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In the encampment, the tents were ablaze. No creature caught in that inferno could live. What would Shai see, if he were standing here? She shaded her eyes; she squinted; she stared; but she saw nothing but the chaos of the living. What did Anji see when he witnessed the rising of the ghosts of those he had killed? Did he fear their vengeance? Or did he know that ghosts are impotent in the world if you do not fear them? Only past Spirit Gate do they gain a measure of power, so the priests said. Yet according to the teaching of the Merciful One, power of the spirit comes to the spirit only by giving up power. According to the teaching of the Merciful One, Spirit Gate leads to peace because beyond the gate lies nothingness. Surely, in such a place, power as soldiers and merchants and princes understand it means nothing. Is nothing.

"Look!" Miravia tugged on Mai's elbow to pull her gaze away from the chaos below.

There! As they fled back along the road, back to the north and east from which they had come, the routed soldiers were hit by a wave of riders who smashed through them, galloped on, turned, returned, swept back through, slashing and cutting, and raced on into fields and woodland, gone as swiftly as they had come.

A second wave of horsemen stormed across the tide of fleeing soldiers. Even in their low numbers, these riders cut a devastating wake, wolves on a summer's night. The army was broken. They could only run, single men, small groups scrambling for safety, while the wolves devoured the stragglers.

The camp burned steadily. In the lower town, every able-bodied adult fought to save the warehouses and shops and living quarters from the fire, smashing some to spare the rest. There was nothing to do but watch as the battle shifted from defeating the army to defeating the fires. More folk poured out of the inner town and down through the gates into the outer town. Smoke boiled upward as flames raged along the outer wall. Ash stung her eyes, and she blinked back tears. From this high eyrie, the battle took on a certain detached fascination: there, a warehouse roof collapsed; there, a gap was cut between one burning house and a neighboring tenement just in time to prevent the fire leaping. The open spaces and squares in the lower town became crowded with folk pausing from their labors to gulp a drink of water; with wagons carrying barrels of water drawn from the river; with piles of goods hauled out of the path of the fire. The eagles did not return. Like the wolves, they pursued the enemy.

"We are on our own," said Miravia, staring shocked and weeping at the fire. "Look, there! I think that's Eliar!"

Mai could not recognize him among the throng, except that a contingent of men wearing the distinctive turbans of the Ri Amarah men could be seen bearing buckets alongside Olossi's fire brigade. Ash hissed onto the roof garden, covering everything with a thin layer.

"I hate waiting here," whispered Miravia with a fierce anger. "Unable to act! I hate it!"

Mai took her hand, to comfort her. She said nothing. She had trained in a hard school. Hating didn't change things. The world went on regardless, far beyond the feeble lives of humankind. People could change only if they changed what lay in themselves.

If Anji did not return, then she must raise the child alone. She had the will to press forward, because it must be done.

"All will be well," she said, "even if it seems otherwise now. Many will lose their homes or goods, and many will suffer, but not as they would have suffered had that army not been driven away. What will come, will come, despite our wishes and dreams. All we can do is see our way clearly. Pay attention."

A fat drop of rain shattered on Mai's arm. Raindrops splattered across the garden.

"We are saved." Miravia sank to her knees and sobbed, hands veiling her face.

A cool wind drove up out of the east as the clouds surged in. From this height, Mai watched the rain front approach from the southeast, dark and grim. Horns blew, in celebration. The wind rose in intensity, pulling at her hair, and at last the storm gusted over them and the pounding rain smothered what so many anxious hands could not, after all, put out on their own.

AT NIGHTFALL, THE troop rode up through the half-ruined lower town and in through the inner gates. Mai met them in Assizes Square. She, and everyone in town, stank of ash and burning, but also of the wet. Here, at twilight, the first downpour had slackened to a drizzle. Hooves sloshed in puddles. Feet splashed, or slipped where fallen ash had churned into slick gray mud. The crowd was, for the most part, silent as they waited in the square. Despite their victory, the mood remained subdued. Every adult appeared to be smeared with dirt and ash, or with blood, from the struggle; even many Ri Amarah men, Eliar among them, had taken up axes and staves and fought to save the warehouses. Their turbans were singed, and their linen tunics torn and dirty.

The Qin soldiers split into ranks and, at a hand signal from Chief Tuvi, halted. Anji dismounted and limped to the veranda, where the remaining council members waited. Master Feden was not among them, but Mai was. They had made room for her when she arrived with her escort of elderly male Ri Amarah "cousins."

Anji nodded at her as he climbed the three steps up to the porch. His expression was calm; what manner of injury he had taken did not seem to concern him over-much. The blood staining his clothing might well belong to those he had killed.

"Where is Captain Waras?" he asked.

"Badly injured," said Master Calon. "He's not likely to survive the night. He led the first wave out of the gates."

Anji nodded. "I bring a message from Argent Hall. It now lies under the temporary control of Reeve Joss and eagles out of Clan Hall. They have returned there to number their dead and wounded, and to await word from their Commander. A new marshal will be chosen."

These words were met with a silence, broken when Master Calon stepped forward.

"The council of Olossi-both Greater and Lesser-has conferred, and has voted. Captain Anji, it is our wish that you accept the post of commander of the militia of Olossi."

The rain had faded to spits and kisses. Under the veranda, Mai remained dry, but the weary folk crowded into the square were soaking and shivering as a night wind rose out of the southeast. Only the Qin soldiers remained unmoved. No doubt they had survived much more extreme temperatures in their distant home in the grasslands. Then she saw Shai; he, at least, rubbed his arms as if he were cold. He raised a hand to mark that he had seen her, and she touched a finger to her lips in reply. She wept, just a little, to see him whole and safe.

Anji wiped his forehead with the back of a hand, smearing grime. He had a splash of blood on his right cheek. These ornaments gave him a dangerous look as he surveyed the council members, each in turn, and the sweep of rooftops where Olossi climbed the hill beyond. Lamps were lit along the length of the porch. On the streets above, within closed compounds, lamplight glimmered. At length, he looked at Mai, but she shook her head, and he smiled faintly and turned back to the council.

"I am not moved to alter the bargain already sealed. My men and I will take lands west and north of the Olo'o Sea, in those regions of the Barrens where there is decent pasturage."

Which lands happened to lie near the seeps and fissures where the fire lanterns burn.

"Is there anything else that cannot wait until tomorrow?" he asked the council. "I will arrange for guards to be posted, some from my troop and others from the militia. I believe the threat is over, but we must remain cautious."

"No one could have survived that fire," said Calon. "Their leaders surely are dead. Together with Master Feden."

"He gave his life to save his honor," said Anji. "It was a worthy death."

He stepped forward and took Mai's hand. "Now, if you will, I desire to rest."