Page 18

In the face of our slow progress, we bring scythes from the west, and fettered to wield them. Broad-shouldered Huddites, farmers turned soldiers, now become my workers. Older now, but well-broken. They cut our path without complaint, and we have no need to chain them in the day. Out here, in this vast green place, there is nowhere to run.

It is days like these, I doubt my truce with the Huddite Kingdom. Their lands feed the east and the west – far riper pickings than this green wasteland. But now is not the time, for their spies infest our ranks, and without them, I could not prosecute this war. So Huddite wagons feed Sabine legionaries, as we bounce from oasis to oasis. There, at least the bamboo is plentiful, and fires warm our hearths once more.

Once again, Rufinus is invaluable to my cause, guiding us to these places that were once known only to the Steppefolk. Every day, his demands for gold and power grow, for there is a sly fox beneath that great red bear. But we are old friends – I know it is not greed that compels him. It is the dream of his sect’s great tower that is at the heart of it. We have struck an accord, such that all the fettered soulbound will be sent to the prison mine of Porticus. Their secrets shall be pried from them, their knowledge given to the sect.

The granite they bring forth will make the foundations of his so-called Eyrie. And when this war is won, he will have the rest of it. It is a dangerous thing to place a man with such power at the heart of my empire. But it is distance that turns a heart cold. I will keep him close, and stoke the embers.

I t started slowly. A yellow stain, just on the horizon, so subtle Jai had first thought it just a trick of the light.

He was training with Kiran, a few weeks after their hunt, having ridden ahead as they did each morning to spar without being observed. By now, he was holding his own against her, though in truth this was more due to his superior strength and speed – the advantages of having ascended while she had not.

Still, he was improving. Kiran, for all her strict discipline, had managed to impart to Jai a great deal of knowledge and skill in a relatively short time. Each day, their sparring sessions became more intense, their movements more fluid and precise.

By now, Jai had realised why they only trained in the mornings, and so briefly. At first he had thought she was embarrassed to be helping him. But while that might have initially been a part of it, the truth was that Kiran was using all her mana just to keep up with him. She had not yet ascended, and could contain but a fraction of the mana Jai could. Yet even now, as sweat dripped from her brow, she held her own.

While they practised, Jai couldn’t help but steal glances at the strange yellow hue in the distance. It seemed to be growing, spreading closer. Minutes passed, and it became clear that this was no mere trick of the light.

Kiran noticed Jai’s distraction and followed his gaze to the yellow stain. Her brow furrowed in concern as she observed it. Even Winter seemed to notice now, letting out a low mewl from where she was sunning herself beside Navi, for she was too large to ride the old khiro anymore.

Even with the mystery of the horizon tugging at him, Jai could not help but admire the fine figure of the little dragon. Or rather, not so little anymore. Whether it was the glut of meat the tribe had been consuming these past weeks, or the additional morsels the children of the Valor gave her, she was growing at a pace. But it was more than size.

Her scales were more lustrous, her eyes brighter. Her body had filled out; her legs muscled, her tail thicker and longer. Though she had lived but a season, there was little left of the puppy-like features, that overlarge head and wide eyes.

She was now the size of a runtish donkey, and a child had attempted straddling her that very morning, kicking his little heels against her belly. Jai had enjoyed watching her confusion, legs akimbo and trembling, as the child slapped at her rump. She had dumped him, rather unceremoniously, in a pile of old khiro dung. Navi had clearly been rubbing off on her.

‘We should return to the camp,’ Kiran said, interrupting Jai’s thoughts.

‘What is it?’ Jai asked.

She shook her head, already leaping into her saddle.

They rode back quickly, and Jai could not help but note the worry evident on her face. As they approached the camp, they saw that the rest of the tribe had noticed the peculiar sight as well, for they had come to a complete halt. The warriors of the Kidara were fully armed and armoured, their khiroi stripped of the belongings they carried.

‘What is it?’ Jai asked again, as Kiran slipped into the formation of warriors gathered at the front. Sindri and Zayn were among them, sitting high on their saddles, staring out at the spreading stain.

‘Did they see us?’ Kiran demanded. ‘Is this why they turned?’

‘No,’ Zayn grunted. ‘They know we’d outpace them. This is something else.’

