The Horsemen's Gambit

Chapter 22

Commerce cares nothing for the color of a man's eyes."

It was an old saying, one that explained how trade could continue in a land long riven by racial hatred, one that many peddlers used to justify their willingness to take gold from people who would, under other circumstances, just as soon kill them as buy from them.

R'Shev had been selling his wares in the sovereignties for nearly all of his adult life-more than four fours now. He was Nid'Qir by birth, but he had left his clan and the Iejony Peninsula as soon as he came of age, believing that there had to be a better life for him elsewhere. The Nid'Qir were to the Qirsi of the Southlands what Qosantians or Tordjannis were to the Eandi. His people were among the wealthiest of the clans, and they had never seemed to care much where their gold came from. Many of the clans specialized in one trade or another: The M'Saaren and A'Vahl were known for their woodcraft; the R'Troth were miners; the D'Krad were seafaring folk. The Nid'Qir did a little of everything. Mostly though, they accumulated gold.

R'Shev often told those who asked that he left Nid'Qir land because he would have had to work too hard there to become as rich as he wanted to be. The truth was, he wanted no part of his people's obsession with wealth, nor did he wish to associate himself with the obvious disdain the Nid'Qir harbored for the other clans. Qirsi in the Southlands often spoke of the arrogance of the Nid'Qir. R'Shev had grown up with it, and had freed himself from it as soon as he could.

He made a decent living in the sovereignties, selling those Qirsi-made goods that wealthy Eandi often coveted-wooden boxes from the Berylline Forest, silverwork from the I'Prael, wines from the H'Bel. But he hadn't gotten rich as a peddler; he hadn't even tried. He journeyed the land, he spent his evenings sitting around a fire with other Qirsi peddlers, trading stories, drinking good wine, and laughing. Occasionally he found a woman with whom to pass the night. All in all, his was a good life.

But though he never once had regretted his decision to leave the Nid'Qir, neither had he become one of those Qirsi who forgets who and what he is. Ile wielded two of the deeper magics language of beasts and shaping-and in all the years he had spent among the Eandi, he hadn't ever shared a bed with a dark-eye woman. Ile had some Eandi friends and had come to respect many of the merchants he dealt with in the sovereignties. But his blood ran Qirsi.

A few turns before he had encountered on the plain a Qirsi couple and their young daughter who had come to this land from the Forelands. They had been on their way to Fal'Borna land and had come upon R'Shev and his friends on a stormy night, having been refused a room in an Eandi inn in Bred's Landing. R'Shev hadn't seen the man or woman since, but he thought of them occasionally, hoping that they had found a home among one of the clans.

Often when he thought of the young family he reflected on what a shock it had been to them to be treated so poorly by the Eandi of Stelpana. From all R'Shev had heard, the Forelands had seen its share of trouble between the races in recent years. Yet, apparently even their experience with the Eandi of the north had not prepared the man and woman for the hostility directed at them in Bred's Landing. All this made R'Shev wonder if the Eandi were worse here, or if the divide between the races was just wider and deeper in the Southlands. He knew for sure that there was nothing in the history of the Forelands to match the intensity, bitterness, and duration of the Blood Wars.

Whatever the reason, and notwithstanding the fact that he took gold from an Eandi as readily as he did from a Qirsi, there could be no doubt that R'Shev would never fully trust the people of the sovereignties. And he long had vowed that if ever war returned to the Southlands, he would leave the sovereignties immediately and do all that he could to aid his people.

That was why he now found himself steering his cart toward the Silverwater Wash and Fal'Borna land.

He'd been in Kirayde, trading with the Mettai-not something many merchants were doing these days, with rumors of cursed Mettai baskets scaring everyone so. But the pestilence, it seemed, had moved off to the west, having devastated the Y'Qatt settlements near the Companion Lakes, and since there'd been no reports of the disease striking east of the Silver-water, he assumed that it would be safe. Since many were avoiding the Mettai now, he had thought to find a few bargains and sell some of his goods. The Mettai were wary of him at first, as they often were of strange Qirsi, but by morning's end he'd managed to make some sales.

