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Captured by the fierce and tribal bayeh, Jon learns something unexpected about Kajrazi, forges some alliances, and resolves to take back his province.

The penultimate chapter of The Road to Mandalay takes us up into the mountains. Last time, Jon was captured by a tribe of mountain folk. Now, he starts to come into his own. Action-heavy chapter, character-development heavy chapter, almost done folks!

Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute -- as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.

The Road to Mandalay, by Rob Baird -- Chapter 8, "To Jest at the Dawn with Death"

(Also, check out the infodump here if you want a map, a review of the plot, and a catchup on the characters and setting!)

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I didn't understand Kajrazi's animated protest, only that it was enough to get the bandit to shoulder his rifle briefly. Another few minutes of dialogue saw us roughly manhandled into another tent, bound further, and shoved to the ground.

"Colonel, you 'ave an idea, right?" Locke asked.

"I'm thinking."

The bear grunted. "See what good it did to trust 'em, eh? Ain't I told ya the mountain folk aren't worth it?"

Kajrazi hadn't joined us, and she seemed to be able to speak to the elder firefox, so I was neither completely without hope nor completely willing to dismiss the tribe. "Perhaps this was all a misunderstanding."

"Perhaps."

At dawn, one of the clan poked his head into the tent, decided Akal Shanwir was incorrectly positioned, and kicked him until he sat up. The dog snarled, although the brief exchange that followed ended with another kick, and he went solidly over onto his side once again.

"Misunderstanding," Locke repeated my earlier words, and translated the Dhamishese I hadn't understood. "He says they're waiting to find a firepit big enough to cook 'the fat one.' They must've meant Shanwir." Akal Shanwir phrased his own commentary in yet more of his own tongue, and those sorts of obscene words I did know.

Presently another figure appeared in the tent. Kajrazi had exchanged her previous garb for a pale blue dress -- much looser than the ones she'd worn in Jaikot, and easier to move in. If nothing else, it also made her look quite different from the rest of us. "Ah. Kajja Jonham." She bent down, and untied the rope around my ankles. "Can you come with me?"

I rose, if a bit awkwardly. "Am I being executed or eaten?"

She sighed, and started leading me towards another tent. "It is... unfortunate that we can act somewhat... impolitely, kajja. But in this case, my father wishes to speak to you."

"Your..." The incredulous question died on my lips, as a number of pieces fell into sudden and abrupt place. "I see."

"Yanash Maro is the leader of the Kasharman clan."

"You're his daughter."

A wry smile accompanied her nod. "Yes, Taresh Razi. Someone with a greater understanding of Dhamishese might have noticed the ironic kaj they put before it. It comes from the same root. Although we say kech, not kajja."

Kech Yanash Maro glowered at me from within his tent. I took my seat under his very fierce glare. "Kech Jonham. Hello."

I recalled enough noble bearing not to flinch under his gaze. Instead I met it, and nodded my head slightly. "Yourself as well, Lord Kasharman. I have to confess some doubt about the degree of pleasure. I was tied up, after all."

Kajrazi coughed, and leaned closer to me, lowering her voice. "He does not speak much of your language, kajja. Unfortunately. I will translate for you, if you like, but... perhaps... mm. I will interpret a bit."

"Naturally."

"Desh sakasha nakhtun, miikhbes. En desh kaan waya, ha-adl ya modibl..."

"Ha-adl miikhaash desh hawusayyat. Darua desh waya sim mej dad eyinajj." He turned from his daughter to me. "With knife."

Kajrazi splayed her ears. "He is not happy that I was your slave. Um. He says you have good fortune that he has not killed you. With a knife."

"Yes, I got that part. Would you mind explaining --"

"What explain," kech Maro interjected. "No explain."

I bristled. "Perhaps not for you."

"No excuse for what you do. No excuse for you to take her. Lucky we only kill you, we not do anything so cruel as --"

"Look," I snapped. "If you're going to kill me, just bloody well do it already. Otherwise, give up the damned sanctimonious act. I'm not in the fucking mood."

"Sa... santimony?"

"Rakish parikzambiabl wayiz," Kajrazi translated.

"Fucking?"

She rubbed at her neck. "Saffin."

Kech Maro crossed his arms. "You cannot accuse this to me."

"Oh, I fucking well can," I shot back. "I'll remind you, Lord Kasharman: I didn't ride up into the mountains to enslave your bloody daughter. You traded her -- that was your choice."

"You tell to him this?" the older firefox asked.

She curled her tail around to her front, toying with it, and nodded gently. "Yes. But only because it was true."

"Then you bring him here?"

"He wanted to ride through Imaka Maqbi, but I told him the way was not safe. I suggested the path from Sapsha Da, which was not known to them."

"Known to them now," her father immediately retorted. "Fools. Why Imaka? Where go?" When she started to speak, he bared his teeth, and leaned towards me. "Where? Where you go?"

"To the north. The Shining Confederacy, and then eventually to Karlied, and back to my homeland."

"Run?"

I shook my head. "I get help. Allies."

"Tavabl," Kajrazi said.

"Yes," kech Maro grunted. "I understand. Why? Flatlanders. You come to kill us, eh?"

"You? No. You're not my enemy, Lord Kasharman."

As clearly as I could, I explained what was going on in Dhamishaya. I focused on the caravans, because I figured it would be the area he had the most interest and experience in. I explained how shekh Reth and their loyal families had staged a rebellion, and how if it was not suppressed the consequences were liable to be dire for the mountains, too.

He listened without showing any sign he cared very much. I went on to say that the royal government in Surowa, far beyond anywhere he knew personally, had also been undermined, and the military had become involved. He seemed briefly perplexed, it having been explained to him that I, too, was from the government.

"In our own way, my country isn't more unified than the Dhamishi shekhs. We have our own quarrels. In this case, the Carregan Railroad has decided to stake a claim to the region."

"Carregan Railroad," he echoed, his white-furred face impassive and stern.

"It's hard to describe. They're --"

"I know." He switched into his own language, speaking rapidly to Kajrazi. She answered him, but with more equivocation than he desired, because he cut her off to speak even more heatedly. And then, unhappy with her shrug, he turned to me. "You do not like them."

"Yes," I said.

"Why you do not like them? They are your blood."

"Not quite, no, and I don't like them because what they're trying to do is completely illegitimate. And completely wrong, for that matter; it goes against everything I believe in. Besides which, I don't have a lot of faith in their ability to govern. I'm not going to say I think we've been perfect -- or that I've been perfect. I definitely haven't. But they'd be a different matter altogether."

"You go through the valley to find allies."

"My own clan is fairly independent. We have our own armies. I'm sure they'll be willing to send them here, and then I can force the Railroad and their native confederates to surrender."

"You fight them."

"Yes."

"How?"

"What do you mean?"

The clan elder's frustration at his inability to communicate was obvious, but he recovered and spoke to Kajrazi instead. She nodded several times, waited until he was done, and summed it up quickly. "He asks how you will fight them. They have strong weapons, and many allies of their own. He says he's heard stories. The other clans have heard stories, too."

"They're still men, sir. They still die when you put a bullet through them." At least, I assumed so. "Tactically speaking, I think the first move is to disable their gunboat in Lake Ajira. That steamship, the Prince Adan. Without it, they won't have a way of controlling the river trade, or challenging the garrison at Fort Shandur." I paused, letting Maro catch up to what I'd said.

"Ship," he mused. Kajrazi said something in their language, under her breath, and he jerked sharply. "Why?"

"Because it's true," she answered. "You said so."

Kech Maro glared. On the other hand, whatever she'd said, he obviously didn't disagree with it. He closed his eyes, losing himself in thought. A minute passed. Kajrazi started talking, and the whole while he listened without moving.

He opened his eyes again and pointed at me. Kajrazi nodded to his growled question. Her father growled another one, and then a third. At last he let his paw back down and into his lap.

"You," he said. "Go. For now, you go."

I returned to my tent, unguarded. A few minutes later, someone else came by, untied my companions, then left again without a word. Sergeant-Major Bealde flexed his paws, as if reminding himself of their existence. "'Ad a good talk, eh?"

"I'm not certain. I don't know what happened."

"Maybe we're free," Akal Shanwir suggested. "They think we are not so good eating, after all." I hoped this, at a bare minimum, was true.

Another hour passed before Kajrazi reappeared, and summoned me back outside. There was nobody with her, and nobody watching our tent to prevent our escape. "What's going to happen?" I asked the firefox.

"My father has decided that you are not to be kept prisoner, after all. He heard of your dealings with the Tejmans, and knew of your name, but he did not recognize you and did not know you were the governor."

I'd been given no reason to believe any of the bandit clans cared much about titles. "And does that matter?"

"It is... complicated, kajja."

"Shouldn't I be calling you that?"

Kajrazi -- Razi, I amended, and resolved to do what I could in remembering her real name -- shuffled warily on her feet. "That, also, is complicated. I know how you feel about politics, kajja. I'm sure you don't want to be brought into those of the bayeh."

Since they were, at the moment, responsible for my continued existence, I swallowed the truth of her supposition and asked anyway. "Sum it up?"

"Kech Maro was happy to remind you that I am his daughter while it served a useful point of... leverage. But... ordinarily, you see, I would be wedded to someone else of the clan -- not to an outsider. He feels that I may be somewhat..."

"Tainted by your association with me?"

She nodded. "I was, after all, wearing the collar you put on my neck when we were captured."

"I could see how that would send the wrong message." Good as she had looked in it, it didn't seem like the kind of thing to win favors.

"Yes. Our interactions with the eshajjai are not good at the best of times."

"What does that word mean?"

"Your people, the Dhamishi, the Confederacy... all of them, really. In my language, they're called eshajjai. An eshaj is a house, particularly a stone house. Eshajjai means 'the people who have houses.'" She sighed, and lowered her voice. "Before you call yourself that, it also means 'cowardly.'"

"I won't take offense. Anyway, I'm sure we call you worse."

Razi smiled, and relaxed slightly. "Yes, kajja, that is so. My father says I shall be our clan's ambassador to you, for now. He proposes an alliance."

