'Well?" asked Trager sharply. "What do we do now?" Lukien looked at the resting kreel. "Hope it doesn't get hungry."
-i't'tn hour later, Figgis finally emerged from the tavern. The Jadori man was with him, smiling and laughing as the two spoke among themselves. Figgis held two packages of food in his hand. As he approached Lukien and Trager, he held them out.
'For you," he said, then went back to talking to the Jadori. Lukien looked at his food-a large, flat circle of bread stuffed with meat and spices. He gave it a wary sniff, decided it smelled good, then bit down hungrily. Trager did the same, glaring angrily at Figgis.
'What took you so long?" he asked through a mouthful of food.
'I had things to discuss with Tamaz. I learned a great deal." "Tamaz?" asked Lukien. "Is that his name?" The Jadori looked at him, then pointed at himself. "Tamaz." Trager wasn't satisfied. "You leave us out here starving, looking after that monster?" He gestured to the kreel. "What were you thinking?"
'Easy," scolded Lukien. The kreel hadn't been a problem. Only now did it rise, seeing its master return. "No harm done. What did you learn, Figgis?"
'First, I got us passage to Jador," said Figgis happily. "Really?" Lukien looked at Tamaz. "Is he taking us there?" "No." Figgis looked back toward the shrana house. "He is." Coming through the beaded curtain was another man, big and dark-skinned with a weathered face and beard. He was older than the Jadori man, almost as old as Figgis himself, and carried himself with an air of authority that made Lukien stop eating. As the Jadori man mounted his kreel and said his good-byes to Figgis, the new stranger stepped up and gave the trio a slight bow. His drab robes rustled as he moved, but he never took his eyes off the foreigners. Then another figure emerged out of the tavern, directly on the heels of the first. To Lukien's surprise, it was the young woman he'd seen earlier. "Who's this?" asked Trager.
Figgis stepped between them and introduced the man. "This is Jebel. He is the leader of a caravan that will take us to Jador. The girl with him is his daughter, Cahra."
'Caravan?" asked Lukien. "You mean they're traders?" "They are like nomads, Lukien. They travel from place to place, living off the land and bartering for what they need. They live in the desert mostly, but come into Ganjor when they need hings. Now they are going to Jador. Tamaz introduced them to me."
Trager's face lit with alarm. "What? You mean you told Tamaz we're going to Jador?"
'It seemed like the thing to do."
'Figgis, that was very stupid," said Lukien. "He could have warned them- 'Stop," said Figgis, putting up his hands. He took Lukien by the arm and turned him away from Jebel and his daughter. "Watch what you say. Jebel speaks our language."
Lukien looked at the man, who stared back with a hard expression. "Jebel. Forgive me," he offered.
"I am Lukien. This is Trager."
Jebel nodded at them. His daughter Cahra did not.
Lukien smiled awkwardly. "You will take us to Jador, Jebel?"
The dark man said, "My family rides in the morning. You may come with us, and we will guide you.
But you will need your own drowa."
'I've already explained that to them, Jebel," said Figgis. "We will trade our horses for drowa. Then we'll meet you back here and go to your caravan. Agreed?"
'It is agreed." Jebel looked at Trager, who was still eating with both hands, and cringed in disgust. He said to Figgis, "Teach them something of manners before you return." Then he turned and went back into the shrana house, calling his daughter after him. Cahra hesitated a moment, studying the three strangers before hurrying after her father.
'What was that all about?" asked Trager. Meat drippings dribbled down his chin.
'It's my fault," said Figgis. "I should have explained this to YOU before I brought the food. We're in Ganjor now; we can't eat like we usually do."
'Bah," scoffed Trager. "If I'm too messy for them, screw 'em."
'That's not it," said Figgis. "You don't eat with both hands here, Trager. You eat with the right hand only."
Puzzled, Lukien frowned. "The right hand? Why?" device that Lukien had never seen before. Now they were full and content as they sat around a fire, listening to the odd music of the desert and gazing at Ganjor in the distance. To the west lay the Desert of Tears, an endless stretch of forbidding sand. The setting of the sun had cooled the world considerably, and all of them wore the gakas that Figgis had purchased. Lukien found the garb remarkably comfortable. He stretched with a yawn, yearning for sleep. Tomorrow they would begin their trek to Jador, making their way along the caravan routes, the well-traveled lanes that Figgis had promised could accomodate the wagons as long as they weren't swallowed by sandstorms. Lukien wasn't sure he was up to it. Of the three, only Figgis was eager to break camp. He sat slightly apart from Lukien, talking with Jebel on the far side of the fire. Trager had his eyes closed, half asleep. Around the wagons, children giggled in hushed voices and played with mangy dogs. Lukien watched Figgis converse with Jebel, amazed by his stamina. He knew that without the strange librarian, their mission would have been hopeless.
