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sat down on the couch again. “Is one
hostage worth so much trouble?”
    “You rate yourself too low, and modesty is
not called a virtue here.” O-grak sat down beside Kerish. “In Zoanaxa, it is
rumored that you left Galkis to seek for some secret way to save the Godborn.
Since your quest is at an end, you may as well tell me what it was.”
    “I will not despair until Zeldin tells me
to,” said Kerish.
    “If eyes were daggers there would be a hole
in my heart.” O-grak was smiling. “Have you considered that your Zeldin may
have wanted you to fall into my hands? Did you know that your Gentle God was
once the consort of Idaala? He left her for the one whose name we do not speak.
For that, the Men of Fangmere hate the Godborn, the children of Zeldin the
Betrayer . . .”
    “That can't be true!”
    “No? Well, the Godborn should know. I only
tell you what our Lore-keepers say.” The latch of the door was rattled from the
outside. “Now I must crawl deeper into the temple for your sake and abase
myself before the Chief Priest.” O-grak got up, sniffing the air. “There is a
fullness here where there should be emptiness. Remember one thing. If she
should come, don't look at her.”
    “The Goddess?”
    “Her living body. If She herself came, you
would not be able to close your eyes on your destruction. Whatever may happen,
don't look.”
    “I will remember.”
    A jovial blow nearly knocked Kerish from
the couch as O-grak strode out.
     
    *****
     
    Gwerath bullied her attendants into
surrendering enough of the Second Tower's meager water supply for her to wash
herself and her hair. Of all their baggage, only one dress remained, the dress
the Brigands had spared for Gwerath to wear on the slave-block. The necklace
that Kerish had given her was gone with the rest of the jewels but Forollkin's
scarf was still knotted about her throat. Gwerath's two attendants slipped the
Seldian dress over her head, just as the Khan's wife entered.
    “May I touch it?”
    Gwerath nodded and watched curiously as the
other woman stroked the silver-green silk as if it were a live thing that might
suddenly dart away.
    “Surely the wife of a Great Khan has many
dresses as fine?”
    “No man may give such treasures to a woman
without angering the Goddess, and the greater the man, the greater her
jealousy.” She spoke like a child repeating a lesson, but suddenly a smile
transformed her pale, pinched features. “Yet I have one treasure and he lets me
wear it.” O-grak's wife rolled back her drab sleeve to display a silver
bracelet set with rubies. “The Prince of Galkis sent it to me. He is not afraid
of the Goddess!”
    “Customs are different in Galkis but,”
added Gwerath kindly, “it is very beautiful.”
    Indeed it was the only beautiful thing that
Gwerath had seen in the austerity of the Second Tower, the Tower of the Women.
    “Your Lord . . . the Prince's brother,”
began the Khan's wife timidly, “does he give you such gifts?”
    “He gave me this scarf.”
    The other woman touched its glittering
folds. “And are you to marry him?”
    “I don't know . . . perhaps when there is
peace. How long have you lived with the Khan?” asked Gwerath hastily.
    “Nearly three years. I am not his first
wife.”
    “And do you have any children?”
    “There are no children now in the Towers of
O-grak. Shall I take you to your Lord?”
    “To my friends,” said Gwerath firmly. “Yes,
if you may.”
    “I think I may.” She looked miserably
uncertain.
    “I'm sure the Khan did not mean to keep us
apart. What is your name?” asked Gwerath.
    The Khan's wife seemed startled at the
question, as if her name had long ago fallen into disuse.
    “It is Neeris,” she whispered.
    They crossed the rope-bridge between the
towers, with Gwerath gripping the swaying ropes and hardly daring to look down
at the scorched rock below. A few serfs were trudging along the road from the
harbor, laden with supplies, but no other people were in sight