She turned and walked away. She couldn't hesitate, couldn't invite him

to follow her. He would see it in her gait if she were anything less

than totally committed. For a moment, she even believed herself that she

was going out to find her father's killer and bring him down-riding with

her hunt into the low towns and the fields to track down the evil Otah

Machi, her fallen brother. Danat's voice stopped her.

"I forbid you, Idaan. You can't do this."

She paused and looked back at him. He was thicker than her father had

been. Already his jaw line ran toward jowls. She took a pose that disagreed.

"I'm actually quite good with a bow," she said. "I'll find him. And I

will see him dead."

"You're my child sister," Danat said. "You can't do this."

Something flared in her, dark and hot. She stepped back toward Danat,

feeling the rage lift her up like a leaf in the wind.

"Ah, and if I do this thing, you'll be shamed. Because I have breasts

and you've a prick, I'm supposed to muzzle myself and be glad. Is that

it? Well I won't. You hear me? I will not be controlled, I will not be

owned, and I will not step hack from anything to protect your petty

pride. It's gone too far for that, brother. If a woman shrinks meekly

back into the shadows, then you he the woman. See how it feels to you!"

By the end she was shrieking. Her fists were balled so tight they hurt.

Danat's expression was hard as stone and as gray.

"You shame me," he said.

"Live with it," she said and spat.

"Send my body servant," he said. "I'll want my own bow. And then go to

Adrah. The hunt won't leave without me."

She was on the edge of refusing, of telling him that this wasn't

courage. He was only more afraid of losing the respect of the utkhaiem

than of dying, and that made him not only a coward but a stupid one. She

was the one with courage. She was the one who had the will to act. What

was he after all but a mewling kitten lost in the world, while she ...

she was Otah Machi. She was the upstart who had earned the Khai's chair.

She had killed her father for it; it was more than Danat would have done.

But, of course, truth would destroy everything. That was its nature. So

she swallowed it down deep where it could go on destroying her and took

an acquiescing pose. She'd won. He'd know that soon enough.

Once Danat's body servant had been sent scampering for his bow, Idaan

returned to her apartments, shrugged out of her robes and put on the

wide, loose trousers and red leather shirt of a hunter. She paused by

her table of paints, her mirror. She sat for a moment and looked at her

bare face. Her eyes seemed small and flat without the kohl. Her lips

seemed pale and wide as a fish's, her cheeks pallid and low. She could

be a peasant girl, plowing fields outside some low town. Her beauty had

been in paint. Perhaps it would be again, someday. '['his was a poor day

for beauty.

The huntsmen were waiting impatiently outside the palaces of the

Vaunyogi, their mounts' hooves clattering against the dark stones of the

courtyard. Adrah took a pose of query when he saw her clothes. ldaan

didn't answer it, but went to one of the horsemen, ordered him down,

took his blade and his bow and mounted in his place. Adrah cantered over

to her side. His mount was the larger, and he looked down at her as if

he were standing on a step.

"My brother is coming," she said. "I'll ride with him."

"You think that wise?" he asked coolly.

"I have asked too much of you already, Adrah-kya."

His expression was cold, but he didn't object further. Danat Nlachi rode

in wearing pale robes of mourning and seated on a great hunting

stallion, the very picture of vigor and manly prowess. Five riders were

with him: his friends, members of the utkhaicm unfortunate enough to

have heard of this hunt and marry themselves to the effort. "They would

have to be dealt with. Adrah took a pose of obeisance before l)anat.

"We've had word that a cart left by the south gate last night," Adrah

said. "It was seen coming from an alley beside the tower."

"Then let its follow it," l)anat said. He turned and rode. ldaan

followed, the wind whipping her hair, the smell of the beast under her

rich and sweet. There was no keeping up the gallop, of course. But this

was theater-the last remaining sons of the Khai Machi, one the assassin

and servant of chaos slipping away in darkness, one the righteous

avenger riding forth in the name of justice. I)anat knew the part he was

to act, and Idaan gave him credit for playing it, now that she had

goaded him into action. Those who saw them in the streets would tell

others, and the word would spread. It was a sight songs were made from.

Once they had crossed the bridge over the "l'idat, they slowed, looking

for people who had heard or seen the cart go by. Idaan knew where it had

really gone-the ruins of an old stone wayhouse a half-hand's walk from

the nearest low town west of the city. The morning hadn't half passed

before the hunt had taken a wrong scent, turned north and headed into

the foothills. The false trail took them to a crossroad-a mining track

led cast and west, the thin road from the city winding north up the side

of a mountain. Danat looked frustrated and tired. When Adrah spoke-his

voice loud enough for everyone in the party to hear-Idaan's belly tightened.

"We should fan out, Danat-cha. Eight east, eight west, eight north, and

two to stay here. If one group finds sign of the upstart, they can send

back a runner, and the two waiting here will retrieve the rest."

Danat weighed the thought, then agreed. Danat claimed the north road for

himself, and the members of the utkhaiem, smelling the chance of glory,

divided themselves among the hands heading east and west.

Adrah took the cast, his eyes locked on hers as he turned to go. She saw

the meaning in his expression, daring her to do this thing. Idaan made

no reply to him at all. She, six huntsmen of the Vaunyogi loyal to their

house and master, and Danat rode into the mountains.

When the sun had reached the highest point in the day's arc, they

stopped at small lake. The huntsmen rode out in their wide-ranging

search as they had done at every pause before this. Danat dismounted,

stretched, and paced. His eyes were dark. Idaan waited until the others

disappeared into the trees, unslung her bow, and went to stand near her

brother. He looked at her, then away.

"He didn't come this way," Danat said. "Ile's tricked us again."

"Perhaps. But he won't survive. Even if he killed you, he could never