The Ascendancy Veil

SEVENTEEN

There was a village inside the Forest of Xu.

At least, when they had first laid eyes on it, they had assumed it was a village. They still were not entirely certain even now, as dusk approached on their second day in the forest. It was something so utterly alien to their experience that they had no adequate parallels to draw.

It was built around the existing trees with no apparent boundaries, sprawling up the trunks into the canopy and spreading along the ground in a curiously organic fashion. The constructions were formed of a glistening substance, hard as rock and smooth to the touch, predominantly an icy blue-white, but sometimes shaded brown or green. It had a subtle iridescence and a maddening quality that was not quite translucence but more a chameleon-like mimicry of colour: it seemed to change its hue to whatever lay behind it, depending on where the viewer stood. When Kaiku laid her hand on it, she left a hazy pink imprint which faded after a time.

Tsata, particularly, had been fascinated by how this strange village had been built, and it was he that found the key, and uncovered the secret at least partially. The substance was sap, bled from the trees and hardened through some unknown art into a multitude of shapes. Every construction, no matter how remote, was eventually linked to a tree bole at some point, though no evidence of cutting could be found. And now that they had established this, it was possible to see a certain flow to the architecture, a kind of glacial creep around which offshoots had been moulded with exquisite artistry. Kaiku had the uncomfortable sensation that the village was still growing; indeed, she found evidence of channels in which glistening sap still lay, oozing with excruciating torpidity towards the tips and edges of the existing constructions, which were wet with the stuff. She guessed that this would be moulded and hardened too, in time, to form another offshoot.

The village was an exhibition of dizzying variety. Wide discs buried in the bark of the trees were set in irregular patterns, sometimes growing in size as they ascended, sometimes diminishing. Spiky sprays erupted into the air. Gossamer threads were stitched through the branches, or formed twisting, unsupported bridges that defied physics. Some of the dwellings were like uneven pagodas, others smooth semicircular domes, still others jagged starbursts of colourful sap. Many of them had no visible means of entry. Some were up in the trees: inverted cones of three-quarter circumference growing out from the trunks. Venous tubes like tunnels ran between them, sometimes fracturing into smaller capillaries that tapered away to nothingness as they ran like shatter-cracks along the bark.

Different building styles were evident in different parts of the village, one graduating into another as the eye followed the lines of the dwellings. Some had been sculpted like coral, hulking accretions of sap that branched and overlapped in a dozen different formations and colours; others were thin and needle-like, white clusters of stalagmites rising high overhead; still others were cloudlike and billowing, rounded shapes heaped together like a pile of snowballs.

Kaiku, Asara and Tsata were the first to see it, and it was only afterwards that Tsata pointed out they were probably the first humans ever to have done so. The impact of that had made Kaiku lightheaded, and she had to sit down for a short while.

They had to assume that it was built by the emyrynn, but their only basis for that was the way the creatures had led them here. Once Kaiku and her companions had arrived, the emyrynn disappeared entirely. Upon exploration, there was no sign of life here, nor any indication that anyone or anything had ever occupied these bizarre abodes. Either that, or the inhabitants had deserted this place on their approach, taking everything with them, leaving it preternaturally spotless.

Tsata returned and led the rest of the party to the village. Lucia seemed to believe the spirit-beasts were trustworthy, and they had little alternative but to take her word for it. If that was the case, then had they been provided this place for shelter, somewhere to rest their wounded? Was it possible that these creatures were benevolent rather than hostile? Though many of them suspected a trap, for spirits were notoriously tricky, they settled themselves for the night. The disconcertingly alien surroundings were made more ominous by the eerie quiet and failing light. Doja insisted that they camp in the open and not sleep inside any of the sap-buildings. His men were only too glad to comply.

Neryn was waxing tonight, casting a soothing green light through the interknit branches overhead. Aurus was low in the northern sky, visible only by her glow on the edges of the leaves. Kaiku wandered through the camp amid the restless murmur of the troops, distracted by the architecture. The troops cast unfriendly glances at her. She was alone, and content to be so. Lucia was asleep; Phaeca had also retired, complaining that she felt ill; Tsata and Heth were tending their fallen comrade and would not leave her side.