When he first saw the three Eandi riders he thought little of it. True, they were all wearing the blue and green uniforms of Stelpana's military, but that hardly seemed unusual. This might have been a Mettai village, but the sorcerers lived under the authority of Stelpana's sovereign. Still, he watched with interest as they spoke to the village's eldest, who seemed unnerved by their presence here.

An older man who had been looking at some silver blades from the I'Prael had paused over R'Shev's wares to watch the exchange as well.

"Do you know who they are?" R'Shev asked him.

The man looked at him and shook his head. "No idea," he said. "But the older one's a man of some importance. Got an army with him that could ring the entire village."

"What?" R'Shev said, not quite believing it.

"'S true," the man told him. "You can look yourself. They're waiting on these three, just outside the village." He stooped and picked up one of the blades. "How much for this one?"

"Five sovereigns."

The man frowned and shook his head. "Too much." But he didn't put the blade back on the blanket.

"That's the price, my friend," R'Shev said, still watching the soldiers and the eldest out of the corner of his eye.

The man stared at the dagger, twisting his mouth.

Abruptly, the eldest turned away from the strangers and hurried down the lane out of the marketplace. The soldiers didn't follow, and a moment later they left in the opposite direction.

"I'll give you three and a half," the man said.

R'Shev looked at him. "The blade is silver, mined and forged by the I'Prael themselves. The hilt is black crystal, also from the I'Prael. If you don't want it, don't buy it. But if you want it, the price is five."

The Mettai man didn't look pleased, but after a moment he dug into his pocket and pulled out five sovereigns. Then he walked away, muttering to himself about white-hair merchants and their high prices.

R'Shev made a few more deals as the day went on, but mostly he sat on his cart wondering what an army so large would be doing so far north this close to the Snows. Late in the day, just as he was thinking it was time to pack up his cart, he spotted the eldest again, making his way through the marketplace. After a moment's hesitation, R'Shev called to him.

The man paused, checking the position of the sun in the sky before approaching R'Shev's cart. The eldest was a burly man, a smith or a wheelright by the look of him, with dark eyes and steel grey hair. He had a kind face, and he smiled as he stopped in front of R'Shev, though there was a troubled look in his eyes.

R'Shev stood to greet him.

"What can I do for you, friend?" the eldest asked. "I hope business has been good today."

"It has been. Thank you, Eldest. But I was curious about those soldiers I saw you talking to earlier."

The eldest's smile vanished. "What about them?"

"I heard someone say they were leading an army. Is that true?"

He exhaled, then nodded. "Yes, it's true. It looked to be a large force. Nearly two thousand men, I'd say."

R'Shev shivered, though he wasn't cold. "Two thousand? Do you know what they're doing here?"

The eldest didn't answer at first. He looked down at the ground and kicked at the dirt with his foot. Finally, he looked R'Shev in the eye again. "I'm not sure I should say. I could… Stelpana's sovereigns have allowed us to remain here for generations, but they've never been happy about it."

"Did they threaten you?" R'Shev asked.

The eldest smiled wanly, though only for an instant. "No, nothing like that." He started to say something, stopped himself, licked his lips. "You might want to consider whether you wouldn't be better off west of the Silverwater," he finally said.

"West of the…" R'Shev stared at the man. "There's a war corning, then."

"I… I shouldn't be saying any of this, but after all that's happened.. He broke off again, shaking his head. "The Mettai have never had any dispute with either the clans or the sovereignties. I told him that-the marshal, I mean. But there may be others in my position who feel differently."

R'Shev frowned. "I don't understand."

The eldest shook his head again. "I know. The point is, it isn't safe for you here anymore. Or at least it won't be for long."

"Are you ordering me to leave your village, Eldest?"

The man shook his head, a pained expression on his face. "I'm urging you, as a friend, to leave Stelpana while you still can."

R'Shev nodded slowly, trying to make sense of what the man was telling him. "All right, Eldest. Thank you."

"I'm sorry," the eldest said. He hesitated again before turning and walking away, his shoulders hunched.

R'Shev began to pack up his wares, all the while thinking about what the eldest had said. Clearly those soldiers had been marching to war, which was alarming enough considering the Southlands' history. But he thought there was more to the man's words than just the obvious. He'd been trying to tell R'Shev something, and he'd been too circumspect-or R'Shev had been too dense-for the message to get through.

