u

About ten of them drew aside, Legate Yonge at their head.

I went to him, and he said quietly, "We wish to serve on with you, Legate a Cimabue."

I told him how honored I was but that, quite frankly, he was being foolish. "There is a long journey between here and safety, and I know we face enemies at every turn."

"Life itself is nothing more than that." Yonge shrugged. "I took an oath to serve you Ph'reng, and do not wish to be released from it."

"Yonge, think, man. Even if we make it to Urey, you'll be an exile. You'll never be able to return to Kait as long as Fergana lives."

"Do you honestly believe," the hillman said, "that lizard shit who calls himself achim will let any of us escape his punishment for serving you? I know he'll have \asjasks cast seeking spells for anyone who swore fealty to the resident-general, and a slow death will follow their discovery.

"No. I would prefer to take my chances with the seer, as would my fellows." He started to say more, but broke off.

"Go ahead," I encouraged.

"Two other reasons. You treated us as equals when you came, as did all your Lancers, in spite of what I know they feel about Kaiti. This is the way of honor. I wish to learn more about it.

"Besides"—he grinned—"I have never seen Urey, and would like to learn what skills their women have when they come willingly to your bed."

I could do nothing other than accept. For their safety on the march, I told them to dress themselves as Numantians, although I wished them to keep their native garb ready. There might be a need for a Kaiti spy on our journey.

We planned to cover the nearly miles in about ten days, weather permitting. The rains were coming to a halt, and while it was bitter cold, so far the winter storms had not begun.

The order of march was One and Two Columns, Seventeenth Lancers, at the front; then two platoons of the Khurram Light Infantry; then the civilians; a third platoon of the KLI; Four Column; our wagons, which I asked Captain Mellet to

take charge of; the last of the infantry and Three Column, which I personally regarded as the best of my troop, at the rear, under the command of Troop Guide Bikaner. I half apologized for always giving him the hardest task.

He half smiled and said," 'S alright, sir. I'm gettin' so used to eatin' dust now I've grown t'like its taste."

The city gate stood open, and the guards were withdrawn. Sitting on horseback, just on the other side, was Achin Baber Fergana, surrounded by some of his courtiers and cavalrymen.

Now we heard jeering, but it was muted. Even these lackeys were afraid of Tenedos's magic, which had killed Jask Irshad and saved us from the demon.

Tenedos held up his hand, and we reined in. He stared long and hard at Fergana, his eyes harsh, as if he were cutting a steel engraving of the man. Fergana grew visibly nervous under the stare, then wheeled his horse and galloped around us, his men streaming after him, back into Sayana.

One of them turned as he rode through the gates, and shouted, "M'rtti Ph'reng!"

Tenedos turned to me. "Ride on, Legate."

I shouted commands, and the long train creaked forward.

Behind me, I heard Lance Karjan grunt, "Good, that. Don't give th' bastard no satisfaction. "Though it'd do me good t'see th' seer send a bolt a lightnin' up that shit-heel's arse, 'twould."

It was a charming thought, and I did wish Tenedos had cast some sort of spell, even though my rational mind knew the achim was well surrounded with protection from his coaitjasks.

It gave me something to think about as we crawled north toward Sulem Pass. If I'd had to watch my words before, when we'd first made the slow passage, now I must be doubly careful. I must not try to hurry these civilians, for fear they'd panic, or else lose all belief in themselves and lie down to die.

Another thought occurred: I told Lance Karjan that he might have chosen to be my servant, but the best way he could serve was to stick close to Seer Tenedos. I could manage for myself, but the resident-general must survive. Karjan muttered

darkly, but obeyed, and from that time on stayed as close to Tenedos as he'd permit.

This was fairly open country, so I was able to keep Two Column out as flankers. The few Kaiti we saw stayed distant from the road.

I'd expected harassing attacks the moment we went beyond the gate, but nothing happened. I knew better than to expect Fergana's safe-conduct to be better than before, and wondered when we'd be hit.

We camped the first night, having made almost twelve miles, which sounds like very little, but on a first day's march, with inexperienced people, it was quite respectable.