This suggestion stopped me, and my head cocked sharply. "An alliance?"

My deal with Bitkeshi Tejman suggested to Lord Kasharman that I might have been serious when I claimed the mountain folk were not my enemy. They had enough of those already, and he saw in me an opportunity for some protection. There were other families, too, Razi said; word would be sent to them.

They might, perhaps, be willing to lend aid of their own.

"But only if I stay here, right?" Lord Kasharman took me as a bargaining chip, of sorts; as long as I stayed with them and sought their support, I was obliged to defend them, too. "How many of you are there?"

"We are not numerous, kajja. But my father wishes you to know that we are fierce. Will you come, please?"

I followed her to another tent, where one of her kin was seated and loading cartridges into a bandolier. The bandolier looked familiar: one of our captors had been wearing one just like it. All the same, he stood when the two of us drew near. "Kech Razi. Mej berhesha naktun."

"Berhejabl." She held out her arms, paws facing upwards, one gesturing to me and one to the other firefox. "Savu Pashai, this is Jonham... Gyldranakat. Kech Maro says that Pashai is his most skilled warrior."

I still had difficulty telling one Kasharman from the next. Savu Pashai could've been twenty, or he could've been twice that -- the white fur masking his muzzle complicated any assessment. He listened to Razi's explanation, and then spoke directly to me. "Afraid, Jonham?"

"Not really," I admitted. I didn't know what counted for martial prowess for the mountain folk, and in any case the boast was coming from someone I felt quite certain I could pick up and throw.

"You should be. Kech Maro is right. He trusts me with the safety of the clan. I have been a warrior fifteen years, Jonham. Since I was twelve."

Razi held her paw up. "Later, Pashai. You will have time to tell him of all your great exploits later."

"Nefkafan --"

"Mikh beskat," Razi said curtly, "ashakamma amakh kekeshim tavabl. Act that way, Savu Pashai. Show him."

"Tavabl," Savu repeated.

"Allies." I remembered at least one word of their language. "We'll be allies. If you're worth it. Or I can keep going, Mr. Pashai. I'm a soldier myself. I know the value of good ones. I'm sure you do, too."

"Don't need them. Stronger alone."

"No? You don't need allies?"

He snorted. "We are the strongest fighters in the mountains, Jonham."

"Are you? To be honest, we never really bothered with your highwaymen gangs as long as you stayed up here, so I don't know. Perhaps you can tell me what my clan would get out of an alliance with your own." It wasn't what I'd actually been told, and I was probably overstepping my bounds, but I saw Razi smile at what I'd said and at how Savu Pashai bristled.

"We fight a long time," Pashai countered. "You, in these." He pointed to my khaki uniform. "The plains-dogs, too. Many others. They would have been lucky to be on our side."

"Would we, then?"

"I show you."

Pashai was gathering his best fighters for a skirmish of some sort and, when he suggested it as an opportunity for us to join them, I called Locke over to hear him out. I didn't know what sort of fighting was in store -- be it internecine warfare or a raid on the lowlands or something else.

It turned out to be 'something else,' which became immediately obvious in retrospect. "A trade caravan is coming. It's about half a day away. They must have found an impoverished bayeh to guide them. We shall show them what happens when they do that."

I looked over to see if Razi found this an unusual statement; she didn't even seem to have noticed. "Both parts of what you've just said are the kind of thing that have given your people the reputation they have," I pointed out. "Both the raiding, and making it clear you can't be trusted when you offer to guide someone."

"Not us," Savu Pashai insisted. "Beggar. Outcast, probably. Not my fault if they make the mistake of coming into our territory. Not my fault if someone trusts them."

Sergeant-Major Bealde, trying to be pragmatic, suppressed his own distaste. "How do you know they're coming? Do you have scouts?"

"We listen. Horses are very loud, and the walls echo. It's how we found you. Now, we know where they are, and we know where we will attack them. Very simple, very simple. You may come with us. They can travel to Siwi, yes, kech Razi?"

"It isn't a bad track. They can make it. I know the way, too."

"We go early. Plan tactics."

"Should do that here," Locke suggested. "So we're ready. Do you just know the way, Kajrazi, or do you 'ave maps, too?"

Razi shrugged. "No. We don't need them."

"Bloody 'elpful, that."

Savu Pashai gave a derisive snort, and when Locke looked over at him the firefox rolled his eyes. There was nothing in the man's bearing to indicate he realized Locke had two feet and a hundred pounds on him.

"You disagree?" the bear asked. "'Ow you get 'round these damned rocks without maps? 'Ow you plan tactics at all? Beg pardon, Colonel Jonham, sir, but this..."

Pashai directed at Razi an expression I knew very well. It carried a sort of look-at-these-idiots weariness. "From this valley, it is a three-hour journey to Kurrabai, before the Siwi cliffs. They will not make camp there. They will have learned from their guide that it's dangerous. They will make camp further away, hoping to be rested and to take Kurrabai Valley in the morning, when the sun will be from the east and in our eyes."

"You've done this before, I take it."

"It's how we live," the firefox told me, simply. "Some men are farmers, and take what the soil gives them. We take what the caravans give us, instead."

Locke was clearly unimpressed. "One way of putting it," the great bear growled. "Bloody surprise anybody thinks ill of ya."

"You'll see why their concern matters so little to us," was Pashai's contemptuous retort. "Not much more than yours."

"Will we? Maybe we don't feel like a life of crime, eh?"

"Maybe we don't," I said. Sergeant-Major Bealde had been the one to warn me against my first alliance with the bayeh, and the prospect of a second wasn't doing much to say he'd been wrong about their inclinations.

"You do wish to go, kajja?"

Razi's countenance was momentarily unreadable, despite the question. I looked over to Locke instead, who rolled his eyes and shook his head softly. "I'm not sure it's the best use of our time," I answered. "With the Railroad out there, consolidating their power, continuing to rob the caravans seems... reckless."

And it was liable to antagonize those who were not, at present, our enemies -- I felt, for example, that it was definitely best to keep the Ellagdran Confederacy neutral for as long as possible.

She took me back to her father and explained my hesitation. "Why you no longer want to fight?" he demanded.

"I do," I countered. "But just as you're not my enemies, Lord Kasharman, neither are the foreign caravans. If they were Dhamishi, perhaps, or..."

"You say you want allies."

"Yes..."

"How you think this is?"

I tilted my head a few degrees, venturing my next question cautiously. "What do you mean?"

"We will not attack on our own. Need others. How you making them agree?" When I didn't answer, kech Maro gave me a withering, patronizing stare. "You know not. Weapons. Money. Goods."

"You mean we'd have to bribe the clans."

"Tavik," the old firefox said, turning his eyes from me to his daughter. "Desh maseri heretamma ya qataitaiska."

"Je..."

Maro snorted. "Ya qataitais esha tavik. Nakhti daur adyaha yet habighu."

Razi leaned closer to me: "A proverb. 'The lowlands make people easily confused, as one can see clearly only from above.' Kech Maro believes you do not understand our way of life."

Kech Maro refused to discuss the matter further, save for asking if I wanted to withdraw my men from the raiding party. In truth I didn't see the raid itself was a good idea, but they were set on doing it anyway.

I wondered if, perhaps, it was better to make a good impression rather than none at all -- Savu Pashai already dismissed us. And although the Ellagdrans traders were technically neutral, it was true they would be enriching the merchant shekhs back in Dhamishaya. They weren't likely to be carrying food, after all: expensive Tiurishkan cloth was more likely, or Otonichi jewelry.

So it was we found ourselves walking in single file behind Savu Pashai and half a dozen other bayeh. I only managed to catch half their names: Wayidi, Atarak, and Jafai. Ramaz Jafai stayed closest to me, and was the most curious about my presence.

I learned that he was fifteen, and an aspiring soldier. The youngest son of a storied family in the clan, he spoke of two elder brothers. One of them, Akan, was dead. "A good death," Jafai said. "Ya douz."

"He lost?" Razi spoke up, around my side. She was directly behind me: despite the firefoxes' small stature, the track we followed was too narrow for anything else.

"Yes. But all know, he was right."

Through a fragmentary story and Ramaz Jafai's imperfect Aernian, I gleaned more of the details. Jafai's father had found and slaughtered a wild goat, which was -- in death -- claimed by one of the neighboring tribes.

They demanded restitution; it was denied. They insulted the Jafai's father, and as the elder brother Akan went to force an apology. This, in turn, was denied. Akan challenged both the insulter and the one who had claimed the goat to a duel.

Jafai favored me with all of the gory details of said duel, fought with knives, and which had ended in Akan's death. The grievously wounded goat-pretender, joining him shortly thereafter, recanted with his dying breath the ownership claim.

This, I privately thought, seemed like a lot of spilt blood over livestock. Razi said it was the principle that mattered, and pointed out that the other clan had agreed Kasharman honor remained preserved.

"If Akan didn't fight, they maybe come back. Maybe they say they own more than goats," Jafai went on. "Maybe our springs. Our quarries."

"You have quarries?"

The young firefox pulled a knife from his robe, holding it up so I could see the flint blade. "Now we do not so often use knives and arrows, but..."

A long hike led us to the Siwi Cliffs, stout rock walls with a vantage point over a slightly wider road in the valley below. It occurred to me that the road, next to a swift river, would've been the one we'd taken for our route. It could've been us being ambushed here...

But then I corrected my own thoughts. We'd already been ambushed. I saw how, too. I'd thought the khaki uniforms of the Royal Frontier Corps provided decent camouflage, but they had nothing on the irregular robes of the bayeh. Even in open daylight, they simply disappeared amidst the cliffs and scrubby vegetation.

Sergeant-Major Bealde, who had a much more difficult time disappearing, stayed entirely behind the rocks as he made his way over to me. "What are we doing 'ere, sir?"

"You mean our orders?"

"Well, I mean they're a bloody mad race an' I don't understand 'em any more'n you do, Haitch. That duel -- cargal'th, how's that decent?"

As far as I was concerned, it wasn't, and I had no interest in defending it. But they were our hosts, weren't they? "Well, we won't duel, sergeant. As for orders... we'll observe. Return fire, if you're fired upon. I'm afraid I'm not good enough with a rifle to make much of a difference."

