 
### Daughter of Wolves

### Lia Patterson

Published by Lia Patterson at Smashwords

Copyright 2018 by Lia Patterson. All rights reserved.

Cover Design: Copyright Yvonne Less, www.art4artists.com.au

Cover Images: Copyright yekophotostudio/depositphotos.com, muha04/depositphotos.com, jag_cz/depositphotos.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents in this novel are either the products of the imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, to events, businesses, or locales is entirely coincidental.

www.liapatterson.com

### Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Other books by Lia Patterson

Thank you

About the Author
ONE

I won him in a game of dice. I never owned him, though. He owned himself and always would, but I didn't discover that until much later.

It was the mare that caught my attention. Clean limbed, deep-chested, with a delicate head and wide nostrils that longed to eat the wind, she stood tied to a post in the courtyard of the caravanserai, flicking her tail in boredom. Compared to the shaggy pack horses tethered next to her, she looked as out of place as an opal amongst pebbles.

I urged Shar over and slid from the saddle. The mare pricked her ears forward, touched muzzles with Shar and gave a low whinny. When I stroked her neck, admiring her lustrous white coat, she shook her mane, obviously very much aware of her charms, then deigned to breathe into my hand. Not only a beauty, but also delightful manners. Quite unlike my own irascible gelding, who now snaked his head round, showing yellow teeth, when somebody approached from behind.

The man jumped back hastily. "My apologies, lady, I did not want to startle you."

I snorted. "You didn't." As if I'd let anybody creep up on me.

Short and stocky, the man was dressed in a red tunic and loose trousers of the style often seen in these borderlands. At his waist he wore a broad sash embroidered with peonies for luck and fastened with a jade buckle in the shape of intertwined carp.

He let his eyes slide over me, from my dusty boots up my faded trousers to my blouse sewn with beads of turquoise. There they lingered a moment too long; the day had been hot and I had undone the laces.

"Ah, you're Khotai," he said. "The famous horse people."

I shrugged. Though I suppose it was better than what we were usually called, the wolves of the steppe. Not without reason either.

The merchant sidled over to the mare, who ignored him in favour of rubbing noses with Shar. "I see my horse has caught your fancy. She's a beauty, isn't she?"

I knew better than to praise a horse that I might be interested in buying. "I've seen finer." Briefly, I extended my mage senses, establishing that besides the knife carried openly at his belt, the man had another one concealed in his boot and one in a sheath along his upper arm. Not that this worried me overmuch, but it always paid to be prepared.

"Look at those legs, slim as a dancing girl's," the merchant said. "Her carriage is like that of a maiden in the first flush of youth and the lustre of her eyes would put a courtesan to shame." Belatedly it seemed to dawn on him that comparing the horse to a ravishing woman might not have the same effect on me as on his male customers. His voice petered out.

"Hmm." I slid a hand along one of the mare's legs.

"She's fast too," he added. "And just look at her coat: glowing like a pearl. You will not find another like her in these parts."

That at least was true. A quick glance at the horses clustering round the water trough, all that the little caravanserai sheltered, had already shown me that none of them was worth bargaining for. And I needed another horse. The faster the better.

"Hmm," I said again, not giving the man anything. "I suppose she's quite a pretty colour." I took Shar's bridle and began to lead him away. "Now I need to see about my evening meal though."

"My sweet lady, won't you stay?" he exclaimed and took my arm. "You've hardly had a proper look at her yet."

I gave him an icy stare, put my hand on the hilt of the curved dagger at my belt and pointedly looked down at his fingers on my arm. Hastily he let go. "No offence intended, lady."

"None taken," I replied, but with no warmth in my voice.

The man took a step back. Sometimes the Khotai's reputation as ruthless killers was rather useful. It had kept a number of would-be human predators like this one at bay over the course of my journey, though at times I could not help feeling like a toothless dog masquerading as a fierce wolf. Hopefully they would never discover how little I shared my people's relish for bloodshed.

The merchant licked his lips. "My profoundest apologies. Lady, I am Behzad tal Hassar, at your service. Allow me to make amends by offering you some tea and perhaps a small repast."

I hesitated. While I did not like the manner of his invitation one bit, I did want an opportunity to start bargaining for the mare. "You are most kind," I finally answered. "I just need to see to my horse first."

"Oh, please, let my slave do that." Without waiting for an answer, he clapped his hands. "Kiarash, you lazy dog! Come here at once."

From beyond the other horses a man came shuffling over. The merchant aimed a kick his way, which he avoided with surprising nimbleness. "Master?" he asked.

"Water and feed this lady's horse, then groom it. And mind you take proper care of it, or I'll tan your hide."

The man ducked his head. "Yes, master. Nice horse. Pretty horse."

I looked at him dubiously, for his long black hair hung in lanky strands over his face, and his trousers and shirt were threadbare and stained. On his approach a pungent combination of horse manure and unwashed man wafted over. I wasn't sure if I wanted to give Shar into his care.

Behzad seemed to guess my reservations. "Kiarash takes care of all our horses. He's touched in the head, but he knows how to brush a coat until it gleams." He patted the mare's rump. "Just look at my beauty here."

It was the mare's behaviour that decided me: ignoring the merchant, she turned to Kiarash and gently blew against his chest. The slave stood hunched over and had his head lowered submissively, but I saw him reach out a quick hand and stroke her.

"Very well," I said and removed my saddlebags, my bow and quiver of arrows. "Thank you."

Turning to Shar, I told him to behave. I had spoken in Sikhandi to the merchant, as it was the recognised trade speech in these lands, but with the gelding I used my own language. I grinned to myself. Shar could take care of himself anyway, at least he had never stood any nonsense from me.

Whereas I had merely paid a small fee to the master of the caravanserai to spread my blankets beneath one of the arches set into the wall, Behzad had rented a couple of rooms facing the central courtyard.

But when he asked me inside, I shook my head. "It's been a hot day, I would much rather sit out here and enjoy the evening air."

"Of course," Behzad answered with an ingratiating smile.

Poor Kiarash got called away from grooming Shar to spread a carpet just outside the door and fetch cushions, so we could sit and watch the going-ons of the caravanserai. I settled down with my back to the wall. While the merchant did not have a Khotai warrior's trained strength, nevertheless he was burly and thickset, and I had no desire to court trouble. I had plenty of that already! As long as we sat in the courtyard, the guards would enforce the trading peace – what happened inside the rooms was a different matter altogether.

A huge tash tree spread its broad leaves over the courtyard, and with the coming of the night a swarm of ganda finches settled amongst its branches, chirping sleepily. The open plains of the steppe were parched by the summer sun at this time of the year, the grass yellow and sere, but I had noticed how the vegetation had grown more plentiful over the last few days. Located as it was at the foot of the mountains, the caravanserai had its well fed by underground streams, allowing the cultivation of grapes.

Behzad offered me some of these, together with a cup of green tea, which I accepted gratefully: it had been a long, dusty ride. I observed the merchant out of the corner of my eye. He seemed prosperous enough, but while his clothes were of good make, they had seen plenty of wear.

I wondered where he had picked up a horse of the quality of the mare, but knew better than to ask. Here in the borderlands, there was often little difference between bandit and merchant. As long as no irate former owner turned up, I didn't really care.

By and by, more men joined us, Behzad's trading partners who had formed a caravan with him. They eyed me with open curiosity, but politely enough. Several of them had knives hidden about their person, but that was hardly unusual in a place like this.

"You honour us greatly with your company, Lady..." Behzad said, letting his voice trail off suggestively.

"Javaneh," I supplied. The rules of hospitality demanded that I give him my real name, but I did not think it would matter.

He raised an eyebrow. "Javaneh? That's a Sikhandi name."

"Yes." If he wanted an explanation of how I had been given a name in the language of the Khotai's hereditary enemies, he would not get it from me.

He must have realised as much. "A name as beautiful as the lady who owns it," he declared. "And what brings you here?"

"Business."

"Ah. Are you travelling west?"

"Yes, I am." This was no secret, as I had already asked the caravanserai's master about the onward road. There would be no more certain shelter for several days, not until I reached the fort on the Zhubin Pass, the gateway into the Empire of Sikhand. One more reason I needed a second horse.

"We're heading south ourselves, but I've been that way many times before." Behzad proceeded to advise me on what route to take. I stored away the information, though I did not trust him much. However, he seemed determined to be friendly and chatted away about what wares he traded, boasting of his success.

As the swift southern dusk fell, he offered me rice wine, but I declined, for I wanted a clear mind. Behzad and his friends showed no such restraint, and after the first few cups their eyes traced my neckline rather too often.

It was obvious I was travelling alone, and unattached women were rare in these lands, young ones even more so. However, I had learnt how to deal with that. When I took out my knife, its blade long and deadly sharp, and cleaned it with a soft cloth, they hastily looked away. You did not trifle with Khotai women – not even half-bloods.

Seeing that the slave had finished with the horses, Behzad called him over to build a fire, then sent him off to fetch a selection of dishes from the vendors who had set up their stalls in the courtyard.

Despite my polite protests, he insisted on treating me to the meal. "Please, Lady Javaneh, you'd honour us greatly by breaking your fast with us."

I did have some coin in my saddlebags, could in fact sense the metal calling to me through the canvas that held it, but I had no idea how long the money would have to last, so I accepted gracefully. If he thought to lure me into his bed this way, he would find out otherwise.

Kiarash came back carrying two large bowls of spicy lentil stew, dumplings and rice, then was sent back for more. The food smelt delicious and I thought I saw him swipe some small pasties and hide them away amongst his clothes. The men paid him no attention, only cuffing him every now and again over some clumsiness.

"You have finished grooming the lady's horse?" Behzad asked him. "I'm warning you, I want a proper job, no rushing."

The slave ducked his head. "Proper job, master," he mumbled. "Kiarash promise." The slave collar on his neck had chafed him raw.

Behzad waved him away. "In that case make yourself useful shaking out my bedding and see to it that my privy is clean. Don't just stand around!" As the slave ran to do his bidding, Behzad turned to me. "A complete dimwit. I swear there's nothing in his head except how to shirk work. I don't know why I bother to feed that ungrateful wretch."

Because otherwise he'd have to clean his privy himself? But I just murmured an agreement.

"Still, the Elements reward those who look after the simple in mind," Behzad went on in a self-satisfied voice. "That's why I took him on."

"Took him on?"

One of the other men guffawed. "He sold himself to Behzad for a bowl of rice a day."

"Saw the mare and said he liked horses," another added.

They all laughed at how they had taken advantage of the poor man's simplicity. What kind of life had he led that he would trade his freedom for a full stomach? It was difficult to tell under all the grime covering him, but Kiarash seemed little older than myself. However, while I felt sorry for him, there was nothing I could do to help. I had more than enough worries of my own.

Behzad leant back on his cushions and played with the jade ornament that fastened his sash. "Of course it's not surprising he liked my mare. She's a beauty, isn't she?"

"Quite pretty," I agreed in a bored voice. "Though I'm not sure about her stamina."

He chuckled. "Admit it, Lady Javaneh, she has caught your eye."

I shrugged. "Perhaps." Were we finally settling down to some serious bargaining?

"Ah! Now with anybody else I would have said that I could not possibly part with my beloved horse, not even for all the riches of the Emperor of Sikhand."

"Indeed?" I lifted an eyebrow.

"But I've taken a fancy to you," he added. Something unsavoury glittered in his eyes. "And who wouldn't, faced with your charming company."

The man was full of empty compliments. I said nothing, just kept a polite expression of enquiry on my face.

Behzad spread his hands. "So I'll give you the chance to win her."

"What?"

He smiled. "A beauty for a beauty: flowing white mane and a coat lustrous as a pearl against raven hair and soft ivory skin..."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the other men exchange grins. "What do you mean?" I asked, mystified.

Behzad took out a leather bag from his sleeve and opened it. "Let's have a little game," he said, spreading a handful of dice on the carpet in front of me. "You win, you get the mare for free."

My mind was still catching up with his extraordinary proposition. "And if I lose?"

"Then you're mine."

### TWO

I recoiled. "What? Certainly not."

Behzad's smile widened. He leant forward. "Why not? Think about it, Lady Javaneh. A few throws of the dice, no more, and you might own two horses instead of one. And what a horse. I would not part with her to anybody but you."

He made it sound as if I were sure to win. But I wasn't stupid. "No, thank you," I answered. "I might just possibly be interested in buying her, but I will not gamble my liberty away."

Behzad took a sip of rice wine. "The mare is not for sale."

So that was how the wind blew. I hesitated, for I wanted another horse for speed. However, my need wasn't desperate enough to make me take that kind of chance. Shar and I would manage.

I was just about to refuse the bet, when I noticed something: my bag of coins and the knives hidden about Behzad were not the only metal I perceived near me. Could it be?

Everywhere about the caravanserai there were bits of metal, and so far I'd kept my mage senses furled up on themselves to avoid the confusion of too many impressions. But now I carefully extended a tendril of awareness. The familiar rich taste of my silver coins, bright and playful copper mixed amongst them, keen iron from the knives, calling out to shape it. And very faintly...the dull, heavy throb of lead.

Pretending that I was still considering Behzad's offer, I picked up the dice. And sure enough: inside them I felt small pips of metal.

They were loaded.

I opened my mouth to make an accusation, but realised to do so would be to give myself away. But suddenly another idea hit me. I looked up at Behzad who was watching me as a glutton might watch a tasty morsel. "You're willing to have your bet witnessed by the master of the caravanserai?"

He exhaled his breath softly. "Certainly, Lady Javaneh."

Playing for time, I weighed the dice in my hand, concentrating on locating the small pieces of lead. It was cleverly done, for every dice was loaded in favour of a different side. I considered my options. Having the master of the caravanserai witnessing the bet would assure that Behzad could not easily go back on the terms, at least not for tonight. And the next day I would be gone.

Sudden movement behind Behzad caught my attention. Kiarash stood in the door to the merchant's room and to my astonishment was shaking his head violently. Had he listened to our conversation and was trying to warn me? Noticing my distraction, Behzad started to turn round, but the slave had already ducked back into the room.

"Still, the stakes are hardly fair," I said impulsively. Perhaps there was a way I could help that poor wretch after all.

"What do you mean?" Behzad asked.

"If I win, I get a horse," I pointed out. "If you win, you get not only me, but also all my belongings, including my horse." Slaves owned no property. They were property.

Caught off guard, he hesitated. "My mare is not just any horse."

"As you said yourself: a beauty for a beauty," I answered. "But I have a proposition for you. I'm willing to wager my person and my belongings against the mare and that slave of yours."

"Kiarash? That useless–" He swallowed his surprise. "Well, I suppose it's only fair. He's very good with animals, a hard working lad, straight limbs, good teeth." He made the man sound like a horse!

Behzad did not seem to notice at all, instead he took a deep draught of his rice wine. "So, Lady Javaneh, shall we have a little game?"

For one last moment I hesitated, then I looked him straight in the eye. "Yes."

A predatory grin spread across his face. "Very good. I like a spirited woman."

In his bed, no doubt. But I said nothing as he sent for the master of the caravanserai and we set out the terms of our bet in writing. Already Behzad regarded me with a possessive gleam in his eyes, as if he could not wait to get his hands on me. The idea made me shudder with distaste and I began to regret my impulsive decision. But it was too late to back out now.

The news of the bet had spread and many of the other merchants congregated to watch the game. Nothing like a bit of free entertainment! There was a circle of curious faces around us, not unfriendly exactly, but certainly none of them would lift as much as a little finger to help me if I lost.

While waiting for the master of the caravanserai, we had agreed on the rules of the game and now Behzad motioned for me to choose the six dice we would play with. This was supposed to ensure a fair contest, but of course Behzad had no such thing in mind. I pretended to examine the dice for regular sides, but in reality I picked the ones that had the largest nuggets of lead in them, making them the easiest to manipulate. Behzad observed my choice closely, no doubt already calculating his strategy.

It was his turn to start. When I handed him the dice, he let his fingers linger on mine. "I should have warned you, lady, that the Elements favour me greatly in this game," he said with a suggestive leer.

I didn't doubt it. "We'll see," I answered. Kiarash had squeezed into a corner behind Behzad, I noticed, watching us intently.

Being the challenger, Behzad got to throw first. In the traditional Sikhandi manner, the dice had the five elements Fire, Earth, Wood, Metal and Water engraved on the sides, while the sixth side was left blank. With a practised flick of the wrist, the merchant rolled the dice the first time, made his pick which ones to keep, repeated the process with the remaining dice, then threw the third and final time.

Three pairs, called the Tower: a good result. Even so I thought it could be beaten. We had agreed to play for a total of five rounds and this was only the first, but I wanted to develop a solid lead. Yet when I held the dice in my hands, I found that it was more difficult than I had anticipated to shift the weight to where it would favour me. After all I couldn't very well hold every single dice in front of my eyes and concentrate on it. In the end I changed the weights rather haphazardly by feel.

I paid for it: the Gate, two pairs only.

We each had a bowl for the winning points by our side. Now the master of the caravanserai tossed a copper coin in Behzad's. It tinkled merrily, mocking me. My mouth suddenly dry, I swallowed. Had I overreached myself? Behzad certainly seemed to think so, for he wore a self-satisfied grin. One of his friends elbowed him in the ribs and murmured something in his ear, which made the merchant chuckle.

"The night is still young," he answered. The other man laughed in reply and cast a look of envy at him.

Behzad threw for the second time. It was obvious that he had a lot of practise at this game, for he made his choices quickly, without hesitation. Fire, Wood, Earth: three pairs again. I pushed my misgivings aside and concentrated on the dice. This time it went better and I too scored three pairs. An encouraging result, but I needed to make up my loss of the first round. The winning point still lay in Behzad's bowl.

"Well done, lady," he said condescendingly. "There's nothing more pleasant than whiling away the time with a lovely woman...playing games."

It was perfectly obvious what kind of games he had in mind. Many of the men watching us acknowledged this sally with unconcealed laughter. I began to wonder whether I would be able to kill him when alone with him, but in my heart I knew that it wouldn't be easy. Khotai women had a fierce reputation, so he would take no chances.