Seer Tenedos said he would put out magical wards, so no more than a third of my men were needed as guards. He sensed no spells being cast against us as yet.

The second day went even better, and I grew quite worried^—the longer the wait, the nastier the surprise.

Captain Mellet chided me for my gloom.

"We could," he said, "be the first Numantians to have good luck in Sulem Pass, now couldn't we?"

We broke into rueful laughter at the same time.

That day we made fourteen miles, and the weather held as it'd been, cold, with a chill wind coming down from the moun-taintops.

It was almost noon on the third day when the hillmen made their first move. The ground was no longer so open, and the icy river ran to one side of the road, so I had pulled my flankers back into the main column.

From nowhere about a hundred mounted men appeared in front of us, blocking the road. I heard cries of alarm from the civilians, but paid no heed.

The hillmen trotted toward us, only stopping when I shouted for them to halt or be fired upon.

One man walked his horse forward. He was tall, quite thin, and his beard was braided. He wore a long multicolored coat, made of different animal furs, and his long saber hung below his stirrups.

* He pulled up about twenty feet from me.

"So you are the Numantians, eh?"

"Your perception is almost as acute as your eyesight," Tenedos said.

The man grinned, showing blackened teeth.

"I am Memlinc, and my word is law in Sulem Pass."

"I know some other Men of the Hills," Tenedos said, "who might argue that."

"Pah. Bandits, no more. They all kneel when I come before them."

"No doubt," Tenedos agreed. "So why have you honored us with your presence, Memlinc the Great?"

"I wished to see the Ph'reng that pig Fergana ordered out of Sayana. You have some women I might fancy, or one of my warriors might like. One of my elders has the Gift, and he's shown me, in a vision, a girl or two worthy of attending me in bed.

"Yes, women. And perhaps half your gold and jewels. I am a reasonable man, but since you must pass through my domain, I think it only reasonable for you to pay some sort of tribute, eh?"

Tenedos waited a long moment, then leaned forward and said softly, "Fuck you."

Memlinc blinked.

'To be precise," the seer went on, "fuck you, fuck the whore who called herself your mother and fuck the father you never knew because he never paid for the first time."

Memlinc's face paled.

"You cannot speak to me like that! No one can and still live!"

"Ah?" Tenedos's voice was still mild.

Memlinc's hand flashed to his dagger, just as my blade slid half out of its sheath.

"Very well," he said, and pulled his lips back into something resembling a smile. "Let your words carry their own penalty. I offered you peace... now see what my other hand carries."

He picked up his reins, and made as if to turn his horse.

Instead, he spurred it forward, straight at the column, in a full gallop.

I guess this was his way of showing his courage to his fellows. They shouted encouragement, and made as if to charge. My archers' bows were up, a volley went out, and the hill-men's ranks became a cluster of plunging, wounded horses.

Memlinc hurtled down our column at full speed. No one had time to draw a sword and strike at him, and he was too close for bow or lance.

But he didn't reckon with Lucan. I spun my horse in his tracks and shouted him into a run.

A spear almost took the hillman, but he ducked under it, then drove his horse through the last few infantrymen into the column toward the second wagon. On it were a handful of women, a few old civilians, and some children. Riding beside the driver was one of Tenedos's retainers, an assistant pastry chef named Jacoba. I'd noted her before—a small, exceptionally striking young woman, a year or two older than I was, with long, dark hair she normally wore tied into a bun—but had never so much as spoken to her.

She must have been one of the beauties Memlinc's elder had magically pointed out, because with a shout of triumph the Kaiti leaned from his saddle, scooped Jacoba across it, spurred his horse away from the road.

I turned my own mount through the column after him. One of MeUet's men was fumbling with his javelin, and I yanked it from his grip.

Memlinc rode for a twisting ravine. Once he was away from the road, no one would dare follow him. He was crouched in the saddle, his face far forward on his horse's neck.

