"I didn't show you the head because of any resemblance to your father, however. I never met him, though I might have guessed, looking at you. The face is yours, yours, the stern countenance, the penetrating eye, even the angle at which you hold your head. Look." the stern countenance, the penetrating eye, even the angle at which you hold your head. Look."

Keeping his movements slow and unthreatening, the khan raised an empty hand and pointed at the burnished mirror hanging on the latticed wall nearby. Llesho grasped at the simple instruction as a lifeline, something to do that wouldn't instantly collapse into chaos and death. In his past, lifelines had been chains, but he turned, trusting in the voice warm with a father's concern, and saw a face he didn't recognize as his own in the mirror. When had he become this person who looked back at him? What ancestor reached out of the ages to claim him for the long-dead past?

"I didn't see it when you first came to me, but you've grown into your past." Chimbai-Khan echoed his own thoughts eerily. "I don't know what it may mean, or why your path has brought you to my tent. But your eyes have looked upon the Qubal people with a silent rebuke all the years of my life, and all the years of my father's life, and so back to the first among the khans. The time, it seems, has come to pay for the deeds done that brought this bronze into the tents of my ancestors."

Chimbai-Khan's calm and earnest tones wooed him from his rage, and gradually Llesho loosened the violent grasp he held on his knife.

"In ages past, when Thebin held sway over the grasslands, a king with your own face and bearing ruled in the name of his goddess. The king, whose name was Llesho like your own, governed sternly, but with a light hand. I know that sounds like a contradiction, but the stories say he demanded an accounting of the herds and flocks each turning of the seasons. From this account he took only the smallest number for tribute, wishing the submission of the clans to his rule, but not their beggaring. Some called him Llesho the Wise. The grasslands simply withheld the title of tyrant."

"So far," Llesho objected, "your tale would lead one to believe you wished to collect on a debt, not pay one." He let go of the hilt of his knife, however, and reached out to touch the bronze. It was his face, and he ran his fingertips along the contours of the head, trying to grasp the idea of a Thebin as powerful as the khan described. The image failed him. He saw only Kungol in ruins.

"There was peace." Chimbai-Khan shrugged in answer. "Some would call the price cheap at a handful of horses and a small flock of sheep. Not all, however.

"During the festival of the Great Goddess of the Thebin people, when the chieftains brought their accounting to the king, this Llesho you see in the bronze met a daughter of the grasslands. His wife had lately died, and he wished to make this princess of the Qubal clans his queen. For herself, the story says, the lady cared nothing for crowns and glory, but came to love the man for himself alone.

"The king sent presents to her father, including this head. In the way of things when a suit is tendered and there is interest on the father's side, the chieftain kept the gifts. He was a simple man, my many-times-removed grandfather, and thought only that to have so powerful a son-in-law must mean he could forgo the payment of his tributary horses and sheep."

"But it didn't turn out that way." The spear at Llesho's back answered his unspoken questions, wailing in his ear for revenge so that he thought the riders passing on the wide avenue outside must come running. No one heard it but Llesho, however, except maybe Dognut, who sat hunched up as if in pain. What do you know, dwarf? What do you know, dwarf? That question, too, would have to wait, but he vowed to make the time later. That question, too, would have to wait, but he vowed to make the time later.

With an abrupt thought he meant to keep in his head, but which expressed itself with a dismissive twitch of his hand, he refused the spear its vengeance and denied it access to his mind. He was sick of the thing, told it in no uncertain terms that he had enough enemies of his own without looking for more among the ancestors. It was just a story. If, at the end of it to pay a debt, the khan would help him, so much the. better.

"What happened?"

"We cannot be certain, you understand," the khan warned him. "All we have is stories, and the bronze head. But it seems the lady had brothers, who saw in the courtship a chance to free the grasslands from Thebin domination. They seized their own sister and hid her away, claiming she had been abducted by a neighboring clan.

"It was a smart plan, really. If the king didn't rescue his bride, the clans would see him as faithless, which would cause unrest. If he did come into the grasslands in force against an innocent clan, he would be seen as a tyrant and the clans would rise against him. The brothers, riding as family and advisers, could approach him with weapons in hand without raising suspicion. They didn't know their sister was carrying his child."

Foreboding churned in Llesho's stomach, but he said nothing, waiting for the khan to bring the sorry tale to an end.