Razi looked over. "Kajja, may I ask... what of me, then?"

She had the rifle I'd given her, and she'd switched her blue dress for the same clothing the rest of them wore. At the same time I thought of the very first time I'd seen the firefox, and I thought of how completely indistinguishable she looked from the others in her tribe.

What of her? Despite her transition from my servant to my ambassador, she still called me kajja, and she still looked to me for orders. And maybe... maybe, in the way her rifle had stayed slung, there was a hint of an unclear transformation.

"As you like," I said. "You know your people, after all."

She kept the rifle on her back until Savu Pashai hissed, in a whisper blending into the mountain's winds, that the caravan approached. Then, at last, she removed it. Silently, she steadied it on a rock before her; silently, she loaded a cartridge.

All of the bayeh had become ghosts. I couldn't tell where any of them had gone. With my untrained ears, it took a few minutes longer for me to hear the sound Pashai had, of hoofs and clattering wagons. There were three in total, mule-drawn and led by two wolves on horseback.

Closer and closer they came. Soon they were so near that I wondered if, perhaps, Pashai had decided to call the attack off. I couldn't see inside the covered wagons, but maybe I'd missed a clue? Maybe they weren't worth the hassle?

The four rippled shots that proved me wrong were simultaneous; only distance let me hear them separately. The two riders toppled, and one of their horses took off at a gallop. At first I couldn't figure out why the wagoneer hadn't ordered the same: then one of its mules sagged and collapsed, blocking the road.

"Surrender! Jaludhi meenkot!"

Silence.

"Jaludhi meenkot!" Savu Pashai called again.

Instead, men sprang from the stopped caravan. I counted three from each of the wagons, plus the three mule-drivers -- all of them, judging by the glint of sun on metal, armed. The bayeh dropped four of them before any managed to reach cover.

I saw the guards twisting, looking to see where the shots had come from. Between the bandits' camouflage and the echoes of the narrow valley, the effort was entirely futile. Two more went down before they'd managed even a single return shot.

When at last they did, the shots all went in different directions, all quite wild. They'd found cover, too, for what good it did them. Razi still hadn't moved, she watched, like I did. Waiting for the exchange of fire to be decided as the guards were picked off.

Something gave one of the bayeh away; I heard a shout, and saw the four remaining caravaners swiveled to focus their attention. For being merchants, they had a remarkable discipline. Even just to hold their ground, I thought, considering the circumstances.

Three left.

Two.

One of them turned slowly. Through my spyglass, I saw him freeze, and his head cant. He worked the bolt of his rifle, and started to raise it. Too late, I realized that, hidden as I might've been, the glass I was using caught the light quite nicely.

The barrel of the Ellagdran's gun was just level with the ground, continuing upwards, when I heard the shot go off next to me. The man shuddered and fell, twitching; his weapon fell a moment later, and a moment after that I heard the metallic snick of a cartridge being cycled, and caught the sharp smell of burnt powder.

"Inta!" Savu Pashai called out.

And then, quiet -- or such quiet as I could make out with my ears ringing. Razi kept her aim on the valley floor for a few more seconds before she was satisfied. She sat up, and looked over at me. "He had spotted us, I believe, kajja."

"I think so, too." I weighed what else I might add to that, and settled on the only thing that seemed appropriate. "Thank you."

"Of course."

On reflection, something else occurred. "It was a good shot. You said you don't miss, I just..." I didn't expect it, from the servant I first demanded lick a cup of spilled alat off of my desk.

The smile she gave me, and the demureness of the acknowledging nod, let me know she'd figured out what I hadn't been able to say.

Savu Pashai and his cohorts made their way down to the road, skipping along from rock to rock. Reth Modin was the closest of us to being able to do the same. Akal Shanwir, Locke and I took longer. By the time we reached them, they were already stripping the dead guards of anything worthwhile, then rolling their bodies into the river.

The guards were Ellagdran -- at least, they were clearly not wearing Dhamishi clothing, and they didn't look like any Dhamishi I knew. I didn't recognize the uniforms, and had to hope for a small bit of good fortune: that they wouldn't be the soldiers from a particularly vindictive, particularly powerful house in the Confederacy.

"What's the cargo?" Reth Modin asked.

In the first wagon, the wooden crates contained weapons: rifles, Savu Pashai said, and good ones at that. He tossed an example to one of the other firefoxes, who caught it, examined the metal fittings, and proclaimed it to be from the Askarech Foundry.

"Good," Savu Pashai said. "Some of the best in that country."

The second wagon had more crates; these ones were full of cartridges. The final wagon was stocked with bags of food, and hiding behind them one of the bayeh -- as Pashai had suspected, the caravan had taken one as a guide. Pashai hauled the man out and tossed him to the ground, interrogating him quickly.

I leaned over to Razi, asking for a translation, and she whispered back. "He's of the Akashar clan, kajja -- a minor tribe from the other side of the mountains. He's saying they paid him to find --"

Something he'd been told made Savu Pashai angry enough to growl, and to shove the other firefox to the ground. "What was that about?"

Razi sighed. "The akasharkat said he led the caravan into this pass because he knew that we would be here, and he thought we would take care of them."

Hearing her translation, Savu Pashai turned and fixed me in a cold glare. "He lies. They do that. He hopes I will believe he did not betray us. It does not matter. We will take care of it now."

"By 'take care of'..."

"You disagree?" Pashai took half a step towards me, narrowing his eyes. "You wish to interfere? By one day you know us enough to disagree, kech flatlander?"

"No," I said. "But..."

'No' by itself was enough for Pashai. He waved one of his companions over -- Alash Atarak, whom I recognized by a cut along his left ear. Together they hauled the foreign bayeh back to his feet, dragging him against his protests to the bank of the river. And then, without another word, Atarak cut the man's throat, and they shoved him into the water.

They turned away and went back to examining the wagons before the Akashar tribesman's splashing body had even escaped our sight. Snorting at my disconcerted expression, Pashai called out to Razi. "You tell him, then."

She sighed again, closing her eyes for a spell as her thick tail slowly curled around her leg. Pashai was busy when she opened them once more. "The location of the pass is a secret of some importance. The Akashar are not supposed to know of it -- and if they know of it, it is a great crime, and very dishonorable, to allow that knowledge to pass to others."

Akal Shanwir had been listening in. "He must have been desperate," the mongrel said, "if it came down to that. Hunger makes you forget a lot about what's supposed to be honorable."

"Perhaps. It's not for me to guess."

It wasn't, strictly speaking, for me to guess either. Pashai had rightly criticized my incomplete knowledge of their culture. Still, I was curious. "And they know it's a capital crime, I take it?"

"Yes." Razi turned to look towards the river; the bayeh's body was long gone. "Savu Pashai thought it would be better if we did not have to challenge the Akashar. If we accused them of it directly, they might take offense. They'd know we were right, but they might take offense..."

I helped them with their cargo, loading everything they felt worthy of carrying onto the backs of the mules and the packs of the bayeh raiders. For the journey back to the Kasharman's camp, the burden was acceptable. We pushed the wagons together, along with what goods remained, and Pashai set them on fire.

We were well on the way back, and I was watching the river, when my mind wandered again. "Razi. You said that it's a great crime to reveal the location of this pass."

"Yes, kajja. To a non-Kasharman."

"But you did. To us."

She nodded. "Yes, kajja."

"Why?"

Razi stayed quiet, and her head dropped; her gaze fell to her feet. "You recall, kajja, the oracle we visited in the plains? The Temple of Mirim, the Younger."

"Yes." It hadn't even been all that long ago -- had it? Gods, but for some reason it seemed to have been years, not mere weeks.

"The priest said something to me. In bayekat, my own language."

"Which you declined to translate. I recall that, too."

She nodded. "I thought he was... trying to provoke me. He said he knew who I really was, and asked whether I was truly loyal to you. I said 'yes.' He said that I had to protect you, because my people would also depend on it. I still do not know who... who 'my people' truly are, kajja. But... I hoped that as a Kasharman, my tribe at least would understand."

"And do they?"

"It... it is still my hope, kajja."

It was all she said. And I hoped she was right, too. More intriguing was her admission that she didn't know who her kin were. Clearly, she still had some of her family's blood in her: her skill with a rifle was more than testament enough to that. At the same time, I picked up on her distance from them: she challenged Savu Pashai willingly, and she stuck to my side closer than anyone else's.

Like me, and like Reth Modin, she hung back from the celebration that ensued on our return to camp. Akal Shanwir joined them. Of course, Shanwir had his own unsavory history, and when I was told he'd joined the bayeh in attacking the caravan without being shot at himself first I wasn't really surprised.

I was surprised that Locke helped himself to a swig of the wine from a bandit's canteen. "Was a good show, after all," he told me. "They deserve this."

"For highway robbery. You're not concerned about that?"

The bear shook his head. "Can I speak my mind, Haitch?"

"Of course, Locke. You don't need to ask."

"If it was food, or clothing, well, that'd be different, aye? But it ain't. An' if they got a mind to send guns down 'ere, well, far as I'm concerned they get what's comin'."

"Fair enough. What did you make of how they fought?"

"The sky-folk?"

I nodded. "Aye."

"Like bandits. Good bandits, but..."

"Would you fight with them?" He didn't answer immediately. "I think they made every shot count. And we got out there in, what, six hours? It would've taken the Corps twelve -- if we even could've done it. Imagine if we put our minds to causing this much trouble down south, Locke. They wouldn't even know what had hit 'em."

Having seen them up close and in action, the bear came around at once to my way of thinking. "And with these rifles, now... cor blimey, Haitch, you're right. Could raise 'ell, these short little bloody bastards."

"What is it about the rifles, anyhow?"

"Askarech?"

I shrugged. "I don't know the name."

"Usur Askarech von Eunen. He invented the needlegun, almost half a century ago. His foundry still makes the best ones anywhere on the continent. The Iron Corps uses them, rather than any of ours. Not this model, we used 874/'78s -- but the same workshop. You can't do any better." He suddenly grinned. "Why are you so surprised?"

