CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The Perilous Frontier

Niko Sibirin died unexpectedly on a day noted for many strange and unlooked for occurrences.

Tess woke alone. Natalia had gone last night to sleep at Svetlana Tagansky's tent, with Svetlana and Aleksi's daughter Sofia, and Yuri was, in Tess's opinion, an obscenely early riser. She had trained him to wake, dress, and sneak out of the tent without bothering her. He was rather like his father in that regard, except that Yuri, unlike any other child in camp, would ask to go to bed as soon as he was tired.

"On the other hand," she said to the dim ceiling of her tent, having gotten in the habit of talking to herself in the years since she'd had the implant, "that must seem no odder to everyone than my habit of sleeping in."

She got herself up reluctantly, dressed, and walked out to the pits, now built over and made much more presentable looking, with runoff and a ramp. Three khaja laborers worked now, shoveling nightsoil for the fields into a cart. They glanced up at her and as quickly away; like most khaja men living near the jaran, they had learned to be circumspect around jaran women.

On her way back to the tents, she passed Galina, who looked like she, too, had just woken up.

"Did the little one sleep poorly last night?" Tess inquired.

Galina threw her an eloquent glance. She had dark circles under her eyes.

"You look tired. Shall I take Dmitri for a little while?"

"Oh, yes," said Galina gratefully. "I just nursed him. I heard there's a new train of merchants come into the marketplace."

Tess tied the sling on and settled Dmitri in it. He was not even two months old yet, a rather querulous child and a fussy eater, so that he demanded to eat frequently but wasn't growing very fast.

Galina looked tired and dragged out most of the time. "Then it will be a pleasant change for you to go down with a friend and look at the cloth stalls."

"I'd like that!" replied Galina, looking relieved to be free of her son.

Tess wandered back to the tents, seeing Galina's older boy running with the mob of young children who moved like a perpetual motion machine about the camp. Yuri was with them, and today, evidently, Natalia and Sofia and Lara had been put in charge of the younger children, because they were there as well. Tess greeted her children with a kiss, greeted the others with hugs and kisses, and told Lara firmly that she was not allowed to let the younger children whack each other with wooden practice swords.

Sonia looked up from her loom and waved at her. "Good morning!" she said cheerfully as Tess stepped in under the awning. "What game has Lara devised this time?" Tess explained. "Ah. Earlier, she wanted to divide them into jahars, which would have been fine except she insisted that hers always be the strongest so that she could always win." She shook her head. "I don't know what to do with that child."

"Send her off to Uncle Yakhov and let her spend her days with the horses. That would keep her happy."

"It isn't really suitable training for a girl...."

"Sonia, I don't think Lara will ever have the patience to weave or spin. You can't make a duck hunt like a hawk, nor a hawk swim like a duck."

"True enough. I'll speak to Mother about it. Natalia and Sofia would not be nearly as wild without Lara's influence."

"Talia is not wild."

"Not at all, my dear. I see you took the little one from Galina." Tess bent down so that Sonia could peer into the sling. Dmitri was sucking on his knuckles. His eyes were so brilliant a blue that they startled. "Looks he'll have," commented Sonia, "but I hope he outgrows that disposition. So like his father's."

"Sonia! You might have a child as fussy as this one,"

Sonia ran a hand over her rounded belly. "I hope I have been faithful enough to the gods' will that they choose to grant me as easy a child as my other four have been. In any case, I am a much better judge of men than Galina, poor child."

Tess laughed. "I'll let you congratulate yourself in peace, then. I'm going to the library."

On the long walk across the plaza, Dmitri fell asleep, lulled by the movement.

The ke did not meet her in the entry hallway, but Tess noted a new growth, a fretwork pattern of turquoise glass and black marble, pushing out into the white space. She passed into her own chamber and saw the message light blinking. Sitting down in front of the console, she triggered the message.

A woman's head and shoulders materialized above the console.

"Soje!" exclaimed Tess happily.