"The king came, with all his armies behind him, and met with his bride's brothers to aid in his search. As a false pledge of their unity, the brothers gave the king a short spear. They did not tell him that its tip was poisoned, or that the shaman, subverted by lies, had placed a spell on it to kill the one who wielded it.

"By then, of course, their sister's burden showed for all the world to see. Fearing that she would raise up her child to avenge his father, they held her prisoner in a tent far from the clans, where they thought no one could find her. A servant betrayed them, however, and led the king to where her brothers had hidden his love. And this is where the tragedy has put us in your debt. The king arrived just as his queen delivered his son, only to see her brother snap the child's neck. In his rage and grief, the king raised the spear the brothers had given him, meaning to slay the murderer and rescue his wife. The spell, of course, turned the weapon back on him and he died, the poison of his betrayers in his veins. Their sister could do nothing but look on in horror as the brothers she had once loved murdered all that she had come to cherish as a woman."

That same spear rode at Llesho's back. The story cast a new light on Prince Tayyichiut's innocent prank. Llesho remembered the recognition of it that had dawned on the Chimbai-Khan almost too late to avert disaster as the spear itself played out an old curse on both their ancestors. This time it hadn't won, though, he reminded the khan with a level glance at the young prince who watched them avidly from the dais. The khan nodded his understanding, and finished his story.

"The brothers had their war, but they died without winning it. King Llesho's older sons had ridden with him and they fought with the wisdom of their father, to regain the peace. The story ends with King Llesho's young queen. Some say the horrors of that day drove her mad, others that she stood her ground and refused the hospitality of her own clan for what they had done. All agree that she remained in the tent where her brothers had hidden her. Visitors would come to her and place gifts at her door until, one day, she wasn't there. She had walked away, into the woods to die some say. Others would have it that she was the Great Goddess herself, descended from the Thebin heaven to the grasslands in human form to love her eternal husband in his life as a king. In that version of the tale, she went to her heavenly home to await the return of her husband on the wheel.

"Whatever the end of the story, it has left a mark of sadness on this clan. For the crimes of our ancestors, the Qubal people owe a debt to Llesho the King. Ask, and I will give it to you."

Wisdom gained in a thousand bloody li of struggle had taught him that you didn't leave an enemy at your back or start an alliance with a lie. Chimbai-Khan was hiding something. "Do you also have a daughter, my khan?" he guessed, keeping his voice very low.

All expression left the man's face, which grew pale enough to remark even in the half-light of the ger-tent. "My daughter is only a child, and fosters with a friendly clan." He didn't offer a name of the daughter or the identity of the clan but added as explanation, "I would not have the past repeat itself."

"Nor I, my khan," Llesho agreed, but gave his own reminder, "I'm not the man of the bronze head, any more than I am my father."

"No," Chimbai-Khan agreed. "Both lost their battles in the end. You have to be better than either of them."

"With help," Llesho said, acknowledging the khan's goodwill even if he hadn't quite sorted out the enormity of the debt owed. Bruised and raw of heart he rolled the story around in his mind, taking in the shape of it as well as its parts. He supposed the current line of Thebin princes rose from the elder sons and shared no Harnish blood, for which he found himself heartily relieved.

"We have two battles to consider." With a bow, he accepted the invitation to return to the dais with the khan. "If we don't defeat the witch-finder and rescue his hostages before he reaches his master, he will at the very least kill the prisoners."

Chimbai-Khan nodded gravely. If the khan could comprehend that some things Markko did were worse than death, they were already halfway there. As he moved toward the dais, Llesho indicated with a glance that he wished his captains to draw nearer so that they could contribute their own knowledge of the enemy. An array of delicate foods suitable for an invalid waited for them.

Or waited except for Shokar, who abandoned good manners, to the dismay of their hostess, and helped himself to a taste of a variety of the foods-those most suited to an invalid and that Llesho might be tempted to try.

According to Bolghai, Chimbai-Khan had a troubled marriage, but he didn't think hostilities had reached the point where the Lady Chaiujin would poison her husband's guest. Mergen, however, gave an approving smile as he, too, dipped into the dishes. Surrendering to the protection he could not escape, Llesho chose only a bowl of milky broth from his brother's hand, grateful that no one pressed him to eat more. The bread and milk that Carina fed him had helped, as Bixei had remembered it would when he recommended it, but he was unwilling to tax his gut with anything stronger. When he had drunk sufficiently to satisfy courtesy, he set aside the bowl and waited until the food had been taken away. Then he began his own story, describing what had happened in his dream-walk.

