"Zephyr?"

Harlol twitched a shoulder, dismissing the question with a bland, "She needed a name, and seemed to like that one. It suits her." The nomadic Tashek were bred to the camel, slept with their beasts and fed them with their own hands in the desert. A man who did not know his beast didn't survive. Hearing this young drover talk about a camel as if it could understand and even choose its own name convinced Llesho beyond doubt that the nomads were stranger even than reports had named them. Shou, however, seemed surprised only by the choice of names. "She never struck me as being that light on her feet."

The Tashek drover smiled. "Perhaps she was only waiting to be asked."

"We'll see ... What's wrong with you, boy?" The emperor turned the sharp edge of his tongue on Llesho, who jumped as if he'd been bitten by an adder. "Posing for a statue on my time?"

"No, sir!"

"Then get ready to move out! There're five hundred camels and as many horses in this caravan, and the front of the line is already halfway to Guynm by now. They are not going to wait for one daydreaming cadet!"

Chastised, Llesho snapped to attention, acutely aware of the short spear strapped to his back and the imperial militia uniform he wore. He turned with a will to hitching his pack to the back of his horse, just one among hundreds of militiamen hired out to guard the many caravans journeying to the West. Squads passed up and down the ranks, finding their places at the sides of their temporary masters. Old campaigners of rank, they took up positions in the parties to the front and rear of Shou's camels. Llesho recognized in their number several who had dined at the Moon and Star. They were elite imperial guardsmen, he suspected, and no more at home in their militia uniforms than his own cadre. They passed Shou's party with no acknowledgment, but Llesho felt a great pressure lift from his shoulders: the emperor did not rely on their band alone for his defense.

He was more than grateful for their presence when a handful of Harnishmen in the shaggy breeches and coarse shirts of the plains people rode by on their short horses. In their midst, a trader with the same look but much finer garb rode on a taller, more elegant steed. He'd known that small parties out of Harn sometimes traveled with the larger caravans, but hadn't considered the possibility that they might join this this one. With a tight grip on the hilt of his Thebin knife he watched them make their way to their position at the rear. None of that party gave Shou a backward glance; they didn't know who he was, or they were skilled spies. Either way, Llesho figured he would need to stay on his guard. At their best the Harnishmen were mischief, at their worst, deadly. one. With a tight grip on the hilt of his Thebin knife he watched them make their way to their position at the rear. None of that party gave Shou a backward glance; they didn't know who he was, or they were skilled spies. Either way, Llesho figured he would need to stay on his guard. At their best the Harnishmen were mischief, at their worst, deadly.

The Huang agents had divided the caravan into parts: two units, each of a hundred camels and as many horses, had already departed. Shou's small party had drawn an inconspicuous slot toward the middle of the third unit. If raiders came at them from the front they'd have plenty of warning, but they were not so far to the rear that they would fall into the hands of bandits sweeping down on stragglers.

The emperor, disguised as a Guynmer merchant, offered Carina a pallet on the back of a camel, but she declined, insisting that she would ride. She wore the robes of a healer with a wide split skirt under and a thick swathe of veils that covered her from head to foot, protecting her from the sun and the dust. Adar had pulled a short veil over his eyes but left his face uncovered, as did the three Thebins in the full uniform of imperial military cadets. Master Den wore his usual loin wrap and an open coat that fell below his knees. In his right hand he carried his long staff with an umbrella stuck in it for shade, and over his back he carried a small pack which might double as a change of clothes, Llesho figured.

The call sounded for their party to move out, and Llesho scrambled into his saddle. He had expected Shou to ride horseback as well, but the emperor climbed onto the bent leg of the lead camel and slid effortlessly into a padded seat built up for him in front of the camel's pack.

THE PRIFCE OF DREAItiS Harlol stood ready. "Up, Zephyr. Up!" he shouted, and gave the camel an encouraging slap on its haunch. The camel rose, rocking her passenger who rolled with the motion as if he'd been born to it. A second camel remained on its knees. The Tashek drover scanned the crowd, cursing under his breath in a language thick with harsh consonants that Llesho did not understand. "You are certain he is coming?" he finally asked in Shannish.

Shou nodded, squinting in concentration as he looked over the sea of beasts and people. "There he is now-" He pointed, but Llesho saw no one paying them the least attention.

"Ah! I see him!" the drover's attention locked on its target, and Llesho followed his gaze to the most incredible figure he had seen all morning.

A dwarf in the exotic dress of Thousand Lakes Province struggled toward them through the milling press of food vendors and trinket sellers hawking their last-minute wares to the forming caravans. In one hand he carried a pair of cymbals, and on his back was strapped a quiver full of flutes. Behind him, he dragged a small stepladder. "Harlol!" the dwarf addressed the new drover by name, "You seem to have landed on your feet. I thought you'd be begging your way home!"