Still, R'Shev knew what he had to do. There was more at stake here than his safety. He might not have thought of himself as Nid'Qir anymore, but he was Qirsi, a brother to every man and woman west of the Silverwater. The Fal'Borna were a hard people, fearsome in battle and uncompromising in the marketplace. But their hair was white, their eyes as yellow as his own. They had to be warned.

He was on his way from the village well before sunset, and for the rest of that day, and over the next two days, he drove Ebbie, his old black cart horse, as hard as he dared. The distance between Kirayde and the Silverwater wasn't great-less than eight leagues. He was safely in Fal'Borna land just after midday the day after he left the Mettai. But even after he reached the river and crossed over it on a stone bridge just south of Turtle Lake, near what little remained of the Y'Qatt town of C'Bijor's Neck, he didn't stop. Instead he turned north and followed the shores of the lake and the wash above it toward Lowna, the closest Fal'Borna settlement.

As he traveled, he continued to reflect on his conversation with Kirayde's eldest, asking himself the same questions again and again. As a merchant, and particularly as a Qirsi in Eandi lands, he spent much of his time alone with his thoughts. He often had dialogues with himself, sometimes even speaking aloud so that Ebbie's ears would twitch, as if she were trying to listen in on his conversations with himself. He considered it a skill of sorts, a way of keeping his mind sharp, a way, at times, of staving off boredom.

Why would the Eandi risk war now? The answer to this question, the easiest of all, became clear to him as soon as he realized that his travels would take him so close to C'Bijor's Neck. The same pestilence that had ravaged that town was said to be decimating Fal'Borna villages on the Central Plain. What better time to strike?

But why would they speak to the Mettai? Would they have been asking permission to march through Mettai lands? Did they plan to attack from the north? That would surely be unexpected, and anyone who knew the history of the Blood Wars understood that the sovereignties needed every advantage they could get. But the Eandi had never shown any consideration for the Mettai in the past, and they'd long made it clear to the dark-eye sorcerers that the land on which they lived belonged to the sovereign, not to the Mettai. R'Shev could think of no reason why the sovereign's commanders would suddenly see fit to ask permission to march an army through the Companion Lakes region.

All of which brought R'Shev back to the same question: Why would they speak to the Mettai?

"What was it the eldest said?" he asked aloud as he steered his cart along the lakeshore.

Ebbie snorted and shook her head, drawing a grin from the merchant. "Weren't listening, eh? That'll teach you."

R'Shev had asked the man what the army's commander said, and the eldest refused to tell him. But then he said, "Stelpana's sovereigns have allowed us to remain here for generations, but they've never been happy about it."

At the time, R'Shev had taken this to mean that the commander threatened the Mettai, but the eldest denied it. He said a bit more then, referring vaguely to things that had happened recently-R'Shev hadn't understood what he meant. And then the man said, "The Mettai have never had any dispute with either the clans or the sovereignties… but there may be others in my position who feel differently."

Again, R'Shev had been confused by this-the eldest had spoken in riddles throughout their conversation. But this was essentially the last thing the man said before warning R'Shev to leave Stelpana, and it struck the merchant as being at the crux of whatever he and the sovereign's marshal had discussed.

He considered the matter for nearly the entire day, repeating the eldest's words to himself as if they were a litany. By the time the sun began to go down, he was well past Turtle Lake, once again following the course of the Silverwater. Eventually he made camp for the night, lit a small fire, and ate a modest meal of cheese and hard bread. He tried to sleep, but still his thoughts churned, keeping him up. Eventually he pulled out a sealed flask of H'Bel wine, one he could have sold, and opened it. He rarely drank alone, and was usually reluctant to treat himself to something that could have brought him gold, but he needed his sleep, and he knew that with his mind working so furiously he wouldn't get any without a bit of help.

Sleep still came grudgingly, and he was awakened repeatedly by strange, frightening dreams in which he was pursued by hordes of Eandi warriors. Still, he managed to sleep later than he had intended, waking to a high sun and a pounding headache. His stomach felt tight and sour, and all through the next morning, as the motion of the cart jostled him, he cursed himself for ever opening that flask.