"I traveled to the camp of the witch-finder, and found there my brother Adar, who appears well, and the two of my cadre who remain his prisoners. He has tortured Hmishi and, with the distant aid of the magician, has clouded Lling's mind. Only his master's orders restrain him, however, and I'm not the only one worried that he may slip his leash. I had set my dream course to return when Master Markko snatched me from the path I walked, and carried me to his own dream encampment. While he held me prisoner there, he tried to persuade me to join him."

Chimbai-Khan shook his head, as if trying to shake the pieces into place. "This magician thought to bring you to his side with torture and poison?" he asked, recalling the stir in the visitors' camp at Llesho's return and the illness that had directed the choice of foods at his table.

"He said it was important for his plan. My brothers and I have to remain alive and fall under his control for the next step in his campaign. The poisons, I think, are his idea of training the body-against assault by poisoners, perhaps."

"This next campaign. Does he mean to attack the grasslands?" the khan asked.

"I don't think so." Just so there were no misunderstandings, he explained, "Markko wants to rule over the grasslands, and he'll fight to win that power-if you don't go after him, he'll come after you. But bringing down the Shan Empire, killing the dream readers of Ahkenbad, and even overpowering the Harn-I think that's all about eliminating opposition to what he has planned at the end of it. He wants the power, and maybe that's all he wanted at the start. Now, he needs to make sure there's nobody to stop him when he puts his real plan into action."

Shokar had locked his attention on his brother's eyes as he spoke, his focus sharp as a hawk's. "Which is?"

Llesho shrugged. "I don't know. The raiders already control Thebin. If he holds the Southern grasslands, he can move on the holy city of Kungol any time he wants. My brothers will never recognize him as their legitimate king, but he had hoped, perhaps, that I was young enough to break to his will. That didn't work."

Except for a quick glance at Shokar, Llesho had addressed himself to the khan. As he spoke of his brothers, however, his eyes strayed to Lluka, who wouldn't meet his gaze. Not yet, Not yet, he thought, but promised himself to uncover Lluka's unhappy secrets before they cost lives. he thought, but promised himself to uncover Lluka's unhappy secrets before they cost lives.

"Hostages to heaven," Shokar thought out loud. "Husbands of the Great Goddess. Three are in this tent, and Tsu-tan has the fourth, is already carrying him to his master. Something to trade for favors or power."

It made sense, but a fine tremor passed through Lluka's body. He seemed afraid of something much more terrible than Shokar's suggestion.

"Blood." He finally met Llesho's eyes, his own dark with horror. "Master Markko will want to make blood sacrifices. A commoner will do for a small request. A prince is better for a more powerful favor. The blood of a prince who is dedicated to the Goddess, and has her favor, may move heaven itself. Resisting will do, but willing is better. Young is better still, and innocent-"

Llesho knew what his brother meant, and blushed. Not for lack of wishing, Not for lack of wishing, he thought, but that was before. The goddess waited for him, and he could do no less for her. Once he had his own embarrassment under control, he considered the full implications of what his brother had said. Balar didn't seem surprised. Terrified, but not surprised. he thought, but that was before. The goddess waited for him, and he could do no less for her. Once he had his own embarrassment under control, he considered the full implications of what his brother had said. Balar didn't seem surprised. Terrified, but not surprised.

"You knew," he whispered. "This is the future you saw, before the visions left you?"

"The visions didn't leave me," Lluka corrected him. "The future did. This Master Markko will kill you and open hell on the mountain where you die. The gates of heaven won't hold against the army he releases against them. That's where it all ends in most of the lines. In others, you die in battle, or the magician dies of his own magics, but always the end is the same. Hell is set loose, the gates fall, the world ends."

"Balar-" Llesho looked to his brother for a denial, but Balar shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "We've come to the place where we have to be, but the universe balances on a blade thin as a camel's whisker. A breath, a thought, tips all into darkness."

