Star of Cursrah

8

The 383rd Anniversary of the Great Arrival

Amenstar drowned.

Cool water sloshed around her face, but felt boiling hot as she held her breath. Her cheeks hurt from cramping, her lungs ached for air, and her throat was raw as if swallowing fire. If she weakened, she'd swallow water and truly drown. Blood pounded in her skull and throbbed in her neck. Her nose was stabbed with pain as if she were being stabbed with a thousand needles, and her mouth tasted foul. The temptation to open her mouth, to try to breathe was horrific, and her brain battled to keep her mouth shut.

Knotty hands yanked her head out of the water into glorious, sweet air. Star spluttered and gasped, wanting to cry, but she was too busy just breathing.

She sobbed, "Don't-"

"Again!" rang her mother's voice.

Star's head was shoved back into the pool.

Submerged, Amenstar tried to calm herself, to harbor the little air in her lungs, but it burned in her chest. The tiny sip of air left her aching for more. Just one breath, she pleaded, and she'd never make another request. Pain flared in her sinuses, her cheeks, her forehead, and her nose, sharper than before. The temptation to inhale water was as strong as the cruel hands that pinned her to the bottom of her own glittering pool. She tried to wrestle free, to lash out, but someone locked both her wrists while others jammed her shoulders and hair below the surface. The roaring in her skull blared like a war trumpet, until she felt her brain would burst. Her clamped lips were failing, opening-

Again Star was hoisted into sunshine. This time she didn't try to talk, just pulled in air, slobbering drool down her wet chin and soaked shift, hurrying to breathe and breathe again.

"Release her," came the voice of command.

The three vizars let go of the samira, who collapsed on the wet tiles of her own courtyard. Perhaps her best defense, Star thought wearily, was to stay limp, show she had no fight left. Groggy, she slumped in a heap and panted until her breathing approached normal, though her chest ached as if her ribs were fractured.

"I hope you'll listen now, eldest and dearest daughter," her mother said, voice dripping acid.

There were few witnesses to Star's punishment. The bakkal and the first sama had only a dozen guards ranked behind them. Still, she huddled like a drowned rat. Flanking her were three vizars with dirt brown robes and shaved skulls. Initiate anatomists, young and strong, they were perfectly willing to shove the samira's head into the shallow pool at the queen's command, drowning her slowly or quickly. Wedded to the goddess of death, the vizars would gladly sacrifice Star or anyone else in their bony clutches. Suffering was a tonic to them.

A princess of royal blood couldn't be whipped or struck, nor even touched unless she allowed it, as when she gave her maids permission to comb her hair or dress her. Beatings were for mortals and commoners. To strike a descendant of genies, someone practically a demigod, would offend the gods themselves. For rejecting the samirs and ruining the royal gala, Star was punished by being half drowned, which left no marks or blemishes. That the princess was punished by the hated vizars, submerged in her own pool in her own courtyard, and humiliated in full view of her gossipy, snippy maids clustered at the wide windows, added to Amenstar's agony.

All through the ordeal, the bakkal of Cursrah stood stone still, arms folded across his bare chest. Behind him stood a general of the army with his ceremonial war axe jutting high. Star's father rarely spoke and had never directly addressed his daughter since her birth. As priest-king of Cursrah, the bakkal associated most with advisors and high vizars and spent days communicating with dead ancestors and distant gods. Mediumship was risky and never-ending. The dead resented the living, resisted contact, and punished intruders with hauntings and demon attacks unless the proper wards and protections were maintained with vigilance. Star was glad for silence. Her father or not, she had always found the man eerie and frightening. In Cursrah, the samas, and especially the first sama, handled worldly issues such as chastising a recalcitrant daughter.

Now Star's mother lectured: "Your father has consulted the ancients and passed down a decree through his advisors. They and I have discussed your future for many long hours. As eldest daughter, on the first day of autumn you shall wed Samir Nagid of Zubat. His city has won the favor of Coramsh-"

"I don't want to marry that prissy, perfumed fop," Star sputtered. "I won't."

The sama's plump face tinged purple. Pursing fat lips, she snapped, "Again!"

"No!"

Star tried to scramble to her feet to run, but she was too weak. The clammy hands of junior vizars grabbed fistfuls of hair and twisted, then pinned her slippery arms and hands. Hoisting her bodily, the sadists rammed Star's head and shoulders into the pool so hard her nose bumped slimy tiles on the bottom. Furious, Star swore the bastards enjoyed this duty as a vizar mashed her belly against the pool's edge. Bubbles of precious air spurted from her bleeding nose and clamped mouth.