I stood in my stirrups, balanced... and cast. Perhaps he thought Numantians were gentlemanly at war, or fools, because I did not aim at him, but at the far better target. The spear took his horse in the haunches. It screamed, and fell, sending the woman and her kidnapper tumbling. I pulled Lucan up hard, skidding, and came out of the saddle as Mem-

* line rolled to his feet. His saber had been lost in the fall, and he ran at me, yanking a long dagger from inside his coat. His hand swooped down to pick up a rock as he came. As he started to pitch it underhand into my face my sword snaked out, and his hand, still holding the rock, fell to the ground. He had an instant to stare in disbelief at his blood pulsing out, then my blade ripped into him on the counterstroke, cutting deep into his chest, smashing through his ribs and into his heart Behind me I heard battle shouts, but paid them no mind. I ran forward, I lifted the stunned Jacoba, and turned to find Lucan. He was beside me, sensing that we had but an instant. I mounted, yanking Jacoba across the pommel of my saddle, and then we galloped hard for the safety of the train.

A handful of Memlinc's riders had attempted to ride to the aid of their leader, but my men cut them off.

There were a handful of bodies, men and horses, down in front of the column, and the rest of the bandits were fleeing up a wide draw.

I waved to Tenedos to resume the march. I returned Jacoba to her wagon just as she got her wind back. Her nose was bloody, her coat dirty from the fall, and I suspected she'd have a black eye on the morrow. She tried to find strength for words, but it had not returned as yet. I touched my helmet and rode back to the head of the formation.

As I rode past Two Column I heard a low whistle, the mocking signal the men used to show exaggerated awe at a particular piece of grandstanding. I buried a grin, and put a scowl on. Two Column would be my choice for rotten details for the next few days.

I pulled my horse in beside Tenedos.

"Now I wonder," he said, without preamble, "if that was Memlinc's plan from the beginning, or if he was merely improvising?"

"Probably the last, sir. I'll guess he needed to do some showing off to make sure his men still thought he was worthy to lead them."

"Speaking of showing off," he said after a few seconds,

"what, Legate Damastes a Cimabue, do they teach you at the lycee about a soldier who abandons his command to do something perfectly stupid, if noble?"

"Generally, sir," I said, realizing I had been a gods-damned fool but not regretting it for a moment, "he gets praised, then taken behind the barracks, given a thumping by one of the bigger warrants, and told never, ever do something like that again."

"My congratulations, then. When we reach Urey," Tenedos said, "I may wish to borrow Troop Guide Bikaner for an afternoon. Until then, however, do me the favor of not performing any more daring rescues that can get you killed. I really do not wish to command a troop of Lancers in addition to my other responsibilities."

"Yessir. And while we're talking about responsibilities, sir, may I say how shocked I am at the language a professional diplomat sometimes uses?"

"Tut, young Legate," Tenedos said, mock-magisterially. "Consider this: Our opponent is defeated, is he not? His forces have retreated, have they not? Our way lies unobstructed, and we wasted little time in the colloquy, correct?

"Perhaps," he said, mock-mournfully, "I should have attempted similar tactics with our friend the Achim."

That was the last time I laughed for a long time.

The next day the raiders came back—or perhaps it was a different clan of bandits. They lay concealed on the other side of the riverbank until the cavalry passed, then about thirty archers rose from concealment and showered arrows into the front two platoons of foot soldiers. The infantrymen instantly charged; the best way to survive an ambush is to attack the least-expected direction. The archers turned and splashed away through the shallow river without fighting.

On the other side of the road men darted out of their hiding places and ran toward the wagons, screaming war cries. They cut down the thin screen of guards, and in seconds grabbed what they fancied from the wagons and were gone. At the same time a third group struck the civilians. They stole ten Numantians—five women, including two of the KLI's camp followers, a ten-year-old girl, a baby, and three men.

Then there was nothing but the keening of the wind through the rocks and the cries of the wounded and dying. Seven soldiers, six men of the KLI and one of my hillmen, died in that skirmish, and another half dozen were wounded.

We reformed and marched on.

An hour later, we heard screams from the rocks ahead. The Men of the Hills had begun their sport.

