his head. It had been wrapped in cloth and put in a basket for a pony to carry, and I was glad of that. I did not want to see it again.

I and my brother and my father walked beside the company of Lau. Rakasa inGeiro came with us, to see what happened and tell it to his people. Also a young man of the inVotaro, Royova’s son, whose name was Royova like his father, for the same reason. Also Arayo inKera, Hokino inKera’s son, though he would not go back to his people for some time, if at all.

My mother had come down from the north where some of the women had waited, and now she and my sister and Darra inKarano rode with us. Darra rode the hard-tempered snow-colored stallion. She knew how to handle him. He threw his forelegs up high, strutting as a stallion will when he is happy with himself.

Darra inKarano spoke easily to my sister and my mother, but she ignored me completely.

Aras slid a sidelong glance my way and murmured, “Perhaps soon you’ll find a chance to show off for her, Ryo.”

I smiled, and thought lightly and easily about the beauty of the forest and the sky, and watched the darting flight of a bird. He laughed and said, “Well done. Look, there’s the bridge.”

Once, not many years ago, there had been many bridges linking the winter country with the summer country. They had been taken down when the trouble came, but this one had been repaired. The work must have been done very quickly for the bridge already to be in place for us. The town was called Raha Sen. It was not a large town, hardly more than a village, but it spread out a long distance along the river. Raha Sen had not suffered as much as other towns I had seen. I saw no burned buildings at all. I commented about this to Arayo, because of course the town bordered inKera land.

The boy nodded. “Yes, the townspeople here did not try to fight, but stepped back and left some of their harvest and some of their cattle for us to take. My father said we had enough Lau to fight in other places; he said it would be foolish to make enemies here, where the people showed themselves quiet-natured.” He glanced warily at the younger Royova. “Even when the inVotaro declared all Ugaro had been bitterly offended by all the Lau, my father said the people of Raha Sen had not offended us.”

Royova’s son Royova frowned, but before he could speak, Garoyo said, “Wise the warleader who does not carelessly spend the lives of his men, when the war is long and the ending uncertain.” No one could disagree with that, and we went on in a silence that was only a little stiff.

On the northern bank by the bridge, the snow was very much trampled, down to bare earth here and there. On the southern bank, a wide area had been cobbled to keep it clean of mud. The summer king had made the whole of that area into something that might have been called a camp and might have been called a palace. The tents were not made of hides and felt, but of light, airy cloth that rippled in the breeze, in many beautiful colors. The king’s own tent was obvious. It was many times the largest, all of cloth dyed red and yellow and many other colors. But though many Lau came down to the riverbank to watch us approach, I could not tell which of them was the king.

“None of them,” Aras told me. “It wouldn’t be proper for him to gawk from the bank like a farmer. He won’t come to us; we’ll wait for his summons and then go to his pavilion to present ourselves to him. Don’t be nervous, Ryo. He will be very polite to your father.” He did not wait for my answer, but raised his voice. “Lucas!”

His nephew swung around and came to him. “My lord. You’ll want me to see to our men.”

“Thank you, Lucas; yes, if you would be so kind.”

His nephew nodded, but he did not move away, instead giving Aras a searching look.

“Yes, under the circumstances, I expect my meeting with Soretes may be a little strained, but I don’t think matters will be improved by your hovering,” Aras said mildly. He gave a little go gesture.

“If you say so.” Lucas Samaura obviously doubted this assurance. “You know, there are some messages I wouldn’t care to bring to my aunt.”

“It’s highly unlikely anything of the kind will be necessary. Anyway, Soretes would never ask you to take that particular message, Lucas. He would take it himself.” Aras repeated the little gesture. This time his nephew touched his heart and walked away.

But I knew Lucas Samaura, who must know better than I, doubted the generosity of the summer king, as I did.

The ponies’ hooves rang on the stone of the bridge, and then the wood of the middle span, and then the stone again, and the air changed from sparkling with cold to a soft warmth like a caress, and the breeze that came against our faces carried the scents of warm earth and cut grass and apples, and we stepped off the bridge into the summer country. Soldiers were waiting, drawn up in lines like a formation, which might have made me uneasy except Aras obviously did not mind that. Then, as we came close, I saw all the soldiers wore the Gaur badge, and Talon Commander Harana stood in the front. As Aras stepped off the bridge and onto the cobbles, all the soldiers saluted with their hands over their hearts.

Aras returned the gesture and bowed his head, smiling, and Karoles Harana came forward, clapped him on the arm, and declared, his voice rough, “I never expected to see you again! I should have known better. But next time don’t let some gods-hated sorcerer get you at a disadvantage like that! What use is gods-hated sorcery if you walk right into a gods-hated trap as though you were blind and deaf? What were you thinking?”

“That I was both the cleverest and the most powerful Lau sorcerer in the summer country,” Aras answered, smiling. “Don’t say it, Karoles: I know! Fortunately, I had you to catch victory out of the disaster I dropped on your head. You managed very well, getting our people out of Lorellan’s way. And then into his way. And you got more of our people out from under the falling cold than I’d ever have hoped—and Soretes, of course. Well done! I believe Lucas has something he’d like to show you. The Ugaro recommend crushing the skull and scattering the grit in running water, which does seem symbolically appropriate.”

