“The no-castes,” he murmured. “The untouchables.”

I nodded.

Bao’s eyes glittered. “We’re not done here yet, are we?”

“No,” I agreed. “Not yet.”

Two days later, the second company of guards arrived from Bhaktipur, and we set about organizing the last exodus from the fortress. All in all, there were fourteen wounded men to transport, along with several dozen servants, and the bulk of the treasure we had inventoried, saving only for the larger pieces of furniture.

Half of the injured had recovered to the point where they could sit a horse; the other half would require litters, which the new guards had brought.

Bao’s greatest concern was the cold. Hampered by the slow pace necessitated by navigating the awkward litters down the winding path without jarring the wounded, there was little chance we could manage the descent in a single day. Once night fell, we’d be trapped in the maze, the temperature plummeting. It would be a hardship for all of us, but it could take a deadly toll on the wounded men.

“Could we keep going by torchlight?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Better to rest and conserve chi energy. The cold will sap it and weaken them. I wish we had more blankets.”

I remembered how Bao and I had slept with the Rani between us at the foot of the mountain, sharing our warmth with her. “Tell them to huddle up,” I suggested. “Assign two healthy fellows to every injured man.”

“Good idea.” He chuckled. “It will be funny to see grown men curled up together like puppies in a litter.”

“It was not funny when it was me and Amrita,” I observed.

“No.” Bao grinned. “That would have been quite pleasant if it were not for the freezing cold and the sentries giving false alarms all night long.”

“Those are two very large ‘ifs,’ my magpie,” I said. “But I cannot argue the point.”

The following morning, we began our descent; and it was every bit as halting and torturous a process as I had imagined. Bao took the lead, with me behind him. Behind me was Hasan Dar, who insisted on riding against Bao’s counsel. I could hear the breath hiss through his teeth at every jolting step as we rounded the hairpin turns.

The long train of guards, servants, litters, and pack-horses stretched behind us, abandoning the mostly empty shell of the fortress.

I would be glad to see the last of Kurugiri.

We made it a good two-thirds of the way down the mountain before the light began to fade in the sky above us and shadows settled into the deep crevasses of the maze, making it impossible to read the symbols etched on the walls.

Bao called a halt. Some of the men had laughed self-consciously when he had ordered them earlier to huddle up come nightfall, pairing two each with an injured fellow. None of them laughed now as the day’s meager warmth fled.

It was an awkward business, made all the more so by the fact that our mounts were trapped in the labyrinth with us. Bao hobbled his lead mount, which was all that was needful; the path was too narrow for another horse to pass. My mare Lady gave me a mournful look, sensing no food or water in the offing.

“I’m sorry, brave heart.” I stroked her muzzle. “It was too difficult to arrange in the maze. Tomorrow, I promise.”

Bao squeezed past his mount to join me, and together we slipped past Lady to assist Hasan Dar, who dismounted with difficulty, his legs trembling.

“Why am I so cursed weak?” he asked in a fierce tone.

“Because you lost a great deal of blood and nearly died, commander,” Bao said in a matter-of-fact tone. “And the latter is still a possibility.” He spread a blanket on the stony floor of the path. “Rest, and eat if you can. Moirin and I will share our warmth with you, and hopefully the horses will not trample us in our sleep.”

“They won’t,” I said. “Horses have more sense than that.”

There were skins of water for the humans, and the roasted barley-grains mixed with yak-butter that was a staple in the mountains, reminding me of the trader Dorje and his kind wife Nyima, who had prepared a packet of the stuff for me. I rolled it into a ball, coaxing Hasan Dar to eat when he protested that he was too tired and not hungry anyway.

By the time the last traces of red had vanished from the sky, the cold intensified. Any heat lingering in the stone beneath us was gone. It was cold and hard, leaching the warmth from our flesh. Hasan Dar began to shiver violently. Bao and I pressed close against him, two blankets over us, taking turns breathing the Breath of Embers Glowing.

It was a very, very long night.

In the morning, the commander was feverish, his brow shining and damp in the cold air. “Forgive me, Bao-ji,” he said. “I am not sure I have the strength to ride.”

“I told you not to!” Bao scowled at him. “Now you have no choice.” He cupped his hands together. “Come, I will help you into the saddle. We’ll tie you in place. Moirin, there is rope in my packs.”

I squeezed past Lady to retrieve it, and together Bao and I lashed Hasan Dar into his saddle.

Off we set once more, trailing guards and servants and the spoils of war, the Rani’s commander lurching in the saddle behind us.

It is not a journey I would care to repeat, ever.

But we succeeded in emerging from the maze by midday, our company spreading out around the base of the mountain. Although the wounded were groaning in their litters, all had survived. Relief suffused Bao’s features.

“We should keep going,” I murmured to him when the last stragglers stumbled out of the maze. “We need to reach that plateau before night if we want to make a proper camp-and I think we do.”

He nodded, gazing upward. “One moment.”

From this vantage point, the stone fortress was hidden; but it was there. Kurugiri. The spirits of generations of rulers styling themselves the Falconer haunted it, sending assassins to do their bidding. The vengeful spirit of the Spider Queen haunted it: the dark lady Jagrati, despising the world and speaking bitter truth to it.

I watched Bao.

“Done,” he said softly. “It is done. I am done with this place, forever.”

After Kurugiri, we got Hasan Dar into a litter, where he tossed and turned, restless with fever.

We made camp on the arid plateau, which seemed a paradise after sleeping on the mountainside. Tents were pitched against the worst of the cold, pegs pounded into the hard earth. Supplies were shared, our mounts fed and watered, albeit in a miserly fashion.

Bao examined Hasan Dar’s wound and found it red and inflamed, flesh swelling around the stitches. “Stupid man,” he muttered. “I told you not to ride. Did you think I didn’t know what I was talking about?”

The commander’s reply was incoherent.

“Listen to me!” Bao slapped his cheek lightly. “The Rani Amrita needs you; her son, Ravindra, needs you. If they are going to change the world, they need a strong arm beside them. So stay with us, huh?”

Hasan Dar shivered. “I will try.”

“Try harder,” Bao said ruthlessly.

For a mercy, Hasan was the only one of the injured to have taken a serious turn for the worse. The others would endure.

“Pride,” I murmured. “It will be his downfall if he does not survive. Take it to heart, my magpie.”

Bao gave me a sidelong look. “Is that a warning, Moirin?”

“No.” I shrugged, too tired to argue. “I don’t know, mayhap it is. I only know you would have insisted on the same in his place.”

“Mayhap,” Bao mused. “I will think on it.”

Downward.

The air thickened and grew richer the next day, as we wound our way out of the heights, wound our way toward the meadow that lay beneath the Sleeping Calf Rock. I watched gladness settle onto the faces of the servants of Kurugiri. And two days later, as we descended into the fairy-tale valley of Bhaktipur with its warm air and lush, verdant growth, that gladness gave way to wonder.