Kaiku had spotted Asara earlier that evening, leaning against the side of one of the emyrynn dwellings, watching her while she absentmindedly cleaned her rifle. Kaiku, suddenly tired of her manner, had strode over to her to have this out; but she had picked up her rifle and gone before Kaiku got there. Obviously she did not want to talk then.

But now, suddenly, she appeared at Kaiku's side. 'I wish to speak with you,' she murmured.

'And I with you,' Kaiku replied.

'Not here,' said Asara. 'Come with me,'

Kaiku followed as Asara led them away from the camp. The village spread and towered around them, the silent edifice of an unknown species, aloof and impenetrable. They went some way from the camp, until they were sure there was nobody around, and there Asara stopped. For a moment, she did not turn; her shoulders were tight with suppressed emotion. Then she seemed to make a decision, and she faced Kaiku.

Kaiku studied her expectantly. The almond-shaped eyes painted in soft green, the dark skin, the achingly exotic beauty of her all belonged to a stranger, but under that she was still Asara; wonderful, treacherous Asara, whom she loved and hated in equal measure. The woman who had given her life, and taken for it a piece of Kaiku's essence and left a piece of her own, little splinters of desire that had lodged in their hearts and never quite worked free. Each wanted what the other had: that sliver of themselves that had been lost in the transaction.

Eventually, for Asara seemed so uncertain, it was Kaiku who spoke first. 'What is my debt, Asara?' she asked. 'What would you have me do to redress the balance between us?'

'You admit that you owe me, then?' Asara said quickly.

'I do owe you,' Kaiku said. 'But do I owe you enough to do as you ask? I will hear what you have to say before I decide.'

'Very well.' Asara still seemed wary. 'But you must swear first that what I have to ask you will never be repeated by you to anyone. To anyone. Whether you agree or not.'

'You have my oath,' said Kaiku, for she knew that Asara would go no further without it, and she wanted this done.

Asara regarded her carefully in the darkness, her eyes glittering. Debating whether to trust her.

'Asara,' Kaiku snapped, impatient. 'You have followed me this far. Do not fool yourself into thinking you are making a choice; you made it some time ago. You have shadowed my footsteps too long. What do you want?'

'I want a child,' Asara hissed.

There was silence between them. Asara retreated, spent by the effort of the admission. Kaiku stared.

'I want a child,' she said again, quieter. 'But I cannot bear one.'

'Why not?' Kaiku asked, slightly dazed. This was her secret longing?

'I do not know why not,' Asara replied. 'I can… change myself, but only to an extent. I can take on the forms of men and women, but not of beasts, nor of birds. I can alter my skin and my shape, but I have limits. What I can do, I do by instinct. I do not know how it happens. I cannot see inside myself. I cannot fix myself.'

It made sense to Kaiku then. 'You want me to make you fertile.'

'You can do this!' Asara said, and there was naked hunger in her voice. 'I have heard of the deeds you and your kind are capable of. I have seen Sisters bring men back from the brink of death, healing with their hands. I watched you save that Tkiurathi woman's life just hours ago! You have the power to repair whatever is wrong with me.'

'Perhaps,' said Kaiku.

'Perhaps?' Asara cried.

'I am not a god, Asara,' Kaiku said. 'I cannot create what is not there. I do not know what kind of changes Aberrancy has wreaked in you. What if you have no womb? I cannot give you one.'

'Then look! Look inside! You can tell me!' Asara was desperate now; her hopes had been vested in this for so long that the possibility of them being dashed was too much for her to take. For so long, lonely and empty; ever outcast, ever unable to fill the void that yawned inside her. There were none like she was, even among the Aberrants. In all ninety of her years, she had never found another. And it was Shintu's cruellest trick indeed to make her ageless and yet rob her of the power to procreate.

But Kaiku's brow was creased in a frown. 'I will have to think on this, Asara.'

'You owe me,' Asara spat, her fear turning to fury. 'I gave you a life; now you give me one!'

'And what would you do with it, Asara?' Kaiku asked. Her hair hung across one eye, but the other one regarded Asara steadily. 'What would I be unleashing if I allowed more creatures like you into the world?'

