of … you know.”
“Of course I know. But what happened to your Nadir code? Let tomorrow look to itself.”
“I am only half-Nadir.”
“Go and talk to her.”
“No. It is better this way.”
Ananais stood up and stretched his back. “I think I’ll get some sleep.” He ambled away back to the camp, stopping where Renya sat staring miserably into the fire.
He squatted down beside her. “It is a strange thing about some men,” he said to her. “In matters of business or war they can be giants, wise to a fault. In matters of the heart they are like children. Now, women are a different matter; they see the child in a man for what it is.”
“He would have killed me,” she whispered.
“Do you really think so?”
“Do you?”
“Renya, he loves you. He couldn’t hurt you.”
“Then why? Why say it?”
“To make you believe it. To make you hate him. To make you go.”
“Well, it worked,” she said.
“That’s a shame. Still … you shouldn’t have loosed that arrow.”
“I know that!” she snapped. “You don’t need to tell me. I just … couldn’t see them kill a baby.”
“No, I wasn’t overkeen myself.” He glanced across the fire to where the woman lay sleeping. The black giant, Pagan, sat with his back to a tree, holding the babe against his chest. The child had reached a pudgy hand from its blanket and curled it around Pagan’s finger while he was speaking to it in low, gentle tones.
“Good with children, isn’t he?” said Ananais.
“Yes. And with weapons.”
“A real man of mystery. Still, I am watching him.”
Renya glanced at the bright blue eyes beyond the black mask. “I like you, Ananais. I really do.”
“Like me, like my friends,” he said, nodding toward the tall figure of Tenaka Khan as he made his way to his blankets.
She shook her head and returned her gaze to the fire.
“That’s a shame,” he said again.
They rode into the village two hours after dawn. Galand had scouted ahead and reported that the soldiers were setting off toward the south and the distant spires of Karnak. The village was gutted, charred timbers oozing dark plumes of smoke. Bodies lay here and there, while around the edge of the burned-out buildings ten crosses had been erected, from which hung the village council. They had been whipped and beaten before being nailed to the beams; finally their legs had been broken, causing their battered frames to slump and cut off the air supply to the lungs.
“We have become barbarians,” said Scaler, turning his mount away from the scene. Belder merely nodded, but he followed the young Drenai to the grass fields beyond.
Tenaka dismounted at the village square, where the mass of bodies lay: more than thirty women and children.
“There is no sense to it,” he said as Ananais joined him. “Now who will work the fields? If this is happening all over the empire …”
“It is,” said Galand.
The woman with the babe lifted her shawl over her head and closed her eyes. Pagan glimpsed the movement and rode alongside her, taking the reins from her hands.
“We will wait for you outside the village,” he said.
Valtaya and Renya followed them.
“It is a strange thing,” said Ananais. “For centuries the Drenai have turned back enemies who would have done this to our land. And now we do it ourselves. What breed of men are they recruiting now?”
“There are always those who love this kind of work,” answered Tenaka.
“Among your people, maybe,” Parsal said softly.
“What does that mean?” snarled Ananais, turning on the black-bearded warrior.
“Forget it!” ordered Tenaka. “You are right, Parsal; the Nadir are a vicious people. But the Nadir did not do this. Nor did the Vagrians. As Ananais has said, we are doing it to ourselves.”
“Forget I said it, General,” murmured Parsal. “I am just angry. Let’s get away from here.”
“Tell me something,” Galand said suddenly. “Will killing Ceska change all
“Of course I know. But what happened to your Nadir code? Let tomorrow look to itself.”
“I am only half-Nadir.”
“Go and talk to her.”
“No. It is better this way.”
Ananais stood up and stretched his back. “I think I’ll get some sleep.” He ambled away back to the camp, stopping where Renya sat staring miserably into the fire.
He squatted down beside her. “It is a strange thing about some men,” he said to her. “In matters of business or war they can be giants, wise to a fault. In matters of the heart they are like children. Now, women are a different matter; they see the child in a man for what it is.”
“He would have killed me,” she whispered.
“Do you really think so?”
“Do you?”
“Renya, he loves you. He couldn’t hurt you.”
“Then why? Why say it?”
“To make you believe it. To make you hate him. To make you go.”
“Well, it worked,” she said.
“That’s a shame. Still … you shouldn’t have loosed that arrow.”
“I know that!” she snapped. “You don’t need to tell me. I just … couldn’t see them kill a baby.”
“No, I wasn’t overkeen myself.” He glanced across the fire to where the woman lay sleeping. The black giant, Pagan, sat with his back to a tree, holding the babe against his chest. The child had reached a pudgy hand from its blanket and curled it around Pagan’s finger while he was speaking to it in low, gentle tones.
“Good with children, isn’t he?” said Ananais.
“Yes. And with weapons.”
“A real man of mystery. Still, I am watching him.”
Renya glanced at the bright blue eyes beyond the black mask. “I like you, Ananais. I really do.”
“Like me, like my friends,” he said, nodding toward the tall figure of Tenaka Khan as he made his way to his blankets.
She shook her head and returned her gaze to the fire.
“That’s a shame,” he said again.
They rode into the village two hours after dawn. Galand had scouted ahead and reported that the soldiers were setting off toward the south and the distant spires of Karnak. The village was gutted, charred timbers oozing dark plumes of smoke. Bodies lay here and there, while around the edge of the burned-out buildings ten crosses had been erected, from which hung the village council. They had been whipped and beaten before being nailed to the beams; finally their legs had been broken, causing their battered frames to slump and cut off the air supply to the lungs.
“We have become barbarians,” said Scaler, turning his mount away from the scene. Belder merely nodded, but he followed the young Drenai to the grass fields beyond.
Tenaka dismounted at the village square, where the mass of bodies lay: more than thirty women and children.
“There is no sense to it,” he said as Ananais joined him. “Now who will work the fields? If this is happening all over the empire …”
“It is,” said Galand.
The woman with the babe lifted her shawl over her head and closed her eyes. Pagan glimpsed the movement and rode alongside her, taking the reins from her hands.
“We will wait for you outside the village,” he said.
Valtaya and Renya followed them.
“It is a strange thing,” said Ananais. “For centuries the Drenai have turned back enemies who would have done this to our land. And now we do it ourselves. What breed of men are they recruiting now?”
“There are always those who love this kind of work,” answered Tenaka.
“Among your people, maybe,” Parsal said softly.
“What does that mean?” snarled Ananais, turning on the black-bearded warrior.
“Forget it!” ordered Tenaka. “You are right, Parsal; the Nadir are a vicious people. But the Nadir did not do this. Nor did the Vagrians. As Ananais has said, we are doing it to ourselves.”
“Forget I said it, General,” murmured Parsal. “I am just angry. Let’s get away from here.”
“Tell me something,” Galand said suddenly. “Will killing Ceska change all
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