text: "I said I would tell you when it was time," Maralah said.
  
  "It's time."
  
  "They're keeping information from us," the Patron said.
  
  "And we're keeping information from them," Maralah said. "They have yet to ask if we're fighting Dhai."
  
  Maralah, Driaa and Kadaan stood with him at the top of the keep in what had become their makeshift war room. The space wasn't meant for it. Best Maralah could surmise, it had once been a luxurious retreat for some very old Patron's favorite wife or concubine. Silver and gold gilted passages from the Lord's Book of Unmaking graced the ceiling. The passages were a selection of love poetry to Oma written by a sixth century scholar included in one of the appendices of the Book.
  
  The chamber also had a breathtaking view of the surrounding countryside. Maralah suspected that before it was tarted up that its original purpose was a military one. Village elders always told her that time was a circle, and everything came back around again. It was strange to see how literal that had become.
  
  "I tried to keep them close by having one of their boys dance," the Patron said. "It reminded me of happier times. But I suspect they mean to betray us, if they have not already."
  
  "Five little Dhai? We can deal with five Dhai," Maralah said. "Especially one that just saved you from men that looked just like him."
  
  "They let my son die."
  
  "That was my failure," Maralah said. "Kadaan and I were seated at that table for that purpose. I failed you, Patron, not the Dhai."
  
  Kadaan did not look at her. In meetings such as this, with the Patron's mood uncertain and conditions rapidly deteriorating, she preferred to be the only one to speak with him, even if he had called up all three of them. Some part of her expected he would ask the other two to kill her, and invite Kadaan to take her place. It was a fight she had prepared for these many months by sparring with Kadaan in the courtyard and sending Driaa off on assignments. Kadaan was faster, but Maralah was better. All that remained was for the Patron to give the order.
  
  "Why else would they bring a boy who could see through wards and not tell us?" the Patron said. "Why would Dasai bring him to my table? I know Dasai's history here."
  
  "I don't know why they failed to mention his talent," Maralah said. "But to be fair we failed to mention they were fighting themselves." The Patron had been drinking more of late. Rumor had it he had not visited his wives in some time, not even the formidable Arisaa, who had borne his most beloved sons, and given him sound advice when he was in these moods. When Maralah's counsel could not keep him balanced, Arisaa's usually could. She made a note to have Driaa stop by Arisaa's quarters after this meeting. Arisaa did not care for Maralah, but she would tolerate Driaa.
  
  "We must not act on fear," Maralah said.
  
  The Patron choked on a laugh. "Fear?" he said. "Fear? This is about respect. They disrespect me in my own house. I've had their correspondence monitored all these weeks, and I believe it's been telling as to their intentions."
  
  "A valid precaution," she said.
  
  "But not one you suggested."
  
  "No," she said.
  
  He began to pace along the wall of windows. His long coat was dirty at the hem. His boots were scuffed, and his hair needed washing. Seeing him like this, she was reminded of a story of the last days of the Empire of Dhai, when a group of sanisi finally penetrated a room much like this one, where the city's magistrate, his family, and their bodyguards made a final stand. They were mad, broken people, the sanisi said, with big bug-eyed faces and wan complexions. They had eaten their own children. What remained of their little bodies were spread out on the stones, washed and neatly butchered using skinning knifes and cleavers. Maralah wondered what she would be driven to do, at the end.
  
  "They have found something," the Patron said. "It's been too long with no progress. They must be sending all the information they have back to Dhai."
  
  "That may be," Maralah said, "but it does not change our position. The invading armies are marching south from Caisau. They've burned out four villages, and routed much of my brother's regiment. He's bringing what remains here – just thirty thousand. That isn't enough to hold Kuonrada. We need to retreat south to Harajan."
  
  "After Harajan is Anjolia," the Patron said, "and once they have us against the sea, we are done." He ceased his pacing and stood motionless, looking north. From this great height Maralah thought she could see smoke from some burned-out little town. She had given her brother's regiment permission to burn out the farms between Caisau and Kuonrada as they retreated, taking what they could for themselves and leaving nothing behind for the invaders.
  
  "They should have stopped their advance," the Patron said. "You said they would stop as the season deepened."
  
  "It's madness to march in this weather," Maralah said. "If I led them, I would have stopped two weeks ago. They'll freeze in their tracks."
  
  "Then the weather will devour them."
  
