Four-year-olds, huh?
Yes, and halter-broken.
Very well. A gold imperial each.
Two each.
Brison hesitated, looking at her cloak, the entire black and purple mottled skin of a slasher saur, and a big specimen at that. Even for a comnee woman Ammadin was tall, but although she had the saurs front paws clasped at her neck, the middle feet hung well below her belt and the hind set trailed behind her on the ground. Apparently Brison had been on the border long enough to know what the cloak signified.
Very well. He motioned to another officer. Give the Holy One what she asked for.
The assistant counted four gold imperials out of a cloth sack and handed them over. Ammadin put them in the pocket of her leather trousers and walked away without another word.
During the day, other comnees rode up to join the camp. The fair would go on for weeks, though it would migrate as the horses ate down the grass. Outside the town, which lay across the only hill for miles in this part of the grasslands, booths built of bundled rushes stood side by side with peddlers who spread their goods out on old blankets and shepherds selling raw fleeces and baskets of rough-spun yarn. Women hawking food in baskets mingled with the crowd; here and there, a juggler or story-teller performed for a clot of onlookers. Round it all swarmed the tiny flying yellabuhs, scavenging on scraps and spills.
That afternoon Ammadin and Maradin strolled through the market, looked everything over before they bought anything, and stopped every now and then for a cup of Borderland wine, which tasted as light as water for someone used to keese. Since their First Prophet had specifically forbidden wine, the Kazraks werent supposed to drink it, of course, but here and there a drunken cavalryman staggered through the fair. Ammadin bought fine coloured threads, glass beads, and dyed hens feathers to use in making magic charms. Maradin bought lengths of striped cloth, woven from the fine light thread spun in the water-powered mills of Kazrajistan. She lingered over a tray of brass buttons.
I should get some of these for Dallador, she said.
Why? Ammadin said. You spoil him, you know, always fussing over him, always buying him things.
Well, I happen to love him. Maradin hesitated, then turned away from the button sellers booth.
Whats wrong? Ammadin said. Something is.
Maradin shrugged, and they walked a few steps on. I just get so jealous when women look at him, she said at last. I remember when I asked him to marry me, and Mama warned me that watching other women chase him would break my heart. She was right. Hes not the most handsome man in the world, but theres just something about him. Women do flirt with him. You must have noticed.
It would be hard not to.
After all, you
That was before you were married.
I know, just teasing. Maradin paused for one of her wicked grins. Its odd, isnt it? If you looked at him and Palindor together, youd think, oh, Palinos so handsome, Dallos not. But theres something cold about Palindor.
Yes, cold and hard, like a face on a Kazraki coin.
But my husband Maradin hesitated, biting her lower lip. My husbands as warm as a winter fire. I was so proud when he said hed marry me. Now, I worry all the time.
Has he ever taken any of these women up on their offer?
No. I just keep thinking hell meet someone with more horses.
Maddi! Do you honestly think hed leave you?
I dont know. I dont think so. I just get so jealous and sulky. And then I say things.
Things you regret?
Maradin nodded, looking away.
What about the men? Ammadin said. There was that fellow the last time we rode to Nannes
Oh, that doesnt bother me. He cant get them pregnant, and they dont have any horses.
Ammadin knew two kinds of spells and charms, those that worked because they had magic, and those that worked because the wearer thought they did. Love charms fell into the latter category, but usually they did their job.
Ill bind you a charm, Ammadin said. You can wear it on a thong under your shirt. When you feel jealous, take it out and hold it in your hand, and it will soak up the jealousy.
Thank you! Maradin turned to her with a brilliant smile. I should have brought this to you earlier.
Before heading back to the encampment they stopped for a last cup of wine. Nearby a juggler sent four saur eggs spinning through the air, but the crowd at the wine booth was talking about a different kind of show to be held that afternoon. One of the officers in the fort was going to be publicly cashiered.
Ill bet they waited until the fair to do it, a local weaver told them. Whats the good of shaming a man if theres no one to watch it, eh?
Well, true, I suppose, Maradin said. Whats he done?
I wouldnt know. They flog a man for any little thing out here on the border.
When the weaver drifted away, Maradin turned to Ammadin.
Lets go back to camp. I dont have the stomach for things like that.
Well, you can go back. Im going to stay and watch.
Ammi! Ugh! How can you?