"A Tashek drover never stays unemployed for long." Harlol steadied the ladder against the waiting camel's pack, demanding, "What kept you? The master is growing impatient to be gone."

The dwarf climbed up and plopped himself in a small chair with arms and a gate that he latched across his front. When he had settled his instruments and fluttering garments about him, he drew a deep breath and nodded a signal for the drover to bring the camel to its feet.

"There was this maid from Sky Bridge Province who, noting the diminutive size of my visible parts, was curious about the size of my other parts." He explained his tardiness with a sly smile and a careless wave of his hand to take in his lower body. "I proved to her that small messengers can carry big packages, but she insisted I repeat the experiment, to be certain." The dwarf shrugged with mock innocence. "I could not leave the lady unconvinced, and in faith, she took almost more convincing than I had strength to devote to the debate."

"Tell that to the master when he takes a whip to your hide for holding up our departure."

As far as Llesho knew, Emperor Shou didn't own a whip. That doubtless explained why the dwarf showed no sign of fear or contrition, but laughed merrily at Llesho, as if they two shared some secret joke at the drover's expense.

Harlol latched the ladder to the camel's pack with a twitch of a smile that quickly vanished when the camel reached around on his long neck to take a nip out of his backside. Harlol gave her a sharp smack on the nose. "Behave yourself, Moonbeam!" he warned the animal, which offered an opinion of this new name in the wad of spittle it flung at Harlol's departing feet.

"Enough!" The drover made a rude gesture at her and turned on his heel to run down the row, checking the tether line that tied each of Shou's twelve camels to the others. Shouting in the Tashek language, which the beasts seemed to understand best, he prodded at their flanks with a goad that he carried for the purpose.

"Evil-tempered beast," the strange newcomer said, but he was watching the departing drover, and not the camel, as he said it.

Curious about the new addition to their company, Llesho settled his horse beside the camel on which the dwarf rode at his ease. As their party moved forward, he stole a glance upward, only to find the dwarf staring down at him.

"And who might you be, squirt?"

"I'm called Llesho, and I'm a cadet in the imperial militia," Llesho answered with his cover story. "And I think, sir, that you have no room to call another names that belittle his stature. What-who are you?"

"I am called Dognut, though my parents named me Bright Morning at my birth. And as you see, I am court musician to His Majesty's travels."

Llesho had no practice at subterfuge; a blind man might read the horror that slackened his face at the dwarfs words. The little man gave him a wink that, on the surface, said he played the same game as their neighbors in the caravan, mocking their master and his pompous affectations. The gleam sharpening his grin spoke of deeper knowledge and more dangerous ironies. They had not yet left the city wall behind, and already Llesho was tired of the joke.

"I have never met a man of your race before. Where are your people from?" he asked, trying desperately to change the subject.

"Like our employer, I am a king-king of the short people."

Llesho was about to commiserate with the shoddy treatment the little king received from his companions when a braying cackle, like a donkey in heat, erupted from the dwarfs mouth. Dognut held his sides and laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks and Llesho wished a lion would jump from the bushes and kill him just to put him out of his misery.

"My 'people' farm the Thousand Lakes Province, and surpass your own length, pygmy lad. My looks are a mere accident of birth-the bones of my arms and legs break easily, and refuse to grow, which the wealthy find amusing. When it became clear that this body had reached its full height before its hands could reach the plow, I was offered to the governor to be trained as an entertainer. Unfortunately, I did not live up to expectations in that regard either. With one thing and another, fate cast me adrift upon the mercy of our current master, who has no great ear for music and therefore prizes a musician with a similar lack of sensibility."

Llesho blushed furiously, feeling every word out of his mouth was another foot in the camel dung. "I'm sure you jest with me about your skill with your instruments," he stuttered in a lame effort to appease the situation.

His brother rode ahead with Carina and he kneed his horse to a faster pace to join them, leaving the laughing dwarfs ridicule behind. The two healers were deep in a conversation about poultices, but Adar paused with an expression of patient inquiry on his face. Llesho had no conversation to offer. Unfortunately, he had now reached the head of their party, hobbled to the slow but steady pace comfortable for camels and horses.

"Can't we go any faster?" he asked his brother.

"I don't know much about camels. The horses could manage a brisk trot for a little while, but on a trip this long, a faster pace would kill them."