  "That is my hope," Maralah said, "but just two weeks more of bearable temperatures and then they're upon us. They could make it here before the weather, and turn us out. Then we'll get caught in the weather during our retreat. It's just luck now."
  
  "This is the place," the Patron said softly. "This is the place they'll write about."
  
  "What?"
  
  "We make our stand here," he said. "In Kuonrada."
  
  "Patron, I must protest –"
  
  "That's my decision," he said.
  
  "We discussed this before we retreated from Caisau. When the time was right –"
  
  "You are my general," the Patron said. "You are not Patron. That is my burden."
  
  "We could last out the season in Harajan."
  
  "That's what you said about Kuonrada," he said. "Yet here we are, retreating again. What would my father say to this? What would Osoraan have said to this?"
  
  "Former Patron Osoraan would not have survived this long," Maralah said. "He would have broken his armies against them in some vain and glorious gesture early last year, and all of us would be dead. It's what he did when he assaulted us. It's why we won."
  
  "We?" the Patron said.
  
  Maralah grimaced. "It's why you won, Patron."
  
  He jabbed a finger at her. "This is where we stand, Maralah."
  
  "Then this is where we will die."
  
  "It is a good place to die."
  
  Maralah bowed deeply. She clenched her teeth so hard her jaw hurt. "Then I will die beside you," she said.
  
  "When your brother arrives, give him the order to hold this position."
  
  "Yes, Patron."
  
  "You may go. All of you."
  
  Maralah took two steps back before turning away. Kadaan and Driaa waited until she turned before also retreating. They cleared the doors. Kadaan shut them. They were heavy doors, amberwood banded in steel. But Driaa put up a bubble of air around the three of them anyway. Maralah's ears popped.
  
  "Do you want me to call back Soraanda's command?" Driaa said. "They've already started the retreat to Harajan at your order."
  
  "What do you think, Kadaan?" Maralah said.
  
  "I think we can last another year if we retreat to Harajan," he said.
  
  "Driaa?"
  
  "I didn't want it to come to this," Driaa said.
  
  "No one does," Maralah said.
  
  "We have no one for the seat," Kadaan said.
  
  "The Patron will stay on the seat. My brother will be here in four days with his army," Maralah said. "I can convince the Patron to… retire. For a time."
  
  "You'd put him into a slumber?" Driaa said.
  
  "When peace arrives, we will wake him," Maralah said. "I'm no betrayer, Driaa. No oath-breaker. I told him I would protect him. That's what I will do. My brother and I will lead the armies. Start speaking to those you know to be allies. When it happens, it will happen very quickly."
  
  "You must expect some resistance," Kadaan said.
  
  "His star is descendent," Maralah said. "It won't take but a few moments. But I want to make sure the people left in the hold are ours, first."
  
  "When do we begin?" Kadaan said.
  
  "When my brother arrives. I want Para below the horizon," Maralah said. "Parajistas who side with him will be weaker."
  
  "So will those parajistas who side with us," Driaa said.
  
  "But we'll know what's coming," Maralah said. "Sometimes that makes all the difference."
  
  When Roh arrived back at the hold, he handed over the talamynii book to Kihin and went down to the infirmary to visit Luna. Two green-robed orderlies were helping Luna dress. Roh came up short as they pulled Luna's soiled robe off. For a moment, Roh was surprised to see Luna's small breasts. Though he knew Luna was an ataisa, he hadn't really been sure what that meant, since it referred to all sorts of people who didn't quite fit into the Saiduan conception of male or female. He wondered if Luna could have children, and if he did, if he would still live as a man. The orderlies tucked Luna into bed. Luna saw Roh and beamed.
  
  "It's not often you get saved by a sanisi," Luna said.
  
  Roh sat at the edge of the bed. "I wanted to see if you're all right."
  
  "Kihin's already been up," Luna said. "He worries."
  
  Roh didn't think Kihin was much of a worrier. "I only wish it was me who got to ride all the way back to the hold with Kadaan."
  
  Luna rolled his eyes. "I bet you do."
  
  As Roh stepped out of the infirmary, Abas surprised him in the hall. Abas cried out in delight, and asked to hug him. They embraced. He had a handful of other dancers with him.
  
  "I heard you flushed out Kadaan, the Shadow of Casaiu," Abas said. "Maralah and Kadaan are fighting again, come see. Your Ora Dasai won't know any different. We've missed your happy face."
  