Near the end of his third day out from Kirayde, R'Shev finally reached Owl Lake, turning slightly westward to follow its shoreline. Before long, he reached Lowna. He was no closer to figuring out what the eldest had been trying to tell him, but at least now he could warn the Fal'Borna. Perhaps they could glean something from the man's words that he could not.

He steered his cart to the center of the village, where most peddlers were just putting their wares back into their carts.

"A bit late, aren't you, old man?" one young Eandi trader called to him.

Another Eandi laughed, but R'Shev said nothing, searching instead for anyone who seemed to live in the village. The two men shook their heads and went back to packing their carts. For a moment R'Shev considered warning them to leave Fal'Borna land. With a war coming, they were no safer on this side of the Silverwater than he had been in Stelpana. But his first allegiance was to his people, and he feared that such a warning given to the dark-eyes might eventually get back to Stelpana's army. Best not to let the Eandi know that the Fal'borna would be readying themselves for an assault.

A moment later, he spotted a Qirsi woman and two young girls walking away from the marketplace. He flicked the reins, and Ebbie started after them.

"Hello there!" he called.

The three of them turned. The woman was older than he had expected her to be, given the age of her children. But she had a kind face, and she smiled at him, though she looked just a bit puzzled. The two girls eyed him warily.

"Hello," the woman said in return. "Can I help you?"

"I hope so," R'Shev said. "I'm searching for whoever governs your village. An eldest perhaps?"

"You mean our a'laq?" she asked.

"Of course," R'Shev said, shaking his head at his own foolishness. It hadn't been that long since last he was among the Fal'Borna. He should have remembered. "Your a'laq. Do you know where I might find him?"

The woman smiled, clearly amused. "Actually, our a'laq is a woman. Her name is U'Selle." She pointed at a small house just off the marketplace. "She lives there."

"Thank you." He always carried sweets with him to offer to children. He pulled some out now and held them out to the girls. "If it's all right with your mother, you're welcome to these."

The younger of the two girls, a beautiful, fine-featured child with brilliant yellow eyes, turned away, burying her face in her mother's dress. The older child, who was also very pretty, though with a look of deep sadness in her eyes, merely stared back at him and shook her head.

R'Shev frowned.

"Thank you anyway," the woman said, running her hand over the older girl's hair and patting the back of the younger one. "They're shy with strangers.”

"Well, then perhaps I can give them to you, kind woman, and you can see that they have them later, after they've had their supper."

She smiled, and stepping forward, took the sweets from him. "Thank you."

They walked away, leaving R'Shev to steer his cart toward the house the woman had pointed out to him. Before he reached it he heard someone coughing, and he realized that there was an older woman sitting outside the house. He climbed down off his cart and covered the remaining distance on foot.

The woman was still coughing when he reached the house, her body racked by the paroxysm. She saw him approach, waved him forward even as she still struggled to draw breath. Once the spasm had passed, she sat back in her old chair and closed her eyes briefly.

"Forgive me," she said. "It gets worse with the colder air."

"Can I get you anything?" R'Shev asked. "Some water perhaps?"

She dismissed the offer with a wave of her hand. "I'm all right now. You're looking for me?"

"I am if you're the a'laq."

The woman nodded. "That I am, for the moment at least." She eyed him for a moment, her eyes narrowing. She was small, her face wizened, her body bent and frail-looking. But her eyes remained clear and her voice was strong, despite her coughing. "Have we met?"

"I don't think so, A'Laq, though I've traded in your village before." "Ah," she said. "A peddler. I tend to avoid getting involved with disputes in the marketplace. Best you work things out on your own."

He grinned at that. "A wise policy, A'Laq. But that's not why I'm here."

"Then why?"

"I've come from Kirayde, a Mettai village south of Porcupine Lake. While I was there, an Eandi army, nearly two thousand men strong, stopped outside the village. The army's commander spoke briefly with the village eldest, seeking some boon from him, though I've yet to figure out what it might have been. The eldest refused him, but I gather from all he told me later that the commander intended to speak with other elders in other villages. And I gather as well that eventually this man and his army intend to cross the Silverwater and bring war to the Fal'Borna."