Star had gotten some wind back, but not enough, and immediately her lungs burned, her brain throbbed, her face felt squeezed by steel bands. Pain ripped through her chest and head, crisscrossing and redoubling as if she'd been struck by lightning. Even her wounded calf, in dry air, throbbed as if lanced by a knife. Jolts of agony rippled through her nose and lips, making muscles sting until she feared swallowing water, or worse, blacking out, for darkness drummed against her blurry thoughts.

If she passed out, she would drown. Surely her mother wouldn't allow that, but in her murky suffering, nightmare thoughts intruded. If Amenstar did die, even "accidentally," her sister Tunkeb would become eldest daughter and obey her parents' wishes. Could her parents coldly order her death, then stand and watch it come to pass?

Fright coursed through Star, chilling her blood, for she knew her parents were precisely that heartless. If Star opposed them they might kill her, same as they'd condemn any balky commoner to death. Water wormed into Star's nose and mouth. She panicked and kicked and wriggled to no avail. Through a haze of pain, despair drenched her soul.

Yanked upward, Star shuddered like a breaching fish. Gasping for air, she instead drew the invasive water into her nose and lungs. Fresh pain stabbed her sinuses. Retching, howling, whimpering, she was dropped to the damp flagstones. Dribbling water and red strings from her nose and mouth, trying to sip air, wracked with pain, Star began to shiver, and though she hated herself savagely for it, she cried.

"Will you listen?" Her mother's voice, hard as flint.

"I will, I will." Star hated giving in, but she was too weak to resist. If submerged again, she'd be powerless to keep out the water. "I'll be good," she said. "I promise."

Her mother snorted, called for a chair, and said, "It's time, Amenstar, that you learned the duties of the eldest daughter. Your two elder brothers learned their place, and both of them journey abroad representing Cursrah's interests. In these troubled times, everyone works for the city's good, as will you. Your father, bearing the blood of genies, consults our ancestors and the very gods to foretell the future and divine our destiny. I and the other royal wives keep the kingdom on an even keel. Our vizars tend the dead while our chancellors and stewards oversee the living. Every noble in Cursrah pays homage and taxes to liege lords. Our judges maintain peace for the populace and punish conspirators. Scholars and seers at our college gather information for the glory of Great Calim. Young nobles master the military, and commoners are conscripted into the ranks as needed. The lowest dung shovellers and ditchdiggers bend their backs to their tasks, for every shovelful adds to Cursrah's coffers and prestige.

"Here lurks in this royal compound," Star's mother rattled on, "one pampered parasite who contributes nothing! You, Amenstar, an empty-headed doll with no idea of the dangers that Cursrah daily faces. Spoiled and self-consumed, you fail to notice your surroundings. See how your father keeps at hand Mooncutter, the ceremonial war axe, a weapon signifying war and not the Serpent Staff of peacetime? Chaos has ruled Calimshan ever since Great Calim's final battle. The land itself is in upheaval, and desert sand threatens to overrun Cursrah's fields and the very streets. Every neighbor plots against us, and many would swoop upon us like vultures if we relax our vigilance for even the barest fraction of a moment.

"So, given that we live with crisis, your days of useless frittering are over," the sama hissed. "Your marriage to Samir Nagid, and subsequent children, will bond us by blood to Zubat. Thus Cursrah becomes equal partners with Coramshan, a city that grows daily more powerful and looms over the land like the shadow of Great Calim. Your marriage will confirm Cursrah's independence, and the whole of civilization shall know it."

"Am I worthy of such an honor?" the samira asked. "To save Cursrah single-handed?"

Star's usual sarcasm was creeping back, and she felt a stab of panic lest she be drowned again. She hugged her arms across her wet breasts. Despite the day's heat, she was goose-bumped and freezing.

"No, you're not worthy," Star's mother shot back. "It's only your position, not your personality, that makes demands. As eldest daughter of the first sama, you've inherited the largest wing of the royal house, the most personal wealth, the greatest number of maids-and been spoiled the worst, I'm afraid. Now having reached the age of sixteen, you inherit the greatest responsibility. You'll marry well, be a dutiful wife and mother, bring peace and trade to Cursrah, and dampen the avarice of restless neighbors."