Around the next bend, we found the baby. Its brains had been dashed out against a roadside boulder and its tiny corpse left for us to find.

We went on, and eventually the screams were lost in the distance.

An hour later we came on the village where the boy had tried to murder me with his grandfather's bow. This time there was no one at all in the settlement. It was growing colder, so Tenedos suggested that we send a search party through the huts, to see if there were blankets or other bedding material we might acquire.

I kept the main column outside the village, and sent our searchers in on foot. The first two huts were empty, already stripped bare. The lance leading the search party set foot in the third hut, and a crossbow clacked and he came stumbling out, looking bewildered, and tugging at a small bolt, scarcely big enough to bring down a sparrow, stuck in his chest.

The crossbow had been cleverly rigged so anyone coming through the doorway would trigger it The lance cursed, pulled out the bolt, and tossed it aside, saying it was nothing. He started for the next hut, then screamed in pain, clawing at the tiny hole the shaft had made. He fell to his knees, then on his back, convulsing, biting his tongue almost through. Before anyone reached him, he was dead.

The tiny wound already smelted of putrefaction from the poisoned arrow.

We found only a few things worth taking, but when we went on the village was a sea of flames. I remembered the gift

of life I'd given the boy, and grimaced. I'd learned how war was fought in these lands—to the knife, and the knife to the hilt. The Kaiti would learn that Numantia could fight as brutally as anyone.

The next two villages we also put to the torch, the second, after we'd spent the night in it.

Late in the afternoon of the sixth day, we reached the ford where I'd met Tenedos. We'd barely made camp when the long-threatening storm broke, and icy gales lashed over us, driving snow hard into our faces.

Tenedos cautioned us to be doubly alert, for he sensed sorcery swirling around us. I needed no caution, though. This was ideal weather for the hillmen. I put my men on half-alert, and doubled all guard posts.

Captain Mellet set up stoves next to the wagons, and stretched canvas roofs over them. After I'd seen to my men, and those off watch had been fed, Tenedos and I went through the line for our own supper. It was nothing more than rice with some meat in it, and herb tea, but praise the goddess Shahriya for her gift of fire, it was hot.

One of the servers was the young woman Jacoba. As I thought, she was sporting a wicked black eye. She looked at me, started to say something, then looked away. I was just as pointlessly embarrassed, and went on without speaking.

The little girl, Allori Pares, came up to me while I ate.

"Hello, soldier. Do you remember me?"

I did, and told her to call me Damastes.

'T ve been helping that other soldier with the food." She pointed to Captain Mellet. "He said he's got a daughter just my age."

I knew Captain Mellet was unmarried, and smiled inside myself at the craggy bachelor trying to be nice to the child.

"I like cooking. Maybe ... if I grow up, I'll want to have an inn."

If she grew up. Part of me wanted to cry, part of me wanted to lay waste to this whole gods-damned country.

"You'll grow up," I said finally. "You and I, we're partners. I'll make sure nothing happens."

"Is that a promise?" "That's a promise."

At midnight, I went the rounds relieving my guards, then thought I could chance a bit of sleep, giving instructions to the commander of the guard to wake me when it was time for the watch to change.

The wind roared even louder, and the snow was drifting on the ground. I found a place to lie, thought wistfully of those civilians who had found sleeping room in or under one of the wagons, wrapped myself in Lucan's saddle blanket and my cloak, and do not remember my head touching the saddlebag I'd set for a pillow.

The air was rich with the scent of orange blossoms and tamarind. I lay back on the silk pillows, wearing only a loincloth, feeling the houseboat move slightly as gentle waves washed under it. There seemed to be no other craft on the lake, its water echoing the blueness of the sky. A soft summer breeze touched me and was gone.

I felt a touch of thirst, picked up the goblet from the tray beside me, and sipped a cooling punch, its scent a marvelous combination of peaches and strawberries.

Jacoba lay on pillows beside me. She wore nothing but a sleeveless vest and flaring pants of a material thinner than silk.

