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Honor hear me: my oath on the Steel Spirit, may it forsake me if I lie." No Kommanza would break that pledge; a forsworn warrior's own weapons would turn on her and bring an early and dishonorable death.
    The minutes stretched. At last the door scraped open and the Minztans shuffled forth.
    Kommanz warriors pounced to disarm and bind. Shkai'ra relaxed at last. Now they could post a guard detail, tally the loot… and yes, it would be best to give the gods somewhat, soon. They had been generous enough, and it was never wise to stint the Mighty Ones. And it would soothe the nerves of those who feared ghosts and foreign magic. A Kommanza was not permitted to fear anything but spirits and thunder…
    The trooper prodded Maihu and Taimi to their feet with the butt of her lance. Taimi started a blundering dash for the fields; the ceramic knob smacked down on his elbow, driving him to his knees with a cry of agony. The Kommanza slid her lance back into the boot at the rear of her saddle, uncoiled a whip, and waited blank-faced as Maihu helped her kinchild to his feet. Her bound hands were awkward, and the side of her head was still a throbbing ache. The plains-dweller methodically slashed each of them a half-dozen times, across the legs rather than the embroidered Minztan winter jackets they both wore. Maihu bent her head and kept silence, whispering to Taimi as he struggled not to cry out.
    "Chiefkin say, not kill," the westerner said in a slow, thicldy accented Minztan. "No say, no whip. You come."
    Their guard shepherded them across what would have been the main square of Newstead, amid trampling hooves and raucous shouts and a growing pile of limp scalped bodies, through the shattered doors of their kinhall. There were bloodstains on the polished floors, and hoofrnarks, and someone had kicked a severed hand into a corner. An officer was directing repairs. From somewhere nearby came a rhythmic screaming that trailed away into sobs.
    "Honorable, the Chiefkin said to put these two away somewhere," the trooper said.
    The man looked at them, tugging at his short brick-red beard. "Yot," he said, stabbing a finger into Maihu's chest. " Kommanzanu dh'taika i'?" Watching her closely he repeated the query: did she understand Kommanzanu?
    Her face remained carefully blank. " Gakkaz ot ufuazi ," he said to their guard with a shrug. She understood that: "The skyes/animals/foreigners are ignorant."
    "The Chiefkin may want to interrogate them; she understands their sheep-bleating. Or fuck them, or whatever. Put 'em in a room, give 'em water."
    Maihu waited until the pantry door swung home before picking up the dipper and washing the taste of bile out of her mouth. She winced as she touched the swelling bruise and remembered the brief fight. Circle , she thought, how could she be so quick ?
    "Are you all right?" Taimi asked. She looked up at him and tried to force a smile, he was near breaking, skin white and pinched around his mouth. Suddenly he was weeping.
    She pulled him into her arms, rocking him.
    "They're dead," he gasped. "I saw … I saw…"
    "I know," she soothed, "I know." It was comforting to give comfort: it was the Minztan way, to accept grief. There was no shame in it, the Way of natureand the Circle. As shock receded her own loss came through, cold pain buried under a knot of fear and hatred. And the tears would not come. At last he subsided, recovering with the resilience of youth. "She… that one… she said she'd…" He stumbled over the words. "What can we do?"
    "Stay alive," she said. "Do what we must. Listen: this is not their land; it will fight against them, all the Life." The word had a broader meaning in their tongue; it meant Totality, rock and soil and water, tree and beast and unseen spirit. "We are the Guardians of the Way. Remember that!"
    Maihu began to whisper the Litany, and after a moment Taimi joined in. The ancient words flowed through them; they fell silent and withdrew into inwardness. Hours passed,