"Habiba?" he asked.

"Gone," she answered as he knew she would. "To carry a report to her ladyship, in Shan."

"Why didn't you go with them?" He didn't mean it as an insult, but she jerked as if a blow had indeed fallen.

"The Lady SienMa made us a unit." Reflexively, her hand gestured at Bixei, performing his prayer rituals in front of their little band of troops. "You think Hmishi and Lling are your responsibility because they're your countrymen and pledged to your cause. But I'm their commanding officer, and I don't abandon my forces in the field."

She had stayed behind with her father when Llesho had ridden out with Hmishi and Lling. Now, when all their efforts had come to disaster, she wanted to call back that decision. Too late for that. He wisely kept the words to himself, but the anger he held behind his teeth spilled into eyes gone suddenly cold. He'd been glad for her help when she'd ridden into Ahkenbad, but her father's absence with all Shou's imperial troops reminded him how little he could depend on anyone who wasn't sworn to his hand directly.

"I'll find them, and I'll get them back." Kaydu held her ground. He supposed she meant it as a pledge, but her words goaded him past good sense.

"I don't need a nursemaid to find my lost toys. I certainly don't need someone at my back who will fly off at the whim of a magician whose loyalty lies elsewhere."

He heard, at his left, a sudden indrawn breath-Dog-nut the dwarf, that was-while Lluka urged him, "Calmly, brother," in his most annoyingly soothing tones.

Both combatants had passed the point of calm, however, and Lluka just made him madder.

"Take it back." Kaydu stood up to him, glaring, and Llesho gulped air, preparing his next sally.

While they engaged in a contest of guilty consciences, however, Master Den had ended morning prayer forms.

"Take what back?" he asked, joining them with his cup outstretched for tea. Llesho hadn't seen or heard him approach. Common sense, belatedly kicking in, told him that the master had made no effort to sneak up on them. He'd been too wrapped up in his argument to notice a force of soldiers-this time, fortunately, his own-come up on his flank. If they'd been raiders, they could have killed him before he knew they were there.

"Words," Llesho answered his master's question, unwilling to give up his righteous anger. Fighting in their own ranks would accomplish no good for any but their enemies and he knew that, so he added, "Too many of the wrong ones," as an apology of sorts.

"We have enemies enough out there," Kaydu agreed, an apology of her own as she pointed in the direction of the grasslands. "I don't want to be your enemy, and neither does my father. But he owes a higher allegiance, and I-"

The thought of fighting two magicians chilled his blood, but Master Den interrupted before Kaydu could go on. He spoke quietly, but with no gentleness about his tone or expression.

"You, Captain, must choose: to follow, or to lead."

Llesho had expected his teacher's disapproval, so it took him a moment to grasp what Master Den had said. Kaydu, for her part, had taken approval as her due and she drew breath in the instant, to object. Then, understanding moved in her eyes, as if she looked into the argument and saw a stranger where her own self had stood.

"Time to choose," Dognut encouraged her. "We need an ending to the tale I am composing."

"I can't."

Llesho had never seen Kaydu at such a loss. He wished their troops, surrounding them now, would go away. Leave us in privacy to settle our grievances and move on, Leave us in privacy to settle our grievances and move on, he thought, but that wasn't happening. Shokar joined Lluka, with Balar at his side. Harlol, with agony in the very set of his bones, left Kaydu's side and joined them at his back. With leaden tread and bitter unhappiness drawing their mouths into tight lines, Bixei and Stipes stood uneasily between, unwilling to accept the breach at all. he thought, but that wasn't happening. Shokar joined Lluka, with Balar at his side. Harlol, with agony in the very set of his bones, left Kaydu's side and joined them at his back. With leaden tread and bitter unhappiness drawing their mouths into tight lines, Bixei and Stipes stood uneasily between, unwilling to accept the breach at all.

They could lose the war right here, their forces dividing along the lines of an argument that could, perhaps, have waited until they had grown more secure with each other again. But Master Den, miraculously, had seen their case as Llesho had. Wherever Habiba had gone, to whatever purpose, whatever purpose, he was no longer a part of the search he was no longer a part of the search for the Thebin for the Thebin hostages. And Llesho could not cross the grasslands wondering when a sudden call would send his captain flying off in another direction, to another fight, leaving a hole in his plans and a deeper one at the center of his own cadre. The weak links must be reforged or discarded before they cost more lives. hostages. And Llesho could not cross the grasslands wondering when a sudden call would send his captain flying off in another direction, to another fight, leaving a hole in his plans and a deeper one at the center of his own cadre. The weak links must be reforged or discarded before they cost more lives.