'It is the right of every woman! I was denied!'

'Are you even a woman?' Kaiku asked. 'Were you one to begin with? I wonder.' She had lapsed into the tone she used when she wore the make-up of the Sisterhood: stern, authoritative. 'Perhaps the gods had a reason to deny you. Perhaps one of you is enough.'

'Do not pronounce moral judgements upon me!' Asara raged. 'Not when you and your Red Order plot and scheme towards the throne. Your conscience is not unstained, Kaiku. Ask Cailin why your kind let the Weavers take the Empire. Ask her if hundreds of thousands, if millions of lives were worth sacrificing so that the Sisterhood could rise!'

Kaiku gazed at her levelly. 'Perhaps I will,' she said, and she turned and walked away. She could sense Asara's hateful glare prickling against her nape, and was half expecting the spy to attack her out of sheer thwarted anger; but Asara let her go.

Kaiku let the quietude of the forest envelop her, broken only by the sinister ticks and taps in the distance. Once her mind was still, she began to consider what Asara had said. They spent an uneasy night within the emyrynn village, but when dawn came they were still all there. None of them were in good shape, however. Terrifying dreams haunted them, and the early watches had been punctuated by the shrieks of waking men. Most gave up trying to sleep, too afraid of what lurked just beneath the skin of unconsciousness. Those that persevered caught snatches of slumber, a few minutes at a time, before awakening in a worse state than they had been before. Tempers were fraying among the men. They resented the forest and the spirits and so, lacking targets, they snapped at each other.

What was worse, it became clear soon afterward that they would not be going anywhere that day. Peithre had improved a little, but Phaeca had become sick. Kaiku talked with Doja, who admitted that it was foolhardy to go on with one of the Sisters down and the other one determined to stay. He broke the news to his men, sweetening it by pointing out that he believed they were safe from the forest in the emyrynn village.

Kaiku was dubious about this last statement, but it served her purpose. The soldiers accepted their fate with stoic expressions, though later there would be dissent amongst them. The spirits were bad enough, but the sleeplessness was getting to them too. There was something in this place that poisoned the mind, and they did not want to linger a moment more than necessary. She knew how they felt. There was no telling how much longer it would take them to get to the Xhiang Xhi, and every day there was a day back.

She visited Phaeca. Against Doja's wishes, Phaeca had moved herself out of her tent and inside one of the emyrynn dwellings, where she had unrolled her sleeping-mat. It was warm and oddly sterile there, an irregularly shaped room with the curve of a tree bole as one wall. Protuberances of sap were moulded from parts of the floor and ceiling, things that could have been sculpture or which might have had a mundane and utilitarian purpose. A thin tunnel, too small for anything bigger than a mouse, opened out into the room. From what Kaiku could determine, it wound all the way up the tree until it was lost in the branches, but she could not imagine what it was for.

Phaeca was making little sense. She was babbling as if feverish, but she had no temperature, and though she was agitated she was not sallow. She slapped Kaiku's hand away when it was laid on her cheek, and muttered unpleasant things about her as if she was not in the room. Kaiku knelt by her for a time, deeply concerned. There was no healing possible: she had defences to keep others out, even other Sisters. Besides, the more she studied her companion, the more Kaiku worried that the affliction was not physical at all. Her shrieks had been the loudest last night. Like Lucia, the forest was battering her, and Kaiku did not know how well her sanity would hold.

Gods, why did we ever come to this cursed place? she thought to herself, but she already knew the answer to that one. They came here because it was their last chance.

She glimpsed the emyrynn a few times that day, flitting among the trees in the distance. Each time, she stared out into the blue and green folds of the forest and wondered about the nature of their curious hosts. She went to see Peithre, who was very weak but awake, and spoke with Tsata for a time. But he seemed odd to her today: there was something in his manner that she could not fathom, and eventually she gave up on trying and left him alone. The atmosphere in the camp depressed her, but she was stuck here, as they all were.

She took to wandering around the village, to give herself space to think. The charge laid on her by Asara was a heavy one. At least she knew now why Asara had followed her into the forest: she had an investment to protect. But even if Kaiku could do it, the question was: should she? Did she dare allow a being like that to procreate?