Her eyes didn't widen; her face didn't blanch. She didn't say anything or leap to her feet or otherwise betray any hint of fear. If the strength of a leader could be measured by her calm in the face of such tidings, U'Selle had to be very strong indeed.

"You're certain of this?" she asked after a brief silence, her voice even. "I am, A'Laq."

"How many days has it been since you saw this commander and his army?"

"Three."

She raised an eyebrow. "You got here quickly."

"As quickly as I could, A'Laq." He grinned. "A younger man might have been here sooner."

The woman smiled at that. "Maybe. A younger man might not have known what to do with such news. I'm grateful to you. All of us will be before long."

He nodded.

"I'd like you to speak with the members of our clan council. Would you mind remaining here for the night? We can offer you food and perhaps even a place to sleep."

"I can sleep in my cart, A'Laq, but I'll gladly take the food. After a while a man tires of his own cooking."

"Very well." She stood and started to make her way down the lane. After taking only a couple of steps, though, she turned and faced him again. "What's your name, friend?"

"R'Shev, A'Laq."

"And what clan are you from?"

"I was born Nid'Qir."

That, of all things, made her eyebrows go up. "Nid'Qir? And here I thought you seemed so nice."

R'Shev laughed. "I left the peninsula a long time ago."

"Ah," she said, turning away and starting off again. "That must be it."

'Doryn had just returned from the lakeshore with five beautiful trout when N'Tevva and the girls reached the house. He was outside still, preparing to clean the fish. At the sound of the two children calling to him, he straightened and waved to them.

Vettala reached him first. "Look what I got!" she said. She held out her hand, showing him a small sweet of some sort.

The girl had come such a long way since she, Jynna, and several other children first arrived in Lowna, their lives shattered by the plague that had killed their families and destroyed their home village of Tivston. Jynna had grieved for all she lost, as one would expect, but Vettala had been so devastated by all she'd seen that horrific night that she wouldn't even speak. Now, only a few turns later, she looked and acted like any normal child. Mostly. There were difficult days when she brooded in silence, nights when she couldn't sleep for the grisly visions that haunted her slumber. But even these were growing less frequent. She and Jynna called S'Doryn and N'Tevva by their names, but in all other ways they treated them as they would their parents. For their part, S'Doryn and his wife, who had despaired of ever having children of their own, were grateful beyond words for the chance to take care of these girls and raise them as their own.

"What is that?" S'Doryn asked the girl, staring at the treat she held as if he'd never seen such a thing before.

"A sweet! Jynna got one, too! A peddler gave them to us!"

"A peddler. Is that so?" He looked at N'Tevva, his eyes narrowing. "And just how much did we give him before he gave us the sweets?"

His wife grinned. "Nothing. I promise," she added, in response to his skeptical look. "He just wanted to know where he could find U'Selle."

"You caught five of them?" Jynna said, seeing his catch. She sounded impressed.

S'Doryn looked at her. "Yes, I did. Even without your help." He glanced at N'Tevva again. "I think T'Noth and Etan are going to join us, so I wanted extras."

She nodded. "All right. The fish look lovely."

He smiled and then went back to cleaning them, while N'Tevva took the girls into the house and began to prepare the rest of their evening meal.

He had just finished with the second fish when he heard voices. Glancing up, he saw T'Noth approaching the house. He quickly looked up a second time. Etan was walking beside his friend, but so too was the a'laq. S'Doryn rinsed his hands in the bucket that held the three remaining fish, and then went to greet them.

"I don't mean to interrupt your supper, S'Doryn," U'Selle said. "As I told T'Noth and Etan, I was just out for a stroll, so I thought I'd join them."

"Of course, A'Laq," he said, though he wasn't certain he believed her. There was something strange in her voice, in the way she looked at him. "Etan," he said. "The girls are waiting for you inside."

"All right," the boy said, bounding into the house.

S'Doryn looked at the a'laq again. Her eyes flicked toward T'Noth. "I think N'Tevva could use some help," he told his friend.

T'Noth eyed them both, a slight frown on his square, youthful face. "Of course she could," he said.