  "Abas has missed your face more than most," one of the other dancers, Rasandan, said.
  
  The dancers walked out to one of the large secondary courtyards at the center of the hold. Roh stood at the edge of the circle in the sanded snow of the courtyard while sanisi and slaves, kennel masters and blacksmiths, soldiers and clerks, crowded behind him.
  
  The sanisi moved too quickly for Roh to understand how Maralah got the better of Kadaan during their first bout. Like any strategy game, the error seemed to lie somewhere behind them, one wrong move that set all the others in motion.
  
  They began the second dance. Maralah stepped back at the edge of the circle, and raised her right foot. Kadaan kicked her foot with his as she moved to strike, caught her off balance, and forged a way through her defenses. Maralah staggered, rolled. Kadaan landed two jabs at her back, then a thumb at her neck, not a strike, but a press, a call for yield.
  
  "Yield!" Maralah said.
  
  Kadaan stepped back.
  
  Appreciative calls came from the audience.
  
  Kadaan and Maralah clasped one another's forearms. Maralah leaned in to say something to Kadaan.
  
  The crowd began to disperse. Abas called for Roh, but Roh walked out into the circle where Kadaan was buckling on his baldric. Maralah pulled on her coat.
  
  Maralah looked up when she saw Roh. "Your puppy's here," she said.
  
  "How do you know he's not yours?" Kadaan asked.
  
  "The dancers are always yours," Maralah said. She walked past Roh and back into the keep.
  
  "Are you going to teach me to move like that?" Roh asked.
  
  "Why are you so persistent, puppy?" Kadaan said.
  
  "You're the one who followed after me, remember?"
  
  "Pacifist," Kadaan said.
  
  "I'm going to be a sanisi," Roh said lightly. "Why do you think I came here?"
  
  "Youth," Kadaan said. "Foolishness." But Roh saw humor in his face as he turned away.
  
  After, Roh tried to slip back into the archives unnoticed, but Nioni caught him on the stair.
  
  "Ora Dasai wants to speak to you," Nioni said. "In his quarters."
  
  Dasai's door was open. The old Ora sat on the couch with a pile of correspondence.
  
  "I wasn't far," Roh said. "I just went into the -"
  
  "I'll be sending you home in a few days, Roh. I'm sending a letter to your parents. They will expect your return."
  
  "It's the middle of winter," Roh said. "No ships will be going to Dhai!"
  
  "There is a ship that leaves every year at the beginning of Siira, to bring us Saiduan steel. They winter over in Dhai. You and Kihin and Ora Chali will return with it."
  
  "I think you should ask the Kai first, before you send me back. And… and what about Kihin's exile? What's he going to say when you send Kihin back?"
  
  "He will most likely be glad to see Kihin alive. If Kihin perishes, it could make things very difficult with Clan Leader Tir, exiled or no," Dasai said.
  
  "Ora Dasai, I don't understand –"
  
  "Then let me make it clear," Dasai said sharply. "Shut that door."
  
  Roh did.
  
  "You are an asset to Dhai," Dasai said. "You're a fighter. You can see past hazing wards. You think these sanisi are interested in you for your own sake? No. They are owned body and soul by the Patron of Saiduan. We are nothing to them. Dhai is nothing. And those creatures that stepped so easily into the great hall of Kuonrada are going to be descending on Dhai. Your place is Dhai. I am getting you away from here before the Patron demands that you stay. Because if he demands it of me, I will have no choice but to honor him. Do you understand now?"
  
  "No. Who were those men in the banquet hall, Ora Dasai? Where are the invaders coming from?"
  
  "You're willful, and arrogant," Dasai said. "That will either save you or ruin you. I hope I'm no longer living when you find out which."
  
  "Ora Dasai, you can't –"
  
  "I can. You're dismissed."
  
  Roh spent his evening penning letters and watching the light fade from the world outside. What would happen if he went back to Dhai? Would he spend the rest of his life telling this story, about dancing with the Saiduan and talking to sanisi and then… farming in Dhai?
  
  Kihin returned from the archives a few hours after dark. It got dark terribly early now.
  
  "Has Ora Dasai told you?" Roh asked.
  
  "Yes," Kihin said. "It doesn't matter. I'll be gone before then."
  
  "What do you mean?"
  
  "You should know something, Roh," Kihin said. "Luna and I are going to run away together."
  