Sojourner King Bakundi smiled as if in answer, although this message had to have been recorded days or weeks earlier. "Heyo, Tess." She lifted a hand. "I'm calling you from the perilous frontier."

Tess smiled and shifted in the seat so that Dmitri could rest on one hip. "I wanted you to meet the newest member of our clan, Tess. This is Imani King Oljaitu."

The recording device pulled back to take in Imani sitting in Sojourner's lap. Imani was about six months old, fat, happy, with a nap of curly black hair and a perfect mocha complexion.

"I know you heard the news about her birth, but I haven't had time to send you a decent image of her yet, so here it is. We're back on the flagship after a one month holiday with my clan, which was wonderful except there's a running feud between my sister Candace and my cousin Buru over—"

As she kept talking, the frame broadened to include her husband Rene. He sat in a chair next to her, face composed with a diplomat's polite interest. He wore a cranberry-colored cutaway jacket, unbuttoned to reveal a double-breasted striped waistcoat underneath. Rene was a dandy, not the kind of person Tess would ever have thought of Soje as handfasting with. Tess got a message from Sojourner about four times a year, always with Rene in tow, and Tess had learned that she could follow the current fashions by studying what Rene wore in the transmission. She had seen this waistcoat before, but the jacket was new.

"As it happened," Sojourner was saying, "we had transferred for a three day stint onto the Echido barge Usendi, and since I was three weeks to due date we left the med-tech behind on the flagship, and there I was standing on the bridge when my water broke! You've never felt embarrassment until you've stood in a puddle of your own amniotic fluid among a crowd of polite aliens. The worst part was having to explain what was happening! Then you should have seen changes in their facial tints."

She chuckled. "They hustled me off to the female chambers and while we were sending for the med-tech a ke came in and—"

With Sojourner well launched on her anecdote, Tess focused in on Rene's hands. That was the new sartorial addition: The tightness of the jacket sleeves was relieved at the wrist by four buttons, left open to reveal a hint of white ruffled shirtsleeve. He had fine hands; Tess had learned to admire them, although she had never yet met him in the flesh. Now, he began to tap on the arm of the chair, as if whiling away the time while Sojourner gossiped.

Tess opened her own screen and, concentrating on his fingers, began to take down the message he was sending to her in Morse Code. Primitive, but useful. Sojourner cheerfully talked on and Imani chimed in with occasional comments in fluent babble.

single level of encryption, message begins, transport codes delivered in tripartite sequences, top level unknown, second level public record, third level coded to house sequence, no further levels noted.

Dmitri woke up and began to fuss. Tess flipped off the message and bounced him a little, and he calmed down, but when she switched the message to run, he began to fuss again. So, giving up, she rewound to the beginning and stood rocking back and forth to keep Dmitri soothed and just listened to Sojourner's gossip, which was, always, entertaining. She could come back later to decode the entire message.

By the end of the tape, Dmitri was fussing in earnest. Tess locked the message onto a cylinder and then left the library and took the northwest avenue that led to the marketplace. It was a dreary day, overcast and muggy. A great flank of clouds pushed in from the west. Despite that, the market was filled, and Tess pushed and squeezed through the crowd until she reached the bazaar of the cloth merchants. A crowd had gathered here to listen to a man in a plain gray robe who was, evidently, preaching.

Curious, Tess paused to listen, bouncing Dmitri on her hip to keep him quiet.

"... and when it comes to pass that the angels shall descend from the heavens, then, in the hour of the fourth book, all illness shall be razed from the land, and in the hour of the third book, all famine shall be razed from the land, and in the hour of the second book, all war shall be razed from the land, and in the hour of the first book, death itself shall be lifted by the glorious hand of God. So shall these signs be seen in the pilgrimage of His Daughter as She wanders, so do the smallest of miracles appear to mark Her wanderings: Has not the winter past been mild and the crops abundant? Has not the hand of war brought peace? Does the tiny babe not thrive that would have perished before? Those touched by Her mercy must thrive, even the heathen, who are themselves a sign of Her coming. How else would the jaran have conquered so much so swiftly if God had not granted them His Grace, for that they signal the coming of the Merciful Age once again? Is not their bakhtiian a man of a full hundred years of age who yet appears to be a young man of thirty?"