And always at the edge of my mind there hovered the familiar fear. Behzad might find that he would only enjoy me for a very brief time – unfortunately that wasn't a reassuring thought at all. Taking a firm grip on myself, I squashed my forebodings. The game was far from over yet.

Behzad picked up the dice. "Elements, favour me," he called the traditional appeal and rolled them.

And they did. Water twice and three times Metal: the Elephant.

My own element was betraying me. With a sense of injustice I collected the dice. Suddenly I frowned: they felt different somehow. I realised that Behzad must have exchanged some of them without me noticing. The cheat! Yet I could prove nothing.

However, these new dice were loaded too. Perhaps I could use that against him. Gently probing for the metal, this time I did not try to change the weights, but instead made a guess which way they were most likely to fall. And almost as if making up for betraying me, three Metal came at the first throw and the next one wielded three Earth.

"The Palace," the crowd muttered.

I smiled in satisfaction when the master of the caravanserai threw a coin in my bowl. We were even.

At the back somebody laughed. "Hey, Behzad," the man called, "the Khotai wench is beating you. How does that feel?"

Behzad frowned. "Enough fooling around," he snapped. "I'll show her who's master." He grabbed the dice and threw them. But the Elements had turned against him, all he had at the end were two pairs. He spat a curse.

My chance. I couldn't help grinning in triumph as I reached for the dice and rolled them. The first throw came up all different elements, except for two Earth. I hesitated. Should I keep the single pair and build on that, or try to exchange one of the duplicate Earths for the blank that would make a Wheel of Heaven and give me victory?

The Elements were with me and I had two more throws. So I went for the second option. But the next go only yielded Water, useless to me. Opposite me Behzad leant forward, his smile intact again. Biting my lip, I concentrated on the dice, but it only had a tiny nugget of lead inside it. I rolled it for the third time.

Water again.

Behzad slapped his thigh. "You'll be mine yet," he chuckled.

Another copper coin tinkled in his bowl. I cursed myself for relying on my luck. Now I had to win the next round just to stay in the game. If I lost...

Behzad had been observing me closely. He turned round to Kiarash and whispered something to the slave that sent him wriggling through the crowd towards the merchant's room. Next he collected the dice and leisurely rolled them round in his hand. He had thick, powerful fingers, I noticed, calloused from handling animals, the fingernails rimmed with dirt.

A flick of the wrist and the dice fell on the carpet. Too fast to follow, he picked up his choice and threw again. And again.

The men around us exclaimed with surprise. There it was: The Wheel of Heaven that had eluded me just now. I swore. He must have cheated somehow.

Behzad swept up the dice and showed them to the crowd. "See how a true master plays the game." His friends slapped him on the back in congratulation, thinking he had as good as won.

Which he had – only a Full Temple, six times the same element, topped a Wheel of Heaven. Could I prove that he had manipulated the dice? If broken open, surely the bits of lead would show. Yet would anybody listen to me? The crowd was by no means sober anymore and seemed to consider it good sport to watch a woman, one of the feared Khotai as well, brought low. Several of his friends were already offering to buy me off Behzad when he tired of me!

I reached for the dice, which Behzad had thrown negligently on the carpet, just as Kiarash came back from his errand. Bowing submissively, he handed his master a small bag, before crouching down in his place in the merchant's shadow. For a moment our eyes met. I thought I saw pity in his, but he quickly looked down.

Behzad opened the bag, making sure he had my attention, took out the contents and spread them on his lap. The men around him craned their necks to see what it was. They sniggered.

An iron slave collar, gleaming dully. Leather straps. A whip, the handle worn smooth.

"Well, Javaneh," Behzad said. "Your turn, I believe." He was obviously enjoying himself.

Anger ignited in my belly. So he liked to have women in his power? I regarded him with narrowed eyes. The leather straps might be tricky, but just let him put that collar on me and I would show him a thing or two. He thought to intimidate me, but I had faced worse things than slavery of the body. I bared my teeth in a smile at him, and his self-satisfied expression faltered.

Slowly, I rolled the dice round in my hand. There was not the smallest fragment of lead in them. I felt no surprise. Obviously Behzad had played this particular trick many times before and was skilled at exchanging the dice by sleight of hand. He would not leave himself open to an accusation of cheating.

My first roll. A mix of elements: two Wood, one Fire, one Metal, the rest blank. I regarded my result and pondered the possibilities. Two dice exchanged for Earth and Water would bring me The Wheel of Heaven. But that wasn't enough, Behzad would still win by one point. Try a Full Temple with Wood? Go for Metal, my own element? Or...

I picked up Fire, Metal, Wood, leaving only the two blank dice. A murmur went through the crowd when they realised what I was doing.

Second roll. Two Water, one Metal. Only one more blank. Behzad had regained his confidence and sat there, gently fondling the slave collar.

I told myself that I had chosen my path. To falter now would only mean certain defeat. I picked up Water and Metal, leaving three blanks lying on the carpet. Briefly I held the dice to my forehead and closed my eyes. Was this my last moment of freedom?

"Elements help me," I whispered. It seemed appropriate to appeal to my mother's gods, though they had always seemed distant and impersonal, compared to the spirits that inhabited the Khotai's lands.

I threw the dice.

They rolled and spun for what seemed like a small eternity, coming to rest one after the other.

Blank.

Another blank.

The last one settled.

Blank.

"Release from the Wheel," a man in the crowd whispered.

I exhaled my breath slowly. The one throw that ended any game, but that most players didn't attempt, out of superstition. Those favoured by the Elements so highly usually did not lead quiet or peaceful lives.

The master of the caravanserai upended Behzad's bowl. "Lady Javaneh has won," he announced.

Our audience slowly dispersed amongst murmurs of speculation. Several of the men made the sign of the Wheel. I faced Behzad. The merchant looked as if he had bitten into a lemon, and his hands curled into fists. But he knew when he was beaten.

"The mare is yours, lady," he said. "And so is this useless whelp here." He got up and aimed a kick at Kiarash, but the slave quickly twisted aside.

"Leave him be," I snapped. "He's mine now."

Behzad sneered. "I suppose you wanted a fresh body between your blankets. Is that why you wagered for him?" A deadly insult to any Sikhandi lady's virtue.

Slowly I rose to my feet, one hand on my knife. Behzad began to look uneasy. But I was no Sikhandi lady. What did I care what he thought of me.

I laughed in Behzad's face. "Any day, I'd take this miserable wretch, simple of mind and stinking of manure, in my bed – rather than you."

The leather straps and slave collar had fallen to the floor. I kicked them away. "Let's go," I said to Kiarash and motioned for him to pick up my saddlebags, while I took the bow and quiver of arrows.

"Yes, mistress," he mumbled.

Poor simpleton. What should I do with him? I had included him in the bet only by impulse and had no intention of taking him with me. Vaguely I had planned to set him free, yet if I left him here, he would surely just fall victim to Behzad and his friends again. I didn't doubt that the merchant would enslave him once more, given the chance.

Well, I would consider my options later. It had been a long, tiring day, crowned by an even more exhausting evening. What kind of night I might have had, I didn't even want to think about. I shuddered. It had been foolish to make that bet and I had escaped only by the grace of the Elements. How often had my brothers chided me for giving in to mad impulses. I pushed that thought away.

The small arch that I had rented only offered shelter for one person, but it was a dry night, so it would just have to do. Kiarash fetched the horses, and from a neighbouring merchant I managed to acquire a cheap saddle. It was threadbare, the leather cracked in places, but it fit the mare and would make changing horses much easier.

I was still hungry, so I sent Kiarash off to buy some steamed buns. When I shared some with him, he gobbled them down as if it was the first food he'd had for days. I sighed and gave him a coin to buy himself more. Had Behzad not fed him at all?

Finally we could bed down for the night. This presented the next problem: I would not have minded Kiarash absconding during the night – one less matter to worry about – but not with my belongings. Luckily Shar was trained to guard his rider's sleep. So I tied the horses' reins loosely together and used my bags as a pillow.

"You sleep over there," I told the slave, pointing to a place hopefully downwind of me. "And stay away from my horse. He's vicious when defending me."

"Yes, mistress." He slunk away and curled into a ball against the wall.

I had never realised what a burden on the conscience a slave could be. With a muttered curse I dug out my spare blanket and tossed it to him. I would just have to wash it before using it again.

When I settled down to sleep, Shar lowered his head and blew softly in my hair. I reached up and scratched him under the forelock. "You'll watch over me, won't you, my sweet," I whispered.

He gave a low nicker. My faithful friend for many years, ever since my father had given him to me. At need he would have died for me.

Unfortunately there were some things he could not protect me from.

### THREE

Dawn the next morning found me at the gates of the caravanserai with Kiarash still in tow. Regrettably he had not run away, so I had to feed him breakfast. The man had the appetite of a hungry bear!

Afterwards I fitted a lead rope to the mare's bridle and told him to mount. A number of people came to watch us ride out, those who had attended the game the previous night recounting the events to the others. This sudden notoriety made me ill at ease. The last thing I needed was for my name to travel up and down the trade roads.

We were the first people out the gate, for I had every intention of leaving Behzad and his friends so far behind that they had no chance of catching up with me, even if they tried. Seeing as I now owned the only two decent horses around, that shouldn't be too difficult.

I had decided to take Kiarash with me a short distance, give him some money and set him free. It was the best I could do for him, and I told myself this would end my responsibility. I couldn't possibly look after every man, woman or child who crossed my path and needed rescue, I had enough troubles of my own.

The mountains that marked the border with Sikhand lay before us like crouching beasts, lit by the rising sun. They seemed deceptively near, but I knew it would take a day just to reach the beginning of the road up to the Zhubin Pass.

Kiarash managed to stay in the saddle more easily than I had expected, though he sat hunched over with his head lowered, so we alternately walked and trotted. After a while, I stopped to let the horses drink at a small rivulet, before leading them off the road to a clearing sheltered by some stunted trees.

"Get off," I told Kiarash.

He straightened up. "Why?"

Something in his behaviour flustered me. He seemed changed somehow. "I don't keep slaves," I said. "You're free."

"I've always been free."

All traces of submissiveness had gone, and he looked me straight in the eye. Now that he held himself upright, all of a sudden he seemed a lot taller.

"Whatever," I stuttered. "I'll take that thing off." I motioned to his slave collar. "And we can part ways."

"I can do that myself." He reached up, there was a click, and the collar came off. "I broke the lock the day they put it on," he said casually and tossed it away.

I was still staring at him in stupefaction when he bent forward and untied the lead rope from the mare's bridle. "Well, Khotai girl," he said, "this is where I'm off. Your people are a bunch of mindless killers, but you've been quite kind, so I'll give you a piece of free advice: go back and join a caravan. These hills are no place for dim-witted innocents like you."

The cheek of the man! "What are you doing?" I snapped.

He gathered up the mare's reins. Her ears flicked back when she felt the change in him. "You heard me, I'm off."

"Not with my horse!"

"She doesn't belong to you."

"Yes, she does, I won her fairly." I wasn't going to part with the mare after nearly paying such a high price for her. Besides, I needed her.

His face hardened. "One thief winning her from another."

"I'm no thief," I exclaimed angrily.

"You Khotai all are," he shot back. "Thieves and filthy murderers, troubling our borders. Delyth is mine."

Delyth? But I had no time to consider his words, because that moment he urged the mare forward, back towards the road. I nudged Shar to interpose himself and barred his way. "Hold!"

"Get out of my way," he growled.

"Get off my horse," I countered. At a signal from me, Shar backed a couple of paces. I whipped out my bow, strung it and reached for an arrow. "Don't force me to hurt you."

He looked me up and down dismissively. "Don't make me laugh, Khotai girl. You're far too soft-hearted to do anything of the sort. Why, I only had to look hungry and you bought me three bowls of rice for breakfast."

Rendered speechless, I wavered. Not so Kiarash. Using my moment's hesitation, he pressed his heels into the mare's flanks, and she bounded forward.

I cursed as she passed me, but whirled Shar to follow them. Kiarash had already reached the road and urged the mare into a canter, making for the distant hills. The rat! He was stealing my horse.

"Come on, Shar," I shouted. The gelding took after them.

The road, no more than a dirt track, ran straight and empty at this point, and the mare threw up a cloud of dust that enveloped us and made me cough.

I still had my bow in my hands and was tempted to put a couple of arrows in the man's back. It would have been easy, no great feat at all for somebody brought up on the steppes. But he had been right: I couldn't do it. Cursing myself for a squeamish fool, I put the bow away.

The mare was fast. Shar might have better stamina, but they would outrun us over short distances. Yet there was no way I would let him steal my horse. The Khotai had other tricks to deal with a thief. I grabbed the rolled up rope I always had hanging from my saddle and leant over Shar's whithers.

"Get them," I called to him.

He knew what that meant and gamely put on a burst of speed. Ahead, I saw Kiarash cast a quick look over his shoulder, flash a grin, and urge the mare to run faster. But Shar had given me a window of opportunity. As we came up behind them, I swung the rope over my head and cast the noose forward.

The stiff rope settled around Kiarash, who gave a shout of surprise. I yanked the noose closed. Instinctively, he struggled to free himself, but I gave him no chance to recover and tugged sharply. Yes! He started to slip and the mare faltered, slowing down now that her rider no longer directed her. That would show him. Another well-timed pull on the rope, and Kiarash came crashing down from the saddle in the most satisfactory manner.

I drew Shar to a snorting stop. Farther up the road, the mare too slowed to a trot, before halting altogether and looking back at us uncertainly. She would not go far, I decided, I could take care of Kiarash first.

He lay in a heap where he had fallen, not moving. Suddenly feeling uneasy, I urged Shar over. I hadn't meant to kill him. Had the man never learnt how to fall from a horse?

Still no movement. I swung from the saddle and told Shar to wait. Kiarash lay on his stomach, so I knelt down and with some difficulty heaved him onto his back. The man was as unwieldy as a bear carcass! A trickle of blood ran from his nose, and he was covered in dust, but when I touched his neck, I could feel a pulse. Alive. I loosened the rope and wondered what to do now. Curse the man. I couldn't very well leave him lying unconscious in the middle in the road, though the wretch deserved it.

He groaned and started coughing. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. Very well, that was it: I would make sure he hadn't broken anything and then I would be off. With both my horses.

I bent over him. "Kiarash, how are you feeling?"

His gaze fell on me and sharpened. "Why, you–"

"Can you move your limbs?" I interrupted sharply.

Kiarash glared up at me furiously. With every breath strength seemed to flow back into him. Wiping his bloody nose on his sleeve, he sat up. "Vixen! How dare you use your filthy Khotai tricks on me." He lunged for me with the speed of a pouncing lion.

I cried out when he landed on top of me and we rolled over. He was heavy! And had the reflexes of a trained warrior. I tried to kick him in the groin, but he twisted aside and used his momentum to swing me over and trap me beneath him. No! I drove my elbow into his ribs, and he grunted with pain and let go.

Quickly I rolled away. My knife. I struggled to my feet and whipped it out, but he was faster. Sidestepping me, he grabbed my wrist and yanked my arm down. Swallowing a cry of pain, I flowed with the movement, trying to go for his eyes with my free hand. Briefly Kiarash jerked back, but then swung me round and twisted my arm behind my back.

"Drop the knife," he grunted in my ear.

"No," I gasped.

He crushed my wrist painfully. "Look, wildcat, I'm not going to hurt you, but I won't let you carve me up either. Now drop your knife." He sounded hardly winded.

I gritted my teeth. "No." As if I would believe him. He was no better than Behzad.

Inexorably, his grip tightened. "Do as I say."

It hurt. I could feel my will weakening. Somewhere to the side, Shar gave an anxious whinny.

"Elements, help me," I breathed. And with all my strength I called on the metal of the knife I held in my numb fingers.

Something cool and silken slithered up my arm.

Kiarash gave a yelp and let go of me as if I had burnt him. "What is that thing?" he exclaimed and jumped back.

I turned round and swayed. On the ground between us, a sinuous piece of metal writhed, one end raised like a striking snake. As I stared at it in alarm, it slowly collapsed and hardened. I hadn't meant to give myself away like that!

"You're a mage," Kiarash breathed.

My attention snapped back to him. What would he do now?

He cradled his head as if it hurt him. "A mage...I don't believe it. The Khotai have no mages."

I took a step back and whistled to Shar. Obediently the gelding trotted over.

Kiarash lifted his head. "Hold. What do you think you're doing?"

I swung into the saddle and felt better at once. "I'm off."

"No, you're not." He reached for the reins, but recoiled when Shar snapped yellow teeth in his face. "Hey, tell your killer horse I mean you well."

"Mean me well?" I shot back in disbelief. "You attacked me just now."

"Eh..." He gave an apologetic shrug. "Look, lady, I'm sorry."

"Sorry!"

"My temper got the better of me there for a moment," he said, looking embarrassed. "I admit I was furious with you for taking me down, but I swear I wouldn't have hurt you." As if to prove his good faith, he gathered up my rope, coiled it and handed it up to me. Then he gingerly picked up my ruined knife and passed me that as well.

Startled, I took it. Funny enough, I believed him. A moment ago, I had been terrified, but now I sensed no more danger from him. With a curt nod, I backed Shar a couple of steps. "I accept your apology."

"Don't go," he exclaimed. "You haven't told me what a mage is doing in these borderlands."

"No, and I won't either." Who did he think he was that I should owe him an explanation?

"Are you really Khotai?" he asked, completely unaffected by my words. He put his head to one side and regarded me with narrowed eyes. "Your gear certainly is, but what about you?"

He was perceptive. The metallic sheen to my black hair and my high cheekbones marked me as Khotai, but from my mother I had inherited her wide, almond shaped eyes and paler skin.

"That's none of your business," I answered in a clipped tone.

During our discussion, the mare had ambled back towards us. I urged Shar over to pick up her trailing reins, but to my chagrin she shied away from me. When Kiarash gave a funny click of the tongue, she went over to him instead.

"Good girl, my sweet Delyth," he crooned and stroked her nose. She lowered her head to butt him in the chest. The affection between the two was unmistakable.

It seemed that the mare's irate former owner had caught up with her after all. Worse luck for me. "She really is yours," I said.