"Never heard of them, that's all."

"We can't all be nobles like you, Haitch, acting as if it were three 'undert years ago. I can shoot, and I know these."

Pashai saw us standing by the guns; he came over, baring his teeth in a grin of his own. "Good haul, yes?"

"Yes."

I proved to be too noncommittal for him, because the firefox leaned over and prodded me with his sharp-clawed finger. "You not happy, kech Jonham? We find another?"

Razi came to my defense. "Leave him. He's thinking about something."

In total, we'd come up with forty rifles and nearly two thousand cartridges. Pashai and Razi were happy about the quality of the weapons. Sergeant Locke picked up one of the cartridges and marveled at the workmanship of it, too, admitting to Pashai it had no equivalent in our homeland.

When he saw my expression, Locke chuckled. He still assumed I was merely dismissing the use of firearms. It was not so simple. I pulled myself away from the group, nodding for Razi to follow me, and went to find her father.

Kech Maro was asleep, and she shook her head when I suggested waking him. "What troubles you, kajja?"

"Forty rifles is expensive. Out here they must be half a kep each -- maybe even more. The Ellagdrans will be upset when they find out. But it's not just that, Razi. Problems inside of problems..."

Who were they going to? Not the Iron Corps: the Iron Corps already had plenty of weapons, and the sergeant-major said they used a different model anyway. Not the RFC, obviously. They must've been intended for a town militia, perhaps Jaikot itself. But then, who in Jaikot could be trusted with rifles of such quality?

And who was paying for it? I would never have approved a purchase like that from the governor's budget. In the best-case scenario, one of Carregan's favored castes had ordered the rifles as a way of showing off, even knowing they could never be used.

Not for the first time I was missing Raiza Serapuri. Slick as he was, corrupt as he was, the mongoose would've known in a heartbeat what was going on. I could only guess. But worse than that, I had to guess.

I didn't have the luxury of Locke or the bandits, celebrating their haul and swapping stories about the attack. Much as I wanted to be a soldier again, I had to care about the politics of the situation. It remained in my mind over the next few days, while we waited to hear word from the other tribes.

Late in afternoon, a week later, I turned my ear to the sound of hoofbeats. The rider was apparently known to the camp guards, for none bothered to offer any challenge. They drew their horse up to kech Maro's tent, and hopped lightly from the saddle to the ground.

"Kech Razi," the rider said to my companion. "Mej dowa qatait akadghu. Mej pesha bena yi nikh beskat."

"Desh esha izim. Binabat arnkat -- he is governor of the ya-Qatait," she explained, pointing to me. "Arnkat."

"Governor," the rider repeated. She nodded. "Yes. We've heard; it explains. It is why I come. Kajja Jonham, you spoke with others. Uh... hafi. Tejman? You speak to Tejman?"

"I spoke to someone from the Tejman clan, yes. It was a few weeks ago, now, when I was still commanding the Royal Frontier Corps from Shandur. Why do you ask?"

"Arya Ijaz Tejman, he give me this. To you." She pulled an envelope from her jacket and handed it to me.

It was tattered, thanks to a hard ride from the lowlands, but the wax seal remained intact. I slit it with my claw and pulled the letter from within. The note was dated from only a week before.

It was from Arlen Couthragn, the badger I'd met in Jaikot -- a member of the Artem-Jana Guild. With every new sentence, I grew more alarmed.

Lord Gyldrane --

Have word that Old Council is meeting, but no indication of clear answers. I expect an additional delay, but the Landsmoot is growing restless and they'll force HM the King's hand sooner rather than later. Some rumors suggest that a few of the March Lords are considering taking independent action, under the terms of the Concord. My sources do not permit me to judge accurately.

What I can tell you, Sir, is that the Low Country of Dhamishaya is in turmoil. Kaut is now under siege, and all towns north of Aranchar-Arva are considered lost to an uprising of the cotton farmers. The governor of Pratawali has fled to Surowa, there to remain under the protection of the King's Own Army.

Yet I fear this protection itself may be insufficient shelter against the storm that clearly builds. The garrison at Marskirk has been activated, but can maintain order only as far north as Karughal's Crossing and as far south as Isindi. All river trade is halted.

Upper Nishran and Sura are quiet for now. I am giving this message to one of your mountain deputies, whom you have I learn appointed responsible for maintaining the peace here. Lacking resources to consolidate their hold, the Jaikotan rebels are in an uneasy truce with these policemen.

Sir: I advise that in my estimation, the country will be in open war by harvest time if there is no central government to put down the rebellions and restore order. Alas I receive no signs from our homeland that any help is forthcoming. Until then we have only prayer: to our gods or to the Dhamishi's own, I cannot say.

Faithfully yours

G. Arlen Couthragn, KRV

I gathered Locke, Pashai and Maro together to explain what the letter said. For the most part, all of us understood the import of its contents. The Railroad's impatience was going to force our hand, and nobody could stop them. Couthragn identified two separate rebellions: Carregan's, and a new peasant uprising in the south.

Those weren't uncommon, and I'd certainly dealt with more than my share in the past. Every year or so, the farmers responded to what they viewed as unreasonable demands by gathering their pitchforks and jailing a few local tax collector. I wasn't unsympathetic to that sort of cause, of course; they could be easily handled.

Doing so effectively required an armed force, and the King's Own Army seemed to be indisposed. What would ordinarily have been a simple punitive action now needed to wait; the longer this took, the longer the peasants would gain strength. The south, then, was a lost cause.

And in the north, for now there was an uncomfortable impasse. Fort Shandur was in a good position to interdict any traffic crossing the bridge. As long as it was there, the Railroad's northern advance was permanently checked. On the other hand, the RFC could not venture south, either; the steam gunboat Prince Adan had a clear line of fire over the roads and the bridge itself.

The impasse could not last forever. "They need to shorten their supply lines," I pointed out. "We knew that all along. If they were sending materiel through the passes, they must've been concerned about the road from Surowa -- and now we know it was with good reason."

"Bloody inconvenient, anyway," Locke said. It was true; reinforcing Jaikot that way meant sailing all the way around the Aernian coast, then another thousand miles to Surowa before any cargo could even be unloaded. "Damn sight faster to go by rail to the Confederacy."

"And then through the passes," I finished. "That must explain the arms shipment we interdicted. Carregan doesn't need the weapons for her own, but the highborn militias have to be getting antsy. They want to be able to establish a defensible base of operations."

Pashai spoke up. "They cannot. They can't even get caravans past."

"For now. You understand what that means, don't you?" The firefox shrugged at my question, giving no sign he did. "It means they need to secure the mountains. That makes you the next target."

Savu Pashai laughed, so derisively that even kech Maro looked at him. "We hear this for many months, kech Jonham. Many months. Tejmabl always say this -- first they say the plains-dogs; now they say the Railroad. Why we believe it?"

Kech Maro grunted. "Those guns. Very good guns. Maybe the plains people come here, you think? They... mm. Jesh kohkinajji ya jazazbulla." He kept going in bayeh, and Razi translated: the Ellagdrans, Lord Kasharman felt, would have to protect their caravans. If they did not they would lose not only money, but also prestige. Maro finished, staring at me pointedly.

"He asks," Razi explained, "what you wish we should do."

"For now, hold off on attacking the caravans -- unless you know they're carrying arms, all we're doing is antagonizing. The time for that will come, trust me. Once we've secured Fort Shandur, and the river trade, then they'll be forced to use the land trade routes and you can prey on them as you wish. But the fort needs to be protected first."

"Destroy ship," kech Maro suggested.

I nodded. "Yes. Destroy the ship and disable the locks. That has to be our immediate priority."

Because he had originally suggested it, I impressed upon Lord Kasharman the need to secure his allies. I felt we had a narrowing window of opportunity to take out the Railroad's heavy weaponry in the province. Once it was gone, and the threat to Fort Shandur was removed, we'd have free rein over the area.

Maro seemed to agree, though his Aernian was lacking, my bayeh was far worse, and his expression was difficult to read at the best of times. I retired for the evening, and when Razi joined me I asked her for her own opinion. "The mountain folk are," she allowed, "somewhat set in their ways. And Savu Pashai is a proud man. He does not take kindly to having his authority questioned."

"You say 'the mountain folk.' Do you not consider yourself one of them?"

Razi did not look at me. She did, however, curl up against my side -- a habit she had not abandoned since I first permitted her to sleep with me. "I do not know, kajja. For a long time, I looked forward to returning to my homeland. Now that I am here..."

The thought occurred to me that I might feel the same way. In the governor's residence in Jaikot, Dalchauser seemed impossibly far away. Now, it was even further. My uneasy dreams that night only magnified the sense of my own alienation. I found myself alone, in the middle of a thunderstorm on the plains -- my fur drenched with it.

I was readying myself to ride out with one of the Bannered Militia. But even as I prepared to join my kinfolk, the horses left: the sound of the cavalry eclipsed even the thunder, and I watched them recede into the distance. Left behind, dripping in the warm summer rain; my own sense of who I was being washed away.

It felt oddly... cleansing. I could almost listen to the hoofbeats and feel at peace with their departure. But then, before I knew it, I had reality to contend with -- consciousness, pushing insistently at my mind and pressing my eyes open. I was not in the plains, not amongst the Militia, and certainly not clean.

I was, however, alone. I sat up, bone-dry, and tried not to remember the last time I'd had a bath lest that be the part that truly depressed me. Razi was already awake, judging by her absence; a minute later, while I was still blinking exhaustion away, she leaned in through the tent flaps. "Good morning, kajja."

"I heard horses, I thought," I muttered. "It's starting to get into my dreams."

"Perhaps," the firefox said. "But it was not a dream. Pashai received word of an unguarded wagon train. He rode out to make them regret their decision."

"He did what? I thought we'd just agreed that... cargal'th, we just agreed there'd be no more attacks until we were certain of what was -- the fuck was he thinking?"

She raised both her paws. "Apologies, kajja. These matters are his decision alone, and it is not my place to check them. Even if and when I agree with you, it is not."