Tess started. She always made it a point to invite churchmen and holy men and women to audience, but this was an apocalyptic prophecy she had certainly not heard before. She studied the man's plain robes and finally saw the tiny knife hanging from a chain around his neck: that and his lack of beard or mustache marked him as an adherent of what she called the Hristanic Church. She wondered what Brother Saghir, who had already founded a congregation of the True Church in Sarai, would think of this man's prophesying.

"Tess!" Galina emerged out of the cloth merchants' bazaar.

Tess slid away from the crowd and went to greet her.

Galina displayed several bolts of cloth. "See, isn't this blue pretty? It came all the way from the Yarial Empire, across the Golden Road."

"Or so the merchant claimed," put in her more skeptical companion, a Danov granddaughter.

"No, look at this weave. Do you see how the thread is—"

The intricacies of weaving were too much for Tess, and evidently the two young women had argued over this point already.

"Dmitri is hungry," Tess broke in.

Galina sighed. "Very well. Will you carry this back to camp for me, Aunt Tess? Elena is already weighted down with the rest of the cloth."

Tess exchanged the baby for the cloth, and rather missed the warmth of the infant. She drifted back to listen to the preacher again.

"Just as you have come to this city that lies on the edge of the wilderness, so do we all live in the great city being built by God, at the edge of the time of the ending of the Accursed Age and the dawning of the Merciful Age. There will be much grief and sorrow, but there will also come the burning light of God that will cleanse us of all—"

A figure passed under the arches leading into the cloth merchants' bazaar. Tess stepped away and peered after it. Those Habakar women who had come to Sarai with their husbands or fathers dressed modestly in public, but the same could be said for all the khaja women here. A few wore veils, many covered their hair, but most had adopted the jaran custom of free passage for women. This figure, unusually tall, was covered from head to foot in heavy veils.

What on earth was the ke doing out in so public a place?

Tess darted after her. She ducked and weaved through the crowd and managed to follow the ke all the way through the cloth merchant' bazaar into the court of the spice merchants (where she sneezed at least three times) and passed into the dim arcade sheltering the Scribes Guild. The ke stood before a nondescript stall, but turned, anticipating Tess's arrival.

"Here is a manuscript you will wish to acquire," said the ke at once, as if she had known Tess was following her.

In the first Chapalii world Tess had learned, no Chapalii would have spoken before Tess, heir to a duke, did; it had taken her a long time to get used to the ke's casual assumption of equality between them. But that's what I wanted, she reminded herself, stepping forward to examine the stall.

The scribe looked nervous, sitting at a table illuminated by two candles protected by glass shutters and what light penetrated the inner depths: Scribes never worked out in the elements, but the outermost and innermost stalls were always reserved for the poorest or least established scribes.

"You're new here?" Tess asked in Taor.

He nodded and glanced with superstitious distrust at the ke. "This holy one is known to the scribes here. She is interested in this scroll, which has recently come into my possession." He fingered a leather sheath which, presumably, held the scroll. Tess nodded. He licked his lips and went on. "It is known as the Byblene Gospel, my lady."

"That's a heretical work, isn't it?"

He pulled ink-stained fingers through his black beard. "I am a good Habakar merchant, my lady, trusting in God Almighty, in whom all mercy resides. This came to me through my cousin who had it from his brother-in-law, who had it from a Xiriki merchant who had it from a captain of the jaran army who claimed to have captured it from a merchant at the siege of Targana who in his turn claimed to have been given it by a scholar from Byblos."

"What was a scholar from Byblos doing in Targana?"