Kiarash looked up from straightening her saddle. "Delyth? Yes, of course. I wouldn't have taken her else."

"Fine." Clearly I had neither right, nor more importantly chance, to get the mare back. "Keep her." I urged Shar into a trot. "Goodbye."

"Hey, wait!" A moment later the sound of hoof beats announced him coming up behind me.

For the second time that day I whipped out my bow and nocked an arrow. "Leave me alone. Or I really will shoot you."

It impressed him as little as the first time. "Lady, you're a mage," he said in the tone used to a dull-witted child, "you wouldn't hurt a mouse."

I really had to come up with a fresh threat. Unfortunately he was right. My mother had drummed it into me that mages held all life sacred. Not only would using magic to kill mean losing my gift, a mage was also supposed to refrain from hurting any living being. No matter the temptation.

"Oh, just go away and stop pestering me," I exclaimed. The man was insufferable. At least with me back on Shar, there was no chance of him jumping me again. Or he'd truly discover some filthy Khotai tricks. I put my useless bow away.

"Believe me, I'd like nothing better," he shot back, "but I can't very well let a mage go wandering about the borderlands, where anybody can snap her up."

I gritted my teeth. "Nobody will snap me up. I can take care of myself."

"Like you did last night? You nearly ended up in that scumbag Behzad's bed. It seems to me you need all the help you can get," he said in an overly reasonable tone. "You can't always rely on your luck."

"It wasn't luck," I retorted. "I knew exactly what I was doing."

"He cheated."

"I know. I could feel the lead in the dice, that's why I played with him."

"What? You knew and still played with him?" He shook his head in disbelief. "And to think you called me simple-minded. The Elements truly watch over the innocent."

"I won, didn't I?" No need to admit that it had been by sheer luck. "And freed you as well," I pointed out, "so you should be grateful."

Kiarash shrugged. "Oh, I could have escaped at any time. I was only waiting for Behzad to set out on his journey. It's easier to steal a horse from a camp than from a caravanserai." He grinned. "Delyth's not very good at climbing walls, you see."

No gratitude there. My irritation got the better of me. "Well, you've got her now," I snapped. "So why don't you go home to whatever hovel spawned you and leave me to continue in peace."

His grin widened. He motioned to the road. "I am going home: that's the Empire of Sikhand beyond those mountains." He sobered. "Listen, lady, I meant what I said earlier on. It would be much safer for you to go back and wait to join a caravan; the bandits hardly ever bother them."

"I asked," I said curtly, "there won't be another one for at least a week."

"Well, what's a week compared to losing your freedom or even your life?"

Because a week might mean losing my freedom to much worse than a few stinking bandits? Involuntarily I remembered acrid smoke numbing my mind, strangling my will like a tightening fist, while he looked on with an avid smile.

Firmly I quashed the memory. "I don't have the time," I answered.

He studied me, but said nothing. I wondered if I should gallop away and try to outdistance him. In the long run Shar would leave the mare behind. However, I didn't really want to tire him to that extent, for I might need his strength later.

"What do you want in Sikhand?" he took up his interrogation again.

"That's my own business."

"Hmm. You know, there are other ways across the hills, lesser travelled paths..." He let his voice peter out suggestively.

"And I suppose you know them?"

"I might at that. Do you want me to show you?"

And lead me straight into a trap? "No thanks." For all I knew he was a bandit himself.

He seemed to read my mind. "You don't trust me."

I reined in Shar and faced him. "No, I don't. I want neither your help nor your company." What did it take to stop him tagging along?

He ignored my last statement. "Why don't you trust me? Haven't I shown you that I mean you no harm?"

My mouth dropped open in surprise. "Trust you? You tricked me by playing the simple-minded fool when you're obviously nothing of the sort–"

"Thank you," he interjected.

I glared at him. "You stole the horse that I won at considerable peril to myself. When I confronted you, you jumped me. I know nothing about you except that you're a liar and a thief. And you made me buy you three bowls of rice for breakfast." I snapped my mouth shut. That last accusation somehow fell a little flat. But it still rankled me how I easily I had been duped.

"I'm sorry about the rice, but I was hungry." I got the impression he was fighting down a grin. "Tell you what, when we reach Kharshaan on the other side of the Zhubin Pass, I'll take you out to a tea house and treat you to a meal. I know some nice ones."

Just what I needed with Usun on my heels, an invitation to a tea house. Was the man demented? "We won't reach Kharshaan," I said through clenched teeth, "at least not together."

"A nice, respectable tea house," he mused. "The kind where you can take your mother: clean cups, no dancing girls."

I felt like screaming. "Are you deaf?"

He went suddenly serious. "No, but I mean it. These hills are no place for a lady mage on her own. Let me help you."

"And if I refuse?"

Kiarash spread his hands. "I'd have to consider my options."

He tried to threaten me? I should have shot him when I first had the opportunity. Or killed him with my bewitched knife. And if that lost me my magic, it might at least have ended my other troubles.

Or perhaps not.

He sighed. "Please, Lady Javaneh. I'm sorry that I hurt you earlier on. I didn't know you were a mage. No Sikhandi would ever lift a hand against one, I swear."

"Oh, and it would be fine if I weren't one?"

Kiarash coloured. "No, of course not. My cursed temper..." He spread his hands. "Look, why don't you stick that arrow in me after all. Then we're quits and I can get you into Sikhand where you belong."

I hesitated, half tempted by his offer to shoot him and wondering what drove him to make it. "Why would you help me?"

"You're a mage, it's my duty," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I swear on my mother's life that I will do all I can to get you safely to Sikhand."

Why should that mean anything to me? "Anybody could say that," I pointed out. "For all I care you can swear on your mother's, your sister's and your grandmother's life."

"Not really. Both my grandmothers are dead."

Nonplussed, I stared at him. Kiarash looked back at me, his clothes ragged and soiled, black hair matted and grey with dust from where we'd tussled on the road. A trickle of dried blood stuck to a cheek grimy with dirt. It was difficult to imagine anybody looking more disreputable. But his dark eyes met my gaze unswervingly, a challenge in them, but no deception.

"Please?" he said.

"Oh, all right," I capitulated, surprising myself. But if he betrayed me, I'd stick that arrow in him, mage or not.

"Good, that's settled." He turned Delyth's head back to the road and lifted the mare into a trot. "This way."

I gritted my teeth. It was going to be a long few days to get to the Zhubin Pass.

### FOUR

We followed the road for the rest of the morning, but stopped at midday to water the horses and have a bite to eat. Of course Kiarash gobbled down more than his share of the flatbread that I had bought at the caravanserai. I wondered how long the food would last, for I had not counted on feeding another mouth. Well, I could always live off the land, and he would just have to learn to do the same. After a brief rest, we continued.

The road was little travelled. All we encountered were a few solitary farmers that eyed us suspiciously. The Zhubin Pass had a bad reputation, both for sudden changes in the weather and bandits, so many merchants chose the more accessible but slower route to the south. However, time was not on my side. Many times I cast a look back over my shoulder. Nothing. The road stretched dusty and empty as far as I could see.

Late in the afternoon Kiarash stopped where a faint trail lead off from the main road, no different from dozens of deer tracks we had seen before. "This is where we leave the main road," he announced.

I hesitated. Was it wise to trust him? Yet throughout the day, the feeling of being followed, like a storm coming up behind, had grown on me. We were in a small valley, the beginning of the hills proper, and the terrain was broken, with stunted trees that promised cover. I would be glad to get out of the open. And I had very little to lose...

"Lead the way," I said.

Kiarash had been observing me closely, but said nothing, not even when I dismounted to erase the imprints of the horses' hooves in the dust with an old jute bag. Yet when a little later Delyth deposited a steaming heap of manure on the trail, he stopped and with a sigh collected it in some leaves and dropped it down a crevice in the rocks.

We continued while dusk fell, Kiarash following a path that was hardly discernible, until we reached a sheltered dell high above the valley floor. A small stream nearby had formed a natural basin before flowing, gurgling and chuckling, down the hillside. There was plenty of dry wood lying round and even a hollow sheltered by boulders that made a perfect fireplace.

"We'll have to keep the fire low," Kiarash cautioned. I nodded. The gathering darkness would hide any smoke, and as long as we didn't light a great burning blaze, nobody would know of our presence.

After unsaddling and rubbing down the horses, we turned them loose on the short turf of the dell. Shar would not go far, and the mare would stay near him. I went to fill my water skins, while Kiarash disappeared amongst some boulders, to relieve himself I presumed. But when he returned, he carried a long bundle wrapped in cloth and had a pair of saddlebags slung over his shoulder.

"Where did you get those?" I asked, surprised.

He dumped his things on the ground and began to sort through them. "I came this way from Sikhand and hid my stuff in case I needed it while on the run."

"Oh." The bundle of cloth contained sharp iron, I could tell that much just from where I sat.

He followed my gaze. "Don't you dare touch it. That's my second best pair of swords, I might need them."

I shrugged. "Metal doesn't worry me."

He nodded an acknowledgement and got out some clothes from his bags. "Now, lady, if you have delicate sensibilities, I suggest you turn your back."

Really, what did he take me for, a Sikhandi gentlewoman? I'd seen plenty of naked men when swimming in the lakes and rivers that bordered our summer grazing grounds. "Did you hide any food?" I called after him as he strolled down to the stream.

"Some. Just help yourself," he said.

I had every intention of doing so. First I busied myself looking through the bags to see what supplies we had, then tended the fire, while doing my best to ignore the snorting and splashing behind me.

I found several packets of journey bread, baked three times until it had the hardness of bedrock, a cake of tea that had seen better days and some dried dates, peas and lentils. Not exactly a feast, but together with my own supplies, it would hopefully last us until we reached the Sikhandi border.

Earlier on, I had put on some water to boil and now made tea to go with the last of the fresh bread from the caravanserai. It was a thin, insipid brew, nothing like the rich butter tea drunk at home. A wave of longing for my father's yurt swept through me, the smell of roasting barley flour, the singing of the women while they saw to the household tasks, the open vista of the steppes, so different from these narrow valleys. My family.

I strangled the thought. There was no going back.

A shower of water droplets fell on me, and I startled. Looking up, I found Kiarash grinning down at me, combing his fingers through his wet hair. The transformation was remarkable: he wore a dark, knee-length tunic over loose trousers, tied at the waist with an embroidered sash in the Sikhandi manner. With the grime cleaned away, suddenly I noticed the strong lines of his face and the magnetic power of his eyes. This was a very different man from yesterday's poor, wretched slave.

He sat down cross-legged on the other side of the fire. As if he could read my thoughts, he chuckled. "You didn't think I enjoyed stinking of manure?"

Involuntarily, I blushed, remembering what I had said to Behzad about having him in my bed. "You gave a pretty good impression of it," I answered, lifting my chin.

That made him laugh. "In truth I enjoyed fooling the little rat and his friends." He tore off a piece of the loaf of bread I'd bought that morning at the caravanserai as if he had every right to help himself. "A shame I did not get to put into effect my plan of stealing Delyth from right under his nose."

Quickly I snatched up the rest of the bread before it too disappeared into that ever hungry maw he called a stomach. "Behzad said you sold yourself to them for a bowl of rice a day. So that was all part of the plan?"

"Of course. It would have worked too, but for your interference."

No gratitude there. "And all for a horse?"

"Not just any horse. Delyth is special."

I couldn't deny it, after all the mare's quality had struck me from the very first. "So how did you lose her?"

His brows drew down in a frown. "She got stolen from her pasture while I was away. My family has lands near the border; the thieves must have taken her across the same night."

"Behzad and his friends?" I asked. Somehow I could not imagine the burly merchant slinking about in the dark.

"Oh no, those were just simple horse thieves. They sold Delyth on quickly, and that's how she ended up with Behzad. It took me nearly two weeks to track her down."

Hearing her name, the mare ambled over and lowered her head to huff in Kiarash's hand. Smiling, he patted her neck and fed her a piece of bread. "But I got you back, my beauty, didn't I?"

Not to be outdone, Shar butted in that moment and simply snatched the rest of the bread. "Hey," Kiarash exclaimed.

I laughed at his outraged expression. Served him right. "Shar's a Khotai horse, he takes what he can get." Like some others I could name, I thought. "You can't expect the manners of a Sikhandi lady from him."

"Obviously not," Kiarash grumbled. "But Delyth's not Sikhandi. She's from Aneirion."

"Aneirion!"

"You've heard of it? It lies to the north of Sikhand."

Had I heard of it! Rumour had it that it was a man from Aneirion who two summers ago had foiled a plot in fabled Arrashar, causing all Khotai mercenaries to be banished from the Empire of Sikhand: the source of all my troubles, the way a stone thrown into a pond causes the waves on the opposite shore.

"How did you get a horse from Aneirion?" I asked to distract myself from my dark thoughts.

"My older brother Zand is a captain in the imperial guard," Kiarash explained. "He received two horses as a gift from an Aneiry lord and sent one on to me. I couldn't possibly let her be stolen." He reached over to pick up my cup from where I'd set it on the ground, refilled it with tea from the pot and drank, all without so much as a by your leave. "Well," he said, "that's my story. Suppose you now tell me what you're running from?"

I stilled. "What do you mean?"

"Or should it be who you're running from?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." How had he guessed?

"Lady, I'm not stupid," he said. "You've been looking back over your shoulder all day."

Had I? "These hills are full of bandits," I pointed out. "It makes sense to be watchful."

He regarded me through narrowed eyes. "It's more than that. You're not willing to wait for a caravan to assemble, nor to take the safer southern route. And you even wager your body to get a fast horse..."

Faced with his steady gaze, I looked down. It was none of his business; he had no right to prise my secrets out of me.

"Lady Javaneh," he said more softly, "how can I protect you when I don't know what danger you're fleeing?"

"Nobody asked you to protect me," I flared at him.

"I swore on my mother's life, I'd do my best to get you to Sikhand," he reminded me, "but you need to trust me."

Trust. The way I'd trusted my father? The silence grew between us, dark and heavy, but I refused to break it. Somewhere in the trees surrounding the dell, an owl called softly.

Finally Kiarash sighed and put down his cup of tea. "I'll hobble the horses for the night." He rose and turned away.

"Two years ago..." I said, the words coming out against my own volition.

He stopped, his back still to me. "What happened two years ago?"

"The Emperor of Sikhand got rid of all the Khotai mercenaries that had been traded as slaves to him, selling them south," I said in a low voice. These were mostly men who had committed a crime and been sentenced to slavery by their chiefs.

Kiarash nodded. "I know. My brother Zand was there. And then?"

"A few escaped. And little by little word got back of feats of magic that defeat any strength of arms."

Slowly, as if not to startle me, Kiarash sat down opposite me again. He nodded. "Yes?"

I plucked a blade of grass and began to play with it. "Some amongst the Khotai decided that we needed mages too. To fight fire with fire."

"Ah..."

"My mother was Sikhandi," I explained, suddenly relieved to be able to tell the story I'd bottled up inside me for so long. "She got captured in a raid, but my father fell in love with her and married her, setting her free. She had no magic herself, but said that her family did. And she taught me what I know." Which was little enough.

"So what happened?"

"My father...my own father..." This was the part that hurt the most. I swallowed. "He thought that the men looking for mages had the right of it, so he offered one of them my services."

"He sold you?"

"No!" My hand sought the hilt of my knife, only to remember that I'd reduced it to useless slag. "I'm free."

He held out his hands. "No offence intended, Lady Javaneh."

My anger drained away. "He sent me to dwell with the Red Bear clan, but in my own yurt and with my own horses. I didn't like parting from my family, but Red Bear honoured me for my gifts and at first it wasn't too bad." I had told myself it would be an opportunity to hone my talent. How naive I'd been. "It was really the tribe's shaman, Usun, who was the driving force behind the plan. Only after a while he wanted more."

Kiarash exhaled his breath. "I see."

I wondered if he did. "It wasn't just getting in my bed," I explained. "I could have dealt with that. He wanted to bind my will."

Kiarash blinked. "Your will? How?"

With a shudder I remembered Usun's dark eyes boring into mine, the sickly smell of incense, the numbness slowly spreading through my mind at words spoken in his guttural voice. "There are ways. The shamans use them to help the ill, to ease their pain, but this one set out to chain my will to his."

"But you got away."

"Yes. I knocked him over the head in an unguarded moment, before he could set the final seal on my mind." Bile rose in my throat at the memory. Undressing me, Usun had let his lust distract him, the choking grip strangling my will slipping for a single instant. I had taken my chance. "Then I ran and have been running ever since."

To the one place where the shaman could not reach me. For I knew that if I ever had to face those black eyes and harsh voice again, they would bind me irrevocably to his will.

"Hmm." Kiarash reached for the bundle holding his swords and unsheathed one of them. With an oily rag from his bag he began to polish the blade. "Do you think this Usun is still after you?"

I hesitated. It was only a feeling after all, completely irrational. "I...yes."

Kiarash nodded with satisfaction. "Perhaps he'll catch up with us."

He sounded as if he was looking forward to it.

### FIVE

After so many days alone on the road, it was strange to share a campfire with somebody else, yet the human contact was also oddly reassuring. Perhaps I should have worried about Kiarash's intentions – after all he was practically a stranger – but oddly enough I had my best night's sleep since fleeing the Red Bear clan. Of course it might have been simple exhaustion.

I told Shar to guard me, and a couple of times during the night I was vaguely aware of Kiarash getting up to check that all was well. But when the morning sun woke me, I opened my eyes to find him gone from his place on the other side of the campfire. Alarmed, I sat up. Had he abandoned me? Yet there was Delyth, peacefully cropping the grass. Kiarash might leave me behind without a moment's hesitation, but he'd take his beloved mare with him.

I could easily find my way back to the road, I reminded myself. It didn't matter in the least whether I had him along or not; I didn't actually need the man. But where was he? Another unwelcome thought occurred to me: what if he was off somewhere, meeting with a confederate? He knew these hills suspiciously well, and I had only his own assurance that he wasn't in league with bandits. Was I fool to believe him? Should I turn back to the road?