“If you weren’t luckier than you deserve, it’d be your skull in question,” the talon commander snapped at him. He looked past Aras at the rest of us, and at me, and said more quietly, “Luck in the shape of an Ugaro warrior. Thank you, Ryo. We are—I am—so much in your debt, I can’t calculate it.”

I did not know how to answer him. I said, “I regret very much Talon Commander Ianan did not live. But he died bravely. They all died courageously and honorably.”

Karoles Harana’s face stilled, all the forceful temper falling away. “Sometimes that’s the only thing that can be said. Thank you, Ryo. I pray the gods judge all our dead kindly.” Then he stepped back, gesturing vigorously for the soldiers to break their lines and for Lucas to come show him the head. “Later,” he said over his shoulder to Aras. “Later I want to hear everything. You will too, don’t say it, I’ve already got the report on your desk.” He strode away without waiting for an answer.

Aras smiled after him. Then he smiled at me, briefly and warmly, nodding past me. “Look there, Ryo. Sometimes the gods are kind.”

I was puzzled, but I turned, and Geras was there, and behind him Esau and Suyet. I was so pleased I nearly stumbled because I did not know which way to look first.

Geras turned first to Aras, touching his hand to his heart, but Suyet threw the gesture toward him with a casual flick of his hand, then immediately gripped my wrists hard. He completely disregarded both his own dignity and mine, but I could not mind it and returned the gesture gladly. He said, “Ryo! I thank the gods! We saw your company coming and hoped you might be with them. And Lord Gaur! You actually got him away from Lorellan and took him to your own people? How did you possibly manage that?”

There was nothing I wished to discuss less. “I was very much afraid for you as well,” I told him instead. Freeing myself gently, I stepped back and looked at them all carefully. Only Geras showed any sign of injury, and that was only a narrow cut across one forearm, not very recent. I could see the cut had been deep, but it was healing well. “I thank the gods you are safe!” I said fervently. “I wish very much to hear how it happened for each of you.”

“We want to hear everything as well!” Suyet said eagerly. “I suppose there’ll be no chance to exchange stories yet, probably—”

“No, there won’t,” Geras said firmly. “It won’t be long now till the summons comes.” But he gripped my arms himself then. “Well done, boy. I didn’t dare hope the gods could be so kind.” He gave me a searching look. “You seem well enough for a man who fell into the power of a sorcerer.”

“Two sorcerers,” muttered Esau, who had been hanging back a little.

“Ryo is very well indeed, now,” said Aras, smiling slightly. “Don’t ask too many questions; there are some he may not want to answer.” He nodded to them all. Geras met his eyes without flinching; Suyet was wide-eyed but unafraid; but Esau turned his head away, his shoulders tightening.

I wanted to laugh: they were all so much themselves. Esau was distrustful; Suyet too cheerful to mind sorcery once he had become accustomed to the idea; and of course Geras would do whatever was right no matter how he felt. I told them, “I am very glad to see you all. I wish you to know my family and for them to know you.” I looked at Aras. “Is there time?”

“Not much, but a few minutes, I expect,” he told me, and went on to my guards, warmly, “I do want to take a moment to say: very well done, all of you. Trooper Esau, please don’t be concerned. I knew you’d read everything in the packet at the very earliest opportunity. If you hadn’t been the kind of man who’d do that, you wouldn’t have suited the task at all. You completed your mission and I thank the gods for that. If you hadn’t gotten to Talon Commander Samaura, he wouldn’t have realized how powerful a sorcerer we faced and then, though he knew Lord Lorellan was on our list of possible enemies, he would almost certainly have allowed Lorellan to get too close to him. It would have made everything extremely awkward if Lorellan had taken Lucas in thrall. Your efforts prevented that, and I’m grateful. Very well done.”

Esau looked at him; then away; then, visibly bracing himself, back again. He said, “I’m sorry, my lord. I can’t help it.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you could possibly mean,” Aras told him firmly. “Besides, here you are: a triumph of good faith over mistrust.”

“Well, I wanted to see for myself, now I know,” Esau muttered. “The little girl had a lot to say.” He glanced at Etta.

My sister was smiling widely and bouncing on her toes. “You see!” she said triumphantly to Esau, in darau. “I told you!” She sounded exactly like Suyet. I laughed.

To my surprise, Esau’s mouth also crooked upward. “You did,” he said, not quite in the indifferent tone he used to everyone else.

“Esau!” I was very pleased. “You already know my sister?”

“And your brother,” he told me. “He can beat me at wrestling.”

I had to laugh. I looked from him to Garoyo, who was standing with his arms folded, looking severe. But now that I looked closely, I could see his amusement in the tilt of his head. “This is one of your friends,” he said to me. “Our sorcerer’s nephew put him with us—or us with him—because he is not afraid of Ugaro warriors. Etta explained us to one another. He can beat me in a fight with empty hands ... but not very often.”

I laughed again. “Geras, Suyet, do you also know my brother and sister?” I asked in darau.