  "What? Where?"
  
  "To Dhai, eventually," Kihin said. "Someone needs to stand up to the Kai."
  
  "But," Roh tried to wrap his head around what he knew of Kihin. "Luna is a boy. I didn't think you –"
  
  "He's ataisa," Kihin said. "We're in love, like Hahko and Faith Ahya. You'll see. We'll remake the country."
  
  Roh wasn't sure what to say.
  
  "Be happy for us, Roh," Kihin said.
  
  "I… all right," Roh said. "Have you talked to Ora Dasai? What will Maralah say? Doesn't she own Luna?"
  
  "We're not going to ask permission. We're just going to go. I wanted to tell someone. Before we ran away. So my father knows I'm not dead. But don't say anything yet. Luna has to get well. I didn't tell anyone about you sneaking off with Abas. Please keep this secret?"
  
  "I will," Roh said. "Just, be careful, Kihin."
  
  "Ora Dasai always thought it would be you who ran off. He's going to be really surprised."
  
  Surprised wasn't the word Roh would use.
  
  Kihin went to bed.
  
  Roh lay awake another half hour. Even Kihin was making his own fate. But Roh's world was spinning back to Dhai again, back to some orchard, the life of a farmer. And he didn't know how to stop it.
  
  Roh woke from a dream of sparrows. They swarmed his body, pecking at his flesh, tearing away strips of meat until they flayed him alive.
  
  Kihin shook him. "We're summoned, Roh," he said.
  
  "What? By who?"
  
  "The Patron's summoned us," Dasai said from the doorway. Nioni and Aramey were behind him, arguing.
  
  Roh rubbed his eyes. "But why –"
  
  "Come, get Ora Chali," Dasai called. "We have sanisi waiting on us."
  
  Roh threw off his blanket. He slipped on his boots and ran into the common room, expecting to see Kadaan. But the three sanisi weren't familiar.
  
  "Is this all of you?" the eldest sanisi said.
  
  Chali stumbled into the room, pulling on his coat.
  
  "He's the last," another of the sanisi said. "Let's proceed."
  
  Roh's stomach knotted. Why did the Patron want to see them? He glanced at Dasai. Had he shared the book they got from Shodav with the Patron yet?
  
  The sanisi led them on a winding route through Kuonrada, down narrow corridors and up twisting stairwells. They went up and up. Finally they came to an amberwood door banded in iron. The sanisi in the lead opened it.
  
  They walked into a broad room with a stunning view of the tundra and the hulking mountains in the far distance. The room itself was lush, dominated by a massive bed. He saw Saiduan writing on the ceiling, and around the tops of the walls, all gilted in gold. Despite the bank of windows, the room was warm. A fire crackled in the massive hearth opposite the windows.
  
  The Patron stood with four more sanisi at the center of the room behind a long, narrow table. The table looked out of place. It was battered and nicked; made of hard, black wood. On the table was a single piece of paper.
  
  As the sanisi herded Roh and the others forward, Roh tried to make out what was on the paper, but it had been turned over.
  
  "Stop there," the Patron said. Roh was within spitting distance of the table. The Patron looked weary. He spread his arms and leaned toward them.
  
  "I will give you one opportunity to speak truth," the Patron said. "Then I will begin killing you."
  
  Nioni let out a little cry.
  
  Roh looked at the sanisi's' faces. He didn't know the four in the room, either. Eight sanisi felt like a lot of trouble for a handful of Dhai.
  
  "My Patron," Dasai said, pushing his way gently to the front of their group, "we would be most pleased to answer any question you have of us."
  
  "Which of you wrote this?" the Patron turned over the paper.
  
  Roh winced. It was the letter he had written to the Kai, the ciphered letter that, on the surface, looked like nothing more than banal talk of the weather and how terrible the food was, but once untangled with the cipher said… well, not much more. Only that he had not found what he was looking for. He thought it would be obvious who wrote it, but as he stared at the page he saw that in tearing open the letter, the signature had been smeared and part of it ripped away, leaving no record of its creator.
  
  Roh opened his mouth to tell the Patron everything – about the Kai cipher, the book they'd gotten from Shodav, his training with Kadaan—
  
  "I wrote it," Dasai said.
  
  Roh started.
  
  "You?" the Patron said. "Did you think me a fool?"
  