I shook my head. I had taken a gamble on trusting him, and you did not change horses in the middle of a race. If Kiarash meant me ill, he'd had ample opportunity to try and take advantage of me. And he at least seemed to trust me, leaving Delyth where I could readily have absconded with her. I decided to take that as a good sign.

The sun had only just risen, and birdsong filled the little dell. When I strolled down to the stream to have a wash, my heart lifted. Dew glittered on the grass as if every single blade was covered in tiny, translucent pearls. Perhaps there was beauty to be found beyond my lost home on the steppes.

What I found instead was Kiarash. He was kneeling by the small pond, pressing a wad of wet cloth to his shoulder. When he saw me, he put his tunic back on and rose. "Good morning, Lady Javaneh."

I frowned at how carefully he moved. "Are you hurt?"

He shrugged, but winced at the movement. "Just stiff from lying on the ground all night. I'll limber up as it gets warmer."

"Let me have a look," I commanded, whistling through my teeth when he rolled up his sleeve and revealed the bruise on his upper arm. "Did Behzad do this to you?" I asked, a wave of anger flooding me. Trust that swine to beat his slaves.

To my surprise, Kiarash chuckled. "No, you did."

"What?"

"Or rather the road I collided with in my spectacular fall yesterday."

"Oh." When I'd brought him down with my rope. "Well, you only have yourself to blame for that."

"I know. I underestimated you." Something glinted in his eyes. "But it won't happen again."

Since in a few days' time we would part company, that seemed a safe enough statement. I watched him rotate his shoulder experimentally and felt a little bit guilty despite telling myself that he had fully deserved the fall. Perhaps he'd learn something from it.

Well, there was nothing to be done about it. Back home, I always had some ointment along for the usual sprains that occurred around horses, but on my flight I had grabbed nothing but the barest necessities from Usun's tent, only his stash of coins really, before taking Shar and riding away.

"I'll feel better once we're moving," Kiarash said. "We might as well get going and have our breakfast of journey bread on the road."

I nodded. The sooner we got out of these hills, the better. Quickly, I tacked up Shar and collected my gear. Kiarash meanwhile went through a number of exercises, carefully stretching his muscles, slow at first then faster as he warmed up. Despite the bruise he moved well, finely balanced and with a look of concentration on his face.

I had seen my three older brothers practise often enough to recognise some of the typical sword fighting exercises, the blocks and attacks, and to appreciate how smoothly he transitioned from one to the other. When we were ready to leave, he put on a jerkin of stiff leather, thick enough to turn a knife. His twin swords went in a harness on his back, the hilts riding high over his shoulders, where he could grab them for a downward slash.

With his black hair caught up in a topknot, he looked every inch the warrior and I wondered how I had ever mistaken him for anything else. Kiarash noticed my regard and lifted an eyebrow.

"I was just thinking that Behzad would get a shock if he saw you like this," I said.

He grinned. "It took quite a bit of concentration to slouch at all times. But luckily nobody pays much attention to a slave."

After scattering the ashes of our campfire, we rode out of the clearing. I cast a last look back. It was a peaceful place and I regretted having to leave. However, the peace was illusionary, I reminded myself, just as was the irrational feeling of safety that Kiarash's presence seemed to give me.

All morning we followed the faint trail, often no more than a deer track, that hugged the side of the hills, rising steadily. The main road was out of sight somewhere below and to the north of us, more direct, but also more open.

Many little streams crossed our path, bordered by dense woods. These offered welcome shelter, yet I felt ill at ease and oppressed amongst the trees crowding together amongst thick undergrowth. How I missed the familiar, open view of the steppes where you could see for miles. And still our trail climbed.

At midday, we stopped to rest the horses and have a bite to eat. Clouds had begun to boil up over the mountains ahead of us, forming fantastic shapes, and Kiarash looked at them with a frown on his face.

"What is it?" I asked.

"We might be in for a thunderstorm," he said. "Up here the weather can change dangerously quickly."

It still seemed far away, so I wasn't too worried, but Kiarash patted Delyth and mounted again. "Let's go."

The trail wound along the hillside, then through a boggy little valley filled with the drone of insects. The heat was oppressive, but nevertheless I began to understand Kiarash's worry: the clouds were spreading across the sky, turning an ominous black.

He urged Delyth to pick up her pace. However, the ground was broken and the last thing we needed was for one of the horses to break a leg. I looked around for shelter, but the few stunted trees would not keep the rain off for long. As we climbed, the valley got narrower, the sides steeper, and in the end we had to dismount and lead the horses.

"Once we've crossed the next ridge, it should get better," Kiarash said when we stopped to briefly catch our breath.

That moment the clouds swallowed the sun. A sudden, icy gust of wind rushed down on us. Delyth gave a nervous whinny, but Shar stood steady and calm – we'd experienced worse out on the steppes.

The trail, barely perceptible at this point, now rose in a zigzag up the side of the valley. We toiled up it, our riding boots slipping on the loose shale. The wind howled around us, tugging at our clothes and whipping Shar's mane in my face. And suddenly with a mighty thunderclap the heavens opened up. Rain streamed down, biting cold and stinging my eyes. But worse was the thunder echoing back from all sides, numbing the mind.

"Not much farther," Kiarash shouted, his words blown away on the wind.

I nodded grimly. There was only one way: forward. Going downhill would be even more difficult. The trail, treacherous under normal conditions, turned into a nightmare of slippery stone, only dimly perceived through the lashing rain. Far below us the little stream meandering through the valley had grown into a raging torrent. Finally we reached a place where the path straightened out and cut diagonally across the steep hillside before disappearing across the ridge.

We paused for a brief respite. "This is the worst bit," Kiarash said. "Once we're past, there's a cave amongst the rocks where we can take shelter."

We were both shivering with cold, and I noticed he favoured the side that had been hurt the day before. Delyth was rolling her eyes with fright at more thunder; he winced when she threw her head back, pulling at his arm.

I eyed the narrow path with misgiving. "Let me go first," I suggested. "Delyth will follow where Shar leads."

At first he looked as if he wanted to argue the point, but after a moment he nodded. "Be careful."

Murmuring encouragement more to myself than to the gelding, I advanced slowly, leading him by the reins. Shar liked the precipitous slope no better than me, but the trust built between us over many years won out and he obeyed. Halfway across, I paused to cast a quick look back and saw that Kiarash and Delyth were following behind.

The wet, broken shale made for difficult footing. I had my heart in my mouth every time loose stones cascaded down, but finally the trail broadened and snaked around some boulders to reach the ridge. Sighing with relief, I quickened my pace and made Shar trot the last few steps.

Then it happened. Delyth gave a loud neigh. When I slewed round I saw her strain forward, eager to catch up with us. Wisely, Kiarash let her go, but when she pushed past him, she inadvertently clipped him on the shoulder.

Gasping with pain, he stumbled and slipped.

### SIX

"Kiarash," I cried out in alarm.

He threw out his arms to save himself, but there was nothing to catch hold of. In a shower of pebbles he began to slide down the hillside. Dodging the mare, I ran out onto the path.

"Stay back, Javaneh," he shouted.

It was too late anyway: he was already out of my reach. However, there were a few larger stones embedded in the ground, and he managed to catch hold of one and stop his fall temporarily. An avalanche of loose shale tumbled down when he tried to scramble back up.

"Hold still," I called.

Breathing hard, he obeyed. I could see the strain in his arms as he half lay, half hung there, only the grip of one hand stopping him from sliding down the precipice. Any movement at all threatened to dislodge him. What could I do?

"Listen, Javaneh," he gasped, "if I don't make it, there's a place across the ridge where you can shelter for the night. Try to head due west from there until you hit the border wall. If you tell them you're a mage, they will take you in."

"What are you talking about," I snapped. "You promised to show me the way across the hills, and that's what you will do." It would have been nice to panic, but I couldn't afford that luxury.

Incredibly, he grinned. "I liked your spirit from the start."

I ignored that, my mind already running to what options I possessed. "Don't move," I shouted and ran back to where Delyth and Shar were waiting for us patiently. Yes, there was my rope fastened to its usual place on my saddle. I snatched it up and uncurled it, weighing the heavy, sodden length in my hands. It would be tricky, but no more tricky than catching a galloping horse at full speed.

My fingers fumbling from the cold, I fastened one end to Shar's saddle and stepped forward to the edge of the trail. The rain had eased, but gusts of wind still tugged at me.

"What are you doing?" Kiarash called, straining his neck to see. More pebbles rained down.

"Hold on just one more moment!" I would not let him die!

Kiarash exhaled his breath in a loud sigh. "I can't. Javaneh, I'm sorry."

"No!"

And I cast the rope.

It landed on top of him, a perfect throw by luck, or skill, or the grace of the Elements. Kiarash made a grab for it and as he did so, began to slide down the slope again. But the noose caught under his arms, tightening and breaking his fall. Tension ran up the rope; I jumped to Shar's side.

"Steady."

The gelding snorted, but under my touch held firm. "We've got you," I shouted to Kiarash and slowly urged Shar backwards.

Step by step we retreated, pulling Kiarash up the slope. He tried to help, but only managed to dislodge more stones.

"Stop that," I snapped.

He obeyed and let the rope drag him across the ground, scraping him raw. Finally he made the path. I told Shar to stand still and ran forward, falling to my knees next to him. "Kiarash, are you all right?"

Gasping, he nodded and struggled to sit up. "Yes...yes, I am." Suddenly he laughed. "I am alive." He looked up at me, a lop-sided smile on his face. "Do you know, you're really rather useful to have along."

Involuntarily, I had to grin back. "Thank you for the compliment," I answered dryly. "And now, do you think we could find that shelter you promised me?"

He nodded and with a groan heaved himself to his feet. "And I thought I was stiff this morning," he murmured.

Taking Delyth's reins again, he slowly led the way farther into the jumble of rocks that marked the ridge. Beyond it, the trail dipped into a small valley, but the incline was much gentler. However, we only descended far enough to get out of the wind, before Kiarash left the trail. "This way."

We wound our way between some enormous boulders, lying tumbled about as if tossed there by a giant. A few hardy pine trees and juniper bushes grew in their shelter. Eventually we found a steep rock-face with the mouth of a cave gaping in it. Kiarash got out a tinderbox from his saddlebags, and I collected dry wood from under the shelter of the rocks. It took a few tries, but we managed to light a small branch.

Holding this makeshift torch before him, Kiarash peered inside the cave cautiously. However, it seemed deserted, so we squeezed past the rocks guarding the entrance. The horses only just made it, but farther in the cave opened out and there were sign we were not the first to shelter here: in one corner lay a fireplace ringed with stones.

Kiarash scooped up a handful of ashes and sniffed it. "Old," he declared. "Nobody's been here for ages."

I nodded agreement. The cave had the damp, musty smell of a place long abandoned, with no trace of smoke or other human activity. It made me wonder though how he had known of it. But first we had to get a proper fire going. Now that we had stopped moving, my wet clothes clung to me, making me shiver. I would have killed for a mug of hot butter tea.

Luckily we managed to collect enough dry wood to light a decent fire. With night falling fast outside, the smoke escaping through a crevice in the roof of the cave need not worry us. Once we had rubbed down the horses with a few handfuls of grass, we settled down by the fire and took stock. To my envy I noticed that Kiarash's stuff had remained completely dry inside his saddlebags, while everything in mine was damp.

"A mage I know made the bags waterproof as a favour," he explained.

A truly useful gift. I wondered what it would be like to live in a place where that kind of magic was commonplace. "Do you think he would make me some too?" I asked. Or were they expensive?

"She," Kiarash corrected me absentmindedly while putting another log on the fire. "And I don't see why not. You could exchange some Metal work for it, jewellery perhaps. Farnaz likes that kind of thing."

I wondered if this Farnaz was very beautiful. Not that it mattered in the least of course. But to meet another woman mage. All my life I had been considered odd and slightly uncanny by my people, and yet Kiarash acted as if being a mage was the most natural thing in the world. Also another tantalising possibility presented itself: once in Sikhand, I had thought to earn a living by my skill with horses, yet perhaps I could further my magical talent instead?

"Is Metal work much sought after?" I asked.

Kiarash looked up in surprise. "Of course. All magically enhanced materials are. I suppose it's because few mages bother to sell or give their work away, except amongst each other. I'm lucky that Farnaz has a soft spot for me."

I frowned, for I could easily imagine that quite a few women had a soft spot for Kiarash. But why should I care? Drat the man! Doggedly I pursued my point. "So if mages don't sell their work, how do they earn a living?"

"Earn a living? Why, either they have lands of their own, or else they settle in a temple. And the temples are supported by the Empire, just as they in their turn support the Empire by their works of magic." Kiarash cocked his head. "Javaneh, you know that any temple would take you in gladly?"

I stilled. "Really?"

"Really," he said emphatically. "There are several in Kharshaan. If you wish, I could introduce you to the abbess of the one in Dancing Crane Ward, where my family has their town house."

It was a daunting prospect, but I nodded. "Yes, perhaps."

First we had to get that far anyway, I thought. But nevertheless I mulled over the possibilities while spreading out my one set of spare clothes to dry a bit before putting it on. It made little sense to exchange one set of damp clothing for another.

Kiarash's clothes had got torn during my rescue attempt, so he disappeared behind a stone column to change. When he came back, he must have noticed me sitting close to the fire, my arms wrapped around me. "I've got a spare tunic," he said. "Do you want it?"

It was an offer I accepted gratefully. When in my turn I retreated into the darkness of the cave, I found that this useful piece of Sikhandi clothing covered me to my knees. Perfect. Without hesitation I shed all my clothes, including my mud streaked trousers and boots. A wide sash, which was a lighter grey to set off the black of the main garment, fastened the tunic so it did not gape open too much.

Kiarash's eyes widened when he spotted my bare legs, but I just ignored him and sat down on the opposite side of the fire. I had no intention of catching my death of cold just to spare his modesty. And if he took it for an invitation to sit outside my tent – as a Khotai might have done – I would simply have to dissuade him.

After a moment he looked away and concentrated on stirring the fire. "Are you hungry yet?"

My stomach reminded me that it had been a long time since our midday meal. "Oh, yes!"

It was a very frugal repast, consisting mostly of journey bread enlivened by chunks of smoked cheese. Shar wandered over to investigate, but quickly returned to his bag of oats. The horses definitely ate better than us.

"How long until we reach the border?" I asked in between bites.

Kiarash shrugged. "Another two to three days. This is a slower route, but it's safer." He grinned. "Except when you lose your footing, of course."

Indeed, so far the terrain had seemed the biggest obstacle in our course. I wondered about the safer though. "What about bandits?" I asked. "Isn't this one of their lairs?"

He shook his head. "They don't usually venture this far from the road. You see, there's no pickings to be had out here."

"So who has camped here before?"

An evasive shrug. "Who knows."

My suspicions, dormant for a while, flared up again. "In that case how did you find this place?"

"I just happened upon it a few years ago, when I came this way."

More evasion. I crossed my arms on my chest. "Now listen, Kiarash, isn't it time you told me the truth?"

He raised an eyebrow. "The truth?"

"Who are you?"

When he remained stubbornly silent, I leant back. "Fine, you have me at your mercy." Or at least he might think so – I still had a trick or two up my sleeve. I made a sweeping gesture with my hand. "You can do whatever you want with me. Rape me, kill me..."

That at last drew a reaction from him. "Is that what you think of me?" he snapped. "You have my word I'll help you."

"Whose word? A bandit's?"

"No!" His shoulders sagged and he sighed. "Look, I used to be a scout in these mountains. It's not something we want generally known, but there have long been spies going to and fro. I often guided them across."

His explanation only raised a host of new questions. "Who is we?"

Kiarash muttered a curse under his breath. "My family has lived near the border for generations. We're not stupid, we know it pays to keep an eye on what's going on beyond the wall." He hesitated. "My father...let's just say he has quite a bit of influence...he arranged for a closer watch to be kept on the happenings in the borderlands. I volunteered to help."

"I see." So that explained his knowledge of all these hidden trails. There was one thing he hadn't spelled out though. "I suppose that also means keeping an eye on the Khotai?"

He looked down. "Yes, it does."

It might even be the main reason for their watchfulness. After all, we'd always been known as troublemakers, lurking on the edges of Sikhand like the wolves they called us, ready to exploit any weakness.

And what would the Sikhandi do when one of their ancient enemies turned up on their doorstep? Welcome me with open arms? I rather doubted it. It was an uncomfortable thought.

To distract myself, I got out the piece of slag that only the day before had been my nice, sharp knife. I'd had an idea what to do with it, and handling metal always had a soothing effect on me.

The iron lay in my lap in a dull, heavy lump, yet to my senses it vibrated with potential, eager to be worked into whatever shape I desired. My talent had always set me apart amongst my tribe, a strange, unnatural inheritance. Could it be my pass to a new life?

Encompassing the metal in my mind, I told it to liquefy. Smooth and cool, it pooled in my hands for a moment. With a mental nudge I loosened a strand of iron and sent it spinning in a circular motion around the edge. Another followed, layered on the first, then a third, slowly building up the walls of a small kettle. It might have been quicker to simply scoop out the metal from the middle, but I loved to send the ripples of iron racing around the rim.

Where my brothers would have recoiled at my use of magic, Kiarash simply watched with interest, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. It emboldened me to voice my misgivings. "Kiarash, what you said earlier on, that at the border I would only have to tell them I'm a mage and they would take me in..."

"Yes?"

With a flourish I fixed the metal in its new shape, a neat, round-belied kettle that would serve us much better for cooking than my teapot. The thought shot through my mind that if Kiarash was wrong about a temple taking me in, I could always make a living mending pots and kettles.

"Were you serious?" I asked. "Will they admit me even though I'm Khotai?" I had in fact wondered before, if the guards at the wall might simply send me back, sealing my fate.

"Javaneh, your magic makes you Sikhandi," Kiarash answered firmly. "In fact you even hold Ninth Circle rank."

"What is that?"

"It means you're noble," he explained. "By Imperial decree all mages who do not hold a rank from birth are given Ninth Circle."

"Does that mean I'm a lady?" The idea was preposterous. From the little I'd heard of Sikhandi noblewomen, they were considered nothing but an ornament to their husband's home.