He clucked his tongue at his sister, and the pair rode some way towards the crowd, until they were out of earshot of even Jai. Whatever they were to discuss, they did not want the others, or indeed Jai to hear it.

‘What’s happening?’ Jai asked, trotting up to Feng. The young man’s face was pale and drawn, and he stood among the elders and children, staring as they did beyond.

‘It’s a big tribe, on the move,’ Feng said. ‘We think it’s the Kidara.’

Jai let out a breath he had not realised he’d been holding. He had thought as much, but had not yet dared to let the thought solidify in his mind. But it made so much sense: this was the dust thrown up by khiroi on the move. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of them.

‘What’s wrong with that?’ Jai asked.

Feng chewed his lip.

‘We know they were headed east, as we are. Now they head west, where we came from. Back towards the Sabines.’

Jai felt a surge of pride at that.

‘Maybe they plan to make war with them?’ Jai asked.

Feng looked at him, incredulous, shaking his head.

‘The Kidara might have a few hundred strong warriors,’ Feng said. ‘And another few hundred youths and elders that could mount a khiro and hold a blade, if you had enough of either to spare. Not enough for a legion, even an untested one.’

Jai had always pictured the Kidaran army as one of several thousand. Certainly, Balbir had described it as such, though in truth she had never spoken a number. It was with sinking heart that Jai realised perhaps this single legion was not hubris after all.

‘Why then?’ Jai asked.

‘I will have to ask that, when the time comes,’ Feng said.

Jai hissed an anxious breath, letting the air escape between his teeth. He knew he should be overjoyed that they were nearing his people, but instead, he felt a growing sense of dread. There was much that could go wrong, and there was nothing he could do about it.

‘Wait... why would you be doing the asking?’ Jai demanded, Feng’s words catching up to him.

Feng looked away, and for a moment, Jai thought he could see fear in the young man’s eyes.

‘Feng, what did you mean?’

‘Do you know why they keep me, Jai?’ Feng asked. ‘I’m not a true member of the Valor. I am not Tainted. So I act as the Valor’s ambassador to the untainted tribes. Their merchant, their messenger. When we meet another tribe, they send me, and me alone.’

‘Because if they kill you...’

‘Then no one here but my sister will mourn.’

‘YOU CAN’T DO THIS,’ Jai muttered to Feng beneath his breath, shifting his weight on the rug within Sindri’s tent.

It was the largest and most luxurious of the Valor’s dwellings – a marvel of craftsmanship, the fabric woven from khiro hair and what looked like plant fibres. The exterior was dyed in vibrant shades of purple, and the tent supported by a series of wooden poles, each carved with ornate designs, rather than the traditional bamboo Jai had seen before.

Inside, the space was divided into several sections by lupin embroidered fabric partitions; bleached hemp stitched with dyed thread. The centre of the tent was an open area, where Jai was seated with the others, though this was Jai’s first invitation inside. Skin rugs and cushions, crafted from khiroi pelts, covered the ground, providing warmth and comfort beneath the feet. A small brazier in the middle of the room served to heat the space, its glow casting flickering shadows on the walls.

‘So it is agreed. Feng shall approach under the auspices of the Pact,’ Sindri said. ‘It has always worked before. If all goes well, they will allow us an audience. We will use Feng as an intermediary, so there will be no direct trade between us.’

They were so calm about this. As if Feng had no choice in the matter. The young man was going to walk into the Kidara, alone, and blackmail Jai’s Uncle Teji in front of his entire court, in his own home. How could they expect Feng to walk out alive?

Jai cursed quietly, earning himself a warning glare from Kiran.

Sindri had gathered her small council, and they sat around a fire. There was Zayn, seated beside her, and a circle of a half-dozen elders and warriors, Kiran included. Feng sat with Jai, a little apart from the others.

Clearly, he was here to see proof the trade was still intended, and there was no plot afoot. It would keep him from getting any ideas, with the Kidara so close and his safe transfer assured. Though Kiran never let him stray out of eyesight for a moment, either way.

‘Take it,’ Feng hissed, pushing something into his hands.

Bowls of fermented khiroi milk were poured and passed around, the sweet, acrid scent mingling with that of the dried-dung fire. To Jai’s enhanced senses, the scent was overwhelming. The waiting cupbearer, holding his large wineskin, must have caught his expression, for he leaned in, dashing a handful of wet herbs into the fire. The minty smell only added to the malaise of scents, but Jai nodded his thanks.

