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them?”
    â€œDo you think I’m a fool?”
    Kesh did not answer.
    â€œYes, you do. I did note them. I noted the letters marking the posts. They indicate which towns and cities lie along that road. I also recorded the number and density of villages we passed today, and the water wheels and forges that I could be sure of. All in a script which no one but the Ri Amarah can read, so wecan’t be caught out if my book is taken from me. Unless, of course, the act of writing in a book is seen as suspicious, which I must suppose it will be.”
    â€œWhat are those?” Kesh asked, pointing to a secondary column of odd squiggles falling on the left-hand side of the page.
    â€œI’m recording the words and sounds of the Sirniakan language. Why do you think I talk so much with the officers? They’re not particularly interesting. We have in our archives a record of the language from our time of exile here, but we no longer know how to pronounce things properly and what certain words truly mean. That’s what you don’t understand, Kesh. All you can think about is how much coin you’ll get from this expedition. If we survive it, which I doubt. But there are more valuable things than coin. There is knowledge.”
    â€œInformation to be sold—”
    â€œNo. Knowledge in itself—Why do I bother?” He broke off and cleaned the brush and without speaking another word boxed his writing tools and lay down on his blankets with his back to Kesh.
    Kesh wondered what would happen if he grasped the cloth of Eliar’s turban and ripped the coiled cloth from his head. His hands twitched. With a laugh, he crawled out and paced to the central watch fire, where he found Captain Jushahosh still awake and conferring with an officer in a red jacket holding a fancy stick like a reeve’s baton, plated as in gold.
    The captain looked up sharply at Kesh’s approach, and without interrupting his flow of words to the other man, lifted his left hand and gestured with a flick of the fingers that seemed to say
go away
. Kesh stepped back, then took himself over to the pits as if that was where he’d been heading all along. He lingered, hearing scraps delivered too quickly for him to sort out what words he knew. In time, the stranger made his courtesies, and Jushahosh his own in response, and the man strode away. Kesh crept back toward the central watch fire and was rewarded with a cup of the spiced wine that was the only thing in the empire he had come to love.
    â€œIn the morning, you’ll ride with Captain Sharahosh,” said Jushahosh. “We part here, for I’m sent on a new assignment,hunting down another infant son of Farazadihosh, if you must know. No glory there.” He sighed. “I was hoping for battle, but it seems most of the troops loyal to Farazadihosh have surrendered. There will likely be no more fighting. I was hoping for at least one battle.”
    â€œIt seems the southern prince had more support than expected. He won quickly, did he not?”
    â€œThe Lord of Lords, King of Kings, has showered His favor on the deserving. Now we will have peace.” He sketched the gesture signifying obedience to the god’s will, and Kesh copied it. The captain smiled, an odd light in his eyes that Kesh recognized, after a moment’s doubt, as admiration. “I thought all barbarians were brawling drunks with hot tempers, ready to fight at any excuse, like those Qin riders.”
    â€œDo the Qin get drunk and brawl? I’ve never seen—ah, one of these—lose his temper.”
    â€œMaybe not these, since they are under our command, but you know how barbarians are. Still, you’re different from the others, I suppose because you are a believer. You’ve walked fearlessly into the wilderness, stalked the desert’s edge, battled with naked demons, ridden over the snow-choked pass, bargained with deadly—what did you call