As if he could read my mind, Kiarash grinned. "Yes indeed. Though rather an unusual one. Luckily for me you're skilled in more than just the five noble arts, or I might lie broken at the bottom of that precipice right now."

I wasn't sure if I liked the idea of being a lady. "What are the five noble arts?" I asked suspiciously.

Kiarash's grin widened. "Oh, you know: dance, music, poetry, calligraphy and illusion magic..."

Poetry? Calligraphy? At my appalled look, Kiarash broke into laughter. "Don't worry, nobody is going to force you to compose poetry. In fact I'd like to watch them try to make you do anything against your will."

Easy for him to say. Cradling my kettle, I thought longingly of my father's yurts, where they might pity me for my mixed heritage, but at least would not expect me to do calligraphy. My mother had taught me to read and write a little, but I had not practised for several years. Would the Sikhandi think me an ignorant savage?

Again Kiarash guessed the turn of my thoughts. "Don't worry, Javaneh, you'll like it in Kharshaan," he said. "It's where you really belong. You'll live in peace at last, able to study magic. Your Khotai blood is unfortunate, but nobody will hold the accident of your birth against you."

"Unfortunate," I echoed him. "Is that what you think of it?"

He hesitated. "Well, I won't deny that the Khotai are brutes and coldblooded killers. But as I said, that's not your fault."

"They're not brutes," I protested, thinking of my father's tribe, the men I'd known all my life.

"No? Just look what they did to your mother."

"My father married her," I shot back. "He loved her."

"Did he? And what about her, did she love him too? And did she have a choice whether to marry him or not?"

I bit my lip. It was only my father marrying her that had set her free. Before, she'd been his slave, captured by one of the border tribes and traded to him. At the time, Father had already had three strong sons by his first wife, who had died in childbirth, so he had indulged himself by marrying as he pleased.

And but for that whim, I too would have been nothing but a slave. Usun could simply have offered to buy me from my father.

"Forgive me, Javaneh," Kiarash said more gently. "Believe me, I did not want to cause you pain."

I sighed. "It's hardly a secret what the Sikhandi think of the Khotai. But if you're caught in between, things might not be quite so clear-cut. I love my father and brothers."

"I'm sure you do," Kiarash agreed. "And perhaps your mother did too."

His kindness was unexpected and disarmed me completely. "I'll never know," I said. "She died when I was eleven."

"Eleven!"

"She was not very strong," I explained. "And the winters are harsh on the steppes."

In fact the sickness that had claimed her life had nearly killed me too. I still remembered waking up from fever dreams and asking for my mother, only to be met by stricken silence.

"We grieved for her for many months," I went on haltingly. My only consolation in those days had been Shar's company.

"Oh, Javaneh, I never meant to bring up all this old pain," Kiarash said. "I'm so sorry."

I slowly released my breath and only then noticed that I was clasping my new kettle as if it were a lifeline. I forced myself to relax my grip. "It's all right, it happened a long time ago. But I still remember her, what she taught me about magic, how elegant she was, how beautiful..."

Kiarash nodded as if that was self-evident. "But she lives on in her daughter, who will soon come home to Sikhand to take her proper place. Wouldn't that please her?"

"I suppose so," I agreed.

Had my mother mastered the five noble arts, I wondered? Undoubtedly. Even to a child, it had been clear that her movements had a studied grace that was somehow out of place amongst the rough surroundings of a Khotai camp.

I made a grimace. "As long as they won't make me write calligraphy."

Kiarash winked at me. "If they do, I promise to come to your rescue."

"Would you?"

"Yes." He turned serious. "Javaneh, I mean it. If anybody ever tries to force you to do something against your will, or makes snide remarks about your parentage, they will answer to me."

I looked at him in surprise at the vehemence in his voice. He seemed to notice as much himself, for he cleared his throat. "I owe you, you know. I did not speak lightly when I said that this very moment I might lie dead at the bottom of that ravine."

Oh. So he felt grateful that I might have saved his life earlier on, or at least had spared him broken limbs. Somehow this explanation left a sour taste in my mouth.

"I can manage," I said curtly, setting my new kettle aside.

He looked down. "Yes, of course."

### SEVEN

We emerged the next morning into a different world. The sun was rising into a cloudless sky of deep turquoise; everything sparkled, vibrant and washed clean by the rain. The cave by contrast seemed musty and dismal, and I was glad to escape into the fresh air. We ate our breakfast outside, a dish of lentils covered with water and left to cook overnight in the ashes of our fire in my new kettle.

Since we only possessed one spoon between us, Kiarash handed this over with a courteous flourish for me to help myself first. "How I'm looking forward to getting back to civilisation," he said when it was his turn, stirring the brown mush without much enthusiasm. "And proper food."

"You promised me a visit to a teahouse," I reminded him.

He brightened up. "I know just the one. You'll love it, they have a pond in their garden and all the tables are on little islands, connected by arched bridges."

I found that difficult to imagine. Before I had run away, I had never even seen the kind of small tavern that the caravansaries on the trade road boasted.

Kiarash was lost in memories anyway. "Mind you, if you want to taste the best dumplings of Kharshaan, you have to go to the Capering Carp." He sighed. "But I suppose it wouldn't be suitable."

"Why not?"

"Well, you're a noblewoman now, aren't you." Kiarash grinned. "The Capering Carp caters to a very different clientele. Not really appropriate company for a lady mage."

"I doubt Behzad was suitable company," I pointed out dryly. The more I heard about it, the less I liked the idea of becoming a Sikhandi noble.

Kiarash laughed. "Very true. Perhaps we can smuggle you out of your temple occasionally, disguised in your Khotai clothes, so you can see the more interesting parts of Kharshaan."

I couldn't help noticing that the visit to a teahouse had somehow become several outings. It seemed that Kiarash did not intend to simply wash his hands of me once we had crossed the border, but had even decided to take me under his wing. But why? Out of gratitude for saving his life the day before? Or something else?

The next moment I chided myself for being a fool. I knew nothing about the man. For all I knew, he had one of those elegant, modest Sikhandi beauties waiting for him at home – the sort that their tales acclaimed as the ideal woman – a devoted wife with a bevy of children. And anyway, I wasn't even sure I particularly liked him, let alone wished for him to sit outside my tent. I couldn't help thinking that travelling alone had been considerably simpler. Why had I agreed to his company!

"Shall we be off soon?" I asked.

He concentrated on the lentil stew again. "Yes, we'd better."

I tacked up Shar and afterwards wandered down to a little stream nearby to fill up our water skins and wash my face. When I got back, Kiarash was going through his morning exercises to limber up his muscles. I sat down on a stone warmed by the sun to watch. He was really rather good and though he moved stiffly at first, he worked through the different moves with the kind of natural grace that only years of daily practise imparted.

Among unmarried Khotai girls it was popular to go and look on while the men trained their horses or sparred against each other, but I had always thought it a boring pastime. However, as I sat there warmed by the sunshine and watched Kiarash's sinewy body, I began to get a glimmer of why they might enjoy it.

To distract myself, I loosened my braid and combed through my hair with my fingers in order to plait it again more tidily. That moment Kiarash stumbled over a stone and cursed quietly. When I glanced up in surprise, he wore a look of fierce concentration on his face. Soon afterwards he finished.

"Let's go," he said.

While we wound our way between the boulders back towards the track, he seemed absorbed in thought, but once we hit the trail again, he went back to his usual vigilance. When we reached the edge of the area covered by the ancient rockfall, he reined Delyth in.

"The country gets more open from now on," he said, "though usually the bandits don't range this far from the road. But if anything happens, you run. I'll stay them." My expression must have shown what I thought of this plan, for he sighed. "Look, Javaneh, it makes sense."

"We stand a better chance together," I pointed out. "I can cover you with my bow."

"To what purpose? We both know that if it gets down to it, you can do nothing. Mages must not kill."

I shook my head. "They must not kill with magic," I corrected him. "However, I don't need magic to stick an arrow in a bandit."

"It's not that easy," Kiarash answered. "Killing stains the soul. No mage should do that."

Really, I was getting a bit tired of this Sikhandi reverence for mages. "What about your soul?" I asked back.

Kiarash shrugged. "I will face that when it is my time to move onto the Wheel. Promise me that if anything happens, you will take Shar and escape."

"No."

"Javaneh!"

"No," I repeated. "Anyway, I'm a helpless, delicate Sikhandi lady. Without you, I'd just get lost in these rough lands."

He growled with frustration. "Are you trying to drive me crazy? I only want to do what's best for you."

"I never asked you to do what's best for me," I pointed out. When he looked as if he was about to lose his temper, I touched his arm lightly. "Listen, Kiarash, I've got a suggestion: if anything happens, why don't we both run? You cover my back and I cover yours."

He pulled a face, but visibly forced himself to relax. "You'll do as you please anyway. Very well. But you run first."

"Yes, of course," I soothed him. It did not pay to trample round on men's pride too much, especially if you had carried your point.

Grudgingly he nodded. "Let's move on."

"Would it help if I watched out for metal?" I asked. "Bandits carry swords and knives, I should be able to sense them."

He looked back over his shoulder, his gaze keen. "Can you do that? Over what distance?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted, "but I will try." In fact I had used this particular trick many times to avoid other travellers on the road. Everybody carried something made from metal, even if it was only an eating knife or a horse's bridle.

Kiarash gave a sharp nod. "It's an idea. Do we need to stop?"

I shook my head. This was no different from dozing while riding. "Shar will take care of me."

Slowly I extended that extra sense, mine from childhood, that somehow resonated with my element. All the metal within my reach called to me: the coins in my saddlebags, Kiarash's twin swords, the knife at his belt and another one hidden in his boots – no real surprise there – the small bits of metal on the horses' gear.

All with their individual character: the flowing, supple feeling of silver, joyful copper and finally iron shaped and shaped again by the will of man. Slowly, I reached outward, but felt nothing except a dull throbbing from an iron rich vein of stone deep in the hillside.

"I can sense no worked metal except our own," I reported.

Kiarash nodded, but did not seem particularly convinced. Perhaps he did not trust my ability very much? Just to prove my point, I kept up a watch all morning, checking at regular intervals. At midday we stopped in a small copse of trees to have a bite to eat and rest the horses, then after a while moved on again.

The afternoon wore on. I had almost given up my efforts as futile when I caught something right at the edge of my awareness.

"Kiarash," I called. "I can feel something. There's worked metal ahead."

He reined in Delyth sharply. "How much of it? And how far away?"

But try as I would, I could not get a more precise picture of what lay ahead. "I don't know," I said in frustration, "but there's something. And it's coming closer."

After a moment's hesitation, he urged the mare forward and took the next trail that led off the main path. We had to dismount when the going got rough, but managed to reach a thicket of fir trees that hid us completely. There we settled in to wait.

For a while nothing happened. Kiarash began to fidget. "Look," he said, "are you sure?"

"Yes."

Slowly the picture sharpened: several steel swords or knives, iron bridles, stirrups and horseshoes, some silver jewellery or coins. And finally we heard the dull clop of hooves on earth. Kiarash stood by Delyth's head to keep her quiet and peered through the trees.

Around a bend of the path below us trotted three horsemen. They were dressed in worn, shabby clothes, but the metal of their swords had a polished, well cared for feeling. One of them carried a bow and all kept a close eye on their surroundings, ready for trouble. The only sound as they passed below us was the jingle of their tack.

When they had disappeared out of sight, Kiarash let out his breath in a slow sigh. "Bandits," he stated the obvious. "But what are they doing this far from the road?"

I had no answer, but followed the riders' progress along the path. The farther away they were, the better. I had not liked their hard-bitten look, nor the way their hands hovered over the hilts of their weapons. Kiarash and I might have dealt with them at a pinch, but what if there were more of them?

Kiarash's thoughts seemed to run along the same lines. "We'll have to be even more careful from now on." He shot me a sharp glance. "That was well done."

I raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I've been told I'm quite useful to have along."

He chuckled. "I never spoke a truer word. Is the way clear now?"

After a brief check I nodded. We returned to the path. For the rest of the afternoon I kept a close watch for any trace of metal, and at each bend Kiarash dismounted to scout the way ahead. This slowed us down, but twice more we managed to avoid running into groups of bandits.

The second time we left the horses hidden in a gully. Lying on the top of some boulders, we watched as half a dozen men ambled by, only to split up into two groups of three men each at a fork of the path. Even after they had disappeared behind the next bend, Kiarash kept staring into space.

Glad for a break, I relaxed and let my cheek rest against the stone warmed by the sun. It was hard work to concentrate on metal all the time. A wave of tiredness swept through me, and my eyes had begun to drop shut by the time Kiarash stirred.

"That's an awful lot of bandits for one day. I wonder if there are any left to watch the road," he mused. "Javaneh, I'm afraid they're searching for something."

I lifted my head with a jerk. "What?"

"The way they keep fanning out, covering all the paths," he explained. "It's obvious they're looking for something. Or someone..."

He did not need to specify whom. Suddenly the stone beneath me held no warmth at all. The bandits could only have heard about me from one source. "Usun," I whispered, "he must have set them to hunting for me."

Kiarash nodded. "It seems likely." He sounded unfazed. But then he didn't know Usun.

"So what do we do now?" I wondered.

"I think we'd better stop for a while and wait for twilight before we move on," he suggested. "This is as good a spot as any; there's a place farther up where the horses can graze. And you should have a rest." He reached out a hand, but did not quite touch my cheek. "You look tired."

A rest sounded wonderful. I let my head drop on my arms. "Wake me when it's time," I mumbled.

"Javaneh, you can't sleep here," he exclaimed. "You might roll off the boulders and fall."

I was too tired to care. "Don't worry, I won't."

Suddenly I found myself gathered up in strong arms. "What are you doing," I gasped, wide awake again.

Quite effortlessly, he lifted me up and carried me back down to the gully where we'd tied up the horses. There he gently sat me down, fetched a blanket and spread it on a level piece of ground. "Here. You rest, I watch."

How had I ended up being ordered about by this dictatorial male? Briefly I considered rebelling, but the blanket beckoned most temptingly. Lying down, I decided to save my energy for a more worthy fight.

Sleep claimed me at once.

***

When I woke up, the soft, blue shadows of dusk filled the gully. I blinked sleepily, feeling relaxed and rested again. Kiarash sat cross-legged next to me, polishing one of his swords with regular, measured movements. Still half asleep, I studied his profile: straight nose, stubborn chin, hair caught up neatly in a Sikhandi topknot, brows drawn together in concentration.

My gaze wandered down to the hand that held the hilt of the sword, while with the other he wiped an oiled cloth along the edge of the blade. A swordsman's hand, calloused and sinewy, the fingernails clipped short. The thin line of an old scar cut across the knuckles. Nice, strong hands, I thought idly. He had lifted me up as if I weighed no more than one of the saddlebags. The feeling had been quite...pleasant.

I would not mind seeing more of him once we reached Sikhand, I mused. Yet that moment I remembered the reason why we were hiding in our little valley. Unfortunately it was premature to be making plans – first we had to reach the border. Another thought hit me: if Usun caught up with us, he wouldn't hesitate twice to have Kiarash killed out of hand. I drew in my breath sharply.

Kiarash paused with polishing his sword. "Javaneh, you're awake? What's the matter?"

I sat up abruptly. "Listen, if Usun and his men find us, promise me that you'll run. They won't pursue you."

He took up his polishing again. "No."

"Kiarash!"

"You're not the only one who can be stubborn," he answered. "Remember, if we run, we run together."

"You don't understand," I pleaded with him. "Usun needs me alive, but he'll do horrible things to you."

"I understand only too well," Kiarash said, concentrating on his sword. "I know his type. But he's not having you, not whilst I live."

His words warmed and chilled me at the same time. "Oh, I wish we were in Sikhand already," I burst out. "Away from that monster. Why does he think he can decide what I do with my life!"

"He's the kind who mistakes might for right," Kiarash answered. "However, this time we'll confound him, my brave lady."

I blinked in surprise at being called brave, let alone his lady, but he continued at once. "Javaneh, are you fit again? It's time we moved on."

I nodded. "Yes, I can manage."

"Tell me when you get tired," he said. "You need to pace yourself, for magic takes it out of you."

It certainly did. I had never before let my senses range so far, nor needed to keep it up that long. Once I had ascertained that no bandits were nearby, Kiarash fetched the horses and we set out. Dusk was deepening around us, but in the east the gibbous moon already stood high, shedding pale light.

How Kiarash found the way, I didn't know, for he took little travelled paths. I guessed that he must have crossed the mountains many times and knew them as well as the bandits did. Early on, we had to make a detour to avoid a small camp, but as we climbed higher on trails used only by the mountain goats, I could not sense any more of them.

The night was crystal clear and the stars, shining brilliant in the sky, seemed close enough to touch. Around midnight we stopped, high on a mountain side. I had long ago dismounted to lead Shar on foot, but despite the exercise I shivered.

"We'll make camp here," Kiarash declared. "I've only been along here once before and I want to cross the next bit in the morning, with better light."

My teeth chattering, I nodded. Could we risk lighting a fire? However, there was no wood to be had. In the end we settled down on a small level area in the shelter of a cliff-face. I got out all my blankets and wrapped them round me, thinking longingly of my winter coat, lined with fur. Briefly, I considered ordering Shar to lie down and warm me, but he and Delyth pressed close together, both of them letting their heads hang with exhaustion.

Kiarash stood looking down at me, as I sat there curled in on myself, trying to warm my hands in my armpits. He cleared his throat. "Javaneh...please do not take this amiss, for I intend no disrespect, but would you consider sleeping next to me and sharing blankets? Fully clothed of course," he added hastily.

I sighed. "You took your time to offer." I lay down on one of my blankets and patted the place next to me invitingly. "Hurry up."

He snorted with laughter and wriggled beneath the blanket, piling all our spare clothes on top. "And here I was worried you'd tie me up again or set your devil horse on me."

"I'm not a Sikhandi lady who'd freeze to death rather than compromise her reputation," I murmured, already busy with worming my icy hands between the layers of clothes separating us.

At last they rested against his chest. Kiarash jumped at the contact, but did not withdraw. The man was as warm as an oven. Contentedly I buried my head against the hollow at the base of his throat.