"More family business than we meant to share, Great Khan," Shokar apologized. Llesho nodded in agreement, but he let his brother carry the burden of the khan's shock while he studied the reactions of those around them. His own party stirred to greater vigilance, but they had all seen too many wonders to let surprise overcome them. Harlol had known from the start; the knowledge had sent him out to find a beggar prince and hide him from harm in the caves of Ahkenbad. That plan had worked out about as well as he would have expected.

Kaydu might have guessed on her own, or with her father's help. Bixei crackled with his anger, but seemed unbowed by the prospect of eternal chaos. Perhaps, like Llesho, his life as a slave and a warrior had prepared him for no other end. The tale had fired Tayyichiut with a dangerous fervor, however; the Harnish prince would take no warnings about the barbed edge to adventures now. Bortu seemed unsurprised, as did Mergen, which caused Llesho to wonder about their own sources of information. Chaiujin had fixed him with her serpent's stare, as if she would swallow him whole and digest him slowly for the juices of his mind. She froze the heart in his breast, so that for a long moment he missed its beating, but he had no time to consider what plots she might conceal. The khan turned to his shaman, demanding answers. "Is this true?"

"What part, my khan?" Bolghai replied with his own bland question.

Llesho sympathized with Chimbai-Khan's annoyance. While their beliefs might differ, mystics seemed to all share a common love of obscurity when asked a direct question.

The khan persisted. "Does this whinging prince have the gifts he claims? Is the world about to end?"

"Gifts, yes, Great Khan Chimbai," Bolghai admitted, and added, "Truth is a deep, cold stream, however, and this one wades ever in the shallows.

"The underworld of the animal spirits and our helpful ancestors remains untroubled. Sky spirits of thunder and starlight still walk the heavens unhindered by this magician and his magics. But heaven itself has suffered, and our worlds of dreams and waking mean little to the spirits we question in their passing."

"Does that mean the people of the grasslands will survive this master's magics?" Chaiujin asked, "or that we face defeat in anything we do?"

"It means, Lady Chaiujin, that one should listen with caution to the advice of those to whom the question of life or death has no meaning. But if the khan, your husband, were to ask me, 'Do we throw our lot and our lives with this mad boy's quest,' I would have to tell him, 'Yes.'"

"We have ten thousand gathered here in anticipation of battle," the khan said, "But even so, it will take some days to prepare for a march to the South." The indirection of his words caused Llesho to wonder what battle the Qubal had anticipated before his quest ever left Ah-kenbad. He would ask Master Den about that, but in the meantime, he had his own plan to prepare.

"First, we must secure the prisoners. The witch-finder travels with a hundred or two of Master Markko's raiders, no more. My own forces, though smaller, fight for the honor of heaven and to rescue friends and brothers, not out of fear of their master. We've won against such odds before. When we go after Master Markko, however, your thousands will be welcome."

"Your troops follow their king, like filings to a lode-stone," the khan corrected. "And we would not have them wandering our lands bereft of their true south. Take half a hundred of our fighters. Let them see with the eyes of the clans these terrors of which you speak and report to their captains the truth as they learn it in the flesh of their own experience. And if they should keep the royal lodestone from the hands of his enemies, then all debts are paid. The battle for the grasslands that follows will be for us."

"Agreed," Llesho accepted the offer and with it the hands of the khan, which he held between his own as a sign of the compact between them. When it was done, he glanced up at the mirror on the wall, and caught Ye-sugei's relieved smile in it. He returned a nod of acknowledgment; they had both done well by their different causes.

Tayyichiut would have spoken then, and Llesho guessed what he wanted, but the Lady Chaiujin silenced him with a cold frown. As she waited for the chieftains to settle, the lady beckoned a servant who brought forward small pots of tea, and bowls for the guests and family. One pot she set by the khan's wife with particular care. Lady Chaiujin's smile of welcome never warmed her eyes as she picked up a jade bowl in one hand and the teapot by its handle with the other.

For a moment Llesho wondered if she had taken it from his pack, but the challenge in her gaze as she filled it quelled the impulse to accuse. He was a guest and would make a gift of anything he owned save the wedding bowl returned to him by the Lady SienMa and the spear across his back. But the light from the smoke hole at the center of the roof played differently at its lip than he remembered. Not his own cup-another like it that she teased him with, urging him to a thoughtless accusation.