  "Not at all," Dasai said. "I accept full responsibility for this correspondence, and accept whatever justice, vengeance, or mercy you choose to grant me."
  
  "Do you understand what it is to rule a people?" the Patron said.
  
  "I do not," Dasai said.
  
  "Ruling a people means you are responsible for them," the Patron said. He slowly made his way toward the front of the table. "It means that when they suffer, you suffer. When you retreat, they retreat. It is a heavy burden."
  
  "I cannot imagine," Dasai said.
  
  "No, you cannot," the Patron said. "My intelligence officers know a ciphered letter when they see one. Give me the cipher."
  
  Roh reached for Dasai's sleeve. Dasai moved his arm away, turning it into a shrug. "I'm afraid I can't share the cipher with you," Dasai said. "It is not mine to gift. But I can tell you the correspondence did relate to the number of Saiduan here in Kuonrada. The Kai wished to understand how thinly your forces were stretched, so that we may assess the threat the invaders will pose to us. We know they will come to our shores soon."
  
  "I invited you here," the Patron said, low, "I fed you. I clothed you. I invited you to my own table!"
  
  Dasai handed Roh his cane. Roh tried to meet his look, but Dasai's gaze was downcast. Dasai slowly, and with great effort, began to get to his knees. Roh offered his hand. Dasai leaned on him. The old man grimaced. Once he reached his knees, he extended the full length of his body before the Patron and lay prostrate.
  
  "I am yours," Dasai said.
  
  Roh watched Aramey and Nioni. They looked at Dasai with expressions of naked horror. Kihin and Chali stood close to one another. Roh thought Kihin was trembling. Chali met Roh's look, eyes wide, and gave a single shake of his head. Roh knew that look, that gesture – shut up, he was saying. Don't run into this. Don't make a mess of it.
  
  Roh gazed at the sanisi. He called up the litany he would need; a vortex about the size of the room, a vortex whose heart he and the other Dhai could stand safely within for...as long as he could hold them.
  
  "I will not have traitors in my house," the Patron said. He made a cutting gesture with his hand.
  
  The sanisi beside him stepped forward. They took hold of Chali, and pushed him against the table.
  
  "No, no!" Roh said. Kihin grabbed his tunic. Held him back.
  
  The sanisi made Chali put both of his palms on the table.
  
  "You're the lucky messenger," the Patron said to Chali. "You are spared for one purpose. You will go back to your scheming Kai and tell him I uncovered his treachery and meted out justice. Tell him his spies are all dead, and I look forward to seeing these invaders destroy his country as they have destroyed mine." He gestured to the sanisi.
  
  They cut off Chali's hands. Chali screamed.
  
  Roh tried to charge forward, but a blue curtain of Para's breath came down in front of the table.
  
  "Take him out," the Patron said.
  
  The sanisi dragged Chali from the room, screaming. Roh heard his screaming from the hall. Dasai held out his hands to the Patron.
  
  "This is not necessary," Dasai said. "These are children –"
  
  Roh pulled on Para, so much so quickly his head buzzed and his skin burned.
  
  A wall of air thumped into his chest. He was flying. Roh smacked hard into the far wall. The breath left his body.
  
  The blades came down quickly. They took Dasai's head from his body. Roh saw a great gout of blood. Nioni and Aramey were run through by the sanisi flanking them.
  
  Kihin bolted between them to the doors, toward Roh. Roh clawed toward him, gasping for air. The air around him trembled. He recited the Litany of the Palisade to create a shield of air to cut off the sanisi from him and Kihin.
  
  Kihin slammed into another wall of air. Not Roh's. Roh heard Kihin's head crack on the floor. Saw blood. The sanisi descended on him. Black coats flapped. Blades flashed.
  
  Roh yanked the doors open. Four more sanisi burst in. Roh scrambled away. It was like something from a terrible dream. He saw Kadaan at the head of them, blue blade drawn. He moved Roh out of his way with a broad motion of his hand, sending a gout of misty blue air his way. It knocked Roh to the floor.
  
  The Patron's sanisi met Kadaan's group with a heavy whump of air and clash of blades and maelstrom of blue haze.
  
  Kihin lay on the floor, bleeding out. The air in the room condensed. It was like swimming through honey.
  
  Roh pulled Kihin into his arms. Blood pumped from multiple wounds in his chest. He remembered holding his own wounded belly, the way Kihin was grasping now at his own.
  