It was not the same to her as being asked to stop Asara having children. That she would never do. That was taking something away from her. But giving her the ability to breed seemed another matter entirely. It was action rather than inaction: every deed of her offspring, every result would be because of Kaiku.

What if they all grew with Asara's abilities? What if they were all as deceitful as their mother? How could they fail to be? Gods, she would be making Asara the progenitor of a new race. A race of beings who could take on any face, any human form; the perfect spies, lethal mimics, with unguessable life-spans. Only the Sisters would be able to penetrate their disguise.

She caught herself. Her imagination was running away with her, perhaps. There was no guarantee that Asara's off-spring would inherit her gift. And even if they did, there was no reason why they should become the beautiful and dreadful creatures that Kaiku envisaged. Asara's nature would not necessarily be theirs.

But the possibility was there. She could not deny that.

She wanted to talk it over with Tsata. It was frustrating that he was so close by and yet she was oath-bound not to speak of it. She admired his incisive mind and his honesty. He would have been able to help her untangle the knots. He would have told her that action and inaction are the same in this matter, that if she was prepared to deny Asara the gift of fertility for fear of creating a race of monsters then she should be prepared to prevent her from conceiving too, and vice versa. He would have cut through the deceptions that she made for herself, the double standards and smokescreens of etiquette and belief. He would have told her that the real reason she was debating this was because she did not want the responsibility of having to make that choice.

She knew all this, but it did not make the deciding any easier. Night stole across the land again, and this time there were no moons to leaven it.

The soldiers had come to dread the darkness. The prospect of sleep was worse than the exhaustion of being awake, and many were too afraid to even try; yet always they were dragged down towards unconsciousness. Sentries nodded at their posts; heads lolled, and their owners were startled awake with a cry as the nightmares leaped hungrily upon them. The forest was a place that tricked the eye anyway, but deprived of sleep as they were, they were constantly seeing movement and fleeting hallucinations.

'We have to set out tomorrow,' Doja had growled at Kaiku. 'These men can't take this any longer. We'll carry Phaeca and the Tkiurathi woman if necessary.'

Kaiku had not flatly forebade it, but she was reluctant. In the end, she agreed that if Peithre's condition improved overnight enough to safely move her, then they could fashion stretchers and set off again. She, too, was concerned about the state of mind of the party. Her kana-ministered metabolism meant that she was not so exhausted as the others, but she feared that accidents were bound to happen if there was much more of this. There were altogether too many rifles and jumpy trigger fingers in this camp.

But there was one ray of hope among it all: just after the last of the dusk had fled the sky, word came to Kaiku that Lucia was awake and lucid. Kaiku hurried to her, and found her outside her tent. She gave Kaiku a fleeting smile and invited her to walk. They wandered a little way from the camp, among the nacreous wonders of the emyrynn, and Kaiku was relieved to see that she was indeed clear-headed and attentive.

'The Xhiang Xhi is not far,' Lucia said.

'Is that so?' Kaiku asked in surprise. 'We cannot have penetrated very deep into the forest yet.'

Lucia cast her a slyly amused look. 'This is a place of spirits,' she said. 'We could walk forever and never reach the other side, or we could emerge there within an hour's march. Distance is fluid here. Don't you think it a coincidence that this village happened to be so close to where Peithre fell? In a forest this size, wasn't that extraordinarily convenient?'

'It had occurred to me,' Kaiku admitted.

'If the Xhiang Xhi did not want to be found, we would never find it,' Lucia said. 'But it does.'

'Then why does it not appear? Why put us through this?'

'I don't know. The ways of the spirits are strange. Perhaps it's testing us. Perhaps it's curious about me, and wishes to study me first.'

Kaiku did not like that thought. 'You could still turn back, Lucia,' she said. 'It is not too late.'

Lucia gave her a sorrowful look. 'Oh, it is. Far too late.' She looked away, out of the village through the dark trees and unfamiliar foliage. 'Besides, if we turned back now we would never get out of the forest. The Xhiang Xhi wants to see me. It's intrigued, I think. If not for that, we would not have survived even this long.'