The a'laq chuckled. "Forgive us, T'Noth. I need a word with him."

"I understand, A'Laq." He looked at S'Doryn once more before following the boy into the house.

"No doubt you'll tell him everything once I'm gone," U'Selle remarked quietly, watching the man walk away.

"Only with your permission. You know that."

She nodded, taken by a fit of coughing. "I do know that," she said, when she could speak again. "I'm afraid I have to take you away from your supper, at least for a while. I need everyone on the clan council at my house immediately. I'd like you to summon the rest for me."

"Of course, A'Laq," S'Doryn said. "I just need to tell N'Tevva."

She nodded and he started toward the house. After a few strides he stopped and turned again. U'Selle had already begun to walk away. "Can you tell me what this is about?" he asked.

She looked back at him and shook her head. "No, not yet."

Lowna was by no means the largest village in Fal'Borna land, but it wasn't the smallest either. It took S'Doryn some time to find all the other members of the clan council and direct them to the alaq's house. By the time he and the last of his fellow members were able to join the rest, night had fallen.

A peddler's cart stood outside U'Selle's home and when they entered they found another man there with the a'laq, a stranger S'Doryn had never seen before. S'Doryn knew immediately that the man wasn't Fal'Borna; he was too tall, too narrow in the shoulders and chest, and his complexion was entirely too pale. He was an older man with a wispy white beard that made his face appear even thinner than it was. S'Doryn assumed from the man's appearance that he hailed from one of the western clans.

Seeing that all of them were there, U'Selle stood.

"I'm sorry to have summoned you on such short notice," she said. "If this could have waited even until the morning I wouldn't have disturbed you." She indicated the peddler with an open hand. "This is R'Shev," she said. "He's just come from the Companion Lakes, where he saw something that alarmed him enough to drive his cart all the way here in just three days. I'll let him tell his story in his own words."

She sat once more, looking expectantly at the stranger. R'Shev stood, his long legs unfolding as if he were a child's toy. On another occasion, S'Doryn might have found his appearance comical. But as soon as the man began to speak, in a clear voice that was nearly devoid of any accent, he realized that this was no laughing matter.

It was bad enough that so large an Eandi army had been seen within ten leagues of the Silverwater. But to have the leader of a Mettai village issue such a stark warning was truly frightening. Yet there was still more to the man's tale. Like R'Shev and the a'laq, S'Doryn wasn't sure what to make of what the eldest of the Mettai village had said, but the words sounded ominous.

"So war is coming," said Y'Bej, one of the other council members, when R'Shev had lowered himself into his chair once more.

"Yes," U'Selle said. "That much is clear. It seems that word of the plague sweeping across our lands has reached the dark-eyes. They think we've been weakened, and so they've chosen to attack us and exploit that weakness."

"Did the eldest say this?" Y'Bej asked the peddler.

"This is my thinking," U'Selle told him before R'Shev could respond. "Do you disagree?"

"No, A'Laq," Y'Bej said.

"What about the rest of you?"

No one spoke.

U'Selle nodded. "I'm wondering," she went on, "if any of you can make some sense of the rest of what Kirayde's eldest told our friend here."

"Perhaps the eldest knew of the baskets and their curse," S'Doryn said. "When he referred to all that had happened, perhaps that's what he meant. Could it be that the commander was thanking the Mettai for weakening us?"

"Or maybe he asked them to make more cursed baskets," said E'Vylia, the village herbmistress.

"Wait just a moment," R'Shev broke in, his eyes flicking back and forth between U'Selle and S'Doryn. "Are you telling me that the Mettai are responsible in some way for the pestilence that's been striking at septs on the plain?"

The a'laq nodded, her expression grim. "Yes, although we have no reason to believe that all the Mettai were behind this. But at least one woman made baskets for trade that she then cursed and sold. The Y'Qatt were the first to be affected, but the plague eventually spread to our people."

"Blood and bone," the peddler whispered. "Forgive me, A'Laq. Had I known, I wouldn't have set foot in their marketplace."