‘Not all tribes honour the Pact,’ Zayn growled, his face dark and brooding.

‘The Kidara will,’ Sindri said. ‘All the Great Tribes do.’

Zayn spat into the fire through his front teeth.

‘What is the Pact?’ Jai whispered. Feng shook his head.

‘Why do we allow this riteless child to speak at our council,’ an elder hissed. ‘Be silent!’

Jai bit his tongue, if only for the moment. Sindri, it seemed, took pity on him.

‘It grants all traders, lone travellers, and the unrited the right to move freely between tribes, and be heard by their khans. The rest of the Sithia do not grant this right to the Tainted, nor we they. Nonetheless, it will allow Feng an audience with their ruler, and the freedom to leave without being taken captive.’

Feng’s face became cold and drawn. Had Feng’s family not been traders? Surely they would have been safe if this so-called Pact held true? Obviously, the Valor did not live by it.

A wizened man held up a finger. He was the oldest among the tribe, and had been carried into the tent earlier. Jai struggled to understand him, for the man lacked any teeth, but even Zayn fell silent as the man mumbled wetly.

‘What is to stop Feng from betraying us?’

Zayn cleared his throat.

‘We have his sister.’

Jai started. His respect for the Valor had grown these past days. Now it was shattered. He knew he was their hostage, not a member of their tribe. Yet he had not begrudged them it.

The Tainted were in perpetual war with the rest of the Sithia. Preyed upon by their brothers and sisters of the steppe. Sold to the highest bidder, to be fettered in the east and the west, whichever was nearer. Jai was a prince of their enemy, a combatant by default.

But with Feng... it was different. He’d had no choice in this. A trader from a good family ripped from his life and held there. Endless servitude, shackled by a debt he’d never asked for, and a blade to his sister’s throat.

Feng looked down, avoiding Jai’s gaze. It seemed the answer was enough for the old man, who closed his eyes and nestled his chin into the thatch of white hair upon his chest.

‘We send him ahead,’ Sindri said. ‘Hide our people, so if we are betrayed, we can outrun any outriders. Take only our best for the meeting.’

‘And how do we meet them,’ the old man muttered, eyes still closed. He lifted an ear trumpet to his ear, one made from half a hollowed dried gourd.

‘Our warriors will wait with Jai a kiri east of their path,’ Zayn said, before Sindri could answer. Jai knew this to be the measurement of half a day’s khiro ride, a distance that varied with the seasons.

‘If they wish to meet us, they will send an emissary,’ Sindri said. ‘We burn wet grass, summon them with smoke. If they do not meet us by nightfall, we leave, meet with our tribe. Find another buyer.’

‘And what do we ask for?’ Zayn demanded.

‘As much as we can get.’

She clapped her hands, signalling the meeting was over. Zayn reached out as she went to stand, holding her in place. For a moment, the air was heavy, almost awkward.

‘I want falxes,’ Zayn growled. ‘One for every man here.’

Sindri jerked her sleeve, giving Zayn a glare, until he lowered his gaze.

‘Falxes are for war,’ she said. ‘The Valor have enough. We need khiroi does. Milk for our children. Transport for the elders.’

‘Give me falxes,’ he hissed. ‘And a few more bulls. We’ll take the rest from the next tribe.’

‘Your men can ride the does we can spare,’ Sindri said. ‘And falxes for your ten best.’

Zayn spat, and Sindri struck him clean across the face. He grinned up at her, touching a finger to his teeth and finding the blood there. As an ascended soulbound, it could not have hurt him much.

She held his gaze, until he leaped to his feet, startling her back. He let out a curt laugh, then stalked out of the tent. His men followed, half the council leaving with him.

Sindri stood still, all eyes within the tent upon her. She stooped, and helped the elder to his feet. The old man patted her shoulder, and she leaned close.

‘Before you, all the Valor knew was war,’ he said hoarsely. ‘And look at where it left us. Our best warriors dead. Half those that remained hated us, for they had been another tribe before we defeated them. Only the blood oath kept their blades from our throats in the night. It took years before we embraced as brothers. No way to grow a tribe.’

He held up a crooked finger.

‘Now, marriage,’ he chuckled. ‘That’s the way.’