  "Don't die," Roh said. His voice sounded deep and syrupy in the thick air.
  
  Kihin's blood pooled across the floor. A dead sanisi thumped beside him. Roh flinched.
  
  Kihin struggled. His mouth moved, like a gasping fish. "Please don't die," Roh said. "It's my fault. I'm sorry."
  
  Kihin went still.
  
  Kadaan still stood, along with two of his sanisi. They had cornered the Patron. Ten dead sanisi littered the room, more than Roh ever thought could die. They were speaking too fast for Roh to understand.
  
  Roh looked across the bodies of his friends. Dasai, who had escaped this place and then died in it, Kihin who was spared exile and then run through, and Aramey and Nioni tangled together in a twisted heap, their work cut short. All for nothing. They had achieved nothing.
  
  Roh crawled over to the dead sanisi beside Aramey and Nioni. The man's blooded blade still lay in his hand, glowing with a faint blue light.
  
  The voices of the sanisi thundered in his mind.
  
  Roh took up the infused blade. Pain burst up his arm. He saw his skin blister. It was not his weapon, and he suspected it would punish him for it. He hefted it aloft. A cold litany burned in his mind. He wrapped the weapon in Para's breath and threw it with all his strength.
  
  The blade flew straight and true. It split the sanisi next to Kadaan, then buried itself into the Patron's chest. The Patron took flight. He careened across the room and was pinned to the wall above the bed. He huffed out a great spray of blood.
  
  "Kadaan!" a woman's voice, from the hall.
  
  Kadaan met Roh's gaze. It was a hot, terrifying moment.
  
  Kadaan's blade came up. He jumped onto the bed. He tore open the Patron's shirt. The Patron pushed at him weakly, grunting.
  
  Maralah burst into the room, blade drawn.
  
  She was just in time to see Kadaan yank the Patron's fibrous, pulsing heart from his chest.
  
  "Lord of Unmaking!" she said.
  
  Kadaan threw the Patron's spongy heart to her feet.
  
  They stared at one another across the long length of the room, the bodies of the sanisi and Dhai between them. Roh dared not move.
  
  "You can't take the title any more than I can," Maralah said. "Was this your plan all along? Because you won't ascend that seat."
  
  Kadaan leapt from the bed. His blade was still out. The Patron's body hung behind him, limp. Kadaan pointed to Roh. "I claim the boy as a victory spoil," he said, "He's under my protection."
  
  "You have no victory," Maralah said. "The victory is my brother's. He'll sit this seat before a sanisi ever will."
  
  "I will support Captain General Daonia," Kadaan said, "and you, as I have in all things. But this boy, this one thing, this is mine, Maralah."
  
  Something passed between them. It was a look Roh had seen them give one another in the courtyard, before a spar. Roh realized he was trembling. Waves of pain still ebbed and flowed across his hand, fire.
  
  "So be it," Maralah said.
  
  Only then did Kadaan sheath his blade.
  
  "How long do we have?" Kadaan said.
  
  "His army is at the gate," Maralah said. "You've made things much worse. We'll have to purge the harem, now. The nursery. I'll have Driaa activate our people below. And you – " she narrowed her eyes, "you meet my brother with me at the gate. Come. Now. Leave the boy."
  
  Maralah ran out of the room.
  
  Kadaan came to Roh's side. His hands were smeared with the Patron's blood. He took Roh by the shoulders. His look was intense.
  
  "I'm sorry I–" Roh began.
  
  "You belong to me," Kadaan said. "Do you know what that means?"
  
  "No," Roh said.
  
  "It means if they hurt you, they hurt me. If we are successful downstairs, that may mean something. If not, and I'm dead, well... someone else will try to claim you. If that happens, run. Go to Anjoliaa. Find a ship to Dhai."
  
  "I can help you downstairs. I'm a fighter, I –"
  
  "Stay here. No matter what happens. This murder, what you see here? These bodies are nothing compared to what is about to happen below. Stay here, puppy."
  
  "But, my brother –"
  
  "You can do nothing for him now."
  
  "I need to find Chali."
  
  "Go now and you'll die with him," Kadaan said.
  
  "Why did you protect me?" Roh said.
  
  "If she knew it was you who killed him…" Kadaan shook his head. "By law you'd be Patron. And she would have killed you for it."
  
  "Instead you own me? Is that better?"
  
  "One can escape slavery," Kadaan said, "But death is permanent."
  