She leaned toward me, and slowly undid the fastening of my loincloth and it fell away. My cock rose to meet her fingers. She bent, and her tongue flicked around its head, then caressed it down to its base, then she took me in her mouth. I felt my pulse hammer.

She came lithely to her feet, and untied the yellow silk cord that held her pants, and stepped out of them as they fell away. Jacoba knelt across my thighs, and as I arched my back her fingers guided me into her. She moaned, and her hands slid across my chest, still holding the cord. She raised herself, came back down, raised once more, and as she did she slipped the cord around my neck, and pulled it taut, twisting it hard, her head going back as she cried in passion.

The universe was nothing but my cock in her softness and the wonderful feel of that cord as joy rose within me, and I opened my mouth to shout...

... and a child screamed and the face above me was bearded and twisted in evil, silent laughter. The blood crashed against my temples and I was looking at him through a tunnel as I brought my feet up and booted the Tovieti back into the snow. He came to his feet, reaching for a knife at his waist as I dove at him, the back of my fist smashing into his face, then drove the heel of my hand against the base of his nose. He cried out and fell, spattering blood and cartilage on me as I dropped on him, my rigidly braced forearm crushing his windpipe. I rolled off as he died, and I had my sword in hand.

The camp was alive with shouts and screams, and I saw the dim form of men running away, into the snowstorm, as torches flared up into life.

The Tovieti's cord still hung around my neck, and now I could feel its red burn.

I ran into the center of the rounded wagons, shouting for full alertness. Tenedos, Lance Karjan behind him, came out of the darkness, blearing awake. But the Tovieti were gone.

Six of my soldiers were slain at their posts. How the Tovieti were able to creep up on paired sentries and slay them without any alarm being given, I do not know. Then they'd crept into the camp and begun their killing.

Ten civilians had been killed, eight of them, including a month-old baby, strangled, the other two knifed in their sleep.

I paid no mind to the wails of fear and mourning, but pulled Tenedos aside.

"What happened to your wards? Didn't you sense anything?"

"I felt nothing," the seer said, and a bit of fear showed on his face. "My magic should have worked ... but it did not. I don't know why."

I felt a flash of anger, then common sense prevailed. Why should Tenedos's craft have done any better than a soldier's?

* Both were but men, and their skills imperfect. I wondered what child had greater prescience than any of us, but never found who had screamed.

We collected the bodies, and prepared them for burial. The ground was frozen hard, so I ordered well-guarded parties out to gather the rocks we'd use to build tombs.

We built the fires up, and made more tea. Once again, I saw Jacoba, buttering bits of hard bread. She set her knife down and walked over.

"I never had the chance to thank you," she said.

"It's not necessary."

She was silent for a moment "Just now... when they came, I was dreaming of you," she said, her voice no more than a whisper.

I'm afraid I colored, although she could not have seen it in the dark.

"I, uh, well... I had a dream of you, as well," I finally managed.

"We were in a boat," she said dreamily. "Just the two of us. It was on a lake. Perhaps it was one of the houseboats I've read about, in Urey." She fell silent. I said nothing, amazed. There was a long silence. Then she looked up at me.

"Perhaps... perhaps, if we live..." She turned away, suddenly, and went back to her task.

The next morning the storm was worse. The icy walls of Sulem Pass closed about us, and the wind blew hard from the north.

We were struck four times that day by hillmen. Two or three men would rush out of biding, seize the person or goods they wanted, and disappear. We could not post a soldier every five feet, so we made no kills.

The column was straggling, no matter how hard Troop Guide Bikaner and Three Column at the rear eluded or threatened. I rode up and down the long line, trying to encourage, and when someone was obviously exhausted let them ride Lucan for a spell while I walked alongside. Rabbit and our other spare mounts were already carrying the sick, lame, or old—and there were still too many of the helpless afoot. Each time bandits attacked, we'd take casualties, and the wounded would go into the wagons, further displacing someone who should not be walking.

I learned another lesson that day. I'd disparaged the camp followers the KLI had brought with them as no more than whores. But it was they who nursed the wounded and sick, bringing a bit of mercy and softness to someone's last hour.