Adar meant no harm, but his words dropped Llesho into the past as if it were all happening again. The sounds of the caravan blended into the memories of another journey filled with hunger and thirst and exhaustion, his people dying between one step and the next. Clammy sweat sprang out all over his body, chilling him to the bone, and he gasped as if he'd been shot with one of his own arrows.

"Llesho! Llesho!"

Adar's voice reached him through the fog in his mind. They had drawn to a halt while the caravan plodded by, drovers he did not know and guards he thought he vaguely recognized turning curious glances on him as they passed. Adar was on foot, his hand on Llesho's arm.

"What are you doing here?" Llesho looked at his brother, confused in time. "We've fallen behind, don't let the guards see-" But no, the Long March was over. They were going home. Llesho closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself; Adar's hand was like an anchor holding him in the present.

"Where's your horse?"

"He's right here. Will you be all right if I let go for a moment?"

Llesho thought about the question. He'd been impatient, embarrassed, and suddenly he'd found himself a thousand li away, crossing the grasslands again. He gripped his brother's arm, hard, couldn't let go for all the silk in the Shan Empire.

"Nine thousand died," he whispered. The Harnish raiders had driven ten thousand out of the holy city of Kungol. All but one thousand had perished on the forced march to the slave market in Shan. It wasn't the answer Adar was looking for, but it opened his eyes, blurring them with tears.

"Dear Goddess, Llesho. How did you survive?"

He hadn't told his brother how he'd wound up on Pearl Island, a continent away from his home in the mountains of Thebin. They'd scarcely found each other again when they were plunged into battle, and it had all seemed so far away. Now, however, something inside of him demanded release. He had to tell Adar, even if his brother never forgave him for what his life had cost them.

"I was their prince, and so they died for me. Starved to feed me, went thirsty so that I would have water. Carried me until they dropped, then passed me on to the next until he died as well."

He sighed and turned his anguished gaze into the blue, blue sky of Shan. "I wish I could turn into a bird and fly home right now." Llesho leaned forward in the saddle, his muscles bunched under him, poised to leap into the air with the faintest puff of wind. Nothing happened. He had expected that. Kaydu could have done it, but he didn't have her gifts.

"I'm sorry, Llesho. I wish I could do something to make this easier for you."

That sounded like forgiveness, or maybe even as though his brother didn't blame him at all. If he thought about it logically, as Adar seemed to be doing, there hadn't been much he could have done about it anyway. But if it wasn't his fault-the blame spilled from him like an open sore.

"I am the favored of the goddess, right?" Sarcasm oozed around the words. If this was favor, he could not imagine what it must be like to incur the disfavor of the gods.

"Believe it, no matter what has happened." Adar gave his arm a shake to fix his attention. "The goddess has some purpose for every step of your path, brother, the evil of the Long March, and even testing your patience with the pace of a caravan."

"As the goddess wills." Llesho held out his hand for his reins. He didn't believe it, and that scared him more than coming unstuck in his memories had. He felt the need to reach Kungol as an ache in his bones and a bitter taste in the sweat that crested his upper lip. The light touch of the short spear at his back mocked him with whispers in the voices of his enemies: "Going to die, going to die."

He had come to imagine himself as a great general, the liberator of his people, but distance and his own weaknesses set insurmountable obstacles in his way.

"I'm afraid we will be too late," he said. All of Thebin lay under the yoke of the Harnish raiders, and he still had four of his brothers to find as well as the pearls of the goddess' necklace.

"A husband must show great patience as well as the determination to battle fiercely for his lady," Adar began, but Llesho stopped him.

"I am no husband," he bleakly reminded. "I kept vigil, but the goddess did not come."

Adar's gentle laughter did not even startle his horse. "She came. Her mark is on you, Llesho. I see it in your eyes."

"She didn't come. I would have known."

The last of their unit had passed them, the following one approached out of the caravansary. Adar remounted with a final word of homely advice: "She came to me in the shape of a priestess I had known in the Temple of the Moon. I don't know how she came to you-perhaps you can ask her one day. But we will have to wait to find out. The gates of heaven are far from Shan, and the caravan will travel at the pleasure of its beasts, not its masters, or it will not travel at all."

With that they nudged their horses into motion, past the curious glances of strangers-the emperor's spies and the Harnish traders-and reclaimed their place in line. Master Den seemed not to have noticed their absence, but Lling and Hmishi exchanged a worried frown. Carina watched them return with concern in the crinkles at the corners of her eyes, but a little smile curled her mouth and her eyes never left Adar's face as they approached.