Sindri, uncharacteristically, rolled her eyes. Yet, as the rest of the tribe got to their feet, and made their farewells, her face looked drawn, and her eyes veiled.

Feng was quick to leave, and Jai followed.

‘Feng, you don’t have to do this,’ Jai said, forced to grab Feng’s arm. ‘We can find another way.’

Feng laughed bitterly, pulling Jai’s hand from his wrist.

‘Don’t you get it, Jai?’ he said. ‘This is what I do for them.’

‘My uncle might kill you,’ Jai said. ‘This isn’t some merchant caravan selling pots and pans. It’s not a go-between for two tribes that can’t talk but want to. You’re there to blackmail them.’

Feng sighed, and patted Jai’s shoulder.

‘Come,’ he said. ‘Walk with me.’

It was strange, but in the face of this danger, Feng seemed all the more confident. As if... he welcomed it.

‘If I die, my sister will be freed,’ Feng said, as they neared the edge of the camp. ‘Payment in blood, remember?’

‘So that’s your plan?’ Jai said. ‘To die?’

Feng sniffed.

‘You think just because your sithosi has come back to you that you know our ways,’ Feng said. ‘I’ve been here three years. I’ve traded hostages with a dozen tribes – some weren’t even Tainted. Smaller tribes, true, and for a paltry ransom, but I’m sure it’s no different. I may survive this yet.’

Jai stared at him.

‘It is a common thing, in the Great Steppe, especially after a skirmish. Warriors fall. Khiroi die beneath them or are wounded in battle. That is how most of these exchanges happen. But the Valor... they do not keep to the Pact. They’ll ride down a lone traveller, a trader or the unrited making their way.’

He motioned around him, as if it should be obvious to Jai.

‘The Valor could hardly call themselves a tribe, before Sindri took over. The few warriors would run, if another tribe caught up to them. The rest were the worthless elders and babies that were leftover, hardly worth the journey to be sold, or swearing their oaths to the tribes that hunted them. They’d take what they wanted and leave the rest.’

‘But the khan?’ Jai said.

‘Just a man who called himself khan and a few fools that followed him, with a handful of sickly khiroi, overburdened and dry of milk. But it was she that changed all that.’

Jai listened, fascinated. It was like hearing the old war stories of Leonid. Of that scrappy kingdom that had become an empire, but on a smaller scale.

‘How?’ he breathed.

‘Instead of war, she hunted the steppe for the smaller prey. Broke the Pact. Captured the riteless, the traders, the lone warriors. Ransomed them for what her people needed. Rited in those that would strengthen us. But Zayn...’

Feng scratched his chin, where a fledgling few hairs had sprouted.

‘He’s responsible for it too. He led the hunts, made the prisoner exchanges. Which is far more dangerous than what I’m about to do.’

‘How so?’ Jai asked.

‘We broke the Pact,’ Feng said. ‘Means they’ve no reason to keep to the rules of parlay. Break one rule, break them all, right? Sometimes the buyers arrive looking to betray us, but they don’t expect Zayn on an Alkhara, with Kiran in tow. Keeps things from getting... emotional, at the exchange.’

Feng rubbed his eyes, staring out into the depths of the steppe. With the sun gone, Jai could see the flickering lights of the Kidara’s fires, just below the horizon. As if there, the steppe were transformed into a placid lake, reflecting the celestial dance of the stars above.

Behind them, Jai heard the rustle of the grass, and turned to see Kiran. Her steps were heavy, and she pulled Navi on a lead behind her.

‘Zayn says we send him on Navi,’ Kiran said. ‘She’s the oldest.’

Kiran held up her hands before Jai could protest.

‘Just be thankful she was not chosen for the funeral offering,’ she said.

Jai’s heart fell, looking over the loyal old khiro. He supposed she’d have a better chance, away from the hardships of an impoverished tribe like the Valor.

‘He leaves now?’ Jai asked.

Kiran nodded.

‘They are two kiris by my reckoning – he’ll be there by morning, before they break for camp. Best to pass on the message before they set their course.’

He turned, only to have Feng embrace him. Jai returned it, hugging the boy close. They had shared their differences, but in the weeks past, Jai had grown fond of the solemn, soulful young man.

‘Go with grace,’ he whispered the sithosi farewell. ‘And may the Mother keep you.’