'If it wants to see you, why is it allowing us to be harmed?' Kaiku asked rhetorically.

Lucia answered anyway. 'It wants to see me,' she replied. 'The rest of you are expendable, perhaps.'

Kaiku felt a slow chill creep through her.

Lucia turned with a suddenness of movement that made Kaiku stop walking. The younger woman gazed at her with an unfamiliar purpose in her eyes.

'Lucia, what is it?'

'There are things I must say to you,' she said. 'In case I never again get the chance to speak them.'

Kaiku frowned. 'Do not talk that way.'

'I'm serious, Kaiku,' she said. 'I don't know if I'll ever be this clear-headed again.'

'Of course you will!' Kaiku protested. 'Once we get out of the forest, you will-'

'Let me speak!' Lucia snapped. Kaiku was shocked into silence. Lucia softened. 'Forgive me. Let me say this. That is all I ask.'

Kaiku nodded.

'I want to thank you. That is all. You and Mishani. I want you to know that… I appreciate everything you have done for me. For being like sisters to me. And you have always, always been on my side. When all this is done, I…' She trailed off. 'I just wanted you to know. You have my love, and you always will.'

Kaiku felt her eyes welling, and she gathered Lucia up in an embrace. 'Heart's blood, you make it sound like a farewell. We will come through this, Lucia. You will live to tell Mishani that yourself.' Lucia clutched her closer. 'I will protect you, even if it means my life.'

'There are some things that even you cannot protect me from,' Lucia whispered. And then she looked up, over Kaiku's shoulder, and some aspect of her body language told Kaiku there was somebody there. She turned, and it was Heth.

'Is Tsata with you?' he asked without apology or preamble.

The tone in his voice killed the caustic reply Kaiku was about to make. 'I have not seen him,' she replied instead.

'But he left to go after you,' Heth said, his features animate with confusion as he wrestled with the unfamiliar Saramyrrhic syllables. 'Into the forest.'

'I have not been out of the village,' Kaiku said.

'He saw you leave,' Heth persisted. 'I was with him. I did not see you, but he did. He said he must talk with you.'

An odd foreboding was settling into Kaiku's marrow. 'When was this?'

'A few minutes ago. Peithre has worsened; I came to fetch him.'

Kaiku looked at Lucia. 'Three nights past, the night I was attacked by the spirit in the trees… I saw you walk out into the forest, and I went to follow you.'

Lucia looked blank. 'I didn't leave my tent that night. I was asleep, and there were guards outside.'

'Gods!' Kaiku hissed. 'Go back to the camp! Heth, show me where he went!'

Heth obeyed without hesitation, while Lucia hurried away, alarmed. Kaiku followed the Tkiurathi for a short distance, until he stopped and pointed. 'That way.'

Kaiku's irises turned red. She would never be able to track a Tkiurathi through conventional means, even if she had the necessary skills; but in the Weave she could still hunt him. She could see his scent-trail, the faint agitation of air in his wake, the memory of his breath and the reverberation of his heartbeat.

'See to Peithre,' she murmured. 'You cannot help me now.'

And with that, she plunged into the forest.

It swallowed her eagerly. Hanging vines and tendrils of blue plants brushed at her as she ran. The ground was treacherous, a tangle of roots and glittering rocks; it rose and dipped and twisted, making her speed reckless. But she read the ground as she read the air, predicting its contours through the threads of the Weave, and she was sure-footed.

She cursed herself as she went. If only she had pushed Lucia a little more, if only she had thought to investigate further the incident when she had seen her walking away from camp. But Lucia had been impenetrable, her mind elsewhere, and Kaiku had not wanted to cause more trouble among the soldiers before she heard the story from Lucia's own lips.

Now she knew that there was no story. Lucia had not gone anywhere. Whatever it was she had been following that night, it was not Lucia. And Tsata had fallen for the same trick.

If he died because of her stupidity…

She was genuinely, utterly terrified. Not for herself, but for the incomplete half of that thought. She was afraid of the void that would be left in the wake of his passing. Adept at armouring her own heart, she had not realised how much she had missed him while he was away, how much it gladdened her to talk with him, to fence with his foreign mind-set, to simply have him near her. Not until now, not until she thought she might be about to lose him again, and permanently this time.