It hurt that Carina had picked Adar. The two shared so much in common, even temperaments, that he felt foolish when he thought about how little he had to offer. Embarrassed, he separated himself from his brother, choosing Dognut's company again. Let them have their discussions of powders to cure bladder irritations-he wouldn't wear his heart on his sleeve any more. The dwarf, however, continued to look at him like he was a lovestruck fool in search of a shoulder to cry on.

"It's going to be a long journey if you insist on wearing that face," Dognut commented, gazing down on him from high atop his perch on the camel. "I am not sure I have enough songs about broken hearts in my repertoire."

Llesho glared at the dwarf. Yes, he wanted Carina- or, wanted her to want him. But when he really thought about it, disappointment in love didn't haunt his soul. The Long March did. The truth was, now that they were actually going home, he couldn't shake the anger he'd been too young to understand the last time he'd made this journey. He wanted to weep, to scream, to tear at his enemies with teeth and claws and cut their hearts out to feed his subjects dying on the road. But there were no enemies near, just the warm sound of camel bells and the jostle of goods and men and animals settling in to the long trek. And there was nobody he could tell.

Suddenly, a voice sang out over the curses of the grooms and the bleating of the beasts. The emperor of Shan, sitting atop a camel loaded with bolts of silk and dangling brass pots off his sides, was singing a Guynmer hymn. Dognut drew a flute from his quiver and added its high, quavering voice to the simple tune.

In the shadow of the dark night I come to you When the wind sweeps the dunes of Gansau I huddle at your feet.

You who protect the camel and the date tree Can you do less for your child Lost in your desert?

Harlol gave Shou a troubled look, as if he was trying to decide whether the merchant mocked or believed. But Shou's servants had taken up the hymn, and after the first verse so did the new drover, raising prayer to the spirits whose believers had come out of the Gansau Wastes spreading word of the desert faith to Guynm Province. Even Master Den, the trickster god ChiChu in his human form, joined in singing the prayer to the foreign spirits: We offer dates and honey We sing praise and We sing praise and Burn myrrh and incense Burn myrrh and incense At your altar At your altar You who protect the camel and the date tree You who protect the camel and the date tree Lost in your desert Lost in your desert Can you do less for your child? Can you do less for your child? Gifts of gold and silver Gifts of gold and silver We give you We give you With paint we decorate With paint we decorate Stone images of your faces Stone images of your faces After a few verses, After a few verses, Adar joined in, and soon all along the caravan the hymn had been taken up. Adar joined in, and soon all along the caravan the hymn had been taken up. Drover of the sun and the moon Drover of the sun and the moon Spirits of camel and the goat Spirits of camel and the goat We ask your protection We ask your protection In this great journey. In this great journey.

When the song finally came to a halt, a new hymn came down the line to them, a merry song to the trickster god, who joined in with great relish: A farmer let a stranger in And fed him rice and leavings And fed him rice and leavings The stranger shat upon the hearth The stranger shat upon the hearth And left the goodwife screaming. And left the goodwife screaming. When strangers come up to your door When strangers come up to your door And ask for food and liquor And ask for food and liquor Treat them as you wish yourself Treat them as you wish yourself For ChiChu's sake, the trickster. For ChiChu's sake, the trickster. A trader took a stranger in A trader took a stranger in And sold him shoddy trinkets And sold him shoddy trinkets The stranger slipped out late at night The stranger slipped out late at night Taking all the blankets. Taking all the blankets.

From his place at the side of the emperor's camel, Master Den grinned at Llesho, inviting him into the trickster's sly enjoyment of his secret identity. Llesho returned the smile, though his own felt forced. The wink that followed was all ChiChu the trickster, reminding him: "This is not the Long March; stay in the now."

Llesho returned a quick nod. But it was hard to be cheerful when Carina's eyes, bright and adoring, fixed on his brother.

When the laughter died away after the trickster prayer, the Harnishmen at their rear began a Harnish anthem. Only a scattering of voices added to the song, but angry muttering thick with the threat of bloodshed rustled through the caravan. Then Shou raised a competing voice, carrying a Harnish hymn of thanks to wind and rain and earth, the Harnish natural deities, with no challenge or boast in it. Dognut gave Llesho an uneasy shrug, but raised his flute to strengthen the melody line. Grudgingly the Harnish traders gave their own voices to it. Few others along the length of the caravan joined in, but the blood had gone out of the moment. Only the wary tension of an oncoming storm remained. When the hymn had ended, Dognut put away his flute, and the caravan returned to its private chatter. The singing was over, and Kungol was still very far away.

CHAPTER SIX.

THE round, full light of Great Moon Lun hung low in the sky-Lun chasing her smaller brothers Han and Chen, already touching the zenith. Habiba moved about his workshop with precise, studied motions. The magician once had told him that Lun was no moon at all but a dying sun smoldering in the dark, and somehow Llesho knew that he was waiting for Lun's faint light to shine more fully through the window that overlooked the workbench.