"You're with us, or you're not. We're in too deep for divided loyalties. That's why Habiba left." He understood that now, and wondered if Kaydu did, and if she would find her answer in the fact that her father had left her behind as well.

"My father-"

He didn't think it would ever happen, but the thought of fighting both magicians at once made him queasy. Llesho reached out to her, grasped the arm still raised to fiddle with her quiver strings. "I will never send you against him."

"Then, I guess I am yours."

"You think you mean that, but you don't. Not yet. But you will."

Kaydu bowed her head, acknowledgment and something more, the beginning of making it true, he thought. Around them, soldiers and brothers did likewise. Only Master Den looked him straight in the eye. With an ironic twist of a smile, the trickster god said, "Spoken like a king. They have you now."

"I know." It hurt to say it. He never wanted to be king.

His brothers, raised longer than he in the royal court of Kungol, seemed to understand what had transpired in those few words, but Lluka appeared less than satisfied. "I'm sorry," he said, but Llesho didn't acknowledge his brother's perception. Still didn't trust it. Divided loyalties, Divided loyalties, he thought, he thought, but not about the throne. but not about the throne. Lluka could have the title for the asking-he knew Llesho didn't want it. So what fealty did Lluka truly give to him, and what of his loyalty had he already sold, and to whom, or to what? Lluka could have the title for the asking-he knew Llesho didn't want it. So what fealty did Lluka truly give to him, and what of his loyalty had he already sold, and to whom, or to what?

He couldn't afford another challenge right on the heels of his contest of wills with Kaydu, however. He resolved to let it go for now, but to keep an eye on this brother of his. He sat, his back to the Tashek Wastrels who had set about striking the command tent.

"Is there any more tea?" he asked. The mundane request put an end to the standoff, releasing the company to go about their business. Llesho waited while his officers and advisers joined him one by one around the breakfast fire.

Tensions eased in the filling of cups. When the newcomers had settled around the kettle, with Kaydu on his right and Shokar at his left, Llesho picked up where he had meant to begin: "Where did they go, and what impact does it have on our mission?"

"Shou has taken his imperial militia to Durnhag." Kaydu shrugged, a gesture to say she delivered the message, but claimed no responsibility for its content. "The empire requires his attention, and preparations must be made for the coming war."

"He cannot mean to fight for Thebin," Llesho grabbed at the hope with both hands even though common sense denied it. The emperor had his own affairs to consider, and his own damage to repair. Thebin was far off on the other side of the Harnlands, and no great concern of Shan.

"Not for Thebin, no. For Shan. Remember, the goddess of war sits in Shou's court now. If the Harn turn their eyes on the empire, however, they must turn them away from Thebin, no?"

"The Harn may see rich pickings on their border," Llesho agreed, "but that doesn't answer what Markko wants." Llesho remembered his dream, all of heaven in disarray, its gardens all untended. What part of the demon's siege of the gates of heaven was the magician's doing, and out of what malice?

"Markko comes from the north," Bixei reminded them. "He's not Shannish, but comes from my own people, who lived in Farshore before the coming of the empire. He wants Farshore back, and all the empire with it."

"Maybe." But Llesho had feared Master Markko before he'd ever done anything against him, and he'd gone on the defensive from his first dealings with Bixei as well. "But there is something about you that reminds me, a little, of the Harn. Not your actions, which have proved your loyalty beyond question. Mostly you don't look like any of the Harnishmen I've seen lately either. But I'd like to know where your people came from before they found themselves in Farshore."

"So would we," Bixei agreed. "A past among the Harn would be pretty bad, but anything is better than a history that records nothing but slavery."

Llesho could see his point. Even Master Markko had been a slave, though high in Lord Chin-shi's confidence. Kungol, at least, had been free until the raiders came.

"It would explain the magician's choice of allies," Sho-kar suggested. "And maybe even his interest in Llesho? He could use a legal heir to take Thebin from his allies."