U'Selle reached over and patted the man's arm, a sad smile on her lips. "It's all right, R'Shev. You've proven your friendship to the Fal'Borna." She glanced around the room at the members of the council. "Our friend here is Nid'Qir," she told them. "Remember that the next time you have in ill word to say about his clan. In any case, we were talking about the Mettai and what the Eandi commander might have been asking of them."

"It could be that they were asking for more baskets," Y'Bej said.

S'Doryn shook his head. "At this point every a'laq in every sept on the plain has been warned against Mettai baskets. Besides, if there's a war coming, we're not going to be welcoming Eandi traders into our villages, at least not for a while. Baskets, blankets, woodwork-no matter how they might disguise the curse, it wouldn't work a second time. Not if we're at war."

"What if they used someone like me to get you the goods?" R'Shev asked.

S'Doryn grinned. "Unless the Nid'Qir have powers I don't know about, any curse that kills me will kill you, too."

The man's face colored. "Of course. I might be handsome, but I'm not very smart. Actually, I think that's why the women like me so much." S'Doryn and a few of the others chuckled.

U'Selle, though, appeared still to be deep in thought. "An alliance then," she finally said.

S'Doryn felt himself grow cold. "What?"

She looked at the peddler. "What was it the eldest said? 'The Mettai have never had any dispute with the clans or the sovereignties, but others in my position might feel differently.'"

R'Shev nodded. "Yes, that's about right."

U'Selle passed a rigid hand through her hair. "They asked him to join their army, and he refused them. That's the explanation that makes the most sense."

"But if he refused-" Y'Bej began.

"The man was right," U'Selle said. "There may well be others who won't refuse, who'll take whatever the Eandi are offering and fight on their behalf."

"The Fal'Borna have fought the Eandi before and won," said another member of the council. "We can defeat them again."

Several of the others nodded.

After a moment U'Selle nodded as well. "That's true. But it's been many centuries since we had to fight both Eandi warriors and the Mettai. Of course we'll prevail," she added a moment later, offering a smile that clearly was forced. "I just don't want any of you thinking this will be easy, because it won't." She stood again. "That's all," she told them. "I intend to begin speaking with other a'laqs tonight. Whatever advantages the Eandi may think they have, surprise won't be one of them." She turned to the peddler. "Thank you for that, R'Shev."

The other members of the council stood as well and began to file out of the a'laq's house, all of them pausing to thank R'Shev. Eventually, only S'Doryn and the peddler were left with the a'laq.

"I have no heart for this fight," U'Selle said, looking at S'Doryn. "I always knew that the Blood Wars would begin again eventually, but I hoped and expected that I'd be long dead when they did."

"K'Pril was right, A'Laq. We've defeated them before."

"The Mettai didn't fight beside the Eandi during the last few hundred years of the wars. But when they did, earlier on, they were… a formidable enemy. We lost many more of those early battles than we did the later ones."

S'Doryn wasn't certain what to say.

She smiled at him, and this time the smile appeared genuine. "Go home, my friend. Your fish will be cold by now, that is if T'Noth left any for you."

"He better have." S'Doryn started toward the door, but then stopped in front of R'Shev and held out a hand, which the peddler took. The man had a strong grip. "Thank you," S'Doryn said. "You may well have saved our village."

R'Shev shrugged. "I'm Qirsi. We may be of different clans, but we both have yellow eyes; we both have white hair."

S'Doryn nodded and smiled.

"S'Doryn," U'Selle said, as he reached for the door handle. "You can tell N'Tevva, of course. And T'Noth as well. Tidings like these…" She shook her head. "Everyone in the village will know by sunrise."

"Yes, A'Laq. Thank you."

S'Doryn had to pass T'Noth's house in order to get back to his own. Walking past his friend's home, he saw a lamp burning in one of the windows. It wasn't surprising really; he'd been gone for a long time, and T'Noth would have needed to put Etan to sleep. After a moment's hesitation, he walked to his friend's door and knocked once.

T'Noth opened the door, a grin on his face. "I was hoping you'd stop by. Come in."

He shook his head. "I can't stay long."

"You'll be glad to know that we saved you some trout. It was very good, by the way."

"Good. Thanks for not eating it all."

T'Noth narrowed his eyes. "Something's troubling you. What's happened?"