More politics, Amenstar noted with disgust, but she didn't dare argue, so she tried wheedling.

"If I'm not worthy to serve Cursrah," she said, "perhaps I should step aside as eldest daughter, and let Tunkeb-"

"Do not presume to negotiate with me," her mother spat. "You have no concept of the forces arrayed against this family, nor the thousand factors that need to be juggled. Everyone has her place and task, even you-"

"Not if I die!" Star shrieked. Cold terror gave way to white-hot anger. "I'll kill myself and spoil your plans. I'll take poison, or cradle an asp to my bosom."

"Poppycock and piffle," the sama replied, then flicked a hand to her retainers, a signal to depart. "You're too well-guarded to even consider suicide, if you had the nerve. You'll do your duty as royal blood demands, and before your wedding day you'll learn manners, poise, diplomacy, and obedience. Once you're cleaned up, you can be escorted to the library to hear The Book of Dutiful Daughters."

"Knees of Khises, I hate those wretched tales," Star said. The maudlin stories of addlepated daughters who fulfilled their parents' bizarre wishes and quests, and so lived happily ever after, had been drummed into her since birth. "I won't listen. I'll vomit!"

"More likely drown," the sama said, gesturing toward the pool. "One thing Cursrah has in abundance is water."

The royal parents swept from the small courtyard with retainers parading before and after. The shivering princess was left with sodden vizars and brainless maids who peeped wide-eyed through the tall windows.

Amenstar snarled at the priests, "Get out of my sight, you gutless ghouls!"

The clerics trooped away, and the maids scurried to their chores, but her tiny authority was bitter comfort to the miserable princess.

"… and so Serenia was finally reunited with her parents, who forgave her with open arms. On bended knee the devoted daughter apologized for her strong-headedness, saying, "Truly it's a wise child who knows that wisdom comes with age…"'"

I will vomit, thought Amenstar. She squirmed on her chair. Star had been preened and pressed, her hair brushed, her body draped in a simple blue shift, and her moonstone tiara adorned her brow. She was dressed up for nothing, a prisoner in the musty Royal Library of Cursrah.

The clerk's creaky voice droned like cicadas on a hot summer day. Her royal bodyguard had commandeered and blockaded this wing of the library so only the princess, six guards, and the clerk occupied a dozen tables and raised desks whose pigeonholes bristled with yellow-gray scrolls. Sun slanted through the windows, dust motes dancing. In the street below, commoners laughed and called and cursed and argued. As the princess's mind wandered, she heard another buzz nearby. Captain Anhur stood ramrod straight, spear upright, fast asleep. Not surprising, thought Star. The clerk could bore an owl to sleep.

Another buzz intruded, so low Star barely heard it. Someone hissed. Amenstar turned her head slowly so as not to alert the other guards.

Six feet away, Gheqet's dark face grinned at her. His chin was level with the floor, framed by the legs of a spindly rack from which hung a tapestry of a bakkal spearing a lion. Pretending to rub her nose, Amenstar saw Tafir's smug head pop up in the same square hole. Star smiled back, wondering what they planned. It was no great surprise to find them in the library, for Star had first met the two here.

Normally a royal princess was sheltered from commoners and even nobles, who were mere mortals. According to custom, and to maintain lofty airs, the lower classes only glimpsed royalty as they paraded by in sedan chairs or gave speeches from balconies. Very rarely, a brave or noteworthy citizen was personally commended by the palace chancellor representing the bakkal.

Gheqet's master, an official city architect, regularly inspected the tunnels connecting Cursrah's center. Once, of many times, Amenstar had been marched to the library for "instruction," but she had slipped away and peeked down a hole, where she'd discovered the dark skinned apprentice. Gheqet, not realizing Star was royalty, chatted and flirted as with any pretty girl. Amenstar, who only met family members and menials, found Gheqet's easy conversation, clever wit, and honest laughter filled a void in her protected life. For the first time, the princess knew true friendship as an equal. The enchanting sensation, entirely new, sent her tripping back to the library for more "instruction." Surreptitiously she met Gheqet and his lifelong neighbor and best friend Tafir of the bright curls.

That first meeting had happened a year ago, and Star still drew pleasure at seeing her only-and forbidden- friends. The library-bound princess smiled at their two faces, one light and one dark, that grinned like a pair of egg-stealing meercats plotting mischief.