Shokar sipped and choked appreciatively on his spicy tea, but it was Stipes who cleared his throat. The former gladiator squirmed under the scrutiny of the others in their circle. He'd known Llesho as a slave boy, and couldn't hide his discomfort with this transformation into royalty. Llesho knew he wouldn't draw attention to himself unless he had something important to say.

"Speak up. It won't be the first time your advice kept me alive, Stipes."

Suitably encouraged, Stipes bent in an attempt at a seated bow. "It's just, your princeliness-"

"It's Llesho, Stipes, the same as always."

"No," Lluka interrupted with a shake of his head. "He's right about that. We are gathering our army now, we can't go on as if we are beggars at the door. The proper term of address for a prince who is a husband of the goddess is, 'Your holy highness'."

"Among friends and sitting as we are in the dirt, I would still want to be Llesho," he insisted. "But whatever you call me, I want to know what it is you have to say."

"Just this, your holy," and that shortened form of his title seemed to satisfy Stipes in ways that Llesho couldn't begin to understand. "Master Markko took an interest in you before he knew you were a prince. When he learned about your birth, he took no special notice other than his usual pleasure at tormenting his betters. But he never used you in a political way."

Bixei agreed. "He's right. If he'd valued you politically, he'd have protected you more, until he could make use of you. Instead, he almost killed you with his poisons. He may have come later to include you in any plots he may have hatched to take Thebin from the raiders and hold it for himself, but he wants you first for what you can do."

"My powers, whatever they are, have proved useless to help anyone so far."

"Not true." Kaydu hadn't been there, but she'd heard the stories. "Master Markko always knows more than it seems there is to know. He wants to bring down the Shan Empire, but I think that has only ever been a step in his real plan. He sees something in you-not your heritage, not your relationship with Shou, but you yourself-as a tool."

Master Den raised his teacup in appreciation of a trickster scheme. It made Llesho ill. "What will Shou do?" he asked, wondering if he was just another tool to the emperor as well.

"He said very little before he left," Kaydu warned them, "and didn't include me in his counsels. But this much I know: the emperor will bring his capital to Durn-hag, a courtesy about which he plans to give the governor no option. Habiba has gone to summon the court, and to beg the Lady SienMa to join the emperor on his war council."

Stipes, at Bixei's side, perked up at that news. "With the mortal goddess of war on his council, Shou cannot lose."

"If that were so," Kaydu pointed out glumly, "the governor's compound at Farshore would not now lie in ruins, and her ladyship would govern Thousand Lakes Province."

"The question," Master Den explained, "is not 'can the lady win the war for the Shan Empire?' but 'will she win the war for Shou?' Even I do not know the mind of a mortal goddess well enough to answer that one."

Not even another mortal god had the power of prophecy where the goddess of war was concerned. But Llesho wondered about the question left unspoken: Did Shou ask the goddess to fight his war, or did the goddess of war use the emperor of Shan to fight a war of her own? The first test, of course, was Habiba's message. Would she come to Durnhag?

Bixei, relieved that he did not have to choose between obedience to his captain and the rescue of his companions, had his own question. "And what of us?"

"Frankly?" Just minutes ago it might have come as a challenge, but Kaydu shrugged, liking her answer less than the question. "I think Shou hopes that Master Markko's eyes will be on our efforts to free the hostages. If we are successful in at least that much, it will give Shou the time he needs to prepare for a greater war on his own borders."

A tool, or a ruse. Llesho hadn't wanted to know that, but Kaydu continued her explanation anyway.

"Shou has a problem of strategy. The Shan Empire extends for more than a thousand li to the north, but it meets the Harnlands only a day's march from Durnhag. The Gansau Wastes extend for twice that distance to the west, but share much of their eastern border with Shan and this, their southern border, with the Harnlands. And the grasslands of the Harn stretch even farther to the south and west."

Llesho remembered another time, a map of the world spread on rugs in a silk tent. The Lady SienMa had tutored him in the facts of political geography even as she had questioned him to learn all he knew about the Harn. "I know they've sent raiders into Shan, but would the Harn risk a full-scale war with the empire?"

Shokar shrugged, answering, "If they'd won at the imperial city last year, they might have carried the empire the way they conquered Thebin by taking Kungol."