"I have a cup very like your own, Lady Chaiujin." His smile, for the teeth only, warned her that he saw through the ruse: "Save that the rim is thinner."

"Then you must have its match." The lady smiled graciously and gave him her cup to drink. "Keep it as my guest-gift. Like the bronze that haunts my husband, this cup comes from the Golden City of Kungol. Perhaps you can return it to its rightful place some day."

Too gracious. He wondered if her poisons were compatible with those of Master Markko. She caught his hesitation, however, and drew back the cup. "It's just tea," she assured him, and sipped from it. "I will beg the khan, my husband, to take no offense if you wish Prince Shokar to taste it as well, though I fear the tea will be gone by the time we are finished testing it."

Chimbai-Khan seemed more inclined to sweep the cup from her hands than to object to Llesho's caution. She seemed unlikely to want him dead, however, and had tasted it herself. The magician's attentions had made him the equal to any poisons that might leave another unaffected, so he took the cup into his hands and drank a small courtesy draft, no more than a sip.

Not poisons, he realized too late, but a love potion that set fire pulsing through his brain and body. Gazing into the lady's eyes, he saw that the potion had set her blood racing as well, but she sat demurely, her lashes quickly hiding the fever she had set to burning with her tea.

"Your pardon, Chimbai-Khan." Llesho stumbled awkwardly to his feet. His guardsmen, too, stirred uneasily to see their young king's interest so plainly written on his face and form. They could not know the lady had drugged him into love with her, but had to seriously question both his statecraft and his manners. With a shake of his head that did nothing to clear his thoughts but set his pulse to throbbing at his temples, he drew himself to his full height and sketched a shaky bow. "No offense meant to your lady or your hospitality, but my illness calls me to my bed." At the mention of his bed the heat rose in his cheeks and he swayed toward the Lady Chaiujin.

"Don't let us keep you from your rest, young king." The khan dismissed him with a wave of a hand that Llesho didn't see. He'd already turned away, facing the long walk past nobles and chieftains and his own guardsmen to the door.

"My respects-" He started walking alone.

At his back his brothers hesitated, torn between courtesy to their host and worry for their king.

"I hope the food and drink were not too taxing on his healing spirits," the Lady Chaiujin begged with mockery in her tone. "Perhaps he needs another day of rest." Her voice embraced him like warm honey.

"Oh, yes." Llesho turned around again and reached for her, found his hand restrained by Shokar, who studied him anxiously for illness. "Or . . ." He was confused. Llesho wanted to sink into her arms, but at the same time, his own voice in the back of his head, went, Ugh! No! Run away! Ugh! No! Run away! "I have to rescue Adar." Focus. The little voice in his head added that to the chant and he obeyed it, marching toward the door with a singleness of purpose on which he knew his life depended, though he couldn't have said why. "But I'll come back . . ." "I have to rescue Adar." Focus. The little voice in his head added that to the chant and he obeyed it, marching toward the door with a singleness of purpose on which he knew his life depended, though he couldn't have said why. "But I'll come back . . ."

"Go. See to your brother," the khan dismissed the whole of Llesho's party. "We would not lose a second King Llesho to the hospitality of the Qubal clans."

Llesho thought the khan must suspect more than he could let on about his guest's sudden illness. He didn't feel ill, though. He felt delicious, and couldn't remember why he was leaving when the Lady Chaiujin waited for him on the dais, like a dream of heaven. Focus. As he passed the khan's gathered advisers, he sought out Carina, who saw with the eyes of a healer. Drawing a handkerchief from one of the many purses that hung from her shaman's dress, she made her way to the dais and swept up the jade cup that Lady Chaiujin had offered Llesho as a gift.

"His Royal Holiness will send his proper gratitude when he is recovered," she said, and wrapped the cup carefully in the cloth. With her own bow and a muttered apology she turned and followed his brothers, who had taken up positions with his captains surrounding him and moved him toward the exit. Before they had gone far, however, the door opened for Master Den. The trickster god strode toward them with an easy grin, pretending to a cheer belied by the thunderous footsteps that shook the earth as he walked.

"Magical torments are an exhausting business," he chided Llesho, leaving the gathered company to assume he meant the magician waiting in the South, and not the unsuspected potions of their queen. With a bow to the khan and a knowing glance at the Lady Chaiujin, Master Den fell into step behind Llesho's party and herded them past the firebox.