“We just got here,” Geras reminded me. He looked my brother up and down and said to Suyet, “Wouldn’t take that one for a boy, would you?”

Suyet laughed.

Aras was smiling as well. “You did very well too, Troop Leader Geras. It was a hard task I gave you, and I’m extremely grateful you managed it.”

Geras gave him a slightly wary look and touched his heart again. “The scepter made all the difference, my lord. And your very clear instructions about what use to make of it.”

“It was rather abrupt, I know.”

“Everything was abrupt just then,” Geras said drily.

I had become impatient with all this. I said in taksu, “Lord of the inGara, this is Geras, and Esau, and Suyet. These are honorable and generous men. I am glad to say they are my friends.” Then, in darau, “Geras, this is my mother, Marag, singer of the inGara ... my father, Sinowa, lord of the inGara ... my brother Garoyo, warleader of the inGara ... my sister Etta, also a singer of the inGara. I wish for you to know them and for them to know you.” I thought of giving the names of the others of my people, but they were not my family and they might not wish it, so I did not.

Suyet bowed with a flourish, Esau nodded. Geras bowed to my mother, inclined his head to my father, smiled at my sister, and eyed my brother without favor. “This would be the brother who so bravely—”

“Geras! Do not say it,” I requested urgently. “My mother speaks darau; I would have to strike you for it, and think how embarrassed I would be.”

“Well, gods forbid you should be embarrassed,” Geras said, but he did not finish his comment about my brother.

My mother smiled at him. “I would not be so careless as to overhear any remark a friend of my son made about my son’s eldest brother, but this is still good advice. I am Marag inGara, daughter of Marag inKarano. If you should come into the winter country, any of you, you may use my name. Almost any tribe would offer you hospitality for my sake.”

My father had been considering Geras. When my mother had finished speaking and they were all still looking at her in surprise, he said to me, “This Lau is angry with your brother on your behalf, Ryo?”

I had known he would not have misunderstood that. I turned my hands palm up, conceding that this was true and requesting my father’s tolerance.

“So.” My father examined Geras again, his expression thoughtful. Geras met his gaze, growing still as a man will when he sees that another man, a dangerous man, might be his enemy. Suyet did not notice this, but Esau moved sharply to put himself behind Geras in support. But my father said, “I do not resent it. My son?”

Garoyo had been waiting patiently. Now he inclined his head. “I find no possible way to resent it. A friend is worthless if he will not take up a friend’s cause.”

“Indeed.” My father looked Geras up and down. He said to me, “I take your word that this is an honorable and a generous man. As he is your friend, he may say what he wishes and I will not be offended.”

I relaxed. “There is no trouble,” I told Geras. “My father approves of you.”

“Does he,” said Geras, his tone dry.

“No, you’re glad to hear it, believe me,” Esau muttered to him. “That’s a man to take carefully, so be polite, hear me? If he challenges you, step back and let me take it, but if you’re fool enough to give him a push, I swear I’ll let you get dirt between your teeth.”

I asked in complete surprise, many small things falling into place, “Esau, are you a sorcerer?”

He looked at me and then grinned, a swift flash of white teeth in his dark face. “Only very, very slightly, Ryo. I get little darts of emotion. If you can handle Lord Gaur, I don’t want to hear a single word about it.”

“No,” I said, still astonished. I thought of Aras telling me that about one Lau in fifty was a weak sorcerer. I should have guessed. I had known Esau understood more than most men. I said, “I do not mind it.” It was true. That astonished me as well.

Lord Aras cleared his throat.

At once Geras nodded and stepped back, and a man arrived to tell us the summer king was waiting for us and to take the ponies. Darra said gravely, in darau, “Take care: the white one is hard-tempered,” then slapped the stallion lightly on the muzzle when he immediately proved her warning well-given by trying to bite the soldier. The stallion laid his ears back, but desisted.

Now that the soldiers had drawn back, the townspeople could look openly at us, and many of them pressed forward to stare and then pressed back again when my father or Garoyo or any of us young men looked their way. My mother smiled kindly upon the Lau, who were mostly too cautious to smile back. But my sister was so obviously interested and friendly that some of them smiled at her. Darra inKarano, neither young enough nor old enough to set aside her dignity, pretended she was not interested and looked neither left nor right, but straight ahead, very regal, exactly like the king’s daughter she was.

This was a prosperous village, little harmed by the war. They were all wearing their best in honor of their king: fine cloth dyed in rich colors, with many blue and gold bangles for the women. Few were armed, except the soldiers. Whenever any of us young men glanced their way, never mind my father, the townspeople edged back. Pidila, I thought, but did not say. I knew it was not really true, but certainly it would be better if they learned not to show such obvious nervousness every time an Ugaro warrior turned his face their way.

“Well, Ryo, your people are intimidating,” Aras said, amused. “And the war is only just over, you know. I imagine they’ll calm down soon enough, as the inKera were apparently gentler with them than some of your people elsewhere. The gods guided me when I decided to spare Hokino and his people, that’s clear enough.” He gave me a close look. “Don’t fret, Ryo. You know Lau manners well enough. Stand up straight and look him in the face.”