Im curious, thats all. I dont understand the Kazraks, I never have, but I should, you know. We all should. Theyre dangerous.
At that Maradin hesitated, but in the end she left, taking Ammadins purchases back for her. Ammadin followed the crowd up to the town itself.
Out in front of the thorn walls of the big square fort lay the typical Kazraki public square, a bleak gravelled ground with a stone pillar standing in the centre. Already onlookers lined three sides, jostling for the best view. Things were dull in Blosk. To the sound of a silver horn, the true-wood gates swung open. A contingent of a dozen men marched a young Kazrak officer out to the six-sided pillar while others ordered the pressing crowd to stay back. Ammadin, who was caught against the wall of a house, climbed up on a trash barrel so she could see over the crowd.
Marked by the golden scabbard at his side and the narrow gold stripe down the sleeves of his tunic, the fort commander marched over to the unfortunate officer. At his barked orders, two of the troopers bound the officers wrists together with one end of a long rope, then tossed the other end over an iron hook embedded halfway up the pillar. When they pulled, they strung him up like a saur carcass hung to bleed so that his feet barely touched the ground. To steady himself the officer had to stretch himself out into a perfect target. Ammadin was close enough to get a good look at him: a handsome man for a Kazrak, with dark curly hair and black eyes above prominent cheekbones. His skin was a rich brown, darker than most of his people. While the commander conferred with the troopers, he stared out in front of him, his face utterly expressionless.
When she heard someone call her name, Ammadin looked round to see Brison, walking up to her unsteady perch on the barrel. He raised his hand palm out in the Kazrak gesture of respect.
So, the Holy One has come to watch? Brison said.
The show was here, so I thought Id see it. Whats he done?
Its a strange story. When it was time for my unit to ride here for the fair, we were told to take him with us. Hed volunteered for the horse-buying unit, and I couldnt figure out why anyone would. But a message came in that explained it all. Bad news for poor old Zayn. Hed been sleeping with the wife of this high-and-mighty court official back home, you see, and he figured he had to get out of the hot water before it boiled. Brison paused to give Ammadin a wink. He didnt jump quick enough. Her husband knew about it already, and he pulled strings.
What? Youll flog a man for that?
Adulterys against the laws of the Prophets. Brison paused for a sly grin. Besides, this old boy has favours to give away, like a reassignment off this damned border.
Out in the square, the commander yelled for silence. He ceremoniously pulled the sabre, inlaid with the golden crescent, from Zayns scabbard and threw it on the ground. Zayn set his lips tight and stared out at nothing while the commander unbuckled the sword belt and threw it after the sabre. He took a dagger from his belt, grabbed the hem of Zayns tunic, and slit it up the back and across the sleeves so that he could pull off the last trace of the khanates insignia and leave Zayn half-naked where he hung.
The man who disgraces his regiment disgraces the Great Khan, the commander said. A man who dishonours the reputation of the cavalry will have no honour in any mans eyes.
Zayn allowed himself a small bitter smile. The commander stepped back and motioned to a trooper. As the trooper unrolled his long leather whip, the crowd pressed closer.
Begin, the commander said.
The braided leather thongs uncoiled and hissed through the air to snake across Zayns bare back. Blood welled up in a thin, precise stripe. Zayns eyes flickered briefly. Over and over the whip struck, lacing his back with lines of blood. Once he winced; once he made a stifled grunt; slowly his face turned from brown to a muddy grey. Other than that, the bloody stripes might have been no more than the slap of a gloved hand. At the tenth blow, Brison swore and turned away with a shake of his head, but Ammadin watched fascinated. The Tribes admired a man able to bear this kind of pain.
The whip uncurled and flew to him again and again eleven, twelve, thirteen. Zayns dark eyes stared fixedly at some distant point, but his face was so pale that Ammadin was afraid that hed break yet. His back was nothing but blood; the whip bit into old wounds each time it fell. Nineteen, twenty Zayn tossed his head and grunted under his breath.
Enough! the commander barked. The Great Khans justice is done.
Zayn gathered his breath in a long gulp. Is it? His voice cracked and wavered, but he spoke again. You hypocrite!
