only there, in the palaces carved from the living rock, were the great

secrets of the fallen Empire kept. His war turned on that fire and on

the deaths of the men who knew what those soon-burned books said.

And he wouldn't he there for it.

"'l'he southern legions are ready, sir," Eustin said. "Fight thousand

for Shosheyn-"Ian, Lachi, and Saraykeht. My legion's two thousand

strong. Should he enough for Pathai and that school out on the plains.

"That'll leave you a full half of the forces for the river cities. Udun

and Iltani and "Ian-Sadar."

Balasar struggled with the impulse to send more of the men with Eustin.

It was the illusion he always suffered when tactics required that he

split his forces. Ile would make do with less in order to keep his best

men safe. Pathai was only half the size of Nantani, but Eustin was

taking only a tenth of the men. It was unlikely that word had traveled

fast enough for the Khai Pathai to hire some fleet-footed mercenary

company out of the Westlands, but unlikely wasn't impossible. Two

thousand more men might make the difference if something went wrong.

But he had the longest journey ahead of him-Nantani to Udun, and some of

it over plains where there were no good roads and the steam wagons would

have to he pulled. On rough ground, the boilers were too likely to

explode. The journey would take time, and so Udun and Utani and

"Ian-Sadar would have the longest time to prepare. They would be the

hardest to capture or destroy. It was why he had chosen them for

himself. Except, of course, for what he had tasked to Coal. Five

thousand men to take six cities. Five cities, now. Four and a half.

"We'll get there in time to help him if he needs us, sir," Eustin said,

reading his face. "And keep in mind, there's not a fighting force

anywhere in the Khaiem. Coal's in more danger of tripping on his spear

than of facing an enemy worth sneezing at."

Balasar laughed. Two armsmen busy folding a tent looked up, saw him and

Eustin, and grinned.

"It's like me, isn't it?" Balasar said. "Here we have just made the

greatest sack of a city in living history, captured enough gold to keep

us both fed the best food and housed in the best brothels for the rest

of our lives, and I can't bring myself to enjoy a minute of it."

"You do tend to worry most when things are going well, sir."

They reached a place where the mud path split, one way to the west, the

other to the North. Balasar put out his hand, and Eustin took it. For a

moment, they weren't general and captain. They were friends and

conspirators in the plot to save the world. Balasar found his anxiety

ebbing, felt the grin on his face and saw it mirrored in his man's.

"Meet me in Tan-Sadar before the leaves turn," Balasar said. "We'll see

then whether Coal has use for us or if it's time to go home."

"I'll he there, sir," Eustin said. "Rely on it. And as a favor to nee?

Keep an eye on Ajutani."

"Both, when I can spare them," Balasar promised. And then they parted.

Balasar walked through the thin mud and low grass to the camp at the

head of the first legion. His groom stood waiting, a fresh horse

munching contentedly at the roadside weeds. A second horse stood beside

it, a rider in the saddle looking out bemused at the men and the rolling

hills and the horizon beyond.

"Captain Ajutani," Balasar said, and the rider turned and saluted.

"You're ready for the march?"

"At your command, General."

Balasar swung himself up onto the horse and accepted the reins from his

groom.

"'T'hen let's begin," he said. "We've got a war to finish."

IT HAD TAKEN A FEW LENGI'IIS OF COPPER TO CONVINCE'FIlE KEEPERS OF THE

wide platforms to unhook their chains and haul her skyward, but Liat

didn't care. The dread in her belly made small considerations like money

seem trivial. Money or food or sleep. She stood now at the open sky

doors and looked out to the south and east, where the men of Machi made

their way through the high green grasses of summer. From this distance,

they looked like a single long black mark on the landscape. She could no

more make out an individual wagon or rider than she could take to the

air and fly. And still she strained her eyes, because one part of that

distant mark was her only son.

Ile had only told her when it was already done. She had been in her

apartments-the apartments given her by the man who had once been her

lover. She had been thinking of how a merchant or tradesman who took in

an old lover so casually would have been the subject of gossipeven a

member of the utkhaiem would have had answers to make-hut the Khai was

above that. She had gone as far as wondering, not for the first time,

what Kiyan-cha thought and felt on the matter, when Nayiit had scratched

at her door and let himself in.

She knew when she saw his face that something had happened. "There was a

light in his eyes brighter than candles, but his smile was the

too-charming one he always employed when he'd done something he feared

she'd fault him for. Her first thought was that he'd offered to marry

some local girl. She took a pose that asked the question even before he

could speak.

"Sit with me," he said and took her by the hand.

They sat on a low stone bench near the window. The shutters were opened,

and the evening breeze had smelled of forge smoke. He kept her hand in

his as he spoke.

"I've been to see the Khai," Nayiit said. "You know he believes what

Maati-cha ... what Father said. About the Gaits."

"Yes," Liat said. She still hadn't understood what she was seeing. His

next words came like a blow.

"He's taking men, all the men he can find. They're going overland to the

I)ai-kvo. I've asked to go with them, and he's accepted me. He's finding

me a sword and something like armor. He says we'll leave before the

week's out," he said, then paused. "I'm sorry."

She knew that her grip on his hand had gone hard because he winced, but

not because she felt it. This hadn't been their plan. This had never

been their plan.

"Why?" she managed, but she already knew.

He was young and he was trapped in a life he more than half regretted.

He was finding what it meant to him to be a man. Riding out to war was

an adventure, and a statement-oh, by all the gods-it was a statement

that he had faith in Maati's guess. It was a way to show that he

believed in his father. Nayiit only kissed her hand.

"I know the Dai-kvo's village," he said. "I can ride. I'm at least good

enough with a how to catch rabbits along the way. And someone has to go,