"I was tempted, Iraj admitted. It's been too long since I hip-danced with a woman."

Safar was surprised. The other village boys boasted frequently of their conquests but he knew their claims to be lies. He'd heard his sisters and mother joke about young men who were foolish enough to think any well-raised Kyranian girl would lessen her bridal price by dallying with themunless marriage was the intended result. Sometimes a caravan would be accompanied by prostitutes bound for distant pleasure halls. But their carnal interest was stirred by fat men with fatter purses, not poor, skinny-legged boys.

But when Iraj spoke Safar knew it was no empty boast.

"Are your unmarried women in the habit of bedding anyone who asks them? he asked. No offense intended. It's just that such things are frowned upon in Kyrania. The only reason that girl would have gone with you is she thinks you're rich, as does her father. And if you'd opened her legs her father would soon be talking to Gubadan about a wedding date."

"I suspected as much, he said. That's why I kept my sword in its sheath. And no, our women are not of easy virtue. It's just that I've always had serving maids around to tend my needs. My mother saw to it there were always a few comely slaves about. Among my people it's considered unhealthy for a young man to be denied such pleasures."

"I wish my mother were so concerned for my health, Safar said. But what if there are children? What do you do then?"

Iraj shrugged. After they're weaned we usually sell them, he said. It's cheaper to buy new slaves than to raise one to a useful age."

Safar was shocked. How could you sell your own child? he asked.

Iraj looked at his friend as if he'd gone crazy. I've never thought of them as my own, he said. I might as well claim the blanket lint in my bed as children every time I make love to my fist. Besides, even free women have no more of a soul than say, a camel or a horse. They were put here by the gods for our pleasure and to birth more of us. I'm only making the use of them that the fates decreed."

Safar bit back a heated reply. To hear someone say his mother and sisters were nothing more than brood mares and whores angered him. But he said nothing, thinking Iraj couldn't help how he was raised.

The two continued climbing and soon came to the vale where the herds were grazing. Safar relieved the boys tending them, gathered the goats and drove them higher into the mountains.

The hills were in full springtime bloom, flowers and tempting grasses rising from every flat spot and crevice so he set a slow pace, letting the goats and the llama stop and nibble whenever they liked. The young men made camp early, setting the herd loose in a small meadow and bedding down in a grotto shielded from the night winds. They roasted the pheasants and filled the left over hollows in their bellies with toasted almonds, cheese and hard breadwashed down with milk from the goats. The sunset was brief but spectacular, turning the meadow and grotto into a dreamy, golden landscape. Then the moon and the stars winked into life. Safar and Iraj gazed at them for a long time, silent as acolytes at a temple ceremony.

Then Iraj said, Did you know my star sign was the same as Alisarrian's?"

Safar shook his head, although it suddenly came to him that he'd known all along. He tried to make a joke of it, saying, Does that mean you have sudden urges to go a conquering?"

Iraj didn't laugh. His eyes glittered as if the remark had struck an unintended target.

"I'm sorry if I offended you, Safar said. It was a silly thing to say."

Iraj nodded. After a moment he asked, Don't you sometimes imagine you have a destiny to fulfill?"

"Only as a potter, Safar said.

Iraj pierced him with his gaze. Is that what you truly think, Safar?"

"What else would I be? I'm a Timura. Timuras make pots."

Iraj shrugged as if to say, claim what you like but I know better. Then he said, I told you I dreamed of a fellow named Safar, did I not?"

"When we first met, Safar answered.

"I was surprised you never asked me more about it. Most people would."

Safar didn't reply, remembering the vision of the king on the white elephant.

Iraj stared at him for a long moment. If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to reveal it?"

Safar promised, relieved that the conversation seemed to have taken a less dangerous turn.

"If you break the vow, Iraj warned, I will most certainly be killed."

Safar was taken aback. At that point in his young life he'd never encountered a secret with such a penalty attached.

"It's the reason I'm living here with you, Iraj continued. My father, you see, was lord of our tribe and I was to succeed him."

"Did your father die recently? Safar guessed.

"He caught a fever a little more than year ago, Iraj said. It took six months for it to suck out his life. During that time my family quarreled and became dividedwith some favoring me as a successor, while others backed my uncle, Fulain. When my father died the break became permanent."

Iraj went on to explain that at first the tide was in his favor because more family members supported him. One of his cousinsa much respected older man who was rich in land and horseswas to be appointed regent until Iraj came of age and could take up the ruler's staff.

"But Fulain made a bargain with my father's most hated enemy, Iraj said. An evil man named Koralia Kan who slew my grandfather when my father was a boy. And my father revenged the family by killing Kan's first born. So there is much spilled blood between us."

Iraj said one dark night Fulain gave Kan and his horse soldiers free passage through his land, joining him in a series of surprise attacks. Many died, including the cousin who would have been regent. When Fulain had the rest of the family under his heel he demanded Iraj's head so there would be no one to dispute his claim as clan lord.

"My mother begged one of my unclesher sister's husbandto help, Iraj said. I was forced to flee my own home and hide out with his peoplethe Babor clan. But there were so many spies about it wasn't safe to remain long. My uncle was ashamed to send me away. But he has his own wives and children to look after so he sent me here to hide from Fulain and Kan."

To Safar the tale had the ring of legend about it. He felt like a child listening to his father tell stories of old days and wild ways.

"Will you never be able to return? he asked.

Iraj jammed a stick into the fire and flames leaped up to carve deep shadows on his face. He looked older in that light. And quite determined.

"The war in my family continues, he said. But it is a silent war of spies and night raids. When it's safe my uncle will send for me. And then I will be tribal lord."

"How can you be sure? Safar asked. What if Fulain and Kan keep the upper hand?"

Iraj went silent. He stabbed moodily at the fire. Then he said, I must believe it, don't you see? Otherwise I might as well take my own life now."

Safar didn't see. Why should Iraj die because he couldn't be lord of his tribe? Why not stay in Kyrania where no danger could touch him? He could live a long peaceful life. Marry one of the village women and be happy with all the beauty and bounty of Kyrania. But he said none of those things because he could see from Iraj's agitation it would only upset him morealthough Safar didn't understand why. Instead, he asked him about the customs of his own people.

"It's nothing like here, Iraj said with unconscious disdain. We don't farm. We aren't slaves to the land. We fight for what we want. And we fight more to keep it. For I tell you, Safar, I learned at my father's knee that men will either love you or fear you. There is no in-between."

He said his family had roamed the broad Plains of Jaspar for centuries. They were the fiercest of the tribes that remained after Alisarrian's kingdom broke up. They lived by raiding weaker tribes and looting villages and cities in distant lands. In recent yearseven before his father became illthings had not gone well.