Hiding one hand, Star made a flicking motion at the tapestry stand. The fellows squinted in confusion, then goggled and raised eyebrows to signal "Are you sure?" Star nodded vigorously. With a collective shrug, the men tilted the legs of the tall tapestry frame.

"Look out!" yelled a guard.

Captain Anhur jerked awake, but not quickly enough. Star whooped as the towering tapestry flopped toward her escort. Guards shouted as the huge, heavy rug billowed and flounced over them. Captain Anhur's ready spear punched a hole, but the heavy material pressed her to the floor. Other guards were enveloped or jumped clear, upsetting desks and spilling scrolls. Captain Anhur cursed colorfully and uselessly as she punched the tapestry.

Prepared for disaster, Amenstar had slithered off her chair. A thick bar along the tapestry's lower edge spanked her calf so her recent wound throbbed like fire. Still, she scooted to Gheqet and Tafir, who stood neck deep in the floor.

"My heroes to the rescue," Star laughed.

She plumped down and swung her legs into the hole.

"Halt in the name of the bakkal!" barked Captain Anhur.

Helping hands whisked Star down the hole. The fellows balanced on a narrow catwalk in the library's cellar. Easing Star to the floor, Gheqet and Tafir tipped a footworn slate up through the hole, twisted, and dropped it in place.

An oil lantern lit the low cellar. Shelves were heaped with moldy scrolls, broken statuary, and other junk. Jumping off the platform, Gheqet caught the lantern and pointed to a raised doorway.

"That way leads to the street," he said.

"Wonderful," laughed Star. "I can stand the company of real people. Hurry, before my guard finds the stairwell."

Popping through the exit, Tafir held the lantern while Gheqet bolted the tiny door behind them.

The cadet asked, "Won't you get in trouble for skipping out of the library?"

"No," Star told him. She held the hem of her blue dress as she skirted a runnel of water in the tunnel. "My mother will yell, but she always does. It's her only exercise. How did you know where I was?"

Bringing up the rear, Gheqet called, "The marketplace buzzed about your food fight. Most everyone thought it was great fun, so people talked when you were escorted under guard to the library. Taf fetched me. We poked up floor tiles till we spotted you, but, uh, can we get in trouble for helping you escape?"

"Of course not, silly. You're friends of the eldest samira. You can't be punished, no matter-" She stuttered and shivered, for the smell of water and memories of almost drowning sent a twinge of panic through her frame.

Tafir lifted the lantern and asked, "Are you all right, Star?"

"Y-yes. I'm just cold." Amenstar rubbed her arms. Not wanting to recall the punishment, she pushed it from her mind. Stopping at an intersection lit by storm drains above, she asked, "Which way lie the tunnels to my wing?"

"That way." Gheqet pointed. "Are you going home already? You just got free of your guards."

"I have plans."

The princess hopped over water and turned down a tunnel.

"What plans?" asked both, but the princess pushed ahead, so they could only follow.

Star tugged aside the mosaic wall in her privy chamber and listened.

A maid dusted Star's bedroom, humming a folk tune. Waiting until she moved on, the princess tiptoed to her armoire. A saluqi raised its long head and yipped, but Star shushed her. Yanking clothes from hangers, she donned a riding outfit: yellow trousers wrapped front and back, a tunic of watered silk in bright plum, thin riding boots with open toes, a yellow neck scarf, and a green hooded cloak hemmed with mother-of-pearl buttons. Star eschewed a veil, which would cover her new tiara. From a drawer she took a large leather bag that she stuffed with jewelry: strings of pearls, jade bracelets, rings of amethyst and sapphire, pendants of sheet gold and electrum on silver chains, and more.

Anxious not to be caught, Star slinked to her secret doorway and stepped inside. For the merest instant, she paused. Through the gap she could see her low bed, old familiar wall hangings, and the squat statue of the fairy Taab, bug-eyed and big-handed, who warded off nightmares. For a moment, Star froze, awash in homesickness, fearful of never seeing her home again. A sob burbled from her chest, surprising her, but her sore lungs gurgled too. She shivered to recall her morning's punishment in the pool. Hardening her heart, she tugged the panel shut with a sharp click. At the bottom of the hidden stairs, two conspirators waited with lantern lit.

Gheqet puckered his brow and asked, "Where are we going? Will we be late? I promised my parents I'd be home for supper."