  "You can't keep me from going after Chali," Roh said. "You try it. You try and –"
  
  "You won't run," Kadaan said.
  
  Roh pushed past him, to the door.
  
  "If you run," Kadaan said, "if you die with your brother, you'll never learn to be a sanisi. And that's what you want, isn't it? More than anything. Even now. It's why you came to watch me fight. It's why you came to Saiduan. You are not a boy of books."
  
  Roh pressed his hands to the door. His eyes filled. He wanted to call on Para and burn himself into nothing. He had made his own fate, and this is where it led him. To die with his brother… or become a Saiduan slave. He said, "Why, Kadaan?"
  
  "You remind me of someone."
  
  "Someone you killed?"
  
  "Nothing so romantic," Kadaan said. He came up behind Roh and gently pressed his hands to Roh's shoulders. "I'm sorry," he said, "but this is what can be done now. What happens after is up to you." He released Roh and slipped out the doors.
  
  Roh went back to the center of the room and stood amid a pool of blood and bodies. He sagged to his knees. He was shaking so hard his teeth chattered. He was better than this. Stronger than this. He took a deep breath, and forced himself to look at Dasai's headless body.
  
  Dasai's head lay beneath the table. The letter Roh had written to the Kai had fallen to the floor beside Aramey's body, tangled with Nioni's just to the left of Dasai. The letter was speckled in blood.
  
  Roh crawled forward and took up the letter. "Why did you do that?" Roh whispered to Dasai's still form. Roh still believed he could have talked the Patron down. He could have made up a better story. He could have been witty and charming. Somehow, he could have made this all right. He thought of Chali's horrified face. Saw his brother's hands still on the battered table, forgotten.
  
  Roh felt something tugging at his trousers. He jerked his leg back.
  
  Aramey's bloody fingers reached for him.
  
  Roh dragged himself forward and took Aramey's hand. "You're alive!" Roh cried. "We'll find Chali and -"
  
  "Caasa Mingaaine," Aramey said, and his fingers went lax. He lost consciousness again.
  
  "Who is that?" Roh said. He shook him. "Who is that? Aramey?"
  
  Silence.
  
  It took another hour for Aramey to die.
  
  Some part of Roh died with him.
  
  Lord General Rajavaa Daonia expected to hear a good many horrible things from his sister Maralah. She had been the harbinger of terrible news since he was three years old, when she told him their mother had drowned herself in drink and again in the icy river that bordered their equally icy village.
  
  When he saw her face as she descended the thorny spiral of the stairwell in Kuonrada's drafty main hall now, he recognized the look. The year before, she had borne the same look when she told him that their village had been inundated by foreign invaders with the faces of Dhai. They had butchered what remained of their extended family, including the grandparents who had raised them after their mother's death.
  
  Maralah was an ugly woman, which was a blessing in her chosen profession, but he still winced when he saw the look on her ugly face. Perhaps it reminded him that he was less handsome than he believed. Or perhaps it just made her death-look more distasteful. He had seen far more distasteful things in the field these last four years, but that face… that face still made him cold.
  
  They met at the bottom of the stair. His best friend and second, Morsaar Koryn, stood with him. Rajavaa rested the flat of his hand against his hip, and canted his pelvis forward. It was a southern affectation he had picked up at parties with titled lords in the south. Maralah turned her nose up at him every time he did it. But if it annoyed her now, she gave no sign.
  
  "Let's hear it," he said.
  
  "Alone," she said.
  
  "Anything you can tell me –"
  
  "Alone," Maralah said.
  
  Rajavaa sighed and waved Morsaar away. Morsaar grimaced. Rajavaa knew he'd hear of it later. Morsaar gave a little bow.
  
  "I'll see that the men are settled in," Morsaar said.
  
  "Thank you," Rajavaa said. When he was gone, Rajavaa said to Maralah, "I'm exhausted, can we make this –"
  
  She took his arm, and pulled him to her. She lowered her voice.
  
  "You're about to become Patron of Saiduan," she said.
  
  He stiffened.
  
  She continued, "Alaar is dead."
  
  "Whose hand?"
  
  "Yours."
  
  "Who, Maralah? This has your smell on it." The Patron's Minister of War had been killed six seasons before, and that left the Patron with Maralah as confidant. Rajavaa always wondered if that was her doing, or just happy circumstance.
  
  "One of the sanisi."
  