"I do not know, my lady, or even if the Targana merchant received it in Targana or elsewhere.

There are a few words in the Vidiyan script, here—" He helpfully held the scroll up toward one candle. "—which may be in the hand of the Targana merchant. Scrolls from Byblos are uncommon, my lady. This one has particular value because a translation of the Byblene script into Habakar has been interpolated between the lines."

"Who did the translation?"

"I cannot answer that question, my lady, but I can only assume that the Targana merchant did so. It is a careful translation, worth more than jewels."

"But then why would he have written this inscription in Vidiyan? Why not translate it into Vidiyan instead of Habakar?"

"I beg your pardon, my lady." The scribe stood up suddenly, looking over her shoulder.

Tess turned to see that she and the ke had attracted a small but interested crowd, all men, some few of whom she recognized from her previous forays into this arcade.

The scribe slid past the table. Immediately one of the men came forward and there was a whispered conversation. Tess could interpret the drift of the conversation by the exaggerated expressions of shock and fear that coursed across the poor scribe's face.

When he returned to the table, he bowed several times in a most obsequious fashion. "I beg a thousand pardons, my lady. Here, let this worthless scroll be yours as my gift." He pushed it across to her.

"I'd like to see it first." Setting down Galina's cloth, Tess eased the scroll out of the sheath and unrolled it, peeling off the layer of oilcloth. It was good quality parchment, and the quality of the lettering was remarkable: elegant and clear. Even the interpolation had no smudges. "What is this worth?" Tess asked the ke in Chapalii.

The ke studied it. "In barter or in coin?"

"In coin."

"Two yekh, by the standard devised by the civil administration here in Sarai."

"That much?"

"It is a good quality of reproduction, for these primitive methods, and the text itself is both rare and has arrived here from a considerable distance."

"You can be sure of that? Do you think it actually originated in Byblos?"

The ke extended a hand, gloved, of course, and the scribe took one step back, caught himself, but did not move forward. She ran two fingers down the parchment, which Tess still held open. "It is woven of different fibers. It is more sophisticated in manufacture, like the four other artifacts of Byblene manufacture which have come to the library."

"Hmm. I'll have to get a Habakar interpreter who can help me translate it into Rhuian. It will make a fine addition to the library." Tess rolled the scroll back up carefully and tucked it into the sheath, rummaged in her pouch, and came up with two of the newly minted yekhs. She set them down in front of the startled scribe, smiled at him, and picked up the scroll and the cloth.

"That is not necessary, my lady. Your presence here is payment enough."

"I trust the transaction is satisfactory?"

He bowed several more times. "May the Almighty God smile on your children, my lady. May he bring fortune to your—" He broke off, looking flustered. "You are most generous and gracious. May God grant you and your husband long life."

Tess took pity on him and left, the ke keeping step beside her. "I didn't know you came so often to the marketplace."

"On occasion it is useful. Is there not a saying in the Habakar tongue: 'A bird caged in luxury would rather the poverty of the wild wood'?"

Was there a wistful lilt to her voice? Tess could not tell. "Yet you chose exile knowing that it would bring isolation."

The ke slipped into the deeper tongue, as if the answer was too important to voice in one of the lesser tongues of what she had once called "the superficies of the Empire." "Out of exile comes true seeing."

" 'It is only through many eyes that we can see ourselves,' " replied Tess in the lesser tongue. So few things translated easily into the deeper tongue, which as far as Tess could tell used no pronouns nor even truly recognized the existence of the existential individual.

But the reply evidently contented the ke, who said nothing as they walked down the avenue that led back to the library. They paused on the steps of the library to watch the clouds roll down over the north ridge. Tess heard the rumble of thunder in the distance.

"There will be a great storm." The ke lifted her head as if to scent the air.

Tess smiled. "I can feel it in the air."

"You can feel it?" The ke did not quite sound surprised, but she turned to regard Tess. Tess could just make out her eyes with their odd vertical lozenge through the thin slit in her veil. "Humans are not known for this capability."