He gave a little shudder, remembering, no doubt, the wonders and terrors of that battle. Shokar was a quiet man, like their father, and a warrior only by dire necessity.

"Master Markko will doubtless assure his followers that they have allies in the provinces to the north," Bixei pointed out. "But how many of the clans will follow him?"

"He will attract the bandits and free-roaming warrior class," Lluka offered. "The family bands will likely resist, at least until they see how the wind blows through the grass."

Llesho wondered how his brother knew, and regretted the suspicion. Lluka had a subtle nature, a slyness to his expression that hid unspoken calculations, but he would not take common cause with the murderers of their parents, and their sister.

They all, brothers and companions, offered what advice they could, but none of them had seen the gardens of heaven in their disarray. "Master Markko may have fixed his gaze on the Shan Empire, but the demon who lays siege to the gates of heaven came from somewhere. What is Markko's connection to that?"

"A question worthy of a king on a quest." Dognut added applause to his praise, setting down his teacup to clap his hands.

Llesho thought he ought to be angry, but he could find no sign of ridicule in the dwarfs open face. A question surfaced like flotsam in his mind-why had the dwarf, Shou's own minstrel, stayed behind when his master had marched?-and vanished again as their circle began to stir for departure. Master Den threw the dregs of his tea into the fire, and stood up, his eyes searching out the grasslands still hidden by the distance. "I think that I will find myself a likely trench."

They all knew it was time to ride, then, and followed the trickster god to their feet, if not to the shelter of a likely rock. With a nod to Shokar and Harlol to follow, Kaydu went off to set the troops in motion while Bixei and Stipes added their muscle to the task of striking camp.

Llesho would have gone to ready his own pack, but Lluka stopped him with a firm grip on his arm. "I don't know what I have done that you distrust me, Llesho, but I swear I wish no harm to you."

Balar watched them both, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "I'm the one who told Kagar to hit you," he agreed, "If anyone deserves your distrust, it would be me."

"And yet," Llesho told him, "I trust you completely to do what you think best in as direct a way as you see. Your complexity is logical; music has taught you respect for each string of your instrument, but that a string, to sound, must indeed be plucked."

For Lluka, he could only shake his head. "There's a twist in your thinking I can't see around. I don't believe you want to hurt me, but we may disagree on what that means."

"Is it because I have lost my gifts?" Lluka asked him, "or because you do not accept what my gifts have to show you?"

Llesho shook his head and returned his brother's grip on his arm. "I don't trust your conclusions. You would lead us into blind retreat because you confuse the darkness and chaos of your vision for the death of all possible futures. But there are more possibilities than no future at all on the one hand, or no ability to see the future on the other.

"Fear of what you see, or don't see, has clouded your judgment. If we are at the center of actions that create the future, we won't be able to see what we've made until we make it. That's not the same as having no future. I worry that you will trade away the choices I need to make to keep things the way they are now rather than risk an uncertain outcome. And I think that if you do, you will fulfill your own prophecy."

Lluka pulled his hand away as if he'd been stung. "I will not hurt you," he said, "I will never hurt you." And he ran.

"I don't understand him," Balar admitted. "But I know he loves you."

"It's not his motives I distrust." And he realized that was true.

Balar sighed. "I wish I still had my instrument," he said. "Music helps me think."

On the verge of a tart remark about the relative value of their losses, Llesho stopped himself. He knew the cost of his own: a life of slavery and flight, Master Jaks dead, his brother and his friends in the hands of his deadly enemy. Adar was brother to both of them, however, and he did not know what the musical instrument had meant to Balar, or what connection it had to his gifts. He only knew one thing for certain.

"It's going to get worse before it gets better." With a nod of parting, he went in search of his pack.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

THE riders of the Harnlands were said to keep to the saddle from birth, eating and sleeping on the backs of their swift, sturdy horses. They wore soft shoes, their feet never touching the land they wandered as they followed their herds of horses, until they died of old age in their saddles and toppled to the ground.