The commander snarled like an animal. He raised his arm and turned to the trooper, as if he was going to order a few more stripes, but Ammadin laughed loudly enough for him to hear. He shot a black look her way and said nothing. The panting trooper stepped back and began to clean the blood-soaked whip on a bit of rag. Two others stepped forward. One threw a bucket of water over Zayns back; the other cut him down. Zayn staggered, stumbled, then pulled himself upright by an effort of will. He even managed to smile at the two troopers when one caught his arm to steady him, a cold bitter smile of blazing hatred that made them step back and leave him alone. At the commanders order, the other troopers came forward and dumped a bedroll and a pair of saddlebags at Zayns feet. The commander shoved a tiny pouch of what looked like coins into his hand.
Theres your exiles wages, the commander said. Walk wherever you want, but get out of my sight. You have three days to leave Blosk.
Zayn looked at him, then bent over to pick up the gear on the ground. Ammadin caught her breath; she was expecting him to fall and faint, but slowly and carefully he straightened up again with the load in his arms. With the blood still running on his back, he turned and staggered off. The crowd began to jeer, yelling insults as they moved out of his way, but he held his head high and walked on. Ammadin jumped off her barrel and followed him. When she passed, the crowd fell silent.
Slowly, one painful step at a time, Zayn made his way out of the public square and turned down a narrow alley. He began panting for breath, and at times he staggered, but he kept walking until hed left the crowd behind. He dropped his gear on the dusty street and leaned against the wall of a house.
Zayn? Ammadin said.
When he turned his head to look at her, he moved too fast and fell to his knees. Ammadin squatted down in front of him and spoke in the Kazraki language.
Thats your name, isnt it? Zayn?
For a moment he merely stared at her; then his mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile. Yes, he said, Zayn Hassan.
Do you have anywhere to go?
No.
Come with me if you want. I can use a man like you to tend my horses.
He reached out a hand twined round with a runnel of blood and touched the edge of her saurskin cloak. A witchwoman. Why would you bother helping the likes of me?
Because youve got guts. And it seems a little harsh to be treated this way for bedding a woman who wanted you.
Zayn managed a thin smile.
I thought so.
He fainted, falling at her feet. Ammadin got up and went to the mouth of the alley. Out in the street four young comnee men hurried along, heading for the centre of town. She recognized none of them.
You! Ammadin called. Come over here!
They stopped, scowling, turned, hands on knife hilts. The tallest of them suddenly smiled.
Its a spirit rider, he said. Were coming, Holy One. What do you want us to do?
Carry this man and his gear back to my camp.
The four trotted over and did what she asked.
Ammadin had them lay Zayn face-down in the grass behind her tent, then sent for Orador, the man who knew wound lore. He was a portly man, Orador, with a long drooping moustache, mostly grey, and a round face to match his belly. A young apprentice brewed herb-water at Ammadins fire while the master looked over Zayns wounds. Carefully he washed the blood off Zayns back with the herb-water, then poured keese over the stripes. When the liquor hit, Zayns fingers dug into the grass like a saurs claws, but he made no noise at all.
Thatll keep the evil spirits away, Orador said cheerfully. No bandages for you, boy. Airs the best thing for these shallow wounds, and the bleedings stopped already.
With a long sigh, Zayn turned his head and looked at Ammadin, hunkered down near him in the grass. His eyes were as distant from his pain as if he were merely taking the sun.
How soon can he ride? Ammadin said.
Today if I have to, Zayn whispered.
Orador laughed under his breath. I like your guts, but youll need to rest for a couple of days, at least.
Easy enough, Ammadin said. The comnee wont be riding for a while. When we do leave, Zayn, well be heading east.
Good. Zayn smiled briefly. Ive always been curious about the east.
All at once, Ammadin felt danger, an odd intuition that seemed to rise out of no particular cause. For a moment she considered Zayn, lying utterly still in his exhaustion, his back as raw as a piece of freshly butchered meat. The warning came to her as the scent of anger. Puzzled, she stood up and found Palindor standing nearby with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. When he caught her glance, he turned on his heel and strode off. So thats it! Ammadin thought. Well, I can handle a jealous young colt like him easy enough. She left Zayn under Oradors care and went to find Apanador to tell him that she had a servant and the comnee a new rider.
After they left Samahgan, Warkannan led his men north rather than straight east, just as if he were indeed going to visit Arkazos family in their country villa. In this province, Zerribir, the larder of Kazrajistan, the land stretched out flat in a broad valley, all gold and red with crops wheatian, oil beans, breadmoss, vegetables tended by farmers who lived in white-washed cottages set among the rosy fields.