While they had shopped for their drowas, Figgis had explained his conversation with Tamaz, the Jadori. He had learned from the lizard rider that Jador was still at peace, just as Figgis had suspected, and that they still had a kahan and a kahana, just as they did decades ago when Figgis was a young man in Ganjor. Back then, Figgis had recalled, the kahan had been a man named Kadar. So it had surprised and elated Figgis when Tamaz told him that the Kahan of Jador was still Kadar, apparantly the very man who had ruled Jador all that time ago. It might have been his son, Figgis supposed, but he prefered to think it was still the same man, and that a magical amulet was keeping him alive. Kadar's wife, the kahana, was called Jitendra. This news draped a pall over Figgis' theory, because he remembered Kadar's wife as having a different name. Still, it was enticing.
Deciding there was no harm in explaining their pretense to Tamaz, Figgis had told him that they were emissaries from King Akeela of Luria, and that they had brought gifts for the Jadori kahan in hopes of opening up diplomatic relations. The news had Pleased Tamaz, who told Figgis that Kahan Kadar would welcome the Lurian visitors. But he had refused to speak more about 'Because that's your clean hand.
Your left hand is for... well, you know."
'No, I don't know. What do you mean?"
Figgis smiled. "In this culture, the left hand is used for bodily things, Lukien. You know, cleaning yourself?"
Suddenly Lukien understood. He looked down at his hands, then at all the Ganjeese people around them.
'I don't get it," said Trager. He continued eating with both hands. "What do you mean, clean yourself?"
Figgis sighed hopelessly. "Forget it. Let's just get those drowa."
Ihat night, Lukien and the others rested with Jebel's caravan on the outskirts of the city. They had traded their horses for three drowa, then had met again with Jebel in the tavern, who took them out to his caravan near sundown. There they had met with the rest of the desert leader's huge family, a similarly-featured band of some hundred people spanning multiple generations. Jebel introduced them perfunctorily to his wife and his brother, then had his youngest children line up for inspection. He explained to them that they had visitors from far away, and that they were to teach them what they could of their culture and their god, Vala. Because they were foreigners, Jebel explained, they could not be expected to know how to eat and clean themselves. Lukien listened to Jebel's speech in embarrassment, and more than once saw Cahra giggle. Now that she was with her family again she had doffed her veil, revealing her pretty face. She was not glamorous, but she had dark, deep eyes that reminded Lukien of Cassandra.
Jebel's caravan was an impressive sight, easily seen from the city. There were at least two dozen wagons, strangely designed vehicles with large, wide wheels and a high clearance beneath them. There were also numerous, humpbacked drowa laying lazily around the camp. Torches and candles had been set in the sand, and the moonlight shone on the dunes. Lukien, Trager, and Figgis had all taken their ease at the camp, supping with Jebel and his wife and sharing his water-pipe, a strange but pleasant Kadar, and that puzzled Figgis. The librarian had decided not to push the man further, but had taken hisevasiveness as a good sign.
'Perhaps they are not allowed to speak of the kahan's magic."
Figgis had theorized.
Lukien didn't really care. He was just glad they were on their way to Jador, and that soon he might confront this Kahan Kadar. If he and his wife did indeed have the magic amulets, he would steal them. In the quiet of the desert, it seemed a remarkably simple plan.
For Cassandra, Lukien reminded himself.
He wasn't a thief, but for Cassandra he would become one. For Cassandra, he would do anything, and that troubled him. He was far from home now, maybe about to die. He had risked his brotherhood with Akeela and imperiled his soul, if indeed he even had a soul, and as the wind played across the sand Lukien wondered what life would be like without her. In the little time they had spent together, he had fallen deeply in love with her. He imagined he could accept her as Akeela's wife, as long as she was close and he could look at her. But if she died... She will not die, Lukien told himself. I won't allow it. With Cassandra's face filling his thoughts, Lukien closed his eyes and went to sleep.