Llesho had never seen a Harnishman die of old age in his saddle. He didn't know if their shoes were hard or soft. During the Long March, however, his captors had paced their prisoners on horseback, never leaving their saddles even to separate the living from the dead. He had crossed the grasslands on foot, or in the arms of his countrymen, and hadn't ridden again until the Lady SienMa had picked him out of the practice yard at Pearl Island. She'd found in him a skinny excuse for a gladiator-in-training and put him on the path that Lleck had set for him. Now he spent so much time on horseback that he wondered if the condition of being Harnish was something you caught through your saddle, from the land. Effortlessly adjusting his weight to the shifting gait of his horse, Llesho figured he was becoming more of a Harnish rider with each passing hour.

But if a Thebin prince was becoming a rider, what had the Harnishmen become who had invaded the Palace of the Sun to kill the king? What did it make of the spies and saboteurs a thousand li from Thebin, who left their horses behind to swarm the narrow streets of Shan? And what did a magician from the North have to do with any of it? What hold did Master Markko have on the grasslands, and why did the raiders follow him? He needed answers to those questions before he sent an army against the magician-had to know if they faced him at the center of his power, or far from the source of his energy. And they were running out of time to find out.

There was no line in the dirt, with wasteland on one side and grasses on the other, but they had left the Gan-sau Wastes for the Harnlands sometime during the afternoon. Llesho wasn't exactly sure when: the hills had risen but never seemed to fall again. The grasses had thickened and the air had thinned. One moment the horses walked past tough sedges, the next they trod patchy grasses growing more tender as the air took on a sweet smell, cool with water.

They pushed their way through a dense thatch of knotted roots with grassy stalks brushing their heels in their stirrups, onto an expanse of tender green cropped close by grazing sheep and horses. Llesho tried to keep his mind pinned to the moment, but past and present muddled themselves in his head. He didn't know this route. The Long March hadn't come this way, but the smell of the air over the grasslands was like no other. He'd forgotten the taste of water in the wind, the balm of it on the skin tight over his cheekbones. After the parched heat of the Wastes it should have been a blessing, but the child of his memories quaked inside him.

Now, he reminded himself, he reminded himself, not then. not then. Kaydu rode beside him, one hand on the reins and the other wrapped around Little Brother. The monkey was uncommonly quiet, his own face as drawn with worry as that of his mistress. Dognut, surprisingly, had refused his place in the baggage and reclaimed his camel and the small saddle the Tashek had provided when they left Ahkenbad. He rode up on Llesho's other side-the better to record the tale of their quest, he'd insisted-and Llesho had not objected. A dark look, however, put an end to the cheery tune the dwarf had started on his flute. As had become his habit, Master Den walked with his hand on the bridle of Llesho's horse, making soothing clucking sounds; whether he meant to calm horse or rider wasn't clear. Lluka and Balar rode behind them. Llesho felt like he rode with a target painted on his back, but Shokar followed after, with Bixei and Harlol leading their small forces. Kaydu rode beside him, one hand on the reins and the other wrapped around Little Brother. The monkey was uncommonly quiet, his own face as drawn with worry as that of his mistress. Dognut, surprisingly, had refused his place in the baggage and reclaimed his camel and the small saddle the Tashek had provided when they left Ahkenbad. He rode up on Llesho's other side-the better to record the tale of their quest, he'd insisted-and Llesho had not objected. A dark look, however, put an end to the cheery tune the dwarf had started on his flute. As had become his habit, Master Den walked with his hand on the bridle of Llesho's horse, making soothing clucking sounds; whether he meant to calm horse or rider wasn't clear. Lluka and Balar rode behind them. Llesho felt like he rode with a target painted on his back, but Shokar followed after, with Bixei and Harlol leading their small forces.

They had sent Wastrels to scout the way but had no need of an advance guard. The grasslands were flat enough that a rider with sharp eyes could see almost to the end of the world. Not even Harnish forces had the skill to move unseen against them in daylight.

"We'll find them and get them back safely," Kaydu insisted, as if she could draw him out of his memories with her certainty. Her doubts leaked around the edges of her dark, serious eyes, but he wouldn't tell her that.

"We'll find them," Master Den agreed. He made no promises of safety, and Llesho wondered what he would have to pay for his brother and his friends.

"Just another piece of your soul."

Llesho stared hard at the trickster god who walked beside him. He knew he hadn't spoken aloud, and Kaydu looked too confused by the trickster's words to have heard the question. But Master Den had answered his thoughts, so there seemed little point in hiding behind silence.

"Haven't I paid enough?"