Gingerly, Kiarash put his arms around me. "Tell me if you feel in the least uncomfortable."

"This is much better," I assured him. "Fires below, but it's as cold as the steppes at midwinter." I yawned as warmth slowly began to seep back into me. "What wouldn't I give for some butter tea," I mumbled, my eyes falling shut. "I think I'd sell my body for a pot of it."

Laughter rumbled in his chest. "Javaneh, you shouldn't say things like that."

I yawned again. "Why, isn't it ladylike?"

There was a long pause and I felt myself drifting off into sleep.

"No," Kiarash whispered almost inaudibly, "somebody might take you up on it."

### EIGHT

Delicious heat enveloped me. It felt so good. My cheek lay against a wonderfully cosy cushion, and holding me tightly against my source of warmth, a heavy arm was thrown across my waist. Why, even my bottom wasn't cold at all, thanks to the large, possessive hand resting there. I sighed with contentment.

My cushion murmured something in response and gathered me closer. It smelt nice as well, a comforting mix of horse and musky male. Deep relaxation filled me, the accumulated tension of weeks swept away by a profound feeling of well-being.

But suddenly a tremor went through my cushion and the hold slackened. The hand on my bottom was abruptly withdrawn. Still half asleep, I muttered an incoherent protest at the cold air slipping in between the blankets. When I tried to wriggle closer, my seeking hands found smooth skin. I tightened my grip.

"Please, Javaneh, don't do that," the cushion whispered, sounding strained.

A scratchy blanket was pushed between us. I couldn't help whimpering when I was dislodged from my lovely, comfortable resting place.

"It's better this way," the cushion said, "believe me."

"No, it's not," I groused, thoroughly disgruntled. "Come back here." I wanted to be warm again!

There was a sigh. "You don't mean that."

I blinked sleepily. The sky above was turning a delicate turquoise, streaked with pink and orange clouds. Dawn couldn't be far off. Kiarash – for my cushion had of course been him – scuttled backwards hastily when he realised that I had woken up.

"Good morning," he said, "soon it will be light enough that we can be off." He scrambled to his feet. "I'll go and check on the horses."

While I rubbed my eyes and sat up, he disappeared with unflattering alacrity to saddle Delyth. With him gone, cold air immediately crept between my blankets; the floor felt chilly and unyielding. Why couldn't he have held me a little longer? Was it such a distasteful task? How quickly he had extricated himself from embracing me.

Resentment welled up within me. He needn't make it quite so clear that he had not the slightest interest in me. While I was used to being looked down on for being a half-blood, my father's position as chieftain of our tribe had assured that everybody still treated me with proper courtesy. Kiarash could at least have done the same.

Warmed by my anger, I shed the blankets and began rolling them up, so we could be off as soon as possible. The quicker I parted company with Kiarash, the better. The man was nothing but trouble anyway.

Since we had no fire and there was not even a stream for washing nearby, we were ready to leave by the time the sun had cleared the horizon. Kiarash seemed unusually subdued as he led the way onward across loose scree that had accumulated at the foot of a rock face, but I just ignored him.

To break my fast I sucked some dried curds, the sour taste making me feel homesick. Why had I ever left my father's yurts? In my mind I soundly cursed Usun and Kiarash. For good measure I also threw in the Emperor of Sikhand, who had no business to buy Khotai slaves and then let them escape. However, thinking of Usun reminded me of our present danger, and I went back to watching out for signs of metal.

We were lucky though and encountered no signs of life beyond a few mountain goats and a pair of eagles soaring high above us. Soon after we'd set out, we crossed a ridge. Before us spread several ranges of hills wreathed in morning mist.

Kiarash motioned to one. "The Zhubin Pass. We should reach it by tomorrow."

"Good."

He winced at my curt tone, but just urged Delyth forward. "This way."

We fell into our old routine after that. I cast my awareness wide to find traces of bandits, while he regularly scouted ahead and sometimes behind. It made for slow going, but we managed to avoid another gang of men that we would otherwise have walked right smack into.

Around midday we paused for a break, and I fell asleep again, tired from using my magic so much. Kiarash must have decided to let me rest, for when I woke, the shadows of the trees that we sheltered beneath reached out like long fingers towards the east.

A deep lassitude filled me, but the earlier indignation and hurt had faded. Kiarash owed me nothing. Once we crossed the border into Sikhand, we would just go our separate ways and that would be that. I would concentrate on building a new life for myself and just forget about him.

The decision taken, I sat up. Seeing that I was awake, Shar came ambling over from where he'd dozed next to Delyth and demanded I scratch him under the chin. Soon after, Kiarash came walking up, carrying my water skins.

"I've filled them at a nearby stream," he explained, laying them on the ground at my feet like a strange offering.

"Thank you," I answered. Truth to be told, I was thirsty, so I took a long gulp.

He crouched down opposite me and picked up a stick lying on the ground. "Javaneh..." Aimlessly he began to scratch patterns in the dry earth. "About this morning..."

"Yes?" I had decided to forget the whole incident, I reminded myself.

"Look...I..." Kiarash moved his shoulders as if to settle the harness holding his swords more comfortably. "I'm sorry," he suddenly said in a rush. "You have every reason to reproach me; I should never have abused your trust that way."

"My trust?" Sometimes I had the feeling we spoke two different languages. "What does trust have to do with it?" I took a deep breath. "Listen, Kiarash, I do not expect you to sit outside my tent. However, you could have shown some respect."

"I said I was sorry," he protested. "But I was asleep and I'm only a man. I promise it won't happen again."

"What do you mean, you were asleep?" I snapped.

"Surely you can't doubt me," Kiarash exclaimed. "I'd never have offered you an insult like that, had I been awake. I know what is due a lady. Besides, I owe you my life."

I couldn't make head nor tail of his words. He sounded so sincere, yet of course he had been awake when he had dumped me on the cold ground. Slowly it dawned on me that we might not be talking about the same thing. Was it more of that stupid Sikhandi lady business? "Kiarash, what exactly are you apologising for?"

"What?" I could have sworn he coloured. "This morning of course...touching you...inappropriately."

"Oh, that." And now he was probably trying to spare my delicate sensibilities. "Really, Kiarash, had I objected, you would have found out very quickly. I'm not completely helpless, you know."

He stared at me. "What? But why were you so angry with me?"

It was my turn to blush. "Any spirited woman would have been, for being shown how little attractive you find her."

"Oh." He took a moment to digest that. When he looked at me, there was a flash of something intense and disquieting in his eyes. "Are you telling me that–"

"No," I interrupted him firmly, "I'm not." I had no intention of giving him any ideas. "All I'm saying is that the polite way to deal with the situation would have been to wait for me to wake up and kick you out of my blankets." Or not, but I did not voice that thought.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache coming on. "I'll never understand the Khotai. And I can't believe that in a similar situation one of their warriors would let you, as you phrase it, kick him out of your blankets."

"Of course he would." A moment later I thought of Usun and amended my statement. "Well, I grant you there are exceptions. But certainly the men of my tribe would act in a properly courteous manner. Any man who forces himself on a woman is banished."

He exhaled his breath in a huff. "Javaneh, I hate to disillusion you, but the Khotai are known throughout Sikhand for raping and pillaging whenever the chance offers itself."

"That's different," I protested. "Those are enemies, potential slaves. The rules don't apply to them, for they have no totem spirits to protect them." I bit my lip, for my mother had of course once been one of them. "I'm not saying I approve of it. Yet for a man to marry, he needs to offer a yurt, horses, slaves and gifts. And if he's not the eldest son, where else but by raiding can he find the means?"

Besides the glory and fame that a successful raid on an old enemy like the Sikhandi provided – but Kiarash would hardly like to hear that.

"So the man brings all the possessions into a marriage?" Kiarash asked. "What about the woman?" He seemed genuinely curious.

"The woman's contribution is her body and the purity of her lineage." I couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of my voice at the last word.

"Oh." He shook his head in wonder. "You know, I've learnt more about the Khotai in the last few days than I have in all the years before. When we're in Sikhand, may I introduce you to my father? He'd be interested to learn about these customs."

"I won't betray my people," I exclaimed.

"I wouldn't ask you to," Kiarash assured me. "But maybe there are ways to let these younger sons acquire their wealth in a more... civilised manner, for example by trading?"

I wondered at that. Raiding was a lot easier – or at least had been until the Sikhandi had fortified their border. "Perhaps," I agreed.

"Good," he said and rose to his feet. "And now I think we'd better be off, in order to make use of the twilight. It should get easier tomorrow, for our border guards patrol the area a day's march from the wall. Bandits hardly ever venture there."

But before riding out, he stopped by my side for a moment. "And Javaneh, please believe me that I never intended any discourtesy this morning."

I waved his apology away. "I realise that now. It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

***

We slipped back into our routine, but with none of the former tension seething away between us. And the Elements favoured us, for after making a detour around a small group of bandits early on in our journey, we encountered no more of them. The moon again lit our way, and we made good progress.

Around midnight we stopped in a small clearing that had a stream running through it and was surrounded by a copse of trees. After unsaddling the horses, we let them loose to graze on the fresh grass and settled down by the stream. Kiarash felt confident enough to build a small fire on the pebbly beach to make tea. I gave a deep sigh of contentment when he poured me a cup.

His teeth flashed in a smile. "Not butter tea, I'm afraid, but I do my best."

As a travelling companion, he was not a bad choice, I had to admit. Certainly I would have found it nigh impossible to make it past all these gangs of bandits on my own. "Thank you for helping me," I said impulsively.

He looked down. "You don't need to thank me."

"But I know what I owe you," I protested. "Without you–"

"I meant it," he interrupted me. "I don't want your gratitude."

What did he want then? But I said nothing more, just handed him the cup back when I was finished, so he could drink too.

Soon after, we settled down to sleep, wrapped up in blankets on opposite sides of the banked fire. We were lower down than the previous night and less exposed, the air milder, but even so I would not have minded a warm arm wrapped around me. However, after the morning's experience I did not suggest anything of the sort. It had been a long day, and I felt my eyes dropping shut.

"Javaneh," Kiarash suddenly said, "when you declared that you don't expect me to sit outside your tent, what did you mean?"

I rolled over to face him. He was nothing but a dark shape on the other side of the fire. I remembered my angry words of earlier on. "Just another Khotai custom."

"Will you tell me about it?"

I yawned. It seemed a strange request, of no possible military use to him. "Well, when we stay on the summer pastures, unmarried women live in tents outside their father's yurt. So when a Khotai warrior wants to marry a woman, he sits outside her tent, refusing all sustenance, until she asks him in to share food and drink with her."

"And if she doesn't want him?" Kiarash asked.

I grinned. "She just lets him fester out there in the sun and the wind. Suitors are only allowed two cups of water a day, one at sunrise and one at sunset. Most give up after a few days."

"You're a strange people!"

"Many couples reach an agreement before the man sits outside the woman's tent," I acknowledged. In fact the man might already have been admitted through the back entrance, for it was up to a Khotai woman what favours she granted. "But it's a matter of honour amongst Khotai maidens not to make it too easy." I chuckled when I remembered my oldest sister's courtship. "They cook the men's favourite dishes and sit in the entrance of the tent to eat them."

Kiarash laughed. "That's cruel."

"Yes, but after all it would be insulting to accept the man too easily. Like saying he has no stamina. That's why most women wait three days."

"Three days," Kiarash exclaimed. "We Sikhandi seem to have it easier."

"Why, how do you go about it?" Then I bit my lip, hoping he would not think I had any personal interest in the question. "Just out of curiosity," I added.

"Sikhandi marriages are usually arranged by the parents," Kiarash explained. "Though naturally a man has some say in whom he wants to marry."

"And the woman?" I asked, puzzled.

He cleared his throat. "Well, a good father will of course consult his daughter's wishes. But even so she might only meet her husband-to-be once or twice before the wedding."

"What? But how can she make up her mind whether she likes him or not?"

"Eh... I suppose she just has to trust her father," Kiarash said. "I've never really considered the question."

And they called us barbarians. Another thought hit me. I sat up. "Kiarash, in this temple of yours, they won't try and marry me off, will they?"

He sat up too. "No, of course not. Anyway, you're a mage. Nobody can force you to marry somebody without your consent."

I lay back down. "Good. I'm telling you, I haven't run away from Usun to end up in some other pig's bed."

With a chuckle Kiarash wriggled back under his blankets. "Saying that to any suitor who comes calling will be enough to scare him off."

"I suppose it's not exactly the kind of thing a properly brought up Sikhandi lady would say?"

There came a choking sound from the other side of the fire. "Not exactly, no."

"Hmm." I pondered his words a little longer. "So what about you, Kiarash," I finally said, "did you let your father arrange a suitable match for you?"

He yawned. "I'm lucky, I'm the youngest of four brothers, so my father let me off the hook."

"No properly brought up Sikhandi lady waiting at home for you?"

"No. Anyway, I don't find them particularly enticing."

"You don't?"

"No." He lowered his voice. "It's a bit like sipping delicately flavoured jasmine tea, when what you want is warm, spicy rice wine."

"Oh." I wasn't quite sure how to take that. "Well, I'm tired now. Good night."

"Good night, Javaneh."

### NINE

I poured myself butter tea from the pot on the hearth and sighed with happiness as my fingers curled around the warm cup. Tucking my legs under me, I settled back on my favourite cushion, the one my mother had embroidered for me with running horses. Outside, cold winter winds whistled, but the hangings of my father's yurt and the carpets strewn on the floor kept them at bay.

Yet where was everybody? Usually at this time of the year the whole family would congregate around the hearth, working at small household tasks, talking and telling stories.

A wolf howled outside. Suddenly I shivered. The fire, so cosy only a moment ago, began to smoke. A strange, sickly-sweet smell filled the room.

"Did you really think you could escape me?" asked a gravelly voice.

He stood behind me, but I was frozen to the spot and could not turn round. "Usun?" I gasped.

"Who else?"

He stroked the nape of my neck. At his touch all my limbs turned to lead. I wanted to leap up, to run away, but I could not move as much as my little finger. His will held me motionless, no matter how much I struggled.

"Still fighting." He laughed, a low, horribly choking sound. "But not much longer."

My father's yurt had melted away; we were in a grey, featureless landscape with the smoke still swirling around us.

Slowly Usun stepped into my field of vision. He looked the same as the last time I had seen him: naked except for a loincloth, his skin covered in swirling tattoos, a bear's pelt slung around his shoulders. It was said he had killed the beast with his bare hands, thus gaining its strength.

I found that I was able to move my head after all and looked up at him. Eyes like black, burning coals bored into mine.

"Leave me alone," I said. I had meant to shout out the words, but they emerged as a whisper.

He shook his head, like a father disappointed in his child. "I own you, Javaneh," he said in his deep, harsh voice. "You were born of a slave and that's all you'll ever be. The chase only makes your surrender the sweeter to me. By the time I'm finished with you, I will possess you body and mind, until you do not even have a thought left that isn't mine."

No! Panic howled at the edges of my mind, but I could do nothing, not even look away from his dark, devouring gaze.

"Never," I pressed out. It took all my strength just to utter that single word.

In one hand Usun held his shaman's rattle, carved from a thigh bone and filled with human teeth. "Be silent now," he said and gently shook it.

My throat closed up. Though I wanted to scream out my defiance, no sound emerged.

He smiled. "Rise."

Another shake of the rattle and my body obeyed without my volition.

Leisurely Usun swept his gaze over me, as if planning how to extract his pleasure. And I knew that this time he would not let his concentration slip. There was no escape. When he used the rattle for the third time, my will would be bound to his forever: making me less than a slave, for at least a slave could dream of freedom.

"Come to me," Usun whispered, raising his rattle.

Something wet was dashed in my face. "Javaneh!"

I opened my eyes to find Kiarash bending over me, holding a cup of water. Behind him the sky showed the first traces of dawn.

With great gulps I took in the fresh morning air. "Oh, Kiarash," I sobbed. "I had the most horrible dream!" I buried my head against his chest.

His arms went round me. "Shush, dear heart, it's over."

I couldn't stop shaking. "Usun was there. He tried to bind me again!"

"Only a nightmare," he soothed me. "You're safe. Nothing can touch you here."

Holding me close against him, he rocked me gently, murmuring reassurance. In the circle of his arms, slowly the terror that filled me to the core abated. My trembling eased. With a sigh I took a deep breath. The clean, sane smells of damp earth, fresh vegetation and unwashed man filled my senses. It was wonderful.

Kiarash stroked my back. "Surely it was only a bad dream. You'll feel better soon. And remember, by tonight we'll be in Sikhand."

I nodded, but inwardly I wondered. It was said of the shamans that they could dreamwalk. "I think he's close," I whispered and gently disengaged myself. "We should be off."

I flung my senses wide, finding no trace of metal except our own. However, that did not reassure me. The bandits had never worried me overmuch. At least not compared to Usun. "The sooner, the better," I added.

Kiarash sighed, but went to roll up his blankets. However, he insisted that I eat my share of the lentil porridge that had cooked overnight and even stirred the fire into heating a pot of tea.

I did in fact feel better with a hot drink in my stomach, even though a feeling of dread still filled me. Just as the sun peeked over the horizon behind us, we splashed through the stream and left our protective circle of trees.

It was a beautiful day. The grass sparkled with dewdrops like diamonds, in the bushes a thrush was whistling away and overhead not a single cloud spoilt the blue dome of the sky. As the morning wore on, slowly the visceral terror of my nightmare faded, until it seemed no more than a bad dream. My misgivings receded. Perhaps Kiarash was right and I should not pay too much attention to it.

He seemed to sense the lifting of my mood and turned round in the saddle to give me a smile. "Still no bandits around?"

Another check revealed no new metal traces anywhere near us. "None."

"Good, I think we've left them behind." He indicated the ridge of a range of hills ahead of us. "Once we've crossed into the next valley, it's not far to the pass. There's a trail that will bring us down to within half a mile of the gate. The soldiers of the garrison there have catapults that cover the whole area; they have orders to keep it clear."