"What did your father have to say?"

Her ears flattened. "He said that Pashai knows best. The rumors are that the trains are full of good textiles, warm ones, headed for Issenrik by way of Surowa. It is not guns, but..."

"It's nothing even close to guns."

I spent the rest of the day fuming. Savu Pashai rode back with his men that afternoon, empty-handed and with one of the bandits badly wounded. After that man had been taken to the tribe's doctor, Pashai went to secure the horses. It was there I cornered him. "What happened?"

"Men with guns. Uharraf is injured. I think he lives."

"You let them take sight of you?"

"There were many. It was inevitable."

"And your treasure?" I didn't bother to hide the contempt in my voice. "What of it?"

"Didn't exist. It was a trap," he said. "They knew we were coming."

"You could've predicted that," I snapped at him. "You've been after the caravans long enough for them to be prepared."

"We couldn't pass up the opportunity," Pashai countered. "Processed wool sells for a fortune in the black markets. A Kasharman must earn his wealth somehow, you know."

"That's it? Really? You heard from the Tejmans that the Railroad is --"

Pashai snorted, and turned away from me to tend to his horse. "Tejmabl. Hmph. You expect us to listen to those farmers? They couldn't keep us from chasing them from their lands, could they? Now they grow fat and happy in the lowlands -- fah! We should ride on them. They'd be unarmed."

"I thought you understood what was at stake," I snarled to the firefox's back. "I thought you knew what the Railroad was planning!"

"Yes? So?" He spared me a contemptuous look over his shoulder. "You, the plains-dogs, the Railroad -- we've had worse. Maybe one day, I'll die in the saddle, too -- but at least I'll have enough to pay my way into the afterlife. Will you?"

"We agreed that there would be no more raids. Not until we heard from the Fahiyyad and the Ashirai."

"More cowards. I didn't see them fighting with us. The mountains are ours, lowlander. We do with them as we like."

I stormed off, back to the collection of tents where the tribe had stuffed the rest of us. Sergeant-Major Bealde had endured the brunt of my anger at Savu Pashai's raid, and understood that more anger was coming by the look in my eyes. "Haitch?"

"Get ready to ride, Locke. We're going."

"Where?" Even as he asked, the bear was stuffing his belongings back into his satchel; it was a tactical question, not a challenge.

"Shandur. Or least the Ajirandigarh -- we need to find a way to stop the Railroad. It seems the Kasharmans will be not be accompanying us."

Razi sighed her exasperation with her clan. "Not all of them, that is. I will."

Reth Modin seemed neither surprised, nor particularly sympathetic. "Didn't want to stick around for more ill-gotten booty? I thought you could become rich like the rest of them. Or did the blood not wash off their latest haul?"

"Hush. She's coming, isn't she?"

We mounted up, and rode out past Pashai, who folded his arms and shook his head at me. "Off to feed the carrion-birds?"

I glared at him, and didn't answer.

He raised his voice, and it carried behind us. "You could at least have the decency to die here!"

I was determined this would not be the case. Between Razi and Locke, we had fairly good feel for the layout of the valley. The cliffs to either side of Lake Ajira were so steep as to be impassable; there was only one track along the walls, and at times of high water it was prone to being flooded.

These were not such times -- the track was open -- but I agreed with Locke's assessment when he said the Railroad would be guarding it. Their steam gunboat could see most of the path clearly -- save for one point, just before the bridge and its locks, where it turned away to come into view of Fort Shandur.

Further south of that blind spot, the Prince Adan would be waiting; north, I had to assume they would post guards. It seemed, from Locke's description, that the blind spot itself might be useful.

And then I saw it.

Reaching the closest vantage point had required dismounting, and six hours of hiking up boulders whose handholds were defied by their razor sharpness. Only Razi climbed them without difficulty.

She was, indeed, a natural, and pulled me up onto the final summit. "At least you made it," she teased. Locke was still a few hundred feet behind us, and having a lot more difficulty.

Lake Ajira sparkled and glittered, five hundred feet below. With my naked eye I could just make out the stone of the Shandur Bridge, four miles away. I couldn't see the central arch, but I'd seen it from the other side and knew roughly where it had to be, spanning the locks that dropped the lake a hundred feet down to the Ajirandigarh.

"They shouldn't be able to see us from here," Razi said.

"I don't suppose so. I can't see them. Where's the road on the western side?"

"Below us. Almost directly below."

"The araimuri -- the bayeh, I suppose? You never attacked this road. It's not a particularly nice one, but it still supports a caravan or two -- merchants too cheap to pay for a ferry along the river and not daring enough to go through Ka Kelda. Why didn't you attack them?"

"Is it not obvious, kajja?"

"The RFC could've struck back too easily? No?" Razi was shaking her head. "What, then?"

"Come with me, kajja. Further."

"Further?"

The firefox slid from our perch, dropping to another ledge six or seven feet below. I followed cautiously behind her. I had to be cautious, because rocks that supported Razi and her nimble paws weren't necessarily good enough for me.

She disappeared behind a stone wall. I went to join her -- and gasped, nearly tumbling from the cliff in my shock. Suddenly we were above a sheer drop, down to a rock floor designed to impale anyone unfortunate enough to investigate them up close.

There was no exit from the canyon it formed, and no way around save for a ledge no wider than eight inches. It took me ten full minutes to manage what Razi did in a series of easy, scampering leaps.

The rest was easy enough: level ground. I could see only glimpses and hints of the lake through the crack that opened up on the far wall, but the firefox had stopped moving and I made my way up to join her. "There," she said, and tipped her head, pointing me down and over the cliff's edge.

"That's the road?" A grassless, barren path, wide enough for two horses but not for a third to pass by. From our position, in the crack above the cliff wall, the caravan track was two hundred feet down. "It wouldn't be a bad ambush."

"No."

"Plenty of cover. Shadows to hide in -- they'd have a hard time shooting back, that's for sure."

"Yes. But if we raided a caravan here, kajja, how would we ever get the treasure back? From here to there is a one-way journey."

We picked our way back to the first observation point, and found the others waiting. Akal Shanwir had his taken his boots off, and was rubbing his feet tenderly. "Braver than a poor Akal," the mongrel said, looking behind me at the path we'd come up. "Too easy to fall here."

"Only easy thing," Sergeant-Major Bealde added. "Any luck, Haitch?"

"Not much. The good news is that Razi and I both think the lakeside road could be easily defended by a handful of soldiers. Which... they're probably doing."

"How's that good news?"

"Because it means we can shut it down, too, when we have the Shandur Bridge and Fort Shandur back under our control."

"Aye, 'when.' That's the ticket."

I nodded, taking Locke's sardonic statement as though he'd meant it sincerely. "So then, here's the question: how do we deal with that bloody ship?"

Reth Modin stood up, looking to the east as if the question might be resolved with a simple glance at the terrain. "Perhaps we could approach from the northern track, after all. It can't be guarded that well. You said you thought it could be done with 'a handful of soldiers.' A dozen? Not much."

"No, but we're also only five men." Between the Railroad's mercenaries and their auxiliaries, I was sure they'd be able to put at least a dozen soldiers out as guards. "I think you're right -- no more than a patrol -- but if they manage to sound an alarm..."

"T'other way, sir? Get the men together from the fort?"

"Even if we carried the day, our losses would be unacceptable. We need to be able to handle this stealthily -- they won't be expecting us. But..."

But. We couldn't sneak in from the north, and we couldn't approach from the direction of Fort Shandur. It seemed logical to assume coming from the water would be suicide, as well.

The Prince Adan had at least twelve cannon, and four of the repeating rifles the Railroad's Iron Corps used -- capable of directing more sustained fire than a whole platoon of musketeers. As soon as they detected us, we would be annihilated.

By the time we'd exhausted the last of what I considered reasonable possibilities, the sun was setting. We sat in awkward silence until, finally, Akal Shanwir lifted a paw to his ear. "Someone's coming," he whispered.

I quietly slid my saber free, and directed him to take cover. I could hear the sound too, now. Booted footsteps, and faint conversation. The language escaped me. It did not escape Razi, who said it was her peoples' tongue.

"Friendly?" I asked.

"I do not know. There is only one way to be certain, kajja."

"Which is?"

Razi unslung her rifle, and waited at a crouch until we could at last see silhouettes, drawing closer. She called out: "Inimkih majsila?" To accent the question, she slid the bolt of the gun closed swiftly; the loud click echoed down the rocks. "Binabat!"

"Majsila Savu Pashai." Pashai's head poked up over the rocks, glaring at Razi and the rest of us. "Adl aishai dinibl."

Razi blinked, surprised, and set her rifle aside. "Come."

Pashai pulled himself up, then turned and hoisted another firefox with him. "Ardan," he introduced the man. "Also with is Abqi and Yasin, and their warriors."

"How many?" Razi asked.

It was twenty, in total. Ardan, I learned, was Yasha Ardan Fahiyyad; Tepibat Yasin was of the Adarman clan, and Hizim Abqi hailed from the Ashirai. Razi told me, in whispered Aernian, that it was the first time she'd ever seen so many different families in one place.

"Kech Maro was not happy, kech Razi. Not happy you went with this one." Pashai pointed at me. "More not happy that I let you go. He... agrees we must do something."

"So does kech Kabis Fahiyyad," Ardan added, and Yasin confirmed that his clan's patriarch felt the same way.

Hizim Abqi did not speak Aernian, so Pashai translated for her. "This is the time to act. It may be, that we do not see another."

"Ya Ashiraisai ebatayya yi ya hafiya, sala, sala aishabl."

"Abqi's clan has fought the outsiders for longer than any of us. They..." Pashai gave a quiet, uncomfortable, grunting snort. "Their leader says that we may be defeated if we do not come together. That's why we're here. What do you say, kech Jonham?"

"I say we're sinking that gunboat and destroying the locks. Unfortunately, there's a bit of difficulty. We've been surveying the approaches and there doesn't seem to be any way for us to get close."

"The road," Yasin said. "Not good?"

"Guarded," I told him. "And their ship is heavily armed."