She accelerated to a sprint, following his invisible trail, her boots sliding on the ground, her shoulders clipping trees that she failed to dodge entirely. There was a panic welling within her, something that threatened her with madness. She dared not think about what would happen if she found him dead, his eyes milky white and his face a map of swollen veins like the other man they had found. Even if she had to face down that massive shadow, that half-seen beast that had attacked her before, she would not falter.

The sound of her passing was loud in the silence of the forest, the lashing of fronds against her body and the dull sound of her boots on the dirt. Something was whispering to her, some premonition that told her every second was precious, every instant she delayed could be the crucial one, the difference between facing the awful emptiness of Tsata's death and the joy of finding him alive and well. Fighting her way through the golden tapestry of the forest, she cried out his name, hoping to warn him somehow, praying that he could hear her and that it was not too late.

And then she burst through a screen of leaves and into a tiny patch of open ground, and there was Tsata, his outline a million glowing threads, turning towards her in surprise. And over his shoulder she saw something, some black and twisted entity that shared her shape in the physical world but not here in the Weave: a spirit that mimicked others, leading its victims away to kill them. Its illusion failed it then, and it turned its face upon her, and she saw there a doorway to the secrets of the spirit realm, a sight so incomprehensible that it would turn a man's mind inside out and slay him on the spot. But she was a Sister of the Red Order, and she had seen things that no man had.

'Do not look at her!' she screamed, grabbing Tsata's head and pulling it down into her shoulder. Her other arm she threw out at the spirit, and her kana burst free and tore into it. It howled, an unearthly shriek as Kaiku shredded through its defences and ripped into its essence, and then it was rent into tatters.

The silence returned, and there was only the two of them. Kaiku became suddenly conscious of the nearness of their bodies. She released Tsata's head and he raised it, a question in his pale green eyes. Though he did not understand, he knew by what he had heard that Kaiku had saved him from something. Their faces were a fraction too close still: he had not drawn away past the point where proximity could still pull lips and tongues together. They trembled there for an instant, on the cusp of that; and then she kissed him, and he melted into her, his arms sliding around her back.

For a time, there was nothing but the sensation of it, the rhythm of their mouths meeting and parting, the pressure of their contact. Then, as their kisses became shallower until they were mere brushes of the lips, thought began to intrude once again. Kaiku opened her eyes – still blood-red in the aftermath of her kana – and saw Tsata looking back at her. Her gaze roamed him uncertainly, afraid of the blow that would shatter the fragile state they had found themselves in. She traced the lines of the tattoos on his cheeks, the orange-blond sap-stiffened hair, the line of his jaw; and she saw in him the antithesis of all she hated in her life, all the deceit and subterfuge and secrecy that had killed her family and torn her world apart. And yet she waited in terror for him to break the spell, to tell her that this was only a mistake of passion, that his brutal self-honesty would not allow him to go on with this if his heart was not in it.

He seemed about to speak; but in the end, he moved to kiss her instead. She pulled away fractionally, and he stopped, confused.

'Peithre has worsened,' she murmured. 'You should go to her.'

His pale green eyes flickered across her face. Then he was gone, disappearing without a word into the forest, leaving Kaiku alone. When Nuki's eye next rose in the east, it found Mishani sitting on the shore of Lake Xemit, looking out over the water.

It was a cold dawn, and around her she had a heavy crimson shawl, embroidered in gold. Her hair pooled on the cloth that she had laid down to prevent her dirtying her hem. She had been here most of the night, thinking, chasing herself in ever tighter circles until she was left with a conclusion. It was an unwise course, one that she dreaded to take, and she did not want to accept it; yet she knew in her heart that it was inevitable, and her protests were weak and failing fast.

Presently she heard the tread of approaching feet on the dewy grass slope that led down from the temple complex of Araka Jo. She guessed it to be Yugi even before he walked into her line of sight.

'Daygreet, Mishani,' he said. 'May I join you?'

'Daygreet, Yugi. Please do.' She moved across to make space for him on the cloth, and he sat down heavily next to her.

'No sleep for you, then?' he said.