A, the bridge of Roan-si, Chancellor Hogon and his army of Lurians paused to look across the glistening River Kryss. They had traveled many days to make the rendezvous, and the infantry and horses were exhausted from the march. But the sight of the river heartened them, and the opposing army that had come to meet them put a smile on Hogon's face. He narrowed his eyes against the strong sun, recognizing Raxor's flag. The Reecian war minister's standard was a green flag embroided with a snarling lion, in the same colors as his brother. From the looks of Raxor's camp, the Reecians had arrived at least a day earlier. Tents and pavilions had already been erected, and a few small cooking fires burned among the huddled troops. The scouts that Hogon had sent ahead had reported that Raxor was anxious for his meeting at the bridge. Already Reecian soldiers were riding out of camp to greet them. Hogon put up his hand and bid his company to remain calm. He had five hundred infantry with him and almost a hundred heavy horsemen, all of whom still distrusted their new allies. But Raxor had come just as his brother had promised, and Hogon had his orders. So far, at least, Akeela's plan was working.
'Dusan, you will accompany me," said Hogon. "Kass, stay back with the others."
The chancellor's aides frowned at each other.
'Sir, is that wise?" asked Dusan, the younger of the two. He had been with Hogon for five years, yet still saw fit to question him. "You should have at least two men with you, for protection."
The Chancellor of War chuckled. "Protection from what? They're our allies now."
Lieutenant Kass snorted, "Allies. Who believes that, truly?"
'Your king believes that," said Hogon sharply. "And look, they have come."
'So you trust them?" asked Kass.
Hogon didn't answer. He didn't have to trust the Reecians. Like Luria, they had a stake in defeating Norvor, and that would keep them honest, at least for now. And despite his violent history, Raxor was known as a man of his word, not only in Reec but throughout the continent. Hogon had battled Raxor many times, but he had never hated the man. He respected him.
'See that the men rest, Kass," said Hogon, "and that the horses take water. Dusan, come along."
With Dusan following close behind, Hogon trotted toward the bridge. Roan-si Bridge was wide and sturdy, and would easily accommodate bringing the army across. It had been built by the Reecians long before Akeela had come to power, but had been abandoned during the bitter stalemate, used mostly by traders and merchants. Roan-si, Hogon knew, was an old Reecian phrase meaning "meeting place." The irony of the name wasn't lost on the old man. Those who had built the bridge had supposed it would bring the two nations together, but only Akeela had been able to do that.
As he neared the stone bridge, Hogon recognized Raxor among the approaching soldiers. When the Reecian noticed Hogon's single companion, he paused for a moment, ordering all but one of his soldiers to stop and wait as he himself rode on. He wore a surcoat over his black armor and metal studded greaves, and his ebony warhorse matched his own dark hair, combed back and slick with oil. He was a big man, like his brother, and as he trotted onto the bridge his eyes met Hogon's with an air of mistrust.
Hogon remained arrow-straight in his saddle, not even blinking as he rode to face his longtime enemy.Never before had he been this close to Raxor. The urge to draw his sword was almost irresistible. There was no sound on the bridge, only the clopping of horse hooves on stone. Behind Hogon, Dusan was silent.
The two men rode toward the crest of the bridge, their aides keeping back a pace. Hogon stopped his horse and raised his hand in greeting.
'Raxor."
The War Minister of Reec nodded. "Hogon."
They looked at each other without the smallest hint of friendship. Raxor was unreadable. Hogon felt the breeze strike his face and decided he should say something.
'You've come," he said. "To be honest, I didn't know if you would. Thank you."
'My king commanded it," said Raxor. "Is that not why you are here, Hogon?"
Hogon nodded. "It is."
'You look tired," the Reecian remarked.
'It is a long march from Koth."
'And from Hes," agreed Raxor. "But we have rested. We arrived yesterday."
'Good. Then you are ready to march on Hanging Man?"
'We are." Raxor hesitated, sizing up Hogon. "Chancellor, I have a question from my brother. He wants to know how his daughter fares."
Hogon grimaced. In the tension of the moment, he had forgotten that Karis had been told of Cassandra's illness. The messenger that had asked for his help against Norvor had delivered that bad news as well.
'I'm sorry," said Hogon, "but the queen does poorly. She has some good days, but she is very ill. Her physician says she may be dead in a month or two."