"And I must return to the barracks at sundown," Tafir added, "else I'll draw extra duty."

"You won't be eating supper for a while yet, Gheq," Amenstar pronounced in hushed tones. "Nor must you march on a parade ground again, Taf. We're going take a trip."

"Trip?" chimed both.

"To the coast," stated the princess, "on horseback, just the three of us. I need time to ponder my future."

"Future?" they repeated.

Gheqet said, "You're a princess. You, uh, marry a prince and become a queen, don't you?"

"Marry someone I don't love?" the eldest daughter carped. "Go live in a foreign land, amidst strangers who know I'm nothing but a pawn, a royal asset doled out by my parents to promote trade? No, thank you. We'll journey to the coast and take passage. I have jewels. We can exchange them for money."

Boggled, the commoners gawked at the fistful of shining gems Amenstar dragged from the heavy leather bag.

Tafir choked, "That's a king's ransom! You could buy a ship… a whole town."

"Perhaps I shall," said Star primly. "I'm of royal blood. Why not establish myself in some lucky town and guide it by royal decree? I'll tell you this, no woman or man in that town would ever be forced to marry anyone. Now, let's be off."

"Wait!"

Gheqet and Tafir blocked Star's path.

The blond cadet asked, "Star, uh, have you thought this through? If you're robbed in some foreign port, you'd be just a commoner-"

"If I stay here, I may be drowned," Star said, ignoring their puzzled looks, "or married off, and I won't let either happen. So let's go!"

When they again hesitated she punched Tafir playfully, as she'd seen Gheqet do, and said, "Come, you sluggards! It'll be fun… high adventure, and who knows, maybe I'll marry one of you. Or both. How would you like that?"

The commoners stared at one another. Star was their friend, but she was also a charming and pretty young woman. While each man had surreptitiously studied her face and body when she was unaware, never had either considered marrying a princess any more than they'd consider wedding a ghost or an angel. It simply wasn't in the stars.

"This is… reckless," Gheqet breathed.

"And dangerous," Tafir added. "Three's a crowd in romance, not that romance has a chance."

"Pooh to all your objections." Star shouldered her leather bag of fabulous wealth and said, "Hear this. I must leave the city, and quickly. Once my bodyguards report I've fled the library, there'll be nine hells to pay. All of us may be punished."

"You said we couldn't be punished," objected Tafir.

"Was that a-lie?" added Gheqet.

"It was-" Amenstar huffed. What was left if a royal order didn't fulfill your wish? "I truly don't know what my parents might do, but they will be furious."

The commoners blanched at the thought of the bakkal of Cursrah, genie-kin and demigod, being personally perturbed at them. Anything could result, from a simple whipping to the fury of dead ancestors and punishing gods.

"We must go," insisted Star in the silence. "Shall I issue a royal command?"

"No," said the two.

"Pick up your feet and march."

Amenstar was only half kidding, but the citizens didn't dare quibble. Bracketing the princess, the trio tramped through the tunnels toward the stables and freedom.

In the semi-gloom, Tafir muttered so both heard, "Just because a command is royal doesn't mean it's wise…"

"Figure however you want, we're lost."

The three adventurers hunched over a tiny fire to warm their hands. Juniper wood, wrenched from a small copse in this low rill, crackled and spat as if annoyed. On this second morning out they were cold, achy from unaccustomed exercise, and saddle sore. Princess Amenstar shivered and wished, just briefly, for her recliner, iron brazier, quilted robe, and a cup of mint tea dripping with honey.

"I told you, I can only navigate by night," Tafir said. His eyes were red from lack of sleep. "If you line up Aken's Axe with the Tiger, the stars point north, but by day…"

"That'll teach you to skip classes," grumbled Gheqet. "If I miss a day without permission, my master makes me break rocks for eight hours."

The horses tossed their heads and nickered, but the tired travelers ignored them. From burrows in the rill's wall, hedgehogs peeked out, then ducked from sight.

At least this time they were prepared for extended riding. Amenstar had demanded horses from the stable master, food, and water bags. For a night and day, they'd ridden due north, the shortest route to the River Agis. Star planned to find a fishing village and hire passage to a seaport so only a few unimportant people would know their whereabouts. Unfortunately, they'd circled for hours. They'd seen groves of acacia, stands of scrub pine, and much coarse grass and sand, a flock of ostriches, wild camels and antelope, a golden eagle, and a mother bear and her sand-brown cubs feasting on a dead gazelle. Finally a goatherd pointed them north again, but they still didn't find the river. Tired as their horses, they'd made camp early in this rill. Already cranky, they didn't look forward to another day of aimless wandering.