"Wait!" Llesho reached to the chain around his neck. His hand found the black pearl that was the Pig tangled in his silver wire, and he tugged at it. "I need to give the lady a present in return!"

"You will." Master Den leaned into his ear so that they could speak privately. "Tomorrow. When you are ready to leave is the proper time for a gift to your hostess. Now might be mistaken-"

"Not mistaken," Llesho whispered in his teacher's ear. "I want her."

"I know."

"And I don't even like her."

"Not surprising. I'm sure Carina can help. You've done well to remove yourself from the lady's presence."

"I have the cup," Carina joined in their whispered conversation. "I can analyze what she gave him when we get back to our tents."

They were hustling at an unseemly rate for a king's departure from another king, Llesho judged. But the voices in his head were in agreement with his feet this time, even if other parts of his body were still in rebellion. He didn't think those soldiers following him out were going to let him go back anyway, even if they were his own personal guard. Only Carina and Master Den suspected more than a natural, if rude, infatuation with the lady. The khan's men were unhappy with his behavior but not surprised by it; they seemed willing to let the visitors leave unharmed if they just-left.

A glance behind showed him that the Lady Chaiujin had gone, but Chimbai-Khan watched as Llesho's party withdrew. Regret and sorrow and even pity mixed in his eyes in a way that confused Llesho even more. Of course, Lady Chaiujin was the khan's wife, but ... it occurred to him, though he couldn't hold onto the thought, that the lady had wanted to hurt her husband and and the upstart princeling on her doorstop. He'd got himself out of there without making a complete fool of himself, but she'd managed to humiliate them both without ever losing her own dignity. And that made him seriously angry. the upstart princeling on her doorstop. He'd got himself out of there without making a complete fool of himself, but she'd managed to humiliate them both without ever losing her own dignity. And that made him seriously angry.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.

"I DON'T understand-"

"There's nothing to to understand. It's a drug." Safely back in Llesho's command tent, Carina had unwrapped the Lady Chaiujin's jade cup and set it on the folding camp table. As she spoke, she filled it with clean water and added four drops of a brown liquid thick as mud. understand. It's a drug." Safely back in Llesho's command tent, Carina had unwrapped the Lady Chaiujin's jade cup and set it on the folding camp table. As she spoke, she filled it with clean water and added four drops of a brown liquid thick as mud.

"Oh, I understood that part right away."

Llesho paced out his nervous energy behind her, making a detour around Shokar but staying clear of Master Den, who had laid claim to the bed where he sat taxing the strength of the cot's joints. Llesho didn't need a bed, had slept away most of a day while the poisons sweated their way out of his system. The Lady Chaiujin's drug had a completely different effect on his system. If he couldn't get access to the lady herself, which Master Den and his brothers had determined he wouldn't, he'd race his own horse to Kungol, or climb the heavenly mountains with Dognut on his back to entertain the goddess when he arrived at her gates. Something, anything.

In the corner, Dognut started up a soft tune, and stopped again when Llesho turned on him.

"I am not in the mood, dwarf."

"So I see."

Dognut pocketed his sweet potato flute, but there was mischief in the glance he flashed at Balar who, fortunately for his skin, took no chances with Llesho's temper and a borrowed lute. Lluka was off skulking somewhere, but Shokar stood like a stone pillar in the entrance to the tent.

Llesho needed to move, so he paced, and thought, and talked.

"I know I don't really have these feelings for her. She's scared me witless since the first time I saw her. And not," he added before someone could interrupt, "because I was unnerved by an attraction to a beautiful woman. She's colder than the glaciers on the heavenly mountains, and that's not my idea of passion, however innocent Lluka thinks I am. I knew it was a trick."

Shokar shifted neatly in place to block Llesho's escape from the tent. "What I don't understand," he complained, "is why you drank from a cup the lady handed you in the first place. That should have been my place."

"And it would have served us better if the eldest prince had thrown himself at the feet of the khan's wife," Llesho snapped at him. He didn't have an answer that would please Shokar. Didn't, in hindsight, think much of it himself. "I didn't think she'd poison us until she knew more about us."

"You," Balar dropped the correction offhandedly into the debate. "Her attention was all on you."