"Anyone can feel the electricity in the air at a time like this." She paused, sorting out what the ke had said. "You can feel it as well?"

"I can see it," said the ke. As if that ended the conversation, she went up the stairs to the door that led into her private chambers.

Tess just stood there, holding the cloth and the scroll. She stared at the clouds roiling down on them, trying to imagine what it would be like to see the fields of force emanating around the storm, at the pressure and the wind and the static charges shifting and building. But didn't the Chapelii see in infrared? Last Tess had heard, most xenologists agreed that the Chapalii saw in degrees of heat. What if, like some marine creatures on Earth, they perceived electrical fields as well?

A spatter of rain drove her inside the main building.

"Tess!"

"Sonia! What are you doing here?" She needed only one look at Sonia's face to see that there was trouble. "What's wrong?" Immediately her heart froze. Something had happened to Natalia or Yuri.

"It's Niko. He's taken quite ill suddenly. Varia Telyegin says his heart has failed him."

"Oh, gods." Her first impulse was relief that her children were fine. Her second, fear for Niko.

"Here, do you have something I can wrap these things in so they won't get wet?"

"My cloak."

They hurried out across the plaza. The wind picked up, blowing hard across the open expanse, kicking up Sonia's skirts and tugging Tess's hair out of its loose braid. Rain spattered them, but the storm didn't break until she reached Juli Danov's tent. Then, just as Tess slipped inside, lightning streaked across the sky and thunder pealed, so loud that the tent seemed to shake.

Niko lay in the front chamber of the tent, attended by his wife, two of his grandchildren, by Varia Telyegin, and by Irena Orzhekov. He breathed shallowly, and appeared unconscious.

"What happened?" Tess asked in a whisper, dropping down between Irena and Juli and grasping Juli's free hand. The old woman looked frail with worry.

"He collapsed," said Varia in a strong voice, not whispering at all. "A pain in his chest while he was consulting over a patient with me, and then he was gone, like this. It was quick, and peaceful."

Thunder boomed above them as the storm rolled over Sarai.

"The gods themselves have come to take him," said Irena softly. "Listen to their voices."

They listened. Tess wept silently as the wind tore at the tent and rain pounded on the felt roof and walls, torn by the splintering crash of thunder.

As the storm rolled away southward, Niko breathed his last and passed over into the other world.

Stunned, Tess left Juli with a few words of sympathy— she hardly knew what she was saying—and went to find her children. She found, instead, three mud-spattered riders waiting outside her tent.

"Cara!" she exclaimed.

Dr. Cara Fel Hierakis swung down from her horse, handed its reins over to one of her attendants, and shook drops of rain out of her hair. "I'd like to try those baths of yours," she said, grabbing her saddlebags off her horse before it was led away and throwing them down on the carpet under the awning.

"What are you doing here?" Tess demanded.

"Come in out of the rain, my dear. It is your tent, you know. You don't have to ask my permission.

In fact, the weather satellites showed that the thunderstorm was coming over this area so I decided to use it as a cover, as an excuse, to fly in, having neither the patience nor inclination for the overland journey this time. So we've just 'ridden in' from Jeds, so to speak."

Tess dredged up enough wit to notice that Cara wore, rather like a halo, an aura of expectancy about her. "What happened?"

"I have braved the perilous frontier, Tess. I have crossed the river, after which there is no turning back. Now ..." She laughed a little wildly, quite unlike Cara. "I don't know. I need to steady myself for a few days."

"Niko is dead."

That brought her to earth. "Oh, no. That's sad news, but not entirely unexpected."

"He just died, Cara! Not an hour ago!"

"Ah, Goddess. If I'd only arrived two hours earlier, perhaps I could have—"

"No, no." Tess shook her head violently and grasped Cara's hands in her own. They were cold.

"You're right. Better to let him go. He wouldn't have wanted anything else."

"Wiser than most of us, I fear."

