Traitors' Gate (84 page)

He sighed heavily and opened his eyes, body relaxing. “That's done it. How can you possibly speak of such things in our bed, Mai?”

“Because we have privacy here, and therefore none of your officers are standing within a sword's length of you.”

He looked away from her, toward the closed doors, and she released his hands, not that he couldn't have freed them at any time. At once, taking advantage, he rolled on top of her.

“Now, plum blossom. Listen carefully. We will travel together to Astafero, by ship.”

“Not by eagle? You seem to be in haste.”

“No, not by eagle, although events move quickly elsewhere and I do have need of haste. I need a full honor guard to attend me, to show proper consequence. I will present you to my mother. We will see what events have transpired—beyond the obvious startling news of my brother's death and my cousin's ascension to the imperial throne. I must know what has driven my mother north to the Hundred to find me.”

“What if your cousin wishes to kill you, Anji? Isn't your claim to the imperial throne more legitimate than his?” Even to contemplate such a fate—Anji becoming emperor in that dreadful place!—made her want to weep.

He kissed her, as if to seal the thought away, unspoken and thereby rejected. “I do not wish to be emperor in Sirniaka. I am too much a son of the Qin to wish for that now. Nor would they want me, because I am no longer one of them.” He had much of his weight resting on his arms as he addressed her. “But it cannot be ignored that my cousin may wish to have me killed. My mother would not for an instant be party to such a desire. But they may have sent agents with her to accomplish the task. Yet she will know that also, and be on the alert for it. She is no fool. Also, it seems she is accompanied by over five hundred Qin soldiers out of Commander Beje's command.”

“Commander Beje! The one we met in Mariha.” His first wife's father, who had thanked Anji for saving the clan's honor. “He's the one who saved your life by warning you that your own Qin uncle had agreed to have you killed, to seal a treaty with your Sirniakan half brother.” Spoken aloud, the words fell like knives.

“So, you see, plum blossom, I have allies. We are not alone.”

“But what of the war here, Anji? You were gone for days,
scouting in the north, and I have heard not one word of what you saw and what you decided.”

His gaze narrowed, as it did when dark thoughts troubled him. “War is coming. That's all I can say.”

“Sengel did not come back with you. You've left him to prepare the way.”

“You know how I trust him. Now. Have we discussed these matters in a satisfactory way, enough to put your fears to rest for the moment?”

“My fears to rest? Anji! We speak of assassins. Of a coming war!”

“Little enough time for pleasure in the face of these difficulties. May we continue?”

“No.” She watched his surprise at her bald refusal, and in that brief startled release of his vigilance, she rolled him over so she was on top. She smiled, because what else could she do? He would ride away soon enough. She had him for so short a time. “But now we can.”

 

T
HE BED WAS
only a respite. He did not linger afterward. He washed and dressed, called for and dandled the baby on his lap while Mai, seated behind him, combed out his hair and twisted it up into its topknot, bound with gold silk ribbons, very festive. When she had finished and he was presentable, he left for the militia encampment with his officers. She nursed Atani and then, according to Anji's specifications, supervised packing up for a journey while Sheyshi fussed over which silks to bring and which to leave behind.

Priya and O'eki's arrival surprised her.

She kissed Priya, while O'eki went to supervise the closing down and sealing up of the counting room.

“I am leaving for Astafero.” She dared not beg Priya to come with her, because she did not want to beg, and yet she could scarcely bear to go without her.

“The captain asked us to attend you,” said Priya, indicating a traveling chest, two covered baskets, and a pair of scuffed old saddlebags stuffed to bursting.

Mai touched Priya's arm, shy of contact because she did
not know how to treat a woman she had once called “slave.” “Did he ask you, or command you?”

“I do not mind, plum blossom.” Priya kissed her on the cheek with dry lips. “These last few days have been difficult for you.”

“I have been selfish. If you do not wish to go—”

“We are going, Mistress. Let it be.”

The harbor was busy, the town abuzz with messengers, gossip, commerce, and nervous anticipation: The army was on the move, leaving Olossi with a scant guard to protect itself should the worst happen and the attack into the north fail. The folk of Olo'osson were gambling, having offered up their young men, their horses, and significant supplies. They had only one chance.