'Nor for you, it seems.' She studied him. He looked dishevelled as ever, and he reeked of amaxa root. It was obvious what had kept him up.

'I begin to wonder how many more nights I have left,' he said. 'Sleeping seems such a waste of precious time.'

'That sounds a fast route to madness,' Mishani said, half-seriously.

Yugi scratched the back of his neck. 'This whole land is in the grip of madness, Mishani. If I were mad, I might at least have a chance of understanding it.'

They looked out across the lake for a time, before Yugi spoke again.

'There is word that your mother will publish another book soon. Cailin speaks of plans in the wake of the information you have given us,' he said, and coughed. 'She's still agitating for an assault on Adderach when Lucia returns. Depending on what news comes from this latest tale.'

'Foolish,' Mishani said with a sigh. 'An army would be cut to pieces in those mountains.'

'Perhaps,' Yugi replied.

She glanced at him. He was unshaven and gaunt. 'You are overfond of the root, Yugi,' she said. 'Once you controlled it; now it controls you. You are the leader of many men and women. Their lives are your responsibility. Stop this idiocy before you lose your judgement.'

Yugi seemed a little surprised, apparently deciding whether to take umbrage or not. Then he sagged, and merely looked weary. 'You're far from the first to tell me that. It's not so simple.'

'Cailin could help you overcome the addiction, perhaps,' Mishani suggested, brushing her hair over her shoulder.

Yugi snorted a laugh. 'I'm not addicted, Mishani. I smoked amaxa root for years and it never got a hold on me. The root is only a symptom of the cause.'

'What, then, is the cause?' she asked.

He did not answer for a while, debating whether to tell her or not. Mishani was no confidante of his. But she waited patiently, and finally he shrugged and sighed.

'I was a bandit, once,' he said. 'I imagine you know that.'

'I had surmised as much from things Zaelis said,' she admitted.

'Did you also know that I had a woman back then?'

'A wife?'

'As near as can be. We had little use for marriage, and no priests.'

'That I did not know.'

Yugi was tentative, ready to abandon this conversation at the slightest hint of sarcasm or mockery from Mishani. She gave him none. This was important to him, and that made it important to her, for he was the leader of the Libera Dramach and any knowledge about his state of mind could be advantageous.

'Her name was Keila,' he said. He opened his mouth to say more, perhaps to describe her to Mishani, perhaps to talk of what he felt for her; but he changed his mind. Mishani understood that. Words seemed mawkish that were most deeply felt.

'What happened to her?' Mishani asked.

'She died,' Yugi said. He looked down at the ground.

'Because of you,' Mishani said, reading his reaction.

He nodded. 'There were perhaps a hundred of us at our height. And we had a reputation. We were the most feared bandit gang from Barask to Tchamaska.'

'And you led them, back then?' Mishani guessed.

Yugi nodded. 'Gods, I'm not proud of some of the things I did. We were bandits, Mishani. That made us killers, thieves, and worse. Every man had his morals, every man had… things he wouldn't do. But there was always someone who would.'

He gave Mishani a wary glance. She watched him steadily, showing nothing. He was searching for condemnation from her, but she would not condemn him. Her own past was hardly unstained.

'A man can… detach himself,' Yugi murmured. 'He can learn to see people as obstacles, or objects. He can learn to shut out the crying of women and the look in his enemy's eyes as he dies. They are just animal reactions, like the thrashing of a wounded rabbit or the twisting of a fish on a hook. A man can persuade himself to the necessity of anything, if he has the will to.' The lake was grey and still in the dawn light. He gazed into it. 'The world of bandits was a ruthless one. We had to be more ruthless still.' He smiled faintly, but it was bitter and there was no joy there.

'Does it disturb you?' he asked. 'To know that the leader of the Libera Dramach is a thief and a murderer?'

'No,' said Mishani. 'I ceased to believe in innocence long ago. A bandit may kill a hundred men, but those we choose to govern us kill many times that number with their schemes and policies. I learned of such things at court. At least your way of murder is honest.' She watched a bird winging its way across the lake, south to north. 'I cannot speak for others, but I do not care about your past. I did not know those you harmed, and to be outraged at you would be false sentiment. We are all of us guilty of things that make us ashamed. Good men do evil deeds, and evil men can become good. I care only what you do now, Yugi, for you hold the reins of many lives.' The bird disappeared at last, vanishing in the distance, and she shifted herself where she sat and turned her eyes to him again. 'Go on with your tale.'