We still moved cautiously, but clearly Kiarash felt that by avoiding the bandits we had done with the most difficult part of the journey. At midday we stopped for a quick meal and to water the horses at a swift running stream.

"How I'm looking forward to a hot bath and a proper meal," Kiarash sighed, nibbling the journey bread with little enthusiasm.

"Don't forget my visit to a teahouse," I reminded him.

"I haven't," he assured me with a grin.

Soon after, we mounted the horses again and continued on our way, crossing the ridge Kiarash had pointed out earlier on and finding the promised trail. Out of habit I had kept my senses flung wide. Suddenly I sensed something at the border of my range.

"Kiarash," I said hesitantly, "there is worked iron ahead. Lots of it."

"That would be the garrison," he affirmed.

Nevertheless, a frown appeared on his face and he slowed Delyth down. After we had navigated a few more twists of the trail, he stopped the horse altogether.

"Once we pass between those boulders, we'll be visible from below." He indicated two stones that watched the path like a pair of sentinels. "I just want to check all is clear. You wait here and have a rest."

"No," I said, "I'm coming with you."

He muttered something about 'stubborn woman', but tied Delyth's reins to the bough of a tree. I simply told Shar to wait for me, then we clambered up the side of the hill to where we could look out over the valley beyond.

Kiarash reached the spot first. I saw him freeze. A moment later he dropped to the ground and began to swear violently.

***

Even before I stretched out on the grass next to Kiarash to peer down at the road leading to the pass, I had a premonition of what I would see. And I was proved right: sprawled across the area below us lay a temporary camp in the Khotai manner, made up of a few smoking campfires and two quickly erected tents. Horses were tethered in clumps on the verge of the road.

Usun had finally hunted me down.

The Sikhandi border wall next caught my attention. It was impressive. The fortress guarding the pass sat there massive and bristling with soldiers, its big iron gates shut. Either side the crenellated wall extended up the valley's side, while on a platform on the roof stood three strange constructions made of wood and steel. Heaps of round stones were piled next to them. Were these the catapults Kiarash had spoken of? Yet why didn't they fire?

Kiarash was still swearing softly under his breath. When I followed his glance, I realised why: in front of the camp, facing the wall but well out of bowshot, a row of stakes had been driven into the earth. And to each one was tied a man, eyes blindfolded and with his hands bound behind him. Their torn black tunics and loose trousers marked them for Sikhandi soldiers, and as if to mock them, a tattered standard in imperial black and gold had been nailed to one of the posts. If the garrison fired those catapults, the first people to die would be their own men.

The Khotai warriors sat around the campfires, talking and playing at dice, but they kept their weapons close. I knew that at a moment's notice they could be on horseback and ready to fight. In front of one tent hung the standard of the Red Bear, the snout and one eye clearly visible, and that moment a gust of wind streamed out the banner, making me shiver. However, it also revealed the standard displayed at the other tent. A white horse.

I gasped. Could it be? With renewed concentration I searched the camp. Yes. There was Dhunan with his slight limp, the deadliest archer of the tribe. Next to him young Mukhali, talking to Illugei, who as always wore the jewelled scimitar captured from a Sikhandi lord many years ago. And then the flap of the tent with the horse banner was thrown back and three men stepped out.

Kiarash had stopped cursing, but his eyes burned with anger. "Those bastards must have captured one of my patrols," he muttered. "May they burn in the deepest hell. Elements, if I ever get my hands on them, I'll cut them to ribbons and let the carrion crows feast on them. They are scum!"

"That's my father down there," I said, "and two of my brothers."

"What?" He slewed round and stared at me.

"The banner with the white horse," I explained. "It marks my clan."

A fourth man emerged from my father's tent. I gasped and ducked as low as I could in the grass. He looked up and searched the hills as if he knew I was there. Surely that wasn't possible!

Kiarash noticed my distress and looked for its source. "The man with the bear skin around his shoulders, that's Usun?"

"Yes."

"Good," he breathed. "I can't wait to meet him."

I didn't. Hurriedly, I wriggled backwards until I could sit up and hug myself. The morning's nightmare swept through me afresh, and I could almost feel Usun's hand encircling my neck, paralysing my body and will.

"Javaneh!" Once again Kiarash's arms went round me and broke the spell. "What has that man done to you? But I won't let him get you, I promise."

I felt reassured, as much by his solid presence as by his words. "But what shall we do?" I asked. "They are between us and the gate."

Kiarash hesitated. "It doesn't look good," he admitted. "At first I wondered if we could put you up on Delyth to ride through their lines, while I cover your back. She's faster over short distances than Shar."

"I'm not doing that," I protested.

"It wouldn't work anyway. The garrison won't open the gate and let you in, not with a bunch of Khotai on your heels." He frowned, deep in thought. "Do you think I could draw them off somehow, while you hide?"

I shook my head. "Usun knows I'm out here. He wouldn't fall for it."

Kiarash didn't look quite convinced, but he shrugged. "Perhaps. It wouldn't solve the problem of how to free my men anyway."

His men?

By common consent, we crawled forward again and lay on the soft turf to watch the valley. My father and brothers had sat down at one of the campfires, while Usun was talking to a group of his acolytes just outside his tent. Occasionally, one of the men would saunter over to check on their captives or to make a lewd gesture in the direction of the garrison.

While I watched the camp below us, I noticed that the White Horse warriors kept to one side of the road, the Red Bear men to the other. It was hardly surprising that the two groups did not mingle. Even when allied, tribes were often suspicious of each other. A plan began to form in my mind.

"Listen, Kiarash," I said, "could you trade me for your men?"

"What do you mean?"

I nodded at the Khotai below us. "Tell my father that you will kill me unless they let the Sikhandi patrol go."

He frowned. "All very well, but then what?"

"I'll go down there."

"Out of the question," he exclaimed.

"I want to talk to my father," I insisted. "Perhaps there's a way out of this impasse."

Kiarash shook his head. "I won't allow it."

"I didn't ask for your permission," I snapped back, momentarily annoyed at his overbearing attitude. "Or have you got a better plan?"

Kiarash looked pained. "No," he finally admitted. "But I'm not letting you go down there amongst those killers."

"They're not killers; that's my family." I took a deep breath. "Look, I know it's not much of a plan, but it's our only chance. What Usun tried to do to me is not right by Khotai laws either. My father might listen to me."

"And if not? What if he hands you over to the shaman?"

I hesitated. "I'll leave my bow with you. You'd do me a kindness if you shot me."

"No!"

"Please," I insisted. "It's not a life worth living. And you don't want my powers used against your people, do you?"

His hands bunched on the grass. "I can't do it, Javaneh. Don't ask me to. I'm coming with you."

"Kiarash, no!" Alarm coursed through me. "Me, they want alive. You, however, they won't hesitate to kill."

"I don't care." He stared down at the Khotai. "If it comes to a fight, I intend to take as many of them as possible with me. And that Usun is first on my list."

I sighed. While I would have been relieved to see Usun dead, I didn't really want a fight. "Let me try it my way first," I said.

For a long time, Kiarash was silent. The only sounds were the wind soughing through the grass and the harsh cry of a hawk circling high above us. Finally he bowed his head. "Very well."

### TEN

We got the horses ready and dumped any unnecessary gear, in case we had to make a run. An unspoken recognition hung between us: that night we would either be in Sikhand or else dead. Kiarash checked his swords one last time – they were still flawlessly polished – and ran through a few exercises to limber up.

I waited by Delyth's side. We had agreed that we would ride down together, with me in front as if I were his captive. Shar could be trusted to stay nearby. I had knotted his reins, so he would not catch them anywhere.

Kiarash finished his exercises and sheathed his swords. "Let's go," he said.

Yet when he accepted Delyth's reins from me, I put my hand on his arm. "Kiarash, won't you reconsider? Once your men are freed, I could go and meet my father on my own."

He looked down at me, his mouth thinning. "No. Remember what we agreed: you cover my back and I cover yours. If there is a way out, we'll find it together."

"You're so stubborn," I exclaimed.

"No more than you," he shot back.

Then he grabbed me and kissed me.

I closed my eyes and leant into him. Yes! It was so good. I slipped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Muscles rippled under my touch as he tightened his grip. He was so warm, so alive and I never wanted to let go.

Suddenly a wave of desperation swept through me. What if he died! The soft lips that kissed me gone cold and pale, the strong body that held me lifeless and spent, the sharp wit that liked to tease me stilled forever. The notion was unbearable.

With a sob, I clutched at him. "Oh, Kiarash."

In response he deepened his kiss. Hungry hands roamed across my back; his breath rang harshly in my ears. I yielded into him, wanting to taste him, to touch him, to explore his body. My fingers found the pins fastening his topknot and tugged at them, releasing his hair to fall loose and soft. I ran my hands through it, revelling in the feeling, then massaged the back of his neck.

He gave a breathless moan and slipped his hands inside my blouse. I shivered at the trail of fire and ice his touch traced across my skin. Where it would have ended, I had no doubt, but that moment Shar nudged me and gave an impatient neigh.

Kiarash froze. "Javaneh...I...I..." He let go of me abruptly. "Please forgive me."

Disappointment flooded me at the loss of his warm touch, but after a moment reason reasserted itself. Now was hardly the time and place. I sighed. "It's all right, Kiarash."

"You're not angry with me?"

He seemed very anxious for some reason. "There's no need to apologise," I assured him. "It's hardly your fault that Shar interrupted us."

A nonplussed silence. Kiarash shook his head in disbelief. "Javaneh, I'll never understand you. I didn't apologise for the interruption, I apologised for letting my feelings run away with me and touching you inappropriately."

"What? Why should you do that?"

He ran his hands through his hair. "I thought that I had...eh...overwhelmed you with my kisses."

"But I encouraged you," I pointed out, offended. "I might not be very experienced, but surely you could tell? And if I hadn't wanted you to kiss me, you would have found out very quickly, let me tell you."

His shoulders began to shake. Suddenly he bent over with laughter.

"What's so funny?" I snapped.

"Just that it's always asking for your forgiveness, rather than the things I do, that gets me into trouble," he gasped between bouts of laughter. "I should have remembered that you're unlike any other woman I know." Slowly he straightened up. "Next time I'll wait until you kick me out from between your blankets."

I gave a sniff. "You'd better."

He grinned. "Lady Javaneh," he said with a deep bow, "please accept my sincerest apologies for apologising."

Reluctantly I grinned back. "You're forgiven. Just don't do it again."

By my side Shar pawed the ground impatiently. I had the distinct impression he didn't like me lavishing so much of my attention on Kiarash instead of on him. I sighed. "We have to be off."

Kiarash sobered. "Yes, indeed."

We took a moment to straighten ourselves out. I tidied my blouse while Kiarash put up his hair in a topknot again. He got on Delyth and stretched out a hand to help me mount.

"We can do this, Javaneh. Together."

I took his hand. "Together," I agreed.

***

Delyth threw back her head at the unaccustomed weight, but when Kiarash urged her forward, she stepped out obediently. Shar on his part laid back his ears and trailed behind us with a grumpy look.

We were spotted before we had descended more than a few paces along the trail into the valley: one of the Khotai below gave a shout and pointed at us.

Kiarash gave them no chance to take the initiative. "You down there," he yelled. "I've got the woman you've been looking for. If you want her alive, release those Sikhandi guards at once." He had drawn one of his swords and sounded surprisingly menacing for a man who had kissed me only a moment ago.

There was brief confusion in the camp, then a group of riders led by my father and Usun came cantering down the road to mill around below us. Instinctively I considered whether we were within bowshot. But they wouldn't chance it, I thought, not when having to shoot uphill. Kiarash must have had the same thought, for he pulled Delyth to a stop.

"Stay where you are if you value this woman's life," he snapped.

My father glared up at him. "Harm her and we'll flay you in small strips."

"Brave words, Khotai," Kiarash shot back. "But if you want her alive, release my men."

"Your men?" my father asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I am Border Commander Kiarash tal Shahin. I'm in charge of this sector of the wall." He said the words coolly, but he must have felt me jump, for his arm tightened around my waist. "I promise I'll explain later, Javaneh," he whispered.

He certainly would! There was a quick consultation among the Khotai, too low for us to overhear. My brothers Narin and Taghai had joined my father, flanking him either side.

"If we free the Sikhandi, you'll come down and let the woman go?" my father asked.

"Listen to me, Khotai. This is what we'll do," Kiarash declared. "You retreat to your camp and release my men. At the same time I come down this trail. We'll meet down the road out of range of the catapults. There I will set the woman free."

I nearly nodded, for I had no desire to be mistakenly killed by the Sikhandi catapults either, but I remembered in time that I was supposed to be a captive. My father sought my eyes and I willed him to agree.

There was more consultation, but in the end my father nodded. "Very well, we accept your proposal. But I'm warning you, Sikhandi, if you harm as much as a hair on that woman's head, I'll see to it personally that you'll regret it for many long days before death finally claims you."

"Yes, yes," Kiarash answered.

"Make them swear on their totem spirits," I whispered to him. "The White Horse and Red Bear."

"Swear to our agreement on the White Horse and Red Bear," Kiarash said at once.

My father and brother exchanged uneasy glances, clearly uncomfortable at having to give their binding word to a Sikhandi.

"On my part, I swear on the Elements to set her free," Kiarash added, choosing his words carefully.

Usun had said nothing at all so far, but I could feel him watching me, the way a wolf singles out his chosen prey. Carefully I avoided looking him in the eye, but a shiver of cold dread ran down my back.

Suddenly Kiarash lifted his sword and pointed down the road. "And tell those men creeping away into the bushes to come back."

I hadn't noticed them at all! My father looked sheepish, but gave a short nod. "All right, Sikhandi. We swear on the spirit of the White Horse and Red Bear to release your soldiers and let them go. You have the word of Maral, son of Okhotur."

"And to let you pass unharmed," I murmured out of the corner of my mouth.

However, Kiarash ignored me. "Fine," he said. "I swear on the Elements and the Wheel of Heaven to set this woman free." His voice sounded grim.

I realised he meant it in more ways than one: he would die rather than see me in Usun's power.

### ELEVEN

The Khotai trotted back to their camp, though with many looks back over their shoulders. Meanwhile we slowly descended the track zigzagging down the side of the valley. Halfway to the bottom, we paused to watch the Sikhandi soldiers being released. Some of them simply collapsed at the foot of the stakes they had been bound to, but others were in better shape and helped their comrades stagger off towards the gate in the wall.

The Khotai just ignored them and struck their camp. It didn't take long to gather the two tents and the few belongings – a war camp of this kind would, at need, simply be left behind, for every Khotai carried what little he required in his saddlebags.

Kiarash and I reached the road and moved down it a ways until he judged that we were out of reach of the catapults. There he reined in Delyth and turned to meet the Khotai. They were in no hurry, for they knew he could not get away, trapped as we were between them and the threat of bandits on the road. Nevertheless I was tempted to get on Shar, who had trailed along beside us, and gallop away.

"Remember, Javaneh," Kiarash murmured in my hair, "together."

I nodded, but even so I felt anxious when the Khotai trotted down the road and slowly spread into a half circle facing us. In the centre were my father and brothers, with Usun surrounded by his acolytes next to them. His horse lowered its head, making the cruel curb bit in its mouth jingle.

Kiarash squeezed my waist in reassurance. "Stay where you are," he snapped.

"You swore to let her go, Sikhandi," my father answered, menace in his voice. "We have no quarrel with your people today, so just release her and we won't harm you."

I took a deep breath. My turn. I removed my bow from where I'd hung it on Delyth's saddle, nocked an arrow and drew it. "Kiarash swore to set me free, "I said, "but I am free already." I pointed the arrow at Usun's chest, careful not to look him in the eyes.

"Javaneh, what is this," my father exclaimed.

"It is not Kiarash who tried to bind me," I answered, speaking Sikhandi. "It is Usun. I don't know what story he told you why I ran away, but he tried to force himself on me."

My father frowned. "Shaman, you told me she wanted to share your blankets, but that you could not offer her more, so she ran away," he said to Usun. "You claimed you were worried she might harm herself."

"What?" I exclaimed. "That's a pack of lies."

For the first time Usun spoke. "You came to my yurt, didn't you?" He was using his shaman's voice, low and vibrating with hidden power. I was instantly thrown back to that night, the smell of burning incense, the acrid taste of the tea he'd made me drink.

I fought down the memories. "You asked me to come, to practise my magic. Not to share your bed."

"But that's what you wanted. Wasn't it, Javaneh?" His horse shifted and the rattle attached to his saddle sounded softly, whispering a command.

"No," I said, but it came out weakly. The arrow wavered from its aim.

"You did not struggle when I kissed you."

"You trapped my will," I answered, but I had to fight to form each word. I could almost feel his fingers curling round the nape of my neck, paralysing me.

"Look at me, Javaneh," he commanded, his voice dark and harsh like a winter's night. "And tell me you did not beg me to take you."

You made me say it, I wanted to shout, but no words emerged. Inexorably, my eyes were drawn to his. Black, burning, draining my will. The bow fell from my hands and clattered to the ground.

"Javaneh!" Kiarash's voice cut through the mist surrounding my mind. "What is he doing to you?" He tightened his grip round my waist.

And I could finally breathe again. Cool, fresh mountain air filled my lungs, driving away the remembered smell of incense. "Touch me one more time," I told Usun in Sikhandi, enunciating each word clearly, "and I will kill you."

My father had a face like thunder. "What did you do to my daughter? That is no way to treat a woman of the White Horse clan." Narin and Taghai looked grim too.

"Don't be a fool," Usun snapped in a flash of temper. Was he annoyed I had fought free of him? "She's only a half-blood, no better than a slave. She should be honoured to warm my furs."

"Watch your tongue, shaman," my father replied, his voice quiet. I wondered if Usun recognised the signs of my father's famous temper. My brothers did, exchanging worried glances.

"Look at her," Usun spat. "Cosying up to her people's enemies. She has wasted no time getting one of those Sikhandi weaklings for a lover." The shaman was speaking in Sikhandi to make sure Kiarash understood the insult. I felt his muscles tighten.

"Who I share my blankets with is none of your business," I shot back. "And you know it."