“Should I have chosen a welcoming gift?” whispered Mai to Priya as they watched two low-slung cargo ships being laded with a remarkable amount of cloth and other fineries. Mai stroked Atani's back anxiously until the baby wriggled to show his discomfort, his dark eyes drawn down very like his father's when Anji was trying to hide annoyance. “I have to make a good impression. Why didn't Anji say something to me?”

“There the captain comes,” said Priya, squeezing Mai's elbow.

Atani squirmed, hearing hooves, a sound he evidently associated with his father. He reached, spotting his father among a cadre of thirty-six riders. A cadre of foot soldiers marched behind.

The horses would be going with the army. Anji dismounted. He greeted Mai first, then kissed Atani and handed him to Chief Tuvi. He greeted Priya and O'eki with respect, acknowledged the others with a glance, even the silent Sheyshi. At Anji's look, Keshad actually took a step back, bumping into one of the hirelings, who muttered a curse. Many folk had gathered to watch, as Hundred folk commonly did, for any activity or interaction that occurred in public was meant to be watched, discussed, and commented upon.

“I forgot to bring a welcoming gift for your mother,” Mai murmured.

“She would accept no such gift from you.”

“How am I to greet and converse with a woman who has already tried to get rid of me?”

“Listen, Mai.” He glanced back at Atani, content in Tuvi's arms, then bent his gaze toward her as they walked up the gang plank onto the deck. “She is my mother. She raised me. She saved my life at the cost of her own freedom. I owe her respect and obedience, as all Qin sons respect and honor their mothers. Anyhow, until I know what has brought her here, I can make no plan. You must follow my lead in this.”

The same tension that had troubled his visage last night before he had devoured her settled heavily on him, making him seem a different person than the uncomplicated Qin captain who had plucked her out of the marketplace and carried her off to distant lands. But perhaps he had not changed at all. Perhaps this man had always been masked behind the other one, thickly chained like the little chest Toughid carried slung over his mount's hindquarters. Now and then this other man escaped, and however much she loved Anji, she was not sure she liked that piece of him very much.

 

•  •  •

 

S
HAI TRACKED SIXTH
Cohort for four days before he spotted Zubaidit. He was hiding in a stand of pipe-brush overlooking a stream, and cursed if she wasn't wearing a sergeant's stripes and leading the rearguard along the bank, striding along in that easy way she had. Her soldiers were quiet and disciplined, but they were also in a hurry. For four days Sixth Cohort had been marching toward Nessumara.

Shai pitched a stone into the water. The plop caught the patrol's attention. Then he ran the other way, across a weed-ridden field. He favored a leg, pretending to limp.

“Get him!” That was Zubaidit's voice. “Capture him alive.”

Had she recognized him just from his back?

He stumbled on purpose, hoping to make the inevitable fall
go more easily, but the soldiers hit him across the back with their staffs and piled on, grinding his face into a desiccated thistle. He inhaled bristles and grit.

“He's got a knife.” They took his weapons.

He heard her voice. “Have you caught yourselves a gods-rotted outlander, lads? There's a cursed good reward for bringing in outlanders.”

“Not fair,” complained one of the men, “just because those three were close enough to grab him.”

“I could take the whole cursed reward and forget about you lot. But I'll divide the reward and my bonus evenly between the entire cadre and give you three who tackled him a bit extra for your trouble. I'll take the knives and his staff meanwhile. Any complaints? No? Let him up.”

The pressure on his back eased, and he spat out dirt. Cautiously, he rolled to sit.

Zubaidit wore soldier's garb and, around her neck, an eight-pointed star hammered out of tin, the mark of the army. Leaning on the staff they'd taken from him, she studied him, but the way she was looking at him made him cursed uneasy.

“Get rope,” she said. “We don't want to lose him. Not with so much coin at stake.”

“What do we do with him, Sergeant?” asked one of the men as he brushed dirt off his trousers.

“I'll search him for other weapons. Then we take him to Captain Arras. Hurry up! We're trailing behind, you cursed lagabouts. I could march faster when I was a wee toddler. There've been reeve patrols sighted in this area. A couple of cadres were hit by attacks.”