"It's a longer story than I can tell you tonight, but the short answer is that the Eandi appear to be marching against us, and they may have at least sonic Mettai on their side."

His friend stared at him, looking as if he had just been punched in the gut. "Damn. You're certain about this?"

"There's no doubt that the Eandi are coming. The part about the Mettai…" He hesitated. The truth was they weren't certain. But S'Doryn had little doubt that U'Selle was right about why the Eandi had gone to Kirayde. "There's not much doubt about that either," he finally said.

"What are we going to do?" T'Noth asked.

"U'Selle will talk to other Weavers tonight. And tomorrow every Fal'Borna in the clan lands will begin preparing for war."

He gripped his friend's shoulder and then walked away, suddenly eager to be home with N'Tevva and his girls.

N'Tevva looked up and smiled when S'Doryn entered the house. As soon as she saw his expression, however, her face fell.

"What is it?" she asked.

He sat beside her and took her hand. And then he related all that had been said in the a'laq's home. After a time, as he continued to speak, he looked down at their hands because he couldn't bear to see the fear in her pale yellow eyes or the color draining from her cheeks.

For a long time after he had finished, she just sat there, shaking her head slowly. "They're mad," she whispered. "They must be. That's the only explanation that makes any sense. How else could they even consider such a thing?"

"They think we're weak," he said. "They think that the Mettai curse has left us vulnerable."

"Are they right?"

S'Doryn shrugged. "I don't know, N'Tevva. Truly I don't."

She laid her head on his shoulder. "I never thought I'd see this day." "U'Selle said much the same thing," he told her. "And I feel the same way. But maybe we've all been foolish to think it couldn't happen. The clans and the sovereignties have spent most of the past thousand years fighting one another. The history of the Blood Wars is the history of the Southlands. This peace we've enjoyed-that's the aberration. Instead of being surprised, we should be grateful it didn't happen sooner."

She looked at him with an expression of both surprise and despair. "Do you really believe that?"

He met her gaze and saw in her eyes how desperately she wanted him to say that he didn't. He looked away, shrugged. "I don't know. I don't want to believe it." He started to say more, but stopped himself.

N'Tevva stood. "You need something to eat. We saved some supper for you."

"All right," S'Doryn said. "I'm going to check on the girls first."

"Oh, they're asleep by now."

"I know. I just want to see them."

The door to the room Jynna and Vettala shared stood slightly ajar; Vettala still didn't like the room too dark when she went to sleep. Peeking in, S'Doryn saw that Vettala was sprawled on her side of their bed, her arms stretched above her head and her eyes closed. Jynna was still awake, though. S'Doryn stepped into the room and sat on the bed beside her.

"You should be asleep," he whispered.

"I heard you come in."

S'Doryn felt his stomach tighten.

"I heard what you were talking about, too."

He closed his eyes for a moment, cursing himself for being so careless. "Jynna-"

"Just tell me we'll beat them," she said.

Almost since the moment she arrived in Lowna, Jynna had been closer to S'Doryn than to anyone else. She loved N'Tevva-he knew she did-but he was the one she trusted most. He'd been with her when she first told the a'laq and the clan council of the Mettai witch who brought the cursed baskets to her village. He'd been with her when they returned to her village and found her home destroyed, her family dead. And since she'd been living here they'd been nearly inseparable.

The only point of contention between them had been the Mettai. He had tried to make her understand that the woman who brought the plague to her village was insane, and that she couldn't hate all the Mettai for what this one madwoman had done to her.

But what could he tell her now? If the peddler was right, the Mettai really were their enemy, just as Jynna had been saying all this time. And he and his people would have little choice but to defeat the dark-eye sorcerers and the Eandi who marched with them.

S'Doryn brushed a strand of white hair from the girl's forehead and then bent to kiss her cheek.

"We will beat them," he said. "I swear it."

She nodded, her face so grim that she looked more like a seasoned warrior than a little girl. He saw no fear in her gaze, no hint of the terror that gripped his own heart. All he could see in those bright golden eyes was her resolve and her hatred of the Mettai and the confidence of a child who didn't know any better than to believe a parent's promise.