"That's true enough. Gods, I'll miss him. Ilya will be furious."

The rain slowed and gave out altogether, and a shaft of sunlight broke out between clouds. Water slid down off the awning and dripped to the ground. The air smelled fresher. Tess pushed into her tent and set the scroll and Galina's cloth down onto the table.

"Was it Arina?" she asked, turning as Cara followed her in. "The baby is well enough, although not particularly strong."

"No, I didn't come because of Arina. I'd like to change. I'm truly filthy. We only rode a few kilometers, but all through the worst of that storm. It was exceptionally exciting."

"I'll walk with you to the baths. But let me find the children first, to make sure they weren't too frightened." They went back outside and Tess watched as Cara swung the saddlebags over her shoulders. "What did you come for, then?"

"I did it."

"You did what?"

"I've broken the code." Cara said it so casually that the words did not sink in. "We are no longer constrained by the treatments that the Chapalii have granted us, to make us live with extended youth and vitality but for only the span of one hundred and twenty years."

"What does that mean?"

"That's the question, isn't it? The Chapalii treatments merely postponed senescence, compressing the disabilities and diseases of old age into the last five to ten years before death. But the Rhuian natives were tampered with. They actually are in general less susceptible to disease, especially given the primitive nature of conditions here, and more competent at somatic maintenance—that is, general maintenance of the body—man the other human populations. And from that, from the tissue and blood and genome samples, I—"

"Let me sit down." Tess collapsed onto a pillow wet with rain.

"It's just," finished Cara, crouching beside her, "that I find it ironic to ride in here all on fire with the prospect of immortality, or at the least a doubling of the normal life span, only to be greeted with the news of Niko's death. All because of unraveling a code brought to me through my interaction with the jaran."

"Code! That's it. That must be what the tripartite sequences represent. When merchant ships transmit information through the vectors as their shipping clearance, and send it out in three discrete bunches, it's coded to different cycles, and thus to different end points. One is clearly some kind of public record. One is evidently to themselves, private, to their own house affiliates. But there's a third level, which is neither public nor house."

"What are you talking about?"

"If we can understand what that information is, and where it goes, and if we can disrupt it, then we can disrupt Chapalii shipping, can't we? By a subtler and more potent method than outright use of force, which we haven't got enough of anyway."

"Unless a short life span, if you're aware of it, makes you rasher and more aggressive in getting what you want. If you have a lot of time, it might not seem so urgent."

"Which is one reason you could choose to stay with Ilya and the jaran."

"Yes."

"What a strange, tangled web we weave, my dear."

"There they are." Tess got to her feet and waved at her children, who came out of Mother Orzhekov's tent in a herd, gabbling and shouting. Only Yuri waved back. Natalia was too busy arguing with Lara, and the whole herd of children headed out behind the tent, intent on some goal.

They did not look as if they had heard the news of Niko's death yet, or as if the thunderstorm had bothered them one bit. She gazed thoughtfully on her children as they vanished from sight. "Are you saying, Cara, that you can do this now?"

"I have a formula. It needs further testing and refinement, and the main problem is that actual results in humans won't be quantifiable for decades."

"So my children could live for centuries, perhaps?"

"No, Tess, not just your children. You could live for centuries. Perhaps. Do you want to?"

"I don't think I'm quite ready to consider that question. Could we please resolve all the moral issues involved in interfering here on Rhui as well as free ourselves from the Chapalii hegemony before we tackle that one?"

Cara smiled. "Somehow I suspect they're all related, intertwined like the many strands of a web."

"And like the strands of light that make up a web, the darkness against which the strand appears must also exist in order to set it off."

"I hate to sit on these moral questions alone," said Cara softly. "That's why I came to see you."

Tess extended a hand and lifted her up. "Oh, thank you," she said wryly. "We must go say good-bye to Niko."

"What will happen to his body?"