  "An oath breaker? Didn't you cast out the last sanisi to break his vow?"
  
  "Taigan's indiscretion was very public. In this case, you and I are the only ones to know. We've kept it quiet, waiting on your return."
  
  "No witnesses, then?"
  
  He saw her hesitate. Her large mouth firmed slightly. Just enough.
  
  "No," she said. "Just me."
  
  Her, the sanisi, and a dozen slaves, more likely. Rajavaa said, "You do have a way of sitting on the seat without wearing the cowl."
  
  "I could never harm Alaar," she said, "but others are not so gutless. He was going to hold our ground here. Kuonrada was to be the final stand."
  
  "We don't have enough to hold Kuonrada."
  
  "I know that. His sanisi know that. I believe he knew it as well. But it's been a long war, and he wanted to go out at a place of his choosing."
  
  "So you killed him."
  
  "No," Maralah said. "You did."
  
  "Milk and tits, Maralah, I can't –"
  
  "We're purging the harem and nursery now, and eliminating the sanisi who will not follow you."
  
  "I can't be Patron, Maralah."
  
  "You will," she said. "Who else is there? It can't be a sanisi. He only has two adult sons left, and they're in the far north, already targeted by the invaders. They'll be dead in a month. They have no army. Your force is the largest standing company we still have, and we can grow it as we retreat south."
  
  "It's not the right time," he said.
  
  "When you see what's been done upstairs, you'll disagree," she said. "His family is already slaughtered. If you don't take up this mantle now, this hold will descend into chaos, and what remains of the country with it. Divided, we'll be decimated in three months. With you to lead us we could last three years."
  
  "A year at best."
  
  "Three, if you take my counsel."
  
  He narrowed his eyes. "I like breathing too much not to take your counsel."
  
  "Then we are in agreement."
  
  "I can't, Maralah."
  
  "Lords why? You can't tell me you haven't thought of it. I'm handing it to you now, Rajavaa. I held this coup for just the right moment. There are people dead upstairs, my people. I have twenty dead women in this harem, and forty children –"
  
  Rajavaa stared at Maralah's bloody boots. She had done it, then. Done the thing she always told him she would. When she was accepted into sanisi training, she had sent him a letter, "Someday you will be Patron, and I will be your sanisi." A lifetime ago. It was her idea to leave their village together, to travel to far-off Caisau to become sanisi. He had failed the training – he was not gifted - and joined the military instead. Not because he had a passion for it, but because he needed to eat.
  
  Someday you will be Patron…
  
  He had never doubted it. He prepared for it. His men loved him. They flocked to him like bees to honey. He loved them like a father, a brother, a lover, a friend. He was all things to them. But he had not anticipated this long war of attrition, and what it would do to the country, and to him. For the last decade he had marched them to their deaths each day and drowned himself in drink every night, just like his mother.
  
  "I have the rot, Maralah."
  
  Her grip on his arm tightened. "You don't," she said.
  
  He showed his teeth. "They tell me it's the drink," he said. "Blew out my guts. No way to fix it until Tira's ascendant, and I won't last that long."
  
  "How long?" she said.
  
  "A year, maybe two," he said.
  
  "That's long enough."
  
  "I'll be vomiting blood before the end," he said. He pulled his arm away.
  
  She leaned into him. Pressed her forehead to his, the way she had when they were children. "I can get it fixed," she said. "If I tell you I can fix it, will you do it?"
  
  He choked on a laugh. "You're mad. There's no way to –"
  
  "Oma is rising," she said. "We are gathering omajistas. I have one out on an assignment who can fix it."
  
  "Lords, you don't mean Taigan?"
  
  "Alaar is dead," she said, "it's up to you to pardon Taigan. I give you a few extra years, and you spend that time keeping our people together. What's it hurt, if you weren't even going to have those years anyway?"
  
  "You would call him to help even if I wasn't going to be Patron."
  
  "Would I?" she said softly.
  
  Her tone chilled him. "You insult me," he said. "When have you ever had to threaten me?"
  
  "These are dark times, brother."
  
  "And you need my army."
  
  "Saiduan needs your army."
  
  Rajavaa closed his eyes. He could not bear to look at her face so close. It reminded him too much of their mother's face. He wondered if that was what made it so ugly.
  
  "Call your omajista," he said.
  
  "Come upstairs, Patron," she said, and pulled away.