"If you want her, you can always try and sit outside her tent," Kiarash said to Usun. And when the Khotai all stared at him in surprise, he added, "However, I think you'll die of old age, before she takes you."

Usun pulled his mouth into a thin line. "As if I would soil my family's honour by mingling my lineage with a half-blood like her."

"That is no way to speak of my daughter," my father said, his voice going even more quiet. "The White Horse clan bore witness when I married her mother; Javaneh is true Khotai." It surprised me how vehemently he defended me.

"You were a fool to marry a slave and contaminate your lineage," Usun replied contemptuously. "In fact you should be glad I'm taking such an embarrassment off your hands."

"I say she is a true daughter of the White Horse," my father whispered.

"I say she is good for nothing but being my slave."

The next moment Usun looked down in disbelief at the dagger in his chest.

"Nobody insults my family," my father said, calmly removing the weapon.

For a heartbeat nobody moved, then Usun crumbled over his horse's neck. Utter chaos broke out. With a howl, one of the Red Bear acolytes went for my father, but Kiarash caught the blade on his sword. Weapons clashed all around us; he countered another blow from one of Usun's men.

"Javaneh, take Shar and get out of this," he shouted.

I realised I was handicapping him. "Shar!" I called.

The gelding's eyes were rolling with alarm, but he obeyed my familiar voice. I scrambled over onto his back and leaning low over the whithers pushed him into a canter. Somebody tried to take a swipe at me, but Kiarash riding at my side parried it.

A moment later we were outside the melee. However, once he had made sure I was clear, Kiarash turned Delyth round. "You carry on. I need to help your father," he called.

I let Shar continue for a few more paces, but then slowed him down and turned to look. It was utter confusion. My father and brothers were fighting back to back, while in the middle of the fray Kiarash wielded his double blades in a whirl of silver. That moment a man, Butu, whom I had known all my life, slipped off his horse, blood gushing from a wound to the belly. His opponent galloped away and standing in his stirrups looked back and drew his bow.

I melted his stirrups.

It was done instinctively, without thinking. The man began to slip, but caught himself on his saddle. So I melted the buckle on his cinch. He fell and lay there stunned.

Not as stunned as me! I turned back to the fight. Of course, there was so much metal here.

"Enough," I said. "Enough death."

Asserting mastery over my element, I began to melt it all. First the horse tack, the buckles, bridles, all the small but vital bits of metal that connected leather straps, saddles and belts. Everywhere men began to tumble from their horses. But they were Khotai, they got back on and rode bareback. Annoyed, I turned their swords and knives to slag.

The fight dissolved into cries of bewilderment. In the end only Kiarash and my father and brothers were left on horseback. I had not touched their weapons, but they lowered them anyway.

Everybody was staring at me. "Sikhandi witch," one of the men whispered.

"Enough," I said again. "There will be no more killing."

The men picked themselves up from the ground, helped by their friends. In a subdued mood, those who knew a little healing began to bind up wounds.

Ignoring the suspicious looks cast my way, I urged Shar over to Kiarash, who had sheathed his swords and dismounted. He held out his arms and I slipped off my horse into his embrace. For a long moment, I just revelled in the feeling of being held, of knowing he was alive.

"Are you all right?" I asked. His leather jerkin was splattered with fine droplets of blood.

He nodded. "Just a shallow cut along one arm. The garrison's healer can dress it."

Somebody cleared his throat. I looked up to find my father standing next to us. "Well, daughter," he said. "It seems you have made your choice." There was a hidden current of pain in his voice.

"You might say my choice was made for me," I answered, aware of Usun's trampled body lying not far away. "However, I'm happy with how it has turned out."

"You could still come home," my father said.

"Could I?" I asked back, thinking of the uneasy glances cast my way.

"You'd have my support."

I was touched. "Thank you, father. But I mean to tread this new path."

My father ducked his head. "I feared as much." He reached out a hand as if to touch me, but let it drop. "I'm sorry I did not protect you better, Javaneh. Your mother asked me to look after you, but I failed you. It was the last thing she said on her death bed."

"It's not your fault, father," I exclaimed and reached over to hug him. "You stood by me in the end." I was sorry I had doubted his love for me.

He caught me in a tight embrace, surprising me, for he was not a man to show his emotions. "My brave daughter."

Kiarash leant forward. "Lord Maral, will killing Usun make trouble for you?" he asked.

My father cast a disdainful look at Usun's body. "I don't think so. He was feared, but not well-liked. People might even be relieved at his death. And anyway, he deserved all he got; nobody insults my family." He eyed Kiarash. "You're quite handy with those blades." Something seemed to pass between them.

"My blades are at your daughter's service," Kiarash said.

A satisfactory answer, it appeared. My father nodded. "Good."

Kiarash motioned back towards the Sikhandi wall. "I can provide a resting place here for a few days, healers if you need them."

I raised my eyebrows at this offer, remembering that he still owed me an explanation at his earlier claim to be the commander of this stretch of the border. He certainly acted as if he expected the garrison to obey.

But my father shook his head. "We won't tarry here. A Khotai is as likely to recover from his wounds on horseback as he is lying down."

Indeed, his men were already packing up their things, being used to moving quickly. As for Usun's acolytes, the few that were left seemed to have slunk off already. Perhaps they did not trust my father not to take revenge on them after all?

"What about the dead? Do you want to bury them?" Kiarash asked.

"We'll take ours with us to find a suitable place for a proper sky burial," my father answered. "The rest you can leave to the wolves."

Kiarash grimaced. "The garrison will bury them."

My father shrugged. "As you wish."

Just then Narin, my eldest brother, led up his horse. "We're ready to go."

I swallowed hard, suddenly realising that I might never see my family again. How easily I had spoken of treading a new path! Now that the moment had come to say good-bye to my old life irrevocably, it seemed a very big step.

My father read my mind. "Javaneh, you're still a member of the White Horse clan and always will be. And who knows, I might come visiting again this way one day."

Kiarash inclined his head. "You'd be welcome." If you come in peace, hung unspoken in the air. "Just ask for Border Commander Kiarash tal Shahin. The men all know me."

"I will," my father replied.

He embraced me one more time, followed by my brothers. They mounted their horses and trotted off, not looking back, for the Khotai believe that you were more likely to meet again if you acted upon leaving as if you only parted for a brief time.

As I watched them ride off, Kiarash hesitantly slid an arm around my waist. I leant into him. We stood there until my father and his men had disappeared round a bend in the road. With a sigh I straightened up. "Let's go."

Mounting Shar, my heart lightened again. So many possibilities opened up before me. I shot a sideways look at the man riding next to me. In fact rather attractive possibilities...

When we reached the gate, the garrison swung it open amongst cheers for Kiarash. I couldn't help thinking that by the deference with which they treated him, his words of being their commander had been true. Guessing my thoughts, he grinned at my quizzical look.

"Welcome to Sikhand, Lady Javaneh," he said with a grand gesture, inviting me to ride under the arch of the gate. "So, here we are, just as I promised. Didn't you get a bargain in your game of dice?"

"Hmm." I pretended to consider his words. "I'm not so sure. Remember, you cost me three bowls of rice for breakfast."

###  EPILOGUE

Two months later...

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I placed a small nugget of iron on a piece of fabric in front of me and concentrated. A quick, practised thought melted the metal. I caressed it mentally, savouring its desire to be shaped by me. Carefully I coaxed it to spread out across the fabric, coating the fibres in a thin, barely visible film. For my experiments I had cut up an old tunic and now the faded cloth took on a silvery sheen from the iron.

However, I wasn't finished yet. Holding the entire metal in my mind, I told it to blend with the wool fibres, becoming one, and to harden to strongest steel.

Releasing my breath, I straightened up and stretched. Had it worked? I picked up the piece of cloth and tried to fold it. Yes, almost as supple as before. My first trials had been stiff and brittle, making them useless. I still needed to improve my control, but with more practice I hoped to coat a whole tunic in a thin steel film: clothing that was lighter and much more flexible than armour, yet would stop arrows and cushion sword strokes. I had already demonstrated its usefulness with pieces of test fabric.

I grinned to myself. The abbess of Dancing Crane Temple had at first been scandalised by my ideas. Apparently a lady Metal mage traditionally used her talents to craft beautiful jewellery, not to devise a way to improve armour. However, the deference with which mages were treated here in Sikhand had meant that they had let me do as I pleased. Indeed, Kiarash's cousin Farnaz, the Water mage who had gifted him with his cloak, had even helped me apply the principle of water proofing to working with metal.

I picked up my piece of experimental fabric and put it away, looking forward to showing my progress to Kiarash next time he visited. The room had heated up, so I slid ajar one of the doors that opened out onto the garden. Dancing Crane Temple being of mixed Elements, the grounds were tended by Wood and Water mages, who had dotted little streams and ponds amongst the lush vegetation. The trees and shrubs were placed so skillfully that the garden seemed much larger than it actually was.

It was a surrounding as unlike a Khotai camp as imaginable, yet nevertheless I felt at ease. Of course it helped that my room had been transformed with hangings and carpets into a space resembling the tents of my people. Kiarash had organised it all within a few days of my arrival in Kharshaan, had even found a churn for making butter tea somewhere.

Kiarash... He had kept all his promises: the visit to the tea house with its tables placed on little islands and connected by arched bridges and stepping stones, eating dumplings at the Capering Carp, located in a much more disreputable area of town, spiriting me out of the temple for rides on Shar outside the city gates.

I knew a lot more about Kiarash now, amongst other things that his family more or less ran the province! One of his uncles served as governor of Kharshaan, his father was the commander of the province's border guard and various cousins held important posts in the city administration. To say nothing of Kiarash himself, who was in charge of seven forts along the eastern sector of the province's border, it had turned out – a position from which he had merely taken a short leave to recover Delyth, officially for a hunting expedition.

A couple of weeks ago, he had taken me along to his family's estates and introduced me to his parents. Lord Shahin, his father, had been keen to discuss Khotai customs and my particular application of Metal magic. He possessed an acute intelligence, while in her own quiet way Kiarash's mother had been just as impressive, though she hid her strength behind the mask of a polite, serene hostess.

Yes, I'd seen a lot of Kiarash, and whenever his duties permitted, he sought me out. There was just one thing missing: he had not kissed me again.

I frowned in thought. The Sikhandi did not like to show their emotions in public, and Kiarash was no exception. I thought he enjoyed our outings as much as I did, but though I had done my best to encourage him, he kept our touches to the briefest minimum. Why, he even insisted I always take a guard from the temple along whenever he took me to see some place.

Lately I had started to wonder what I had to do to get him to continue where he had let off that memorable day – hit him over the head and drag him into my bed?

Suddenly running footsteps sounded on the path outside. The next moment a young girl, one of the temple acolytes, burst into the room. "Lady Javaneh," she gasped. "Please come at once. Lord Kiarash is in the outer courtyard and asks to see you."

I stared at her in surprise; the message hardly warranted such haste. Though we hadn't arranged to meet today, a visit by him was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Very well," I answered. "Why don't you ask him to step into the garden, as usual. Could you bring us some tea and food?"

"He has sat down in the courtyard and demands to see you at once," the girl exclaimed. "Please, Lady Javaneh, we can't have Lord Kiarash tal Shahin sit on the ground in our courtyard. It's not dignified."

He had sat down? "Oh." I considered briefly. "Did he bring a mat?" I asked.

The girl looked confused. "Yes, a small carpet to sit on. And a cup," she added as a puzzled afterthought.

"I see." And finally I did. "You may leave," I told the girl.

"But what about Lord Kiarash? His uncle is the governor of the province!"

"I know. Don't worry, I will come along soon." I dismissed her.

Well. That was about time. And he was doing it in the proper Khotai manner. I considered for a moment. To practice my magic, I had put on a Sikhandi robe made from linen, nice and cool in this warm summer weather.

Now I changed back into trousers and slipped on my blouse embroidered with turquoise beads. The temple servants had washed and mended my clothes most meticulously, although they clearly did not approve of a woman wearing tight fitting trousers. However, I would do this properly, the Khotai way.

Soft cloth swished at the door to my room. "What is this I hear about Kiarash sitting in the courtyard, asking for you?"

It was his cousin Farnaz, beautiful as always, her robes falling in graceful folds about her and with her black hair caught up in a complicated hairstyle: the very picture of the perfect, elegant Sikhandi lady. We had become friends at once.

"Oh, just a Khotai custom that Kiarash has heard about," I answered. After a moment's thought, I undid a couple of the laces at my throat. After all there was nothing wrong with giving a little encouragement.

Farnaz was watching me closely. "Is that why you're wearing your Khotai clothes?"

I nodded. "Yes. I'm not a refined lady. I'm from the steppes, descended from wolves. And I will not turn myself into something I am not. Kiarash shall see clearly what he is asking for."

A smile tugged at the corner of Farnaz's mouth. "You don't mince your words, do you, Javaneh? You just are yourself. No wonder he's fallen for you."

"You think he has?"

She gave her enchanting, gurgling laugh. "Of course he has. That has been clear to anybody with eyes in their head for a long time now. Why, he's practically devouring you when you're not watching."

"But why did he wait so long?" I voiced my misgivings.

"Long?" she exclaimed. "Two months is a scandalously short time to resolve to get married. Most Sikhandi parents take longer than that just to arrange the first tentative visit. And it hardly gives you time to settle in here, before making such an important decision."

I rolled my eyes. "What nonsense. Well, I'm having no more of that."

"Does that mean we should start preparing for a surprise wedding?" she asked.

"Not tonight, so there's no rush."

"Not tonight?" She stared at me in shock. "Javaneh, I was joking."

It was my turn to smile. "I am not. But Khotai weddings aren't very elaborate: food, drink, horse races."

"I'd better start organising things," she muttered to herself. "When do you think...?"

"Oh, as I said, there's no rush. Another three days at least."

"Three days!" There was a hint of panic in her voice.

"Don't worry," I told her. "At a pinch we can do without the horse races. But let's go and see Kiarash now."

As the girl had said, we found him in the outer courtyard, in front of the temple's formal receiving hall. Word had spread, and most of the servants and many of the resident mages had come to have a look what was going on.

Kiarash sat on a small carpet, wearing full armour with his two swords in their harness on his back. Amongst the Khotai, this demonstrated the ability to defend a wife and children. In front of him he had placed his cup, which would be filled at sunrise and sunset with fresh water.

He watched me approach. Suddenly I understood what Farnaz had meant by his eyes devouring me. A spark of anticipation kindled in my stomach.

"I seek Javaneh of the White Horse clan," Kiarash announced.

"I am her."

He fixed me with his dark eyes. "Listen, Javaneh of the White Horse clan: I, Kiarash tal Shahin, of Fifth Circle rank, will not leave here until you agree to wed with me."

He had even found out the correct phrases! However, outwardly I showed nothing of the thrill running through me. "I hear your words, warrior," I gave the traditional answer.

Then I sat down in the shade of the receiving hall, waved for Farnaz to join me and sent one of the servants for a drink of lime juice and a plate of delicacies from the kitchen. In my mind I was already planning the next steps. For dinner I would order dumplings from the Capering Carp, I thought. They truly were the best in Kharshaan.

I made sure Kiarash, sitting in the full glare of the sun, had a good view of us when I poured Farnaz a cup of the tangy, chilled drink. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him watching us, his face completely impassive.

Farnaz chuckled. "Trust the Khotai to treat a marriage proposal like laying siege to a city. Still, Kiarash seems to have entered into the spirit of it. I never did think that a gentle, refined Sikhandi lady would do for him."

As if I was bored, I played with the laces of my blouse, loosening another pair. When I looked over at Kiarash, I saw in his eyes the promise of retribution mixed with something else. Something warm and possessive and exhilarating...

I matched him gaze for gaze. "No," I agreed, "but a daughter of wolves just might."

### Other books by Lia Patterson

Elephant Thief

When magically gifted Arisha runs away from an army camp with her elephant Hami, she thinks she's in deep trouble. However, she soon discovers that things can always get worse: they are captured by the enemy leader, called the Eagle. Yet slowly Arisha finds herself drawn to him despite their differences.

But can she bridge the gap between their countries before the decisive battle is joined?

Bride to the Sun

Once, she could pluck fire out of the very air. Now she is the most insignificant member of an imperial court seething with intrigue. The firedancer Shay, facing punishment for the crimes of her dead father, and Medyr, a barbarian from the north, must build a fragile bridge of trust. But will they realise in time that the growing attraction between them is also their deadliest danger?

A tale of magic, perilous intrigues, a tortoise and pondslime.

You can find links to all major retailers on my website www.liapatterson.com.

### Thank you

First of all a big thank you to all my readers! I hope that you spent a few pleasant hours escaping from the everyday world by coming along on this adventure with me. If you'd take a moment to leave me a review to let me know what you liked about this book, that would be much appreciated. Being an indie author, it's really my readers' feedback that keeps me motivated to write.

There are many people to whom I am deeply indebted for their help and support while writing this story. A big thank you goes to the ladies at The Garden for their unstinting help and encouragement throughout the long process of writing this tale. Their comments were invaluable and I couldn't have done it without them.

A special thanks also goes to my beta reader of many years, Sid, who pointed out stylistic issues, and to Kay, who hunted down typos and slew them mercilessly.

And finally of course, none of this would have been possible without the support and enthusiasm of my family. My sister has read all my stories and given valuable feedback, while my daughters are firmly convinced that anything I write has to be wonderful. Thank you!

### About the author

I grew up in Switzerland and thanks to my father's job with an airline travelled to many far-away places from an early age. Even better though, I discovered, were journeys to imaginary worlds. And so I pursued orcs across the plains of Rohan, sailed on the Dawn Treader, fought in the Trojan War and rode telepathic dragons.

Even then I was always scribbling stories in my notebooks, but nothing came of it until much later. I went on to study English and History, eventually ended up with a job in information technology and started a family.

However, the urge to create my own worlds and stories remained, so when it was quiet in the evenings I slipped away to places that existed only in the imagination - the results you can find on these pages. I hope you'll join me on my journeys and enjoy them as much as I do!

And if you want to know what I'm up to and if I'm writing any new stories, feel free to visit my website www.liapatterson.com and join my newsletter. You will also find maps and other information on my worlds there.

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