Pashai asked about a second path -- more difficult to travel, but unknown to the Dhamishi and, he hoped, to the Railroad. Looking at the map he drew in the dirt, I had my doubts we'd be able to use it.

"And if they find us, we'll be trapped between the marines on the gunboat and their pickets -- with very little cover. I was thinking that we might, perhaps, try floating mines. Maybe they wouldn't detect them."

"Unreliable," Ardan declared immediately.

Pashai had continued translating our conversation to Abqi, who spoke up again at last. Pashai frowned, and the two had a briefly heated discussion.

"What is she saying?"

"I..."

Of course, Razi understood, too. "Ropes," she said. "Abqi says we go down the cliffside. Where their guards won't be able to see us."

Reth Modin scoffed. "That's impossible. They're sheer walls."

"That's what the ropes are for," Pashai finally said. "They wouldn't be expecting it."

The plan took shape more quickly than I really wanted, but the night would provide good cover and I didn't really think we'd have a better idea by the morning. We lacked for proper explosives, and Locke suggested a 'coal bomb' -- a disguised shell, thrown into the ship's coal supply. He said they'd lost a train that way, to Kamiri saboteurs; when the concept was explained, two of the firefoxes volunteered experience in powder charges.

We would make our way down the side of the cliffs; a small detachment would remain at the top, to provide cover and to haul us back on our return. I hoped to be gone no more than an hour. Kill any guards, sneak aboard, hide the coal bombs in the ship's bunkers, and escape. Abqi volunteered to deliver the bombs. All we had to do was protect her.

Written out, it all seemed straightforward. When I was looking over the edge, my fingers fidgeting against the rope, I had to admit entertaining quite a few doubts. Razi pulled the knot, making certain it was taut. "It is done, kajja."

"And you're certain this will hold?"

"No." Razi smiled, and tugged on the knot again for good measure. "But I am certain we will not be able to complain if it does not." And with that, she slipped over the edge of the cliff.

"Bloody foolish, Haitch." Locke gripped my paw, and shook it firmly. "Good luck." The bear had to stay behind, with Akal Shanwir -- both of them too heavy for any measure of reasonable trust to ropes designed for creatures a third their weight.

Half a dozen of the bayeh had already gone before me, and I knew I couldn't delay any further. Carefully, offering a prayer to any god who might listen, I started my way down.

At first it helped not to look. I didn't have to care what was -- or was not -- beneath me. The ten feet of cliff above my head became twenty, and then forty, and then fifty. The rope kept me from falling any faster than necessary as I sought out foothold after new foothold.

Reflexively, I glanced downwards. In pale moonlight, I could just barely make out the dots of the firefoxes, moving far more swiftly. I had a long way to go. This is not where you were meant to be, Jon, I told myself.

And then I took a moment to amend its meaning. So this can't be where you die. Your mother would never forgive you.

The rope held better than my resolve did. When at last I felt solid ground under my boots, it was all I could do to keep my legs from buckling. Razi was next to me in an instant, untying the rope from my waist and tugging it to signal for the next climber.

Someone at the cliff's edge had been paying out the line to support me. Now that the ropes were fully extended, the rest of the mountain-folk simply hopped down them, nimble as goats, using the ropes only to steady themselves. The last of them made it just as the larger moon set, and Lake Ajira fell into indigo gloom.

Ardan and Yasin took four men each, and crept noiselessly before us. The Kasharman's affinity for rifles had become a liability -- too loud to be used. The clans of Ardan and Yasin used bows and arrows; they would do what they could to cover our approach.

A pale green light flickered. Anyone else watching would certainly have mistaken it for a firefly, instead of the glowing charm Ardan kept concealed within his robes. It was the signal for us to join them.

Between his robes and his stature, Yasha Ardan became nearly invisible when the light disappeared. I felt that it was only by luck that I found him, sheltered behind a rocky outcropping. "There," he whispered.

The Prince Adan was for the moment at anchor, low and laden in the water. The gunboat was perilously, tantalizingly close. I strained through the spyglass to make out how many guards lay between us, and then was forced to give it up. Despite its magnification, the glass rendered the night even darker. "Six guards, I think," I told Ardan. "You see more?"

He shook his head. "Six. Four on the pier. Two on the ship."

"You can hit them from here?"

The firefox nodded grimly. "Of course."

I knew we wouldn't be able to hold the element of surprise for long. After Ardan and Yasin dispatched the guards, we'd have only a few minutes to get aboard and slip the bomb into the vessel's coal bunkers. This being Abqi's job, Pashai and I, with our men, would distract any one who came to investigate.

With any luck at all, the ship's crew would assume we were raiding the vessel for any valuables. With any luck at all, they'd fire up her boilers, and we could make our escape at the same time the Prince Adan did -- and then observe the results of our handiwork.

But we had to get aboard first. The four men on the pier were Dhamishi: two leopards, a tiger, and a bored-looking bear who seemed on the verge of dropping to sleep. They must've been near the end of their shift. I tightened my hold on my saber, and prepared to run.

Pashai raised his paw, and gave it a quick jerk. I didn't hear the sound of the arrows, only a startled cough and the thud of something hitting the ship's deck. The dock guards turned to see what had happened and a second volley dropped the tiger and one of the leopards.

The bear opened his mouth to sound the alarm, but Pashai was already upon him, leaping on a man twice his size. He drove one knife into the bear's back, then drew the other swiftly across his exposed throat.

The last one, the tiger, turned around to face us and took three arrows in the chest for his trouble. He staggered and buckled, dropping to his knees. It put him directly in Jafai's sights: all I heard was the grunt of effort as the firefox put a dagger between the tiger's ribs.

Pashai hissed an order to Abqi, who stole up the gangplank with her three accomplices and headed for the ship's stern. The rest of us followed. The guards on the ship, I discovered, had been Aernians -- wearing the grey uniform of the Iron Corps.

But I'd fought my own people before. These two were already dead, and looked quite surprised by it. With Pashai's help, I dragged their limp bodies into deeper shadow.

"Oi. Caran, you there?" Pashai, Razi and I flattened ourselves against the wall. Reth Modin and three other firefoxes took shelter behind an open door. A sailor strolled around the corner; his head turned, and he leaned forward to peer into the darkness. "Bloody shishis -- gone off their post, 'ave they? Tell you, Caran..."

Razi was closest to him, and likely to be the first of us discovered. Pashai dipped his head. At once she darted forward; I just barely perceived the glint of light on metal as she drove her knife into the sailor -- quick, repeated stabs like a striking snake. Her victim choked out a weak, unintelligible protest and slumped to the deck before he could even manage to catch sight of his attacker.

And then she was back among us, wiping her blade clean against her robes. "Cargal'th," I muttered. It hadn't taken more than five seconds for her to do the job.

"You underestimate us," Pashai whispered. "Atarak?"

A firefox I recognized from our caravan raid, Alash Atarak, appeared next to him. "Back clear. Three more gone."

"Wajid. Noga ritinabat." Atarak nodded, and slipped away into the darkness. A few seconds later, we heard a splash from further astern, and the sound of muted commotion.

"See what's up," I told Reth Modin. "If Abqi's been discovered, distract them for as long as you can."

"Yes, sir." The leopard motioned to his companions. Pashai, Razi and I stayed to watch for anyone coming from the bow. A tense minute went by. Then another.

My ears caught approaching footsteps, and the way they slowed, cautiously. Only one pair. I stepped out to see and found myself facing a young fox, whose puzzled expression deepened when he caught my silhouette. "Caran?"

I moved by instinct -- saw the fox's uniform and the fur beneath it split open before I was consciously aware of the blow that did it. One quick, brutal slash was enough, for he had no armor. Nothing but flesh resisted the next thrust I aimed between his ribs.

He'd gotten half an anguished squawk out before my saber ended it. Shouts told me of a raised alarm even as I pulled my saber back from his shuddering body. So much for the element of surprise.

Another sailor rounded the corner. This one had his pistol raised, searching for targets -- then his grip on the trigger froze, and he dropped the gun. Both paws went instead to the arrow in his throat, its feathers twitching as he choked and rasped. I dispatched him as quickly as I could.

Lights were starting to come on -- harsh, glaring arc lamps, electric lights like I'd heard rumors of back in the homeland. A bell clanged urgently, punctuated shouted orders to the ship's crew. Intruders, I heard. Battle stations! And: make ready to get underway!

"We're out of time," I told Pashai. "Anything from Abqi?"

"Not yet. Not that I -- behind you!"

I stabbed blindly; the sailor's shot went wild and the short musket tumbled from her grasp. My blade tore free from her side as the otter toppled with a sharp squeal. Pashai stamped between her shoulders, knocking her to the deck, and cut her throat before she could rise. The squeal turned abruptly to a bubbly, desperate wheezing; Razi and I stepped to avoid the spreading pool of blood.

Pashai, holding the struggling sailor down with his boot, ignored it altogether. "Kech Jonham, they'll be crewing their guns. Real guns, now, not these toys."

"I know, I know." How many sailors could be aboard the Prince Adan, anyway? Enough to overwhelm us, surely. "Get your men off and to cover -- Razi, you too. I'll fetch Modin and Atarak." Razi started to protest, but gave up when I shook my head, and raced off with the others.

Shots rang out. Shots, and one shrill yelp. I looked over my shoulder to see Jafai in the glare of the electric spotlight. He stumbled and fell forward, off the dock and beyond the light's harsh beam. I saw none of the rest of the party, and told myself they'd all made it to safety.

I found Reth Modin and two bayeh taking cover behind a wooden crate. A label on it said: Teoran Dry Goods, Stanlira. The closest I'd come to my homeland for years -- and here I was, about to destroy it. "What's the situation?"

"Atarak is pinned down, about ten feet astern. Pazir is dead, and two of Atarak's men. The sailors got to the armory and --" The piercing bellow of a ship's whistle deafened us.

Cast off lines! someone shouted.

Modin shook his head to clear his ringing ears. "They have their rifles out. It's dangerous to approach."

"Their ship is getting ready to leave. We need to escape before they do -- in the water they'll massacre us." I was as worried as any of them about the open deck, though. The ship's electric lights made plainly apparent how little cover we'd find.