One of their horses whinnied. A distant snort echoed.

"Uh oh," said Tafir.

"Could be bandits," Gheqet said. "I told you we shouldn't light a fire."

Normally levelheaded, Gheqet imagined that Star's opulent jewelry shone across both horizons. He kicked at the fire, then fumbled to untie his reins.

"Wait!" said Taf. "If we lay low, they won't spot us."

"I order the two of you to remain here," Star said as she struggled to quiet her horse. "No one will dare harm a princess-"

Hoof beats drummed, and suddenly they were hemmed by blowing horses and stern-faced soldiers.

The soldiers' captain hollered, "Stand and identify!"

"Murdering Memnon," carped Tafir. "It's the ox heads of Samir Wolfbreath."

"Pallaton of Oxonsis," gasped Gheqet.

Six cavalry riders wore undyed linen tunics painted with red ox heads. Red headscarves fluttered, as did white and red ribbons topping their tall riding bows. The officer was a lithe, dark woman marked by two ostrich plumes, and a leather kurbash hung on her left wrist.

The captain, hardly older than Star, glared from her great height and repeated, "Intruders, identify yourselves!"

"We will not," Amenstar retorted. Turning her back, she kicked her foot for a leather stirrup. "Now begone. We've a journey to complete-"

Quick as an eye blink, the officer spurred her horse so it reared and almost took wing like an eagle. The great beast galloped headlong into the rill, straight for the three Cursrahns, then slammed to a halt beside Amenstar. The captain flipped up her kurbash and slashed the princess across the head. Taken by surprise, the samira was knocked against her mount. Nudging the horse in a tight circle, the officer slapped Tafir and Gheqet, who prudently took the blows and kept still.

The officer snapped, "You'll obey orders when visiting Oxonsis!"

"This is not Oxonsis's sphere," the princess said. In fact, Amenstar hadn't a clue where they stood on a map. Clinging to her saddle, she felt her neck, and discovered blood from a sliced ear. Fury overtook reason. "You stinking scut-I can scarce believe it. You struck me!"

Possessed by her own temper, the officer vaulted from the saddle, kilt flapping, and stormed toward Amenstar. "You smart-mouthed slattern. Show respect for the prince's army."

Spanking Star's mount aside, the amazon hoisted her kurbash and swatted Amenstar with the full of her knotty arm. Stunned, spun by the blows, Star tumbled to her knees. Whistling leather punished her back, butt, thigh, shoulder, and the back of her head. Gheqet stared in astonishment. Tafir set his feet to jump to Star's defense, but a cavalry lance tapped his shoulder, freezing him.

Timed to blows, the officer snarled, "You brainless bitch! Think you can violate our borders with impunity? We lost half a night's patrol tracking you down!"

Cowering, Amenstar covered her head, thinking this was the second time in three days she'd been punished. The first punishers had been her parents, the highest authorities in the land. Being beaten by an army lackey only stoked her high-born anger.

Puffing, the officer caught a fistful of cornrows and jerked Star to her feet. She expected the captive to beg for mercy, but Star's dark eyes glowed with royal fire.

Despite red welts marring her cheek and neck, the princess hissed, "You'll burn at the stake for this indignity. After your skin is flayed from your wretched body. I, Samira Amenstar of Cursrah, vow it!"

"Preposterous." The officer let go Star's hair and said, "As if a real princess would ride this far in plain clothes with only two ragamuffins for escort."

In the pause, a cavalryman cleared his throat. The captain glanced, saw the soldier flick his eyes to Star, then nod small. Amenstar grasped his message. The man must have accompanied Samir Pallaton to the royal gala, so confirmed Star's identity. The captain gaped at the princess's grim smile then blanched. Shaken, the officer groped for her horse and mounted.

"You-you three. Mount up. We must-You'd be conducted to Samir Pallaton anyway, whoever you are…"

In silence, the troop formed three and three to bracket the captives and trotted off.

"I told you we'd be safe, no matter where we went," Amenstar told her friends. She rubbed her bleeding ear and winced.

Tafir and Gheqet exchanged glances. They didn't feel safe.