Mai twitched her shawl forward to give more shade for her face.
A man came to the rail up on the river-side tower. He waved a hand. "I know you, Master Iad," he said. "You are well come back to Olossi Town!"
"Captain Waras! Well met!"
"What are these wolves you've brought to my gate?"
Hearing conversation, Shai hurriedly turned back.
"This company of soldiers has guarded us along the Kandaran Pass most loyally," Master Iad continued cheerfully, although there was an edge of anxiety in his tone. "Led by this man, Captain Anji."
"A good number," said Captain Waras. "And foreigners, besides." The older guard was, laboriously and rather obviously, trying to count them all, although he had to start over several times. "Do they mean to camp outside the walls tonight and depart in the morning after they're paid? I hear there's a caravan pointed south, ready to depart in the morning, although it's hot to be out on the road."
"Not at all. They hope for a further hire here in the Hundred. I'll lay their proposal out in front of the council as soon as the council meets."
"It's a good number," repeated Captain Waras. "That's a lot of men, there."
"They've done us a service-every one of us, you and me and all Olossi-when we were attacked by ospreys up in Dast Korumbos. Killed them who meant to rob and kill us. The worst kind of knaves. The ringleader was taken prisoner, an ordinand by the rank of captain and the name of Beron. We've brought him to stand trial at the assizes."
Captain Waras was a considering man, the kind who wasted your time examining each and every peach before he decided that the one you had placed so carefully on top after all was the one he wanted. "We've had word of some trouble up West Spur. But we heard that the man in question-named Beron-was murdered."
"Murdered! Not so. We have him right here."
Waras gestured, and a guard tossed a rope ladder over the railing. Down this the militia captain descended. He wore a heavy leather jacket cut to hang to his knees, and its stiffness made his descent awkward. Otherwise he wore no armor except a leather cap with a pair of red ribbons laced around the rim and his hair tucked up underneath and, at his belt, a short sword. When he reached the ground, a guard, from above, tossed down a stout stick no longer than elbow to hand; it was painted in alternate stripes of red and black and weighted at one end with a shiny metal ball, like a club.
Anji dismounted. The two men surveyed each other, taking their measure.
"You've a strong force," said the militia captain. "Two hundred disciplined, armed soldiers, strangers to our land. You can see we are reluctant to allow you to enter town without some surety that you'll cause no trouble."
Anji nodded. "You're right to be cautious. It's what I would do in your place. Let my soldiers camp outside this gate tonight. It's no hardship for them, as long as they can water the horses and buy some manner of food-whatever is available-for their supper. I'll come into the town myself with the prisoner, by your leave. Then I can speak in front of the council as soon as it meets."
"The full council next meets in three days. Wakened Crane. You'll have to attend alone."
"Together with a small escort for my wife and her slaves. I would prefer it if she be found a decent place to stay. Some place with baths nearby, if you have such."
She blushed, but he wasn't looking at her although it seemed to her in that instant that he could hear her reaction, because of his slight smile, nothing too blatant. A promise, not forgotten even at this juncture. In response, she twitched the silk shawl back, and Waras got a good look at her face for the first time.
"Eh!" said the captain, forgetting words, and recovering himself with a tincture of grace. He nodded at the caravan master, as though the wordless exclamation had been meant for him, and turned back to Anji so deliberately it was evident he was having trouble not staring. She was pleased to see him shaken even in this small manner. When thrown into the wilderness, one must use every weapon at hand. "I can't allow any of you to bide within the walls. But a bath seems fair. I'll allow you two men for your own personal guard, ver, and four to escort you, verea." He nodded at Mai.
"We were to meet a reeve here," added Anji.
"That reeve was the one who alerted us when we reached the border crossing," put in Master Iad hastily. "He came in advance of us. You must have heard the entire story from him already."
Captain Waras had a certain measure of dignity; he had heft and seriousness. "Given the severity of the accusations, I'd like to take a look at the prisoner. Get a statement from him, his name and clan. If he's alive, that is. Or did you bring in a dead man?"
Master Iad bristled. "We brought him in alive, so he could testify. See for yourself!" He unlatched the door, opened it, whipped aside the canvas drape, and stepped away.
Mai had lost track of Shai, but now he stepped into view. He had a clear line of sight into the wagon's interior, and the look of consternation and shock on his face could not have been copied by any traveling performer as they acted out a tale. Within that gloom sat the prisoner, cross-legged on the wagon's bed, chin slumped to chest as if sleeping. There was a sudden cold silence, like an unexpected stirring of icy wind into a hot hot day.
"What is it, Shai?" asked Anji, who stood at an angle from the opening. He could not see inside.
Mai already knew. She knew that look on Shai's face. It was the look he always got when he unexpectedly saw a ghost. Always the same look. Always the same.
" 'A dart, a dart in my eye, how it stings!' " murmured Shai.
"He's dead," Mai whispered.
CAPTAIN WARAS AND his men collected more guards and escorted the Qin troop farther down along the river's shore until they reached a side channel in that area where the river became a delta. They forded a shallow channel and fetched up on a small island. Easy to guard and hard to escape from, Anji said, because easy to hear the sound of horses crossing the sluggish backwater.
In this camp, the men had up their tents and set to work with the single-minded concentration she most admired about them. They had leisure now for a hundred tasks. Horses could be groomed properly, weapons polished, knives sharpened, clothing mended, harnesses repaired, pots polished and scrubbed clean. They set to these tasks with a will, all the while seeming to ignore the guards set around them. Yet she knew they were ready to fight. None strayed farther than an arm's length from his favored sword or bow except when they went, in shifts, to wash themselves in a clear-flowing branch of the river; even then some stood guard while others dunked and splashed.
There was plenty of driftwood for campfires. She washed herself as well as she could, although it was not the same as a proper bath. She mended clothing because she had a neat hand with the needle, especially on the delicate lengths of silk. Anji worked alongside the other men, sharpening his sword and polishing his harness.
In truth, despite the threat hanging over them, she was glad for a pair of days where they weren't moving. At first, her worst problem was bugs. But as the first day passed, and a second came to its close, she found herself made restless by anxiety.
"What will happen?" she asked Anji. It was late in the afternoon of the second day. He was seated beside her, replacing one of the leather straps fixed to his saddle. Stripped of grime, and polished, the silver fittings on the saddle gleamed.
He paused to consider her question, then lifted his head and stared across the shallow channel, the fence that bound them to this islet. He marked the placement of the Olossi militia on the far shore and then looked beyond them toward the distant escarpment that marked the high country to the south. There, Mai could just make out the narrow ribbon of road crawling down the long slope down which they had come two days ago. She had felt so hopeful, then.