The firefoxes with us were Kasharmans. Though they'd brought their daggers, as ordered, I saw both were carrying pistols as well -- Ellagdran pistols, too, none of the crude Aernian kind.

"I'll tell Atarak to make a run for it -- protect them as best as you can. If they can get to shore, we might be alright."

"Yes, kech Jonham." Gladly, the tone added. The bayeh drew two pistols each, and cocked the hammer.

"Atarak," I ordered. "Erga! Akad!"

I hoped I had been understood, but the expression one of the bayeh gave me said otherwise. "Atarak," he called out. "Ergabat, jatira ergabat. Amakh ritinim!"

I heard running footsteps, then gunfire -- first theirs, then ours. The firefoxes only had four pistols between them, with dubious accuracy, but they made good use of what they had.

"They're off," Reth Modin said, hazarding a glance around the corner of the crate. "I think they all made it."

"Our turn, then. Go!"

Both natives leapt nimbly to their feet and dashed for the ship's railing. Reth Modin was slower, and so was I; as we left cover I caught a shout in the mountain folk's language, and turned.

Abqi and another bayeh were trapped in a whirling fight right at the gunboat's stern. Eight sailors faced them. The way the sailors wielded their cutlasses I knew they were hardly experts, but dangerous enough to prevent the two from escaping.

The close quarters also, though, kept any of the other crew from taking a shot. By the same, shared impulse Reth Modin and I had both ducked back into cover. "You're going," the leopard said.

"Yes."

He clicked his sharp teeth. "Ready?"

I nodded.

And then I took off at a run. It was only forty feet or so, and the deck was largely open. And the ship's crew was clearly distracted; we made it halfway before I even heard the first shot, and it was nowhere near me.

I hadn't asked him -- certainly hadn't ordered -- but I sensed Reth Modin behind me. I brought my saber around in a swift, brutal chop at the first target I found; sure enough, as I pivoted from the blow, there the leopard was.

He moved in a graceful dance, his scimitar at the forefront of every fluid movement. It flashed through the side of a hapless dog, under the cutlass the sailor had raised defensively. As he fell the dog's momentum knocked him into another man -- Reth Modin's sword was plunged into his chest and free again before the sailors had even truly apprehended the new threat that faced them.

Three of their number had fallen already, and in the following second of distraction Abqi's dagger dispatched another. The remaining four panicked and fled. That was fine -- we weren't out for revenge; not exactly. Before any crew with initiative and firearms could put either to use, Abqi and her companion went over the side, and we went with them.

The shock of the cold lake barely registered when my boots hit the lake bottom and I pushed myself up and free. Conscious of the water's painful drag I found my way through it to the shore, sprinting fast as my legs could carry me to the shelter of the rocks and the cliff wall.

Reth Modin dove behind the same boulder I'd chosen, seconds after me. He brushed water from the dripping fur of his face. "Are you hurt, kajja?"

"I'm fine. You?"

"The same. Unpracticed -- we didn't do much of that in the city guard. Did Abqi accomplish her task?"

"I don't know."

Steam and smoke billowed from the twin stacks of the Prince Adan as she pulled from the dock. With her lights all aglow, my spyglass was useful again. I didn't like what I saw.

All four repeating rifles -- one at the stern, one at the bow, and two atop her superstructure -- were manned, swiveling back and forth as the gunners sought targets. Her gunports were open, too; the cannon poked through, aggressive and hungry.

The arc light atop the gunboat's bridge directed a sun-bright beam against the wall of the cliff. Through the glass I saw its operator in heated consultation with a uniformed officer to his side. The officer turned, cupping his paws around his muzzle in a shout the distance rendered inaudible.

Her forward gun opened up in a barking, awful rattle. I'd read that a Darveleigh repeater could manage a hundred and sixty rounds a minute. This had seemed impossible -- but there it was, the gun and its crew of four disciplined sailors feeding new ammunition into it.

I couldn't tell what they were shooting at -- rocks, a few hundred yards away from me. Maybe they were aiming at actual targets; maybe they just wanted to keep us pinned down.

Presently the gun went abruptly and deafeningly quiet. The Prince Adan's bow turned to deeper water. Her stern frothed, churning Lake Ajira angrily. "Getting distance," I realized.

"They'll be less accurate," Reth Modin said. "Why distance?"

"Cover," I whispered to him. "Take cover!"

We huddled. I tried to count the seconds, and got to a shaky twenty by the first broadside. A booming roar, louder than any thunder I'd ever heard on the plains of Dalchauser, caught us from both sides: the cannons, and their shells bursting against the cliff wall.

Silence. I looked up, watching the wandering circle of the spotlight beam. It made a long, slow trek over the base of the cliff and back. I saw nothing. I hoped the gunboat saw nothing, too.

But they fired again. This time, when shells hit, liquid fire gushed forth in sparking, hissing ribbons. The incendiary shot put the whole of the shoreline in glaring, hellish relief that rendered the searchlight completely redundant.

"They can shell us without any risk whatsoever," I told Reth Modin. "Until we're smoked out."

"Run for it?"

"We might have to." I didn't like my chances, but I liked them a hell of a lot better than being burned to death. "After the next salvo, while they're reloading."

I leaned around the boulder, propping my spyglass against the rock. The gunnery captain was obvious -- standing out in the open, fully aware of his own impunity. I read the orders on the badger's lips. Ready. Fire!

The Prince Adan jolted, lifting ten feet up as the water flashed a disturbed, rippling white. Before I could even register my surprise a second jolt ripped through it -- a towering spray of steam and fire and water lashed, cleaving her amidships, and the upperworks splintered and disappeared in the chaos.

The smoke cleared on what remained of the gunboat's hull: buckled, twisted, with the stern half already awash. What was left of the superstructure was fiercely ablaze, but within two minutes water was licking the flames quiet, and within five the whole of the hulk had disappeared.

Pashai gave a quick shout, in the eerie darkness that had settled. Reth Modin and I went to join him; the others came shortly afterwards. "Good work," I told them. "And a good first step. What were our losses?"

Two of the Kasharman, three of the Fahiyyad, and one of Abqi's soldiers. We'd more than made the rebels pay -- but I knew the bayeh would feel the loss keenly, with their small numbers.

And we couldn't savor our victory for long. If the Railroad had men further up the pass, they'd be coming to see what had happened. I sent one of the firefoxes back to the cliffs, to send a message back to those who had remained atop them they should meet us on the path to Fort Shandur.

Said path wasn't terribly long, at least. When it turned, and we came into view of the fort, I ordered us to stay in the middle of it. I didn't know what Major Atta-Farash would've gotten up to in my absence, but I figured the RFC would be on edge, and likely to take shoot first and ask questions later when anyone approached from the site of the bridge.

As it happened, the panther met us at the front gate. He raised his paw in a salute; I returned it, and no sooner had it dropped than he hugged me, too. "You've returned rather earlier than I expected, sir."

"We didn't quite make it through. On the other hand, that ship is gone."

"When we heard the explosions, I hoped for the best."

"We need to take advantage of this opportunity and destroy the Shandur locks while we can. We'll have Nishran cut off then, except for the passes -- and I think we can shut those down, too."

"You and..." Major Atta-Farash coughed, and indicated the gathered bayeh, who were inspecting the fort under the glare of some clearly skeptical Corps soldiers. "The mountain folk?"

"The mountain folk. We've negotiated an alliance. These men and women represent four of the tribes -- but there are others. They understand the stakes."

Atta-Farash thought it over and, though unconvinced, nodded and welcomed us into Fort Shandur. He pointed the bayeh towards the canteen, where breakfast was still being served; Razi and Sergeant-Major Bealde joined me in his office headquarters.

The panther's report turned out to be far better news than I'd expected. Their supplies were in good order, and sixty-some men had survived the battle with the Iron Corps. Atta-Farash hadn't resumed regular patrols -- focusing his attention on preparing the fort for a long siege -- but they had the men and horses for it.

All I had to do, he said, was to give the order.

"Good. We're taking the fight to them, major. We're going to isolate them -- to prove they can't hold on to the province. If they leave Jaikot, it's only by our will."

"The Railroad, you mean, sir?"

"The Railroad, I think, will give up if this effort begins to cost them too much. They've already given up a gunboat, and with things as they are in Surowa I don't expect another. But we're also going to take on the Dhamishi traitors, the Reth and Ivasha and the Vanao -- and the Atta-Farash on their side, major; no offense."

"I don't take offense," the panther said levelly. "I agree, in any case, that they are traitors. But..."

"From here on out, Nishran is closed to their caravan traffic. Without money to pay their mercenaries, I have doubts as to their loyalty. They'll come into line soon enough."

"What does it mean to 'close' them?"

I ordered Atta-Farash to show me the tapestry, with its map of the province. "We burn the sarai at the Oasis, and the shekh-_run bridge over the Dar Elkal. There's a sarai here, too, at the ferry; another here, at Solun-Kaya. Burn those, too. Any caravans run by the proscribed _shekhs, or carrying their goods, is fair game."

"They'll fight back. Our intelligence reports indicate they've already been given weapons."

"Yes. But they're still mercenaries, major. At worst, they're impressed town guards. None of them have seen actual military service. We have the current men of the RFC to support us... and the bayeh."

"The who?"

"The araimuri. The mountaineers. From this moment, they're full members of the Royal Frontier Corps. They get a salary and a rank. Taresh Razi, here, is our ambassador to the Kasharman clan."

The panther's brow furrowed, his tail lashed, and I could see the conflicted agitation plainly. "Your... servant, sir..."

"Ambassador." I kept my correction both gentle and firm. "Razi, how many can the bayeh muster?"

"My clan? Perhaps thirty, kajja. With the others... two hundred or so."

"Two hundred, major," I stressed. "We'll be doubling the size of the RFC. They can fight, they can ride, and they're no friends of the Railroad or the caravan shekhs."

Major Atta-Farash gave Razi a rather suspicious look, and hadn't completely suppressed it when his attention returned to me. "No friends of ours, either, sir. With due respect, they're... criminals. Brigands, sir. Thieves."