Reminded, I said to my people, “We do not kneel. It is not expected.”

Aras added in taksu, “Ryo is correct: I will kneel, but none of you should. Please allow me to speak to my king first. It’s not something that can wait. Whatever happens, please believe that he understands the debt he owes your people. He will speak with you courteously and show you nothing but generosity. If some misunderstanding should arise, please be patient. He speaks taksu, but not fluently.”

I said, “I think we all understand, Lord Aras.”

“Yes,” he said. “I will also ask you all not to stare at Tasmakat-an any more than you can help. She won’t be offended, but she’s conceited enough already.” His tone was warm, not disapproving, and he added to me, “I think she’ll like your mother, Ryo.” And with only that much warning, he turned and led the way into the pavilion.

I said hastily, “He means there is a woman of the Lakasha-erra, of the country of the Son of the Sun. Try not to stare at her.” Then we were entering the tent, and it was too late to say anything else.

The pavilion seemed even larger from so close; the cloth even finer; the colors even more vivid. The summer king was alone except for the Lakasha woman, but no one could have mistaken him even in a crowd of Lau. As a king should be, he was very certain of his own authority. That would have been enough, even without the blue and gold of his clothing and the gold collar he wore, and the fine furnishings that filled the pavilion. He drew the eye even before the Lakasha woman.

Then Tasmakat-an caught the eye, and it was impossible not to stare. She was as much taller than a Lau as a Lau is taller than an Ugaro; and even more slender; and where I could see it, her skin was so black it was like the starless sky. But she was swathed in a thick cloak of golden fur that hid everything but her long slender hands and her long graceful throat and her head, which was the chiseled, elegant head of a jackal, though not furred, but as smooth-skinned as her hands. Her ears were huge and upright, the edge of one pierced by many gold rings. Her skull was narrow and her muzzle sharp. Her eyes were large and oblique and had no white to them, only black against black. Perhaps the eyes of a jackal were like that; I had never seen one except in drawings, just as I had only seen Lakasha-erra in drawings.

It had never occurred to me I might ever see one of the jackal-headed people myself. Now I saw that a Lakasha woman could be as beautiful as an Ugaro woman or a Lau woman, even though she was so different. I had not guessed that from the drawings.

It took me at least a dozen breaths to make myself look away, glancing sidelong at everyone else to see how they were faring. I had at least seen the pictures, and I had recognized the name. I had thought no one could fail to stare, but I saw all the women had recovered more quickly than the men. My mother was looking at the Lakasha woman with calm interest. Darra’s expression was cool and remote, but my sister was smiling, tentative, but plainly longing to ask many questions. Tasmakat-an gazed back at Etta with her black, black eyes and smiled as a dog or a wolf might smile, her mouth open a little to show her sharp white teeth and her ears folded back in a friendly expression. I looked at Aras, but he did not seem concerned about the Lakasha woman at all. His attention was on his king.

The summer king had risen to his feet. He was older than my father. He might have passed through twice forty summers, or twice forty and ten, or more than that. With Lau it could be hard to judge. His hair was grey, his beard lighter grey, his eyebrows almost white, startling with his dark brown skin. He was not looking at us Ugaro. His attention was on Aras.

Aras moved forward three more steps and went to his knees, not in the Ugaro manner, but very upright, with his arms at his sides and his head up.

From the tales Aras had told me, I had expected a man both hard and ruthless. But I saw immediately that though the summer king might be ruthless or hard, he was not those things by nature, or not those things with Aras. He kept his face still, but he came forward and laid one hand on Aras’ shoulder and the other against his cheek. It was not an Ugaro gesture, but it was not possible to mistake it for anything but kindly meant. Especially when Aras closed his eyes and bowed his head. A tension I had not realized he carried eased away from him.

“Aras Eren Samaura,” the king said, his tone quiet.

“Soretes Aman Shavet,” Aras answered.

“It’s difficult,” said his uncle. “If there’s a single person anywhere in the summer country who doesn’t know now that you’re a powerful sorcerer, there won’t be in a month. Two at most.” He resumed his seat. He gave no sign for Aras to rise, and Aras stayed where he was. The king said, “No one has brought me a complaint against you, yet. But it’s certain to happen. How shall I answer that complaint?”

My mother had murmured a translation, and now my father said, his tone dry, “You should send that person to ask Koro inKarano, the winter king, for his opinion. You might say first that the winter king will take any blow struck against this sorcerer as though it were directed against himself.” My mother translated that as well.

The summer king looked at my father. After a moment he said politely, “I’m sure that’s good advice. I would be pleased to know your name and your tribe. I would be pleased to know you all.”

My mother smiled at him. She gave the names of all the men first because this was a moment for warriors. Then she gave the names of the women.

“An illustrious company,” observed the summer king. He said to Tasmakat-an, “No doubt you knew that.”

So did you, said the Lakasha woman. You did not need me to tell you these are all proud and important people.

I had known all the Lakasha-erra were sorcerers, but it had not occurred to me they spoke by sorcery, though I should have guessed it. Obviously that kind of mouth was not shaped for ordinary speech. Her sorcerous voice was as expressive as any ordinary voice: light and sardonic.

