Anji batted a swarm away from his face, scratched his neck, and nodded. "Widow Lae," he said, musing over the name. "I think, Mai, that you have spotted the only blossom on the otherwise barren tree. I had forgotten about Widow Lae."

A bird's whistle startled out of the brush at the shoreline. The men leaped to their feet. Mai rose and clutched Priya's hand. Sengel strode away toward the sound. But Anji kept talking, as if nothing strange had happened.

"You're right that Widow Lae was not executed for insulting a Qin officer, except in the most general way."

She waited as he rubbed his chin. He lifted an arm to point. Every head turned to look toward the shore. Inland a tiny light-torchlight-advanced along what must be the main road, heading for Olossi. They watched in silence, because it was such a strange sight to see that pinprick of brightness aflame against the dark.

At length, Tohon muttered, "A runner, or a rider. Too fast to be walking."

Anji grunted. "It's an urgent message," he said evenly, "that travels into the night."

"The Sirniakans have night runners," said Priya, and she shuddered, releasing Mai's hand. "Agents of the red hounds."

"Do you think it could be the red hounds?" whispered Mai.

Anji caught her wrist. "Enough. We may never know, and it does no good to spin these thoughts when they have nowhere to go."

"The agents of the red hounds never travel alone," said Tohon.

Anji turned his head to look, in the most general way, toward the southwest, whence they had come. Out there lay the wide, flat delta, dark under the night sky. The river had a slow, deep voice here as it spilled away into a hundred channels and backwaters. Wind found a voice in the rushes and reeds and bushes growing everywhere. A nightjar clicked.

"I had forgotten until now," he mused, and for a moment Mai could not remember what they had been speaking about because she had not yet banished the vision of giant slavering red dogs panting and growling as they closed in for the kill. "She was executed for passing information to an agent of the Sirniakan Empire. To our enemy. To one of the red hounds, perhaps. Certainly a traitor must expect death. But now that I think on it, by the time Widow Lae was passing intelligence to an enemy agent, the var would already have sealed the secret treaty he made with my brother Azadihosh. Emperor Farazadihosh, I should say. Whose position as emperor is so weak that he must seek Qin aid in putting down his rivals. The orders for me to ride east came from my uncle, the var."

"He was sending you into a trap," said Tuvi.

"Just so."

"Did the commander of Kartu Town know of the new treaty?" asked Mai. "Did he send you east innocently, or did he know he was sending you to your death?"

"I don't know," said Anji. "But all the commanders in the eastern part of the Qin territories would have to be told of the treaty because of the major transfer of troops onto the eastern frontier. That means it's likely that the commander of Kartu knew of the treaty, and knew that the emperor was now our ally. If that's true, then I must ask myself, who was the enemy that Widow Lae was found to be passing intelligence to?"

"I never heard a whisper of rebellion in Kartu Town," said Shai.

Anji smiled softly. "Nor did I. The people of Kartu Town possess a pragmatic wisdom that has served them well."

Mai frowned. "You were an officer. Weren't there rumors in the garrison?"

"All we were told was that the widow was passing information to the enemy. Which we all took to mean that she had tried to pass information to the agents of the Sirniakan emperor. But we were wrong, because by that time, they were our allies, not our enemy. I never heard anything more about it after her execution. I never heard if the grandson-if there was a grandson-was ever found."

"There was a grandson," said Shai. "Everyone knew Widow Lae's grandson. A little older than me, a hard drinker, and he knew how to ride a horse."

"Huh," grunted Tuvi, who found this amusing. "Riding a horse is a capital offense, if you're not Qin!"

Shai grinned. Widow Lae's grandson had been one of those young men that you admired but disliked. "He vanished before she was arrested. That's why we all knew she was guilty. He was her favorite."

"What other enemy could there be?" asked Chief Tuvi. "If not the Sirniakan emperor?"

Mai said, "Who else was interested in the transaction? Who else might benefit, or take a loss, from any secret treaty signed between the emperor and the var? Who might wish to know of Qin troops moving into the empire? Or of trading privileges reserved for the Qin that might formerly have been available to others?"

"Exactly," said Anji, without looking at her. "There may be other agents involved that I am not aware of, merchants of some kind. But common sense suggests that the sons of my uncle Ufarihosh have an interest here. So we must ask ourselves, if she had ties to them, how did she come by those ties, and what message did she send, and did it reach them?"

"How can we possibly find out?" Mai asked. "Is there a chance the sons of Ufarihosh might give us asylum? If we can reach them?"

Raising two fingers to his lips to enjoin silence, Anji tilted his head back as if looking at the many-souled sky. He shut his eyes. Now she heard, fainter than a splash, the lap of water. He pointed toward the river's edge, away from the slow-moving channel that separated them from the shore. Chief Tuvi drew his sword. Toughid shifted five steps to the left, to cover more ground. Tohon was already gone. Reeds whispered as dark shapes pushed through them, soldiers converging on the bank, which she could not see from here. In the quiet, a horse snorted, and a bird's lazy koo-loo throated along the air.

A shout of surprise cut the silence, startling Mai so badly that she jumped. Priya clasped her hand.

Sengel and Tohon reappeared a few moments later. In their wake walked a dozen soldiers with two prisoners in tow. One was the handsome young man with the head covering whom Mai remembered well enough from the council meeting. The other was the older merchant who had defended them at the meeting, Master Calon.

"Look what we caught," said Tohon. "They came by boat. They say they bear a message for you, Captain."

Firelight lent glamour to the young man's pleasant features. He resembled ordinary people with his black-brown eyes and dark lashes, but there the resemblance ended. Although not ghostly pale in the manner of poor, dead Cornflower, he had a lighter complexion than Mai was used to seeing. And his eyes had a pull to them, stretched at the corners with a fold at the lid. She was herself known for having grandfather eyes, the sloe eyes seen more commonly in Kartu children long ago, so the grandmothers said, tantalizing for seeming exotic, for hinting of a promise as yet unmet. The legend of Dezara Mountain told of the long-ago time when a rotting plague killed all the men in what was then Kartu Village, followed by a terrible storm that had lashed the houses into splinters and burned the trees off the slopes, after which a ragged band of about fifty foreign hunters had walked down off the mountain saying that the wind had blown them far from their homeland. They were men of a handsome burnt-sugar complexion very different from the lovely red-bronze clay color common in that region, and they had handsomely slanted eyes, troubling and exciting to look upon. It was whispered they were demons wearing human form, but they were pleasant company and hard workers, and they kept their hair clean and combed. In the end, they had married the widows and maidens of Kartu Village and bred so many children that the village had grown to become a town.

Now here was a young man who had something of the look she had always supposed those grandfathers to have. If this one was a demon, he hid it well. Maybe the turban on his head was meant to conceal his horns. He grinned at her most flirtatiously, until Master Calon cuffed him with a genial swat.