'And the quest your messenger spoke of? How does that go?"
'No word yet. But we have sent out our best knights in search of the amulets. If they exist, our men will find them."
Raxor's face betrayed his sadness. "It is a fool's errand," he said. "If Cassandra has so little time, how can your knights save her?"
'They will do their best," said Hogon. He did not believe in Lukien's quest either, but thought it best not to say so. "As I said, if the amulets exist, our men will find them."
'Then I will dispatch that news to my brother, and tell him to begin mourning his daughter," said Raxor bitterly. "Now, what news of your king?"
'King Akeela still rides for Hanging Man. He will arrive there on the morrow. We will attack the day after, just past dawn."
'Will there will be a signal?"
Hogon shook his head. "No. My orders are to attack an hour past dawn. Akeela assured me he would be ready."
Raxor grimaced. "With respect, I have met your king, Chancellor. He doesn't seem capable of this mission."
'Maybe. But he's not alone. He has fifty men with him, including one of his best Chargers. When we attack, they will be ready."
Raxor looked over Hogon's shoulder, toward his Lurian army. "You have brought a goodly force with you."
'Five hundred infantry and a hundred cavalry." Hogon surveyed Raxor's troops in the distance.
"Almost as many as you, it seems."
'Indeed. We will be formidable..." Raxor almost smiled.
'Together."
Hogon returned the crooked grin. "Together," he echoed. The word felt odd to him. "We live in strange times, Minister," he said, then proceeded across the bridge with Raxor.
T _L he Norvan fortress of Hanging Man clung to the edge of a cliff, one sheer face turned toward the churning river below. Defiant flags overhung its battlements, snapping in the wind, while countlessscores of armored men milled about its courtyard, barely visible through the surrounding iron gate. A single turret rose from the fortress, its gray stone weather-pitted, its arrow slits perpetually watching the River Kryss. Beyond the fortress lay Norvor, a land of formidable mountains and hot southern summers.
Hanging Man's shadow fell across the River Kryss like a drawbridge. The fortress had stood for six decades, guarding Norvor and its diamond mines from its Reecian neighbors. It had earned its name during the first Reecian-Norvan war, when Norvan soldiers hung their Reecian captives on the wall facing the river, so that any who approached would see their grisly trophies and be warned. The name had stuck, but not the practice, for there had been no war between the uneasy neighbors for many years, and Norvor had quieted as its brutal leader aged. Akeela knew very little about King Mor, but he knew that he was very old, and that now he was very angry. Angry enough, it seemed, to return to his warlike ways.
It was just past noon when Akeela and his contingent of Chargers arrived at Hanging Man. The sun beat down on his cape-clad shoulders. His horse moved sluggishly, eager for a rest, and the warmth had wilted Akeela's spirits, which withered further at the sight of Hanging Man. For eight days they had ridden, finding what shelter they could in Lurian villages, until they had crossed the Kryss and entered Reec. After that they had been on their own, and the lack of sleep and decent food had plagued Akeela.
He wasn't as hearty as Breck or the others, and he knew that it showed. Breck rode very close to him, watching him like a concerned brother.
'They see us, my lord," said Breck. He ambled his horse alongside Akeela's, pointing at the great turret.
'No doubt," said Akeela. His insides clenched. From the looks of the fortress, King Mor had been busy. There were catapults and heavy wagons and stables housing war horses, all plainly visible and meant to send a message. Akeela no longer doubted Mor's intentions. It was expensive to move so many men and so much equipment; Mor wasn't bluffing. He intended to attack Reec if his demands were not met, even if it meant war with Luria.
'Keep riding," Akeela told Breck. The lieutenant called the order down the line, and the fifty horsemen kept moving. The men in Hanging Man's courtyard began opening the great gate.
'My lord?" Breck whispered.
'Yes?"
'Are you all right?"
Akeela nodded. "Yes."
Breck leaned in closer. "You don't have to do this. We can still turn around. Just say the word."
But Akeela couldn't say the word. Frightened as he was, he knew there was no turning back. Hogon was already prepared, and Raxor with him.
'I can't explain this to you, Breck. It's just something I have to do."
'But you've never done anything like this before." Breck kept his voice low, but his tone was earnest.
"Forgive me for saying this, but you're not a soldier, my lord."
'Shhh," Akeela urged. "No more talk, all right? It's done, and I'm not backing down."