“True,” said the king. He said to Aras, “No doubt you knew the lord of the inGara would give me that advice.”

“Well, yes,” Aras admitted. “It’s been extremely clear in his thoughts; I could hardly have missed it. Your thoughts are much more difficult for me at the moment. I will accept your judgment, my king, whatever it is, but if you were to begin to make some decision that would unnecessarily make the trouble between the winter country and the summer country worse than it already is, I would strenuously object to that. I’m afraid a good many people are worried about that possibility, but I don’t believe it’s very likely.”

“No,” said the king. “I don’t think it’s very likely either.” He paused. Then he said gently, “Aras Eren Samaura, I am so very grateful you found a way to stop Lorellan. He could have done a great deal of damage to the summer country. What he did was bad enough. How many of my people are lying dead in the winter lands?”

“More than a thousand. I saved so few.”

“Those of us who survived, including me, you did save. Without your warning, the falling cold would have killed every Lau on that hill. Everyone knows it. You brought more than a hundred men back with you, I understand. How did you manage that?”

“Only by begging the Ugaro to protect those of our people that they could. You owe all those lives to the generosity of the Ugaro, not to me.”

“How did you ask the Ugaro to help our people, in that moment when the cold fell?”

Aras sighed. “You know how I asked. In the same way that I put into your mind that the cold was falling, so that you’d know to get clear. I think that’s the only oath I’ve broken. But I’ve put so many images into the minds of so many people, without the slightest pause to seek permission, to harm as often as to help ... I can’t begin to estimate how many times I’ve broken that one.”

“Yes,” said the king. He paused. Then he said, “In my judgment, every man who still stands among the living owes his life to you. Every man dead in the winter lands owes his death to Serat Aneka Tasaras, lord of Lorellan. Without your efforts, we would now be facing a much worse situation. I pardon you for everything you have done, and for everything you might have failed to do. I am exceedingly grateful you were willing to take the crime of oathbreaking on yourself in order to protect our people and defeat our enemy. For my part, I forgive it and I pray the gods will be generous. If anyone brings a complaint to me regarding your use of sorcery, I will hear them. If I think it fitting, I will provide recompense. I don’t intend to put that burden on Gaur. You may rise.”

Aras got to his feet. He said, “Thank you, my king.”

“I have no doubt of you,” the king told him. “You know that. Nevertheless, several intractable problems do revolve around you, I’m afraid.”

“I know. I don’t wish to complicate matters for you further than I already have. I could go to Gaur and stay there, if you prefer. Or I could go back into the winter lands. Though that would not be my first choice, especially in this season.”

“You survived ... what, fifty days in that country?”

“Something close to that, yes. Without the strenuous efforts of Ryo inGara and the generosity of the Ugaro, I couldn’t have survived one. It was a most humbling experience.”

The king considered him. The Lakasha woman wrinkled her muzzle and folded her ears back, exactly as a dog or a wolf will do when she laughs.

Aras smiled. “Yes, no doubt you’re both right. You probably have some idea how you’d like to handle this, Soretes. But if you prefer, my king, I could stay in the borderlands for some time while you consider what else to do with me. Someone needs to go east and west and be sure that everything Lorellan did here is put right. All the false memories he poured into people here should fade now that he’s no longer reinforcing them. But I’ve recently discovered that it’s possible to do so much sorcerous damage to someone that the unfortunate person is in serious danger of going mad—”

You did well in repairing the damage, Aras, Tasmakat-an broke in. Do you wish me to smooth out the fear that remains, or blur the edges of all the emotions attached to the memories?

I threw a fast, hard look at Aras, thinking very strongly that I did not want her to do anything of the kind.

The Lakasha woman said swiftly, Never without permission.

“For any Ugaro, you would need the individual’s permission, not mine,” Aras said in a mild tone. “You wouldn’t get it. They’re very slow to trust sorcerers.”

Not as slow as all that, said Tasmakat-an, her muzzle wrinkling again in amusement. And when they give their trust, they certainly seem to give it completely. Or that one does. I would like very much for you to show me all your memories involving recent events ... if you wish, and if the young man gives permission. She said to me, You will do very well as you are, but if not, I will show Aras what to do to help with the rest, and you may choose to permit him to do it or not, exactly as you prefer.

She was a sorcerer. She probably knew exactly what to say. But Aras did not seem concerned. I said, not very graciously, “I will remember.”

“In the meantime, if you don’t mind,” Aras said, somewhat forcefully, “One of us should make sure no one else has been left in that condition. Your assistance in coordinating our action against Lorellan was crucial, Tasmakat, and I thank you for that. I’d be even more grateful if you’d be so kind as to extend further assistance to remove any remaining influence he might have left behind in Avaras and in the south. But I don’t believe you would particularly care to remain in the borderlands.”

Tasmakat-an shuddered delicately. It is far too cold here, she agreed, tucking her long hands into the sleeves of her cloak.

“You have absolutely no idea,” Aras assured her. “Behave yourself, or I’ll show you those memories.”