He took a shallow bowl of polished silver from a shelf and carefully wiped it clean with a soft cloth. From an earthen pitcher he poured pure, cold water, filling the bowl to the brim.

"What's that for?"

The magician bent over so that his nose almost touched the water in the bowl but gave no answer.

"Habiba?"

Llesho wondered briefly how he'd come to be here, and why Habiba didn't seem to hear him or even notice his presence, but the youth couldn't seem to muster much worry about it. He stretched on tiptoe to peer over the magician's shoulder. As Great Moon Lun rose, its glow filled the sky in the silver bowl with pearly light. It overpowered the lesser shine of little Han Moon, which floated like a black pearl in the reflection. The pattern from the silver bowl drifted on the water, so that the pearl of Han seemed to hang suspended from a silver chain.

"Ah! But where are you?" Habiba asked the image in the water. The magician was looking for the String of Midnights, the pearls of the Great Goddess lost in the attack on the gates of heaven. Llesho had three of them; it seemed that Habiba had found another.

As if some spell had taken control of his body, Llesho's hand reached out for the dark moon-pearl floating in the bowl. Part of him expected to close his fingers around the pearl while another part braced for a cold wet hand.

Instead, he fell headfirst through the water, which parted like a mist around him.

"Help!"

"Grab hold!" a voice answered.

Llesho reached out and grabbed onto the wide silver chain he was passing as he fell. The chain pulled him up short and he swung for a moment over an abyss before he managed to wrap his legs around the broad flat links and pull himself up on them.

"Who's there?" he asked. It wasn't Habiba's voice, or Kaydu's. He might have expected ChiChu to show up at a moment like this, but it wasn't the voice of the trickster god either.

"It's me." The moon swimming in Habiba's silver bowl began to jump like a fish on a hook, nearly dislodging Llesho from his perch. He peered more closely: the moon was no pearl at all, but almost manlike. Round in the body and naked, his skin was black as pitch and gleamed like the pearls Llesho carried in the pouch at his breast. The pearl-man sprouted tiny arms and legs that he flailed in his effort to escape the chain that ran through a hook set in his back. The creature snuffled through a round, upturned nose that was pink around its flaring nostrils. His mouth, lined with pearly white teeth, shouted, "Get me down from here!" in a voice far too large for its pearly head.

"Stop that!" Llesho shouted as the chain that held them both swayed dangerously. "How can I get you down anyway? I'm stuck here myself, and about to fall if you don't stop rocking the chain."

"I beg your pardon," the creature apologized politely. "I let my anxiety overcome my good sense."

"Pardon given," Llesho returned with equal grace and added, when curiosity would allow silence no longer, "What magical creature are you? And," he thought to ask, "why are you hanging around like this, naked like a pearl from the goddess' jewel chest?"

The creature sniffed indignantly. "My name is Pig. I'm a Jinn in the service of the Great Goddess, chief gardener in her heavenly orchards." The pearl-man, who called himself a Jinn, stopped struggling and allowed his body to swing slowly on its chain. The whole situation should have disturbed him more, Llesho thought in passing. But the Jinn was waiting patiently to tell his tale, so he tucked his left foot into the open loop of one of the links and grabbed hold of another with his right hand. Securely anchored against a fall, he settled in to listen.

"Ever since the demon invader laid siege to the gates of heaven, I have searched for a way to escape and seek help for my lady, the Great Goddess. Finally I devised a plan; I would make myself small as a pearl from her lost necklace and slip through the cracks, so to speak. I thought to fall to earth far from the gates where our enemies lay in wait, and then I hoped to raise an army and march to the rescue."

"Doesn't seem to have worked out that way." Llesho felt it needed to be said.

The Jinn puffed out of his cheeks and gave Llesho a sour glare. "I didn't need you to tell me that. Now, if you will just release the pin in my back, I can go about my business. Heaven can't wait forever, you know. There's planting to be done."

"You should have thought of that before you turned yourself into a pearl. What if you're lying to me?" The question added an unwelcome note of reality to the situation. Jinn were a notoriously untrustworthy caste, which even Pig had to recognize.

"You can make me promise to give you wishes," Pig suggested with a trustworthy smile. "You can use your wishes to make me tell the truth." His efforts to look dependable were thwarted by the way he swayed hypnotically, like a pendulum, which made Llesho very dizzy.

Pig's present state suggested that ideas were not, perhaps, his strongest game. This one seemed fairly simple, though. Foolproof, even.