We halted an hour before noon, and it took another hour for the last laggard to stumble into camp.

I could have broken up the infantry and sent them into the civilian column to help, but then I'd have lost half my fighting men, and would have no coherent unit to support the middle of the line.

The best I could do was order Two and Four Columns to dismount and use their horses to carry more of the helpless. If we were attacked, they were to help the people out of the saddle, then mount and form up. It was stupid—the time wasted would be more than enough for the Men of the Hills to escape—but I could not watch people in my charge just die.

Laish Tenedos had said little that morning, and now I found him at the front of the column, seemingly unaware of the gale, the snow, or his always-present companion, Karjan. He became aware of me, and turned. His nose and cheeks were beginning to pale with frostbite.

"Snow," he said musingly, and I thought he was in shock from the cold, "Damastes, we need more snow."

I knew he'd gone mad.

"Come. I think I've derived a spell that can help us, if only briefly and slightly."

He hurried to the wagon that held his magical gear, and took out various bits of paraphernalia. I helped him lug the materials back to where I'd found him. He paced ten steps out into the undisturbed snow.

"Best I cast this where man has not walked," he said. He used four small candlesticks, each ending in a spike, to make a square on the ground about two feet on each side. Into them he put four small candles, one green, one white, one black, one red.

In the center, he put a small brazier set on a tripod that brought it almost to waist level.

Awkwardly he sprinkled herbs onto the brazier, shielding it with one hand to keep the wind from scattering his material.

Then he prayed, first to our goddess of the earth, then to the god whose realm was water "Jacini, hear We are your children We are the earth Varum take heed I seek now a boon I seek now a loan.

"Grant me this favor Grant me this wish."

¦* -

He touched a finger to each candle, and they spurted fire, a high, narrow flame three times the candles'

height.

He held a finger, without burning it, in each of those flames, his lips moving in an incantation, then touched it to the herbs in the brazier. He raised his voice:

"There is peace There is calm All is still All is frozen.

"Time will stop Time must stop You will hear You will heed."

The herbs began smoldering, and then I saw something truly marvelous. The snowflakes swirling in the space defined by die four candles froze, as if they'd been cast in an invisible amber, a cube two feet on all sides.

"Good," Tenedos said. "Someone... godornot... approves my wish. Now for the hard part"

His hands moved in a strange series of gestures, and something was born in that brazier. It was dark, speckled with light, and had form, yet no form, and my eyes hurt trying to make it out and I looked away.

Again, Tenedos chanted:

"I have a need You owe a debt I did a boon Now you must serve."

The dark shadow, or cloud or form, shivered, as if taken by the wind. There was a humming.

"Thak?" Tenedos said. "He is not of your realm, nor do I wish to strike against him. You will obey me."

The shadow hummed once more.

"I said you will obey." Tenedos's fingers moved in quick gestures, and the humming came once more, and I oddly thought it a groan of pain. The shadow bent, as if bowing in obedience.

"Very well." Once more Tenedos touched the brazier.

"There are those beyond They are filled with hate They would do us harm They must be turned away."

The shadow grew tall, taller than a man. Tenedos continued his chant: r * "Varum gave me water This shall be our tool It shall be your weapon It shall not be seen.

"Snow that blinds Snow that hides Cloud the mind Cloud the eyes.

"They shall not see They shall not know We shall pass We shall pass."

The magical square was empty.

"Now take your weapons and go," Tenedos said, then resumed the chant:

"I bid you once I bid you twice I bid you thrice You must obey You will obey."

Now it was the shadow's turn to vanish. Tenedos motioned, and the four candles smoked and went out.

"Now we shall see what we shall see," he said. "If that spell works, it should act as a fog to those robbers.

They'll somehow know we're not on them yet, even though we're in front of them, or else know that we passed hours ago. They'll know we left the road and seek us up side tracks, or else comb the villages, knowing we took shelter from the storm.

"If the spell works."

"What was that shadow?" I asked. I'd been fascinated, completely oblivious of the cold and storm.

"Something from ... somewhere else," Tenedos said,