"Bloody good fighters, sir," Sergeant-Major Bealde said. "I've seen them in action. Not that I'm keen to admit it m'self; ain't a friend of the bastards. But they shoot better'n any of our dragoons."

"They helped me sink the Prince Adan. I couldn't have done it alone. Major, we're all part of the same struggle. If this rebellion succeeds, and the merchant shekhs finally get their chance to pacify the mountains -- with the Railroad's men and equipment backing them -- it would be a massacre."

"The Corps won't like it," Major Atta-Farash cautioned.

But he did not protest further, and Locke agreed to help him bring the men along to my way of seeing things. I went over a few additional practicalities and then, with the morning sun now high in the sky, I returned to my barracks for the first time in two weeks to rest.

Razi was already waiting for me, folded up at the foot of the bed in a nest made of her ringed tail. She started to stand up, and I shook my head. "It's fine; don't bother. Atta-Farash and Sergeant Bealde think that we have enough supplies here for anyone the mountain clans can volunteer. Just a question of getting them down here."

She nodded.

"I'll need your help, you know."

Razi smiled. "Shishi, kajja. Do you desire a bath?" Her question had a stronger sense of playfulness than her tone had ever carried. I had no doubt she would've bathed me, had I asked... but also that she knew it wasn't what I'd meant.

I sat at the edge of the cot and started to undo my boots. Despite what I'd said, Razi dropped to the floor and took over from me. I let her, focusing on the conversation. "From everything I know of them, your clans can be fractious. Somebody will need to keep them in line. They need to respect the chain of command. I can't have them running off to ambush a wagon on their own. I definitely can't have them deciding somebody's committed a crime of honor that needs to be avenged."

"My word probably does not carry as much weight as you hope, kajja. I will do as you ask, certainly... and I surely hope that it will be enough..." She pulled my boots off, and set them aside. "Do you think it will, kajja?"

"It has to be. This is their chance. You should understand that, too. If they're ever going to be part of this territory's society, this is their chance to demonstrate that they can be part of it. Hold on -- leave them. That can wait."

She'd gotten out her polishing kit -- the boots clearly showed two weeks of mountain hiking. Reluctantly, she put it aside. "You're certain, kajja?"

"Or I can do it myself. Or get another assistant. You're an ambassador now, remember? Act like it. We have a lot of work."

I knew it wouldn't be easy. Razi helped me identify the tribes whose members were least likely to provoke infighting. This included her own, despite their reputation for violence. The other clans could recognize that as a strength, she said. It was part of their culture.

She also told me I would have to let them continue to take stolen goods as prizes, although she agreed when I pointed out how likely that was to arouse the passions of the Royal Frontier Corps, who had long considered this behavior their number-one enemy.

"They'll have to prove themselves in some other fashion, kajja," she said. I didn't bother to ask whether they could -- all it took was thinking about how quick she had been with a knife. Old instincts; I remembered from her stories she had been quite young, indeed, when sold to the Dhamishi.

Within four days, we counted one hundred and eighty-seven bayeh, from twelve different clans. All of them claimed to be fighters. Three quarters could fire a rifle, and as Locke had said they were better marksmen than the RFC dragoons. Fifty of them had horses.

Perhaps a third spoke Dhamishi, and a quarter spoke Aernian; this became the determining factor in whose command I placed them. A week after the sinking of the Prince Adan, with the Shandur locks destroyed and word filtering in from downriver about the growing unrest, and I had a good sense of where I stood and what I had at my command.

Setting aside a minimal garrison at Shandur, we had two troops of the original Royal Frontier Corps; I left these, and the garrison itself, under Major Atta-Farash's command. I divided the bayeh into three auxiliary troops. It had been my intention to put Savu Pashai in charge, but the suggestion rankled some of the other tribal leaders and, to quell their nascent revolt, I took them over myself.

Fortunately it didn't take long for them to prove their worth. I rode out on the first few patrols, to make certain the auxiliaries didn't cross any lines, but their method of combat left me more or less useless. I was a poor shot even by my own kind's standards.

Two weeks netted the RFC three dozen wagons, and by that point word was spreading and the traffic slowed precipitously. It was what I wanted, and it set the stage for our next move. I took one of the troops to move south in greater force, away from the plains and closer to Nishran proper.

The end of a day's scouting found me with Razi and a bayeh of the Ushoqai tribe. They were something of old allies to the Kasharmans; his Aernian was passable, but he didn't mind going through Razi as a translator and that helped. He had proven to be one of the best trackers in the auxiliaries.

"It's getting late, sir," he said. It was -- besides which, his notebook was already full.

But I was in a good mood, and eager to capitalize on the progress we'd made. "I want to get a sense of the land to our west, yet."

"Yes, sir."

"But you're right. Head back and report in to Captain Kharaf. Wayibat daru." The firefox nodded, saluted quickly, and started back down the scrubby hillside. I waited until he was below the closest rise, then turned to Razi. "How was that?"

"Close, kajja. Wayidabat daruyom would be the most accurate form. But you are learning."

Progress. I'd lived in Dhamishaya long enough; it was time to start picking up some language. Razi followed me to the next hill, which gave us a view of two small farming villages. I didn't know their names; Razi didn't either.

What I did know was that they were surprisingly empty. They hadn't been completely abandoned, for there was still smoke rising from a few chimneys, but half of the fields had gone unharvested. I wondered what might've happened: had they fled to the cities for protection? Had they been impressed into one of the militias?

Or were these two of those towns that had long been languishing, even before the rebellion -- lines in a report I'd been given by Raiza Serapuri, and which I'd promptly ignored. I caught movement, at the horizon, and watched a pair of wagons trundle through the first town without stopping. The wagon's wooden sideboard was painted with the sigil of shekh Reth.

"They feel safe here," I said to Razi, and passed her my spyglass.

She peered through it for a minute. "We're getting closer to Jaikot, kajja. That's not surprising."

Half an hour later, the wagon reached the second town. It was more distant, and harder to see. While I couldn't make out all the details, though, I could see it stopping. Figures from the town approached; they led the mules away to be watered and fed.

"What will you do, kajja?"

"Do?"

"Your edict said that it's forbidden to trade with the Reth. They're clearly..."

She trailed off, rather than finish, but I could find plenty of options. 'Sympathizers' wasn't strong enough; 'collaborators' was the word I felt she might've meant. I'd heard it used in the Harvest Rising, along with its kin: 'traitor.'

By the terms of my homeland's pact with the king, the March Lords are the rulers of their own domains. That had given the Earl of Chenwyck license to defy King Chatherral's demand for grain even when the Landsmoot failed to vote for war. It gave the Duke of Rudkirk and my father the right to join him.

And it meant that, by our own laws, the rest of the March had not been obliged to side with us. Most did, at least tacitly, or they remained neutral. But not all. I'd looked down on a little collection of farms, much like this one; Davin O'Calmeth, himself of Chenwyck, was beside me on horseback.

Collaborators, he'd said. They'd given the King's Own Army supplies -- food and forage -- and now, Lieutenant O'Calmeth declared, it was time for them to pay.

I didn't dispute the accusation. I did point out it was early in the Rising, before the militias had been called up and while the royal army was uncontested. Perhaps they hadn't felt they had a choice in the matter. Perhaps they'd known they could give aid willingly or have it taken by force.

Lieutenant O'Calmeth told me it didn't matter. They had made their choice, he said. Knowing what their brethren in Chenwyck were facing, they'd sided with the enemy. If there were no consequences, nobody would worry about doing it again.

I related the story, in brief, to Razi. And when she asked what we'd done, I said we'd put everything to the torch. I didn't tell her the way the farmers had protested; the way they'd screamed, seeing in the rising smoke the coming winter and precious little time to rebuild from the ashes. I certainly didn't tell her about the ones who had tried to flee, and how O'Calmeth's men rode them down.

She might've guessed, from my tone, but it didn't change her answer. "He was right, kajja. They were your enemy, and so are those villagers, even if they haven't taken up arms."

"Is it that simple?"

I put off making a decision about whether to attack, but on the suspicion it would become necessary we remained on the hillside, sketching out a map of the area and planning how best to approach. The bayeh moved quickly and stealthily, but the landscape didn't offer much cover. We were, truthfully, more exposed than we should've been, but the dimming light of evening kept me from worrying too much.

It did expose us to other problems. "It's too late to make it back tonight. I guess we'll camp here."

We couldn't risk a campfire. All we could do was to pick out the largest stones, and to try and get comfortable. It wasn't easy, and sensing I'd abandoned the effort Razi broke an hour of silence to raise her quiet voice. "Kajja, may I say something?"

"Of course."

"I have been given a lot to think about. Particularly since we returned to the mountains. And I wanted to tell you that... that I am happy you brought me with you." She looked down at her feet. "And to know you. I was wondering what... what you thought would happen, after all this?"

I pushed myself upright. "With you, you mean?"

"Or... between us, yes, kajja."

"Nishran will still need an envoy to the mountains, if you'd have it."

Razi tilted her head. "Really, kajja?"

"If you wanted to go back to your family, instead, that's fine. I would understand."

"I don't." The admission came with a faint sense of guilt, and her gaze dropped again. "I don't find myself missing the mountains as much as I do..." She fidgeted, flicking her ears. "Not everything about Jaikot, kajja, but it seems now closer to my home."

"It can be. If you want it. You've more than earned that. I mean, if you'd rather not stay on as ambassador, there are plenty of jobs in the civil service." It might, now that I considered the notion, even be a good idea to have one of the bayeh in a visible position there, if I intended to integrate them into the society at large.

Razi nodded. "Thank you, kajja. I'll... I will consider it."

She volunteered to take the first watch, too -- for what it was worth. The rocks made it difficult to get too much sleep. When I took over for her, four hours later, it was with my mind in a bit of a daze. As morning slowly crept over the hills, the drifting clouds had a way of hypnotizing me.

This I could conceivably blame for not spotting anyone approaching. In truth I did not know, and never would. I was on my back, trying vainly to catch my breath and startled to be looking up at the sky, by the time I heard the shot.