That would not be the same at all. Since I am here, I should step across the border for just a moment without any cantrip or other guard against the cold.

“If you do, breathe shallowly, or you may damage your lungs. I’m not joking, Tasmakat.”

The jackal-headed woman tilted her head, her ears pricking forward. I will remember. It sounds a most memorable experience.

“Enough, please,” said his king, lifting a hand. “That will do. Tasmakat, you are not to risk your health. If you insist on the experiment, notify me first. Aras, you have persuaded me. I set the borderlands into your hands. I trust you will not find the task beyond you. I’m certain you will handle the responsibility with your usual attention to both honor and practicality. You may find this helpful.” He picked up the scepter from where it had been resting, on the table behind his chair, and held it out to Aras, who took it with a bow.

“Try not to misplace that a second time,” ordered the king. “Although the man who found it made good use of it, the paperwork when such a thing happens is so exasperating. Now, regarding the borderlands. Resentment here runs high; I imagine that’s true on both sides of the river. Someone who’s gained the goodwill of the tribes might be well placed to soothe nerves all the way around. If the Ugaro are willing to work with you, that’s extraordinarily useful. If our people here are afraid of you, that is not.” He sighed. “You’ll have to handle it, Aras.”

“I know. I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will. No doubt you’ll find it useful that the Ugaro gave you so excellent a young man as a tuyo.” He pronounced the word carefully. “Previously, I was barely aware of the custom, but it seems you’ve made clever use of—”

“I intended to give Ryo inGara permission to return to his own people today, Soretes.”

“Perhaps in a little while,” the king said gently. “I think he’s likely to prove very useful to you in the immediate future, Aras.”

They looked at each other. Neither of them glanced at me. It would have been completely improper for me to suggest in any way that I might have a preference in the matter, so I turned my head and watched the bright cloth of the pavilion shift and shimmer in the breeze, and thought of nothing but that. Tasmakat-an gazed at me. Then she glanced at my mother and tipped her ears back in an expression I could not read.

“Very well,” Aras said at last. “For a little while, then.” He sat down in a chair, with a slow sigh. “Soretes, I’m sorry I couldn’t manage to handle everything more discreetly.”

“If discretion wasn’t within my power, why should it have been within yours? You may be a sorcerer, but don’t indulge yourself in hubris. It’s pure arrogance to take the blame for all this. Put the blame where it belongs: on that gods-hated sorcerer who fooled us all.”

Aras bowed his head. “Very well,” he said again. He hesitated. Then he said quietly, “I’m sorry about Taranis. Do you want me to ... talk to him?”

“What would that help?” asked his uncle. “He admitted everything. It’s hard for a prince to be passed over for his younger brother, but I did hope for better.”

“I’m sure Lorellan was using him—”

“Then it was because he was willing to be used,” the king said, his tone final. “If Lorellan had altered his mind or his memories to any great extent, Tasmakat-an would have noticed.”

Aras did not bend his head beneath his uncle’s steady regard. “Perhaps, but perhaps not. A Lau should not be judged by a Lakasha; it’s really not appropriate.”

True, said Tasmakat-an. I said the same.

Aras nodded slightly, but continued speaking to his uncle. “Let me talk to him, Soretes. If I’m not to leave the borderlands, send him to me here. I won’t tell you anything that should be held private. But I’ll tell you whether he was working with Lorellan of his own will. Either way, I’ll do my best to clear any remaining sorcery out of his mind.”

The king considered him.

“Soretes ... don’t indulge yourself in hubris. It’s pure arrogance to take the blame for your son’s failure on yourself, especially without making absolutely certain the blame for that failure doesn’t belong to that gods-hated sorcerer. After all, he did fool us all.”

The king sighed. “Very well. I’ll send him to you. I expect you to send him back to me, Aras. Whatever you discover, my son is not yours to deal with. Lingering problems from what Lorellan tried to do will give you enough to handle, I’m sure.”

Aras inclined his head.

“Very well, then, I leave the borderlands in your hands,” the king told him. “At least for the present. But let me see if I can give you a little help to begin.” He turned decisively to Darra inKarano. “I hope we shall see far less trouble between your people and mine in years to come. Please tell your father I ask him to forgive the misunderstandings that occurred. It may take a little time to sort all those out, but I hope Koro inKarano will be patient and that we’ll see trade resume in a sensible way in the spring. In the meantime, I understand many Ugaro tribes are in want of grain for the coming long winter of your lands. This, the summer country will provide, as an apology for the problems Lord Lorellan caused your people. Other requests will be met with open hands if practicable.” He raised an eyebrow at Aras. “Lord Gaur will see to the details and provide me with an accounting.”

Darra inclined her head. “All your words, I will take to my father. Your offer of grain, I will take to my aunt and the other inKarano women.”

The king nodded. “I will support any decision Lord Gaur makes regarding all these matters. Aras, please do consult carefully with relevant authorities, and I will ask you to try not to beggar the summer lands.” Then, turning to my father, he went on, “I fear bitter feelings may linger between our peoples. Too many farms and towns have been burned, and far too many people left to die in their blood. I hope warriors of the tribes will agree we have seen enough of that. If violence continues, I will ask Aras to see to it that my people are effectively protected.”

