The driver said something.

"Good," the commander replied, and came hack. He flipped Otah onto his

belly with casual disregard, and Otah felt his bonds begin to loosen.

"All apologies, Otah-cha," the commander said. "But there's a lesson you

can take from all this: just because someone's bought a mercenary

captain, it doesn't mean his commanders aren't still for sale. Now I

will need your robes, such as they are."

Otah pulled the leather strap from around his head and spat out the

cloth, retching as he did so. Before he could speak, the commander had

climbed out of the cart, and Otah was left to follow.

They had stopped at a clearing by a river, surrounded by white oaks. The

bridge was old wood and looked almost too decrepit to cross. Six men

with gray robes and hunting bows were walking toward them from the

trees, two of them dragging the arrow-riddled body of the armsman the

commander had sent out. Two others carried a litter with what was

clearly another dead man-thin and naked. The commander took a pose of

welcome, and the first archer returned it. Otah stumbled forward,

rubbing his wrists. The archers were all smiling, pleased with

themselves. When he came close enough, Otah saw the second corpse was on

its back, and a wide swath of intricate black ink stained its breast.

The first half of an east island marriage mark. A tattoo like his own.

"That's why we'll need your robes, Otah-cha," the commander said. "This

poor bastard will have been in the water for a while before he reaches

the main channel of the river. But the closer he seems to you, the less

people will bother looking at him. I'll see whether I can find something

for you to wear after, but you might consider sponging off in the brook

there first. No offense, but you've been a while without a bath."

"Who is he?" Otah asked.

The commander shrugged.

"Nobody, now."

He clapped Otah on the shoulder and turned back toward the cart. The

archers were pitching the corpses of the two armsmen into the water.

Otah saw arrows rising from the river like reeds. The driver was coming

forward now, his thumbs stuck in his belt. He was a hairy man, his full

heard streaked with gray. He smiled at Otah and took a pose of welcome.

"I don't understand," Otah said. "What's happening?"

"We don't understand either, Itani-cha. Not precisely. We're only sure

that it's something terrible," the carter said, and Otah's mouth dropped

open. He spoke with the voice of Amiit Foss, his overseer in House

Siyanti. Amiit grinned beneath his heard. "And we're sure that it isn't

happening to you."

The first few breaths after she woke were like rising new horn. She

didn't know who or where she was, she had no thought of the night before

or the day ahead. There was only sensation-the warmth of the body beside

her, the crisp softness of the bedclothes, the netting above the bed

glowing in the captured light of dawn, the scent of black tea brought in

by a servant with cat-quiet footsteps. She sat up, almost smiling until

memory rushed in on her like a flood of black water. Idaan rose and

pulled on her robes. Adrah stirred and moaned.

"You should go," she said, lifting the black iron teapot. "You're

expected to go on a hunt today."

Adrah sat up, scratching his back and yawning. His hair stuck out in all

directions. He looked older than he had the day before, or perhaps it

was only how she felt. She poured a howl of tea for him as well.

"Have they found him?" Adrah asked.

"I haven't heard the screams or lamentations yet, so I'd assume not."

She held out the porcelain bowl. It was thin enough to see through and

hot enough to burn her fingertips, but Idaan didn't try to reduce the

pain. When Adrah took it from her, he drank from it straight, though she

knew it must have scalded. Perhaps what they'd done had numbed them.

"And You, Idaan-kya?"

"I'm going to the baths. I'll join you after."

Adrah drank the last of the tea, grimaced as if it was distilled wine,

and took a pose of leave-taking which Idaan returned. When he was gone,

she took herself to the women's quarters and the baths. She hardly had

time to wash her hair before the cry went up. The Khai Nfachi was dead.

Killed horribly in his chambers. Idaan dried herself with a cloth and

strode out to meet her brother. She was halfway there before she

realized her face was bare; she hadn't put on her paints. She was

surprised that she felt no need for them now.

Danat was pacing the great hall. The high marble archways echoed with

the sound of his boots. There was blood on his sleeve, and his face was

empty. When Idaan caught sight of him, she raised her chin but took no

formal pose. Danat stopped. The room was silent.

"You've heard," he said. There was no question to it.

""Tell me anyway."

"Otah has killed our father," Danat said.

"'t'hen yes. I've heard."

Danat resumed his pacing. His hands worried each other, as if he were

trying to pluck honey off them. Idaan didn't move.

"I don't know how he did it, sister. There must be people backing him

within the palaces. The armsmen in the tower were slaughtered."

"How did he find our father?" Idaan asked, uninterested in the answer.

"He must have found a secret way into the palaces. Someone would have

seen him."

Danat shook his head. There was rage in him, and pain. She could see

them, could feel them resonate in her own breast. But more than that,

there was an almost superstitious fear in him. The upstart had slipped

his bonds, had struck in the very heart of the city, and her brother

feared him like Black Chaos.

"We have to secure the city," he said. "I've called for more guards. You

should stay here. We can't know how far he will take his vendetta."

"You're going to let him escape?" Idaan demanded. "You aren't going to

hunt him down?"

"He has resources I can't guess at. Look! Look what he's done. Until I

know what I'm walking towards, I don't dare follow."

The plan was failing. Danat was staying safe in his walls with his

armsmcn around him like a blanket. Idaan sighed. It was tip to her, of

course, to save it.

"Adrah Vaunyogi has a hunt prepared. It was to be for fresh meat for my

wedding feast. You stay here, Danat-kya. I'll bring you Otah's head."