Tess recoiled from her. "You're not—"

"No, no! I didn't mean I wanted to do an autopsy." She looked sheepish for a moment, but recovered quickly. Already, above, patches of blue sky chased the clouds southward. "I just wondered, that was all."

Tess lifted her chin to let the wind stream off her face. It smelled of rain and damp felt. "They'll take him out to the plain and leave him there, so that his soul may enter again into the world in another body."

"That's right. Metempsychosis. The transmigration of souls. It's a form of reincarnation belief. But that's not what happened to Arina Veselov."

"No. She was released from this world."

"I'd like to see the baby."

"Yes. There, I see others going over as well. There will be a vigil tonight. At dawn his relatives will take him out onto the grass."

Cara went over with her. Cara was one of those people who had the art of good manners down perfectly: She stayed long enough to honor her connection to the deceased, but not so long as to imply that her connection was any greater than it actually was.

Tess stayed longer, well into the night, kneeling on the carpet under the awning, first with her children on either side of her and, later, when they fell asleep and were carried off to bed, by herself.

The entrance flaps were thrown wide, to admit Father Wind, but it was still night, oddly enough, and the candles burning at Niko's head and foot illuminated him with a steady light. As if to reflect his steady wisdom in life. She wept softly, but more for herself, for losing him, than for him in death.

She dozed off finally and woke and dozed off and started awake again, hearing bells. But she had been dreaming: The scene remained unchanged, only the candles had burned to stubs.

No, there were bells, messenger bells. She stood and stepped off the carpet, into the night. The sky had cleared utterly, and the moon hung low, spraying its silver gleam over the pale marble dome of the library. It was cool.

There. Tess saw the torches, men loping alongside a horse. She walked out to meet the messenger, and blinked once, twice, there was something so familiar about his posture on horseback.

Then he swung down and turned into the direct light of a torch.

"Kirill!" Beyond that word, nothing more came out, she was so surprised to see him.

He looked travel worn, he looked weary, he looked— gods—older than Ilya, but he still looked like Kirill, only markedly grim. Seeing her, his expression softened somewhat, although he looked almost ... cautious.

"I came to attend my wife at the birth of our child," he said hoarsely. She said nothing. She needed to say nothing. "But I heard what happened on my way here."

There was a long silence. She took one step closer to him. "The child still lives, Kirill. A girl."

He took off his helmet and shook out his hair, pale in the moonlight, still cut short. The bells strapped to his chest and back whispered as he moved. "That is not the only reason I came. South past the desert there is a pass that leads into the eastern wilderness that borders Mircassia, or so my intelligence reports. In two or three months, when the rains have stopped, it will be passable. I can lead my army over that pass and into the heart of Mircassia while Sakhalin comes down on them from the north."

"But, Kirill—" She faltered. She felt so terrible, thinking of Arina, that it took her a moment to realize that the grim look on his face was more concern for her than distress over his own sorrow.

Good reasons, both of them, but neither of them truly reasons a dyan would leave his army during campaign season, not even with a capable second to hand over into command.

"Where is Bakhtiian?" he asked suddenly, and gestured to the torchbearers to leave them. An Orzhekov cousin ran up, a boy, and took the horse away.

"He rode south over forty days ago."

"We captured a man coming down the southern caravan route, bearing a letter and a message for the Prince of Filis. I traced his path back as far as Habakar. There, I lost it."

"And?"

He closed the distance between them and halted in front of her. She smelled the rain on him, and for an instant the remembered scent of the nutblossom trees in Habakar, as if he had brought an echo of them with him.

He glanced first to the right and then to the left, and when he spoke, he lowered his voice so that she had to lean toward him to hear. "The man who dictated that letter was wise enough not to expose his own identity by using his name. Someone in the tribes has set out to betray Bakhtiian."

From behind her, like an antiphony, rose the dawn song for the dead, for the departing man, so that his soul might rise into the winds and be borne back into a woman's body and so be born again into the world. To the east, light rimmed the horizon, and the sun rose.