"No," she said. Then thought about it, hard, closely. No poisonous worm ate away at her insides. Her hands didn't tremble. She shook her head. "No, I'm not afraid. We can trust Anji."
The simple words, like a torch, led her footsteps to the long-awaited destination. She left Shai and found Priya settling down to sleep on stony ground. She knelt beside her. "Priya! Hsst! Where's my chest?"
The slave sighed sleepily. "The chest, Mistress? O'eki took it off the packhorse, over there, you see where the luggage is stacked. Mistress?"
"Go back to sleep."
She found it more by feel than by sight, opened the mechanism that locked the clasp shut, and had just tipped up the lid a hand's span and reached inside when she heard him walk up behind her.
"Mai? You should be resting."
Her breath caught in her chest. Her heart hammered. The silk slipped smoothly under her hands, cool and lovely. She caught hold of one edge and eased the banner out of the chest. It unfolded as it emerged, draping over her knees. Even in darkness, with only the stars to light them, the silver threads picking out the eye and mane of the black wolf shone, perfectly visible although there was no reason they ought to be.
There is never any reason for happiness. Yet it exists. It shines .
For an eternity he did not move: not to touch her, not to speak, not to glance around the camp and the soldiers and slaves and horses who surrounded them. At last, she let the lid close and the clasp catch. Its snick jolted him. He caught her hand and drew her upright with the banner caught under her left arm. Quickly, he led her through camp, pausing only to fish a rolled-up length of heavy cloth from his saddlebags.
"Captain?"
"Keep the camp quiet, Chief."
"Hu!" said Tuvi, but he didn't laugh. Sengel and Toughid faded back toward camp, and Tuvi's form receded into the night, vanishing in the shadows that were everywhere, except in her heart.
They climbed out of sight of the camp to a bare swell of ground mounded among the many hidden clefts and river washes. The brilliant heavens were their roof, and the unrolled tent their bed. They were both filthy, and their kisses tasted of grit, but desire and the night wind cleansed them. The immensity of the empty lands sheltered them, who were alone in the whole wide world, no one else, not even ghosts or scorpions, daring to disturb them, they two, who were now one.
Such a small thing, really, to mean so much.
14
Two qualities Shai possessed in plenty: He had endurance, and a high tolerance for physical pain. Father Mei had never been able to beat the stubborn anger out of him. One quality he sorely lacked: He'd never gathered enough courage to stand up to his elder brothers. Not as Hari had. Bold Hari, best of brothers.
In the early-morning twilight as he trudged along at the rear of the company among the silent tailmen, his thoughts returned doggedly to the subjects he didn't want to think about: We're out of water. We're all going to die if we don't find water soon. Dead like Cornflower. No. Nothing to be done about that. If Hari is dead, then why didn't he pass Spirit Gate? Why is he still chained to earth?
With a stumble and a quiet, sad whuffling noise, a horse collapsed. The company halted. The grooms examined the horse, shook their heads. While life still breathed in it, they opened a vein in its shoulder and drained its blood. It was a salty brew, invigorating. Everyone got a swallow, even the slaves. When Mai drank, the blood stained her lips with red, like a cosmetic meant to beautify.
As the beast failed, and died, they made ready to move out.
"Aren't we going to butcher it?" Shai croaked. "For the flesh?"
"Take too long, need water more, oasis ahead," said Chaji, his voice cracked and ragged. Then he cackled. "You can stay, fight the vultures and demons, if you want."
His feet must rise and fall, rise and fall, but he was by no means the weakest. They all struggled. The bearers were strong men, but at length some were aided by the others; they refused to let any of their number falter and fall behind. Mai walked alongside Anji. Everyone walked, to spare the horses, who suffered most. Over the course of that morning, two more horses failed, and the blood of those horses gave strength to the living. Thus, Shai supposed, did demons feast on their victims, sucking the spirit out of them. Was that what had happened to Hari?
The sun rose higher, but the air changed. He felt it as a kiss on his cheeks, as an ache, an exhilaration, in his chest. Long before they could see it, the horses smelled it and pulled eagerly, anxious to move faster. The people inhaled its promise through nostrils and parched mouths.
Water.
Discipline held. They marched in good order into an isolated oasis guarded by a surly group of twenty Qin tailmen.
"How long will you stay here?" the chief of the garrison asked them as they filed in.
"Two days," said Anji. "We all need a rest and the horses must be well watered. There are a couple too weak to go on so we'll slaughter them and feast tonight. If you send a few men back on our trail, you'll find two dead horses, not too far, to add to the feast." He walked away to where Mai was seated, washing her hands and face in water Priya had brought from the pond.
"At least we don't have to feed your men, just the horses," grumbled the garrison chief. "You don't know how hard it is keeping supplies out here!"
"The worst assignment," laughed Tuvi, slapping the man on the shoulder. "When I was a young lad just come to the army, I had a posting like this."
"Did you?" replied the chief, whose frown curved upward at this companionable talk. "We've enough to eat and drink. I think it's the boredom that kills you. All this rock and sand! No women and no pasture to admire!"
"Let me tell you about a posting that near did me in!"
The two men walked away, taking turns sucking at a pouch of an alcoholic brew, to make a circuit of the low fortifications that surrounded the well, the pool, and the scattering of vividly green trees and vegetation.
Shai waited his turn to drink with the rest of the men. The horses went first and so sullied the pool that what he drank tasted more like mud than water, but like the rest he made no complaint. Water was life. Life was better than death. He lay down in the shade of a frond tree and fell asleep at once.
" Shai. Shai." Would Hari's ghost never leave him alone? It had been weeks since the day Anji had given Hari's wolf's-head ring to Father Mei, since Shai had touched that ring and sensed Hari's fate. Now it seemed that Hari, like Girish, meant to plague the only person who could still hear him.
"Shai. Wake up."
The hand pressing against his chest had weight. It was insistent, plucking at his clothing.
"Eh. What? Mai!"
"Hush. Shh." She displayed a yellow globe of fruit, twisted it so it split open, and showed him how to scoop out the seeds so he could eat the succulent flesh. As he ate, the juices dripping down his chin, she whispered, "I'm still very angry about Cornflower. You treated her badly. But Shai, you're my uncle. We're kin. We can't fight like this. We have to hold together, don't you think?"
Hu! Who could resist Mai when she was in this mood? He could!
"I'm riding with the tailmen. Cornflower was my slave. You had no right to interfere."
"Don't be so stubborn!"
"You don't want me anyway. Look at you, flying that Qin banner now. Don't think the others don't talk around me just because I'm not Qin. I know what it means."
The blush on her cheeks brightened her. Even worn and exhausted, she had a shine that made the world a more pleasing place. No one could stay mad at her.
"Are you happy?" he muttered.
"Oh. Shai."
She was happy.
He sighed. He grasped her hand with one of his own, now sticky with juice. "We won't fight."