My father listened to my mother’s murmured translation. Then he said, “You are wise to set your lands under the protection of Aras Eren Samaura, o king. Naturally inGara cannot honorably strike against any of those lands, as our tribe gave a tuyo to this man to cede the victory and signify a desire to cease hostility. The allies of inGara will also prefer not to strike against Lord Aras ... and we have many allies. If enemy tribes raid across the river, of course that is not properly my concern. But I think you will find the bitterness much less once everyone understands that inKarano and inGara and all our allies consider continuing bitterness unseemly.”

The king listened carefully to all this. When my father finished speaking, he nodded and said, “Very good. I would be glad of that. I think the gods were uncommonly generous to prompt the inGara to offer a tuyo to my nephew. I leave all this in his hands now. I’m sure he’ll tell me if there’s something else I need to know.” He lifted his hands in a smooth gesture that carried finality. “For as long as you wish to stay, I offer you all the hospitality of the summer country. All the inGara; all of you here. Come and go as you please.”

It was a generous gesture, and a dismissal.

-34-

I followed Aras and my father and the others out into the heavy sunlight.

The sky was high and clear, the air bright and warm, the cobbles smooth and hard underfoot, the town different from the winter country, but not actually unpleasant to look upon. The Lau soldiers near us turned their eyes respectfully away, while the Lau farther away stared and murmured. They were not staring at all of us. Or they were. But even though I knew the Lau townspeople feared Ugaro warriors, most of their attention now was on Aras, not on me or on anyone else.

“Yes,” Aras said drily. “I can hardly blame them, but I hope very much they become accustomed to the idea relatively quickly.” He walked away, east, neither toward the river nor away from it. Not many people were in his way; most of the gathering was the other direction, closer to the king’s pavilion. But the Lau who had been in his path moved quickly aside. Aras did not seem to notice. His head was bent a little, as though he were distracted by his own thoughts. Perhaps he was. But he was good at pretending not to notice every kind of thing, especially things that troubled or hurt him.

I thought of going after him, but I stayed by my father.

“We will return to the winter lands to camp tonight,” my father said, without looking at me. “This country is too warm ... and there are too many sorcerers. One I might accept, but one is enough.” He signaled to the soldiers who held the ponies.

My mother turned her head to gaze thoughtfully to the north and then to the south. “A remarkable place, the borderlands,” she observed. “I would not mind staying near this town for a few days, even though there are so many sorcerers, as long as I trust one of them is our ally and my son’s friend. That Lakasha woman is not more powerful than he is, I think.”

“Powerful in different ways,” I said.

“Perhaps that is a better way of putting it,” my mother agreed placidly.

Darra inKarano said in a thoughtful tone, not looking at me, “The bridge here makes everything easy. I think the women of my tribe might be pleased to visit these lands more often in days to come than we have lately been accustomed to do. Perhaps after the long cold, in the spring ... when the Lakasha woman is gone.”

“She will surely go back to her own country soon,” said Rakasa. “You saw how cold she seemed, even here in this warmth.”

“She was so interesting!” protested Etta. “Although a little frightening. The way she spoke!”

I did not say what had been plain to me, that she had thought she should ask Aras for permission to do things to my mind. It had not occurred to her to ask me until he had said so. I, too, thought I would be happier when she had left the borderlands.

The younger Royova said thoughtfully, “Perhaps she should step into the winter country for a heartbeat or two. It might be as well for her to feel in her bones that it is not a country for her kind.”

That struck me as a very good thought.

“A good thought for a warleader’s son,” Garoyo told him approvingly. “I think that would be as well. Perhaps my brother’s mother agrees.”

My mother smiled. “She would enjoy it. She enjoys being surprised, I think. It would probably surprise her very much, if she has so far seen the winter country only through the experience of people who are not her kind. And afterward, yes, she would know much better that it is not her country. I will ask her if she wishes to cross the bridge with me to the far side and then return again to this side. I think she might enjoy that ... and find it a little frightening. Even if she has seen that thought in my mind.”

Etta said wistfully, “I wonder what it would be like to step across the other border, into her country?”

“Probably you would have to breathe shallowly so the air would not hurt your lungs,” I suggested, but I was not looking at my sister. I was looking after Aras, who was small in the distance already. He was standing at the river’s edge, his back to us, a solitary figure.

Etta put her arms around me and leaned against me. Then she let me go and stepped back. “Go on, Ryo,” she told me.

I touched her cheek, but I did not move.

My brother sighed and gave me a direct look. “He is waiting for you, Ryo. Go to him. Go.”

I nodded, but still I stayed where I was.

Then my father set his hand on my arm. “Go,” he said. “Take whatever oath he requires. Whatever oath your honor demands. I will not be offended.”

I bowed my head to him. Then I walked away from my people, to join Aras.

He turned to face me as I came up to him. “I’m sorry, Ryo. I meant to send you home.”

“You are not under the remotest obligation to do so,” I told him. “We have all agreed you may properly draw out the tuyo’s death as long as you wish.”