'We made enemies, of course,' Yugi said after a time. 'Other bandit gangs wanted to topple us, but none of them had a chance against our strength. I became overconfident.' He began to pick at the cloth between his knees. 'There was word of a gathering of our rivals. I led my men out to ambush them. But it was a trick. One I should have seen coming.'

'They ambushed you?'

'Not us. They raided our camp, where we had left our women and children. There were only a dozen fighting men there. I didn't think they knew where we hid, didn't think they'd dare to attack us even if they did know. Wrong on both counts.' His eyes tightened. 'Gods, when we got back…'

Mishani was silent. She pulled her shawl a little tighter around her to fend off the cold.

'She wasn't quite dead when I found her. I'll never know how she held on that long. But she waited for me, and… we…' His voice failed him. He swallowed. 'She died in my arms.'

He stared furiously out across the lake, taut with a festering anger. 'And do you know what my first thought was after she had died? My very first? I'll tell you. I deserved it. I deserved for her to die. Because I realised then that every person who died on my blade had a mother or a brother or a child who felt the grief that I was feeling. And I tore a strip from the hem of her dress and I wrapped it around my head, and I swore I'd wear it always to remind me of what I'd done, and who I'd lost because of it.' He touched the dirty rag around his forehead. 'This.'

'And what happened afterward?' Mishani asked. She did not offer sympathy. She did not think he wanted any from her, nor would she have given it if he had.

'The others were already screaming for revenge,' he said. 'But I knew how it would be. Our retribution would spark other retributions, as it always had and always would. Running around in circles, getting nowhere, an endless back and forth of blades and bleeding bodies. And so I walked away from there. They thought to give me space, to let me grieve for my woman. They thought I would be back.' His eyes were flat. 'But I never came back.'

Mishani knew the rest from Zaelis: how Yugi had drifted into the Libera Dramach; how his natural leadership skills and experience had made him more and more invaluable until he had become Zaelis's right-hand man; how, after Zaelis had died at the Fold, he had become the head of the Libera Dramach. And she understood him now.

'You do not want to lead these people, do you?' she asked.

Yugi looked at her for a long moment, then tilted his head in affirmation. 'I'm no general like Zahn. I don't have the vision and ambition that Zaelis had. I led a hundred men and I led them well, but in the end I failed and it cost me the only thing I ever…' He looked away. 'Ah, what use is talking?'

'You could step down,' said Mishani.

'No, I couldn't. Because I'm still the best gods-damned leader they've got. Zaelis may have picked his men well, but he couldn't get generals, he couldn't get war-makers. They belong to the noble houses, and the moment one of them get near the Libera Dramach, the moment politics becomes involved, then it's over for us. They all want Lucia.'

Mishani nodded. 'There is sense in what you say. Even Zahn would be a danger. But can you lead thousands to war, Yugi? Your skills were of great use in the Fold, but then you were fighting as bandits fight. It may come to a moment when you must be a general, and your choices on the battlefield will cost many lives. Will you be able to make those choices? Or will you hide in your drugged dreams?'

Yugi looked grim. 'If it's my punishment that I must suffer to lead these men and women, then I'll bear it because I have to. The gods certainly have a sick sense of humour, to make revenge on me for my past misdeeds by giving me more lives to ruin.'

'They do indeed,' said Mishani.

Yugi got to his feet then. Nuki's eye had risen a little more by now. The lake was blue, and the air was warming. 'Thank you for hearing me out, Mishani. I don't know why I chose to talk to you of all people, but I'm glad I did.' He looked up the slope, to where the white temples of Araka Jo stood crumbling. 'How is it that our past dictates our future?' he wondered aloud. 'Where's the sense in that?'

And then he was gone, walking away from her, and she was alone again.

She sat for a long time and thought on what he had said. Then she returned to her house and began to pack what things she needed.

She was going to see her mother.