“Wish I had an eagle.” The youngest scanned the sky with a wistful look.

“So you'd wish, until it ripped your head off,” said Bai with a laugh. “Here, give me the rope. Get ready to march out. You three, scout ahead.”

She kneeled behind Shai and yanked his arms so hard up behind him that he grunted in pain. With his wrists tied tightly back, he sat there panting as she patted up his legs and torso.

“Cursed fool,” she breathed into the back of his neck. “If you came deliberately, fist both hands.”

He fisted both hands.

She grunted, like an echo of his pain. “Follow my lead.”

She fastened a lead line to his rope shackles, fastened his belt and small pack over her back, and handed the lead to a soldier. “Six men on him at all times. Let's move.”

As they marched, he in the middle of the cadre and she striding along close by, she commenced a running commentary. “Well built, isn't he? Are all outlanders so cursed well built, do you think? Look at those arms! Whew! He's got a cursed good chest under that shirt. Makes me miss my Devouring days, eh?”

“If you don't mind my saying so, Sergeant,” said one of the three women who marched in the cadre, a fine-boned woman who carried a bow like she knew how to use it, “I thought the captain was after your ass.”

“I'll tell you, Taria, the best piece of advice I'll ever give you, is never ever milk a man who sits in authority over you. Not unless you have no choice. And unless you like wielding the whip, don't milk one you have authority over. Slaves are different, of course.”

“Why? You fancy this one? I can't say I think he's that cursed handsome, but—whew!—you're right about his arms. Why don't we strip off his shirt and look over the rest of him?”

Zubaidit grinned. “I wish we could sell him. But I suppose the cloaks will just take him away, since they're the ones who set the reward. Although what in the hells they want with outlanders I can't imagine.”

On they strode, as the soldiers tossed suggestions back and forth, ranging from the mundane to the obscene. The odd thing was that this group was not any different from any gaggle of militiamen, mostly youngish men with a few older men and the three women, all archers and, by their similar features, probably related. Zubaidit threw in comments now and again, but she retained an air of separation very like the chiefs among the Qin. It was a strong cadre; they were alert; they looked out for each other; they kept up the pace. They were very little like the
first cohort of Star of Life he'd met. These soldiers seemed human.

They paused at the fringe of a woodland copse beside a shallow pool ringed by mulberry trees and a pair of fallow diked fields. The cadre set up a perimeter using a pair of fallen logs as a line of protection, and the three archers headed out around the woodland with a trio of scouts flanking. Shai was allowed to take a piss, with Zubaidit holding the rope, just far enough away that, within sight of everyone but with their backs turned so no one could see their mouths moving, they could exchange a few words.

He did not hesitate. “I know how to kill Lord Radas. There are two precious vials of snake venom in the pouch. On a dart, the venom is deadly if it penetrates the skin. Even a cloak will fall if infected by the poison.”

“Cloaks can't die.”

“We have to strip the cloak off him while he's in a stupor.”

“Can it be so simple?”

“Not if the cloak knows what you intend. Then it's impossible.”

“Of course. They can always anticipate an attack.” She swatted him, hard, across the back of the head, and spoke in a loud voice. “Aren't you finished? You're as slow as an ox!”

“And not as well hung!” shouted a soldier, as the others laughed.

“Has anyone checked?” asked another.

“Hush, now, you'll frighten off the game.” Zubaidit tugged Shai back into the midst of the cadre, and he sank down and rested his forehead on bent knees, abruptly so tired he could not keep his eyes open. He'd shared the secret. She knew; she was still with him; they had their chance to complete the job.

May the Merciful One protect them!

He dozed, and was awakened when the hunting party returned with a half dozen birds and a plump yearling deer. At dusk they reached the cohort, which was settling for the night in a deserted village. The captain was a cautious man; he'd ringed the village with fires and a barrier hastily constructed out of boards torn from the cottages. They'd found a bag of nai flour
to cook into porridge, enough for the entire cohort. Zubaidit's cadre fell to arguing over how much of their meat they had to share out among six hundred men, until she snapped at them to shut up. Then, with the three men who'd actually captured him, she sought out the captain.