“I know that. But you wanted so badly to go home . . .” He looked at me closely. “You aren’t as upset as I expected.”

“The winter country is still there. My family will be there. They are all well. They know I am well. Sometimes some of them may come to the borderlands to trade; I am very sure our people will trade more often and more freely now.” I paused. I could see how it would happen, and that made me happy. I said, “I would be glad to see Darra inKarano sometimes. She will be an important singer. My family would approve of her. I hope her family would approve of me. Singers seldom marry as early as other women. She will not need to marry for another winter or two, perhaps longer. She might not become too impatient.”

Aras was smiling now. “I think that’s possible.”

I nodded. “So you see. I would have been glad to go with my family today, but I would have been sorry to leave you. Your king was right: I will be useful to you. I will help our people understand one another. Besides, everyone here will be afraid of you until they become accustomed. I am not afraid of you at all. You will need me just for that.”

“Lucas—”

“Your nephew will help you, but you will need more people who are not afraid of you. I am content to remain, for a little while.”

“‘A little while’ is going to mean whatever my uncle wants it to mean, Ryo. It will mean as long as you are useful to me. It will undoubtedly mean years.”

“I am content,” I repeated. “You know this is true. Do not reproach yourself or your king. Besides, what you do with me is important. You must not make a small thing of the tuyo custom: it would belittle the sacrifice. I assure you, my father will not return Arayo inKera to his father for some time, if at all. He and Hokino inKera must show that the new custom is a strong one, worthy of taking the place of the old custom—at least some of the time—at least when the enmity is not too bitter. That is why Hokino and Soro inKera arranged with our king to do it in front of everyone instead of privately.”

“Did they? Ah.” He looked thoughtful.

“You did not realize? Yes. Why else do it then, and that way? No one cared about that quarrel. Everyone was there to see you. But they saw this new custom as well. Now the inGara and the inKera must demonstrate how it should work when everyone behaves properly. It is important for you to show that as well.” I paused, looking away to show the topic was closed. Then I turned back to him and said, “You released me from my oath. My father gives me leave to renew it now. Do you require it?”

He sighed. “I need something. Not as much as you gave me before: we know each other better now. Swear that while you are in the summer lands, you will obey me as a man obeys his warleader. Nothing will reassure some of my people, but that kind of oath should reassure most of the ones with whom I need to work.”

“Before the gods, I swear it.”

“Thank you. If I should find myself visiting the winter country again ... preferably during what your people laughably call the warm season ... I will set myself under your authority, Ryo.”

“You need not. It is not required in any way. My father would not expect anything of the kind.”

“Perhaps not. But it’s only fair, Ryo. And it will please your father, whether he expects it of me or not.” He glanced past me, toward my people. “I’m very glad to have met him. He’s not—” he stopped.

“He is not as cruel a man as you imagined? No.”

“I should have kept more firmly in mind that you’re his son. Then I would have known better.”

“He approves of you as well, or he would not have given me permission to renew so strong an oath to you.” I paused and added, “My lord.”

He looked at me for a long time. Then he said gently, “Call me by my name, Ryo. Go bid your family farewell and good journey. Go with them across the bridge. Stay with them until they leave for the north; go with them as far as you think appropriate. Then return. I will be waiting. But I will not be impatient.”

“Aras,” I said, smiling. “Yes.” And I left him there alone. But not for long.

Endnotes

I hope you have enjoyed reading TUYO as much as I enjoyed writing it! This world offers a good deal of scope for further stories, so I hope to go on with this series in the not-too-distant future. By the time you read this, or very nearly, a short prequel novel will be out: NIKOLES.

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Acknowledgments

Many thanks to Mary Beth Decker, for kindly reading two complete versions of this story in quick succession and critiquing both when I couldn’t decide which I preferred.

I’m also indebted to Kim Aippersbach, Hanneke Nieuwenhuijzen, and Linda and Mike Schiffer, who kindly read through the final manuscript in one last attempt to catch all remaining typos. I’m not longer surprised when every proofreader catches a unique set of mistakes, and so it proved once again. Thank you all!

Other Work

Urban Fantasy: The Black Dog Series

BLACK DOG

BLACK DOG SHORT STORIES I

PURE MAGIC

BLACK DOG SHORT STORIES II

BLACK DOG SHORT STORIES I & II (collection)

SHADOW TWIN

BLACK DOG SHORT STORIES III

COPPER MOUNTAIN (coming soon)

Young Adult Fantasy

THE CITY IN THE LAKE

THE FLOATING ISLANDS

THE KEEPER OF THE MIST

THE WHITE ROAD OF THE MOON

Adult Fantasy

The Griffin Mage trilogy:

LORD OF THE CHANGING WINDS

LAND OF THE BURNING SANDS

LAW OF THE BROKEN EARTH

The House of Shadows duology

HOUSE OF SHADOWS

DOOR INTO LIGHT

THE MOUNTAIN OF KEPT MEMORY

WINTER OF ICE AND IRON

The Tuyo series

TUYO

NIKOLES (coming soon)

Collections

BEYOND THE DREAMS WE KNOW