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Ammadin turned on her heel and strode off.
When she reached her tent, Zayn was kneeling in front of it and cleaning a pair of fish with his long knife. She sat down and watched. He’d chop off the head with its two shiny pairs of eyes, then slice off the six long fins, slit open the belly, and pull out the thick white strip of cartilage and nerve tissue that connected the tail to the brain node lying above the heart.
‘Roasted in the coals?’ he said. ‘Or seared on a hot stone?’
‘Roasted would be fine. You’re getting to be a really good cook.’
Zayn looked up with a quick grin that was almost shy. Ammadin had to admit that she found it pleasant to sit with him, sharing a companionable silence in front of their tent, instead of being a guest at someone else’s fire.
‘How long will we stay in camp?’ Zayn said.
‘Not very. We’ll be heading east soon.’
Zayn smiled, a sudden flash of anticipation.
‘Are you as curious about the Cantons as all that?’ Ammadin said.
‘Oh well.’ He was concentrating on wrapping the gutted fish in leaves fresh from the riverbank. ‘You hear such strange tales about them back home.’
‘I suppose you would, yes. Do you know their language?’
‘Only a few words. In school we didn’t study the Cantons much, so most of what I know is just hearsay – tales of evil sorcerers, that kind of nonsense. I do know that they’re people of the book.’
‘What? Does that mean they use writing?’
‘That too.’ Zayn gave her an easy grin. ‘But it really means that they believe in only one god, like we do. It must be the same god, no matter what they call him. If there’s only one, then there’s only one, right?’
‘If there’s only one.’
‘Well, true.’ Zayn ducked his head as if apologizing. ‘But anyway, they have a holy book about God. Mohammed, blessed be his name, read it back in ancient times and said that it was worthy of respect.’
‘So you Kazraks still respect it? After all these years?’
‘Well, of course. The teaching doesn’t change. It’s eternal.’
‘But wasn’t your First Prophet a H’mai?’
‘Of course he was, but the Qur’an comes from God. Mohammed heard His words from an angel.’
‘Wait a minute. When you say heard, you mean the angel came to him in a vision?’
‘No, the angel Jubal came to him and dictated the verses, and the Prophet spoke them to his companions, who wrote them down. But he heard the voice of God, too, not just the angel’s.’
‘He actually heard the voice of his god?’
‘Yes. I suppose this all must sound pretty strange to you.’
‘Strange? No.’ Ammadin looked away, her mouth slack. ‘I envy him. I can’t tell you how much I envy him.’
For a moment she felt close to tears. Zayn tactfully looked away; he picked up a long spine from a poker tree and began using it to dig trenches in the coals of the fire. Ammadin waited till he’d laid the wrapped fish into them.
‘So, in this holy book the Cantonneurs have,’ Ammadin said, ‘did God speak to their prophets, too?’
‘So I’ve been told. I’ve never read it. Which reminds me. Do you know the language of the Cantons?’
‘Daccor.’ She paused to smile at him. ‘That means yes, you see. I know enough to trade and ask polite questions. It’s called Vranz.’
‘If you wouldn’t mind teaching me what you know, I’ll pick the rest of it up fast enough.’
‘The reading part, too? If I bought a book there, would you read it to me?’
‘Daccor.’ It was Zayn’s turn for the smile, but his face suddenly darkened. ‘Well, uh, if I can. If someone can help me learn how to read Vranz, I mean.’
He meant a great deal more than that. Ammadin smelled lying, a sudden acrid burst that made her nose wrinkle.
‘I forgot to get salt from the wagons.’ He stood up fast. ‘I’ll be right back.’
‘Don’t!’ She scrambled up after him. ‘Zayn, come back here.’
He stopped, stood hesitating in the broad space between the back of Maradin’s tent and the front of hers. In the glow of the cooking fire she could see him shaking.
‘Zayn?’ She softened her voice. ‘Come back and tell me what’s wrong.’
He turned around and walked back as slowly as he could manage and still be moving. He was smiling, perfectly composed from the look of him, but she smelled fear so strongly that she half-expected his shirt to be stained with it like sweat.
‘I seem to keep saying things that upset you,’ Ammadin said. ‘If something’s wrong, tell me.’
‘I can’t.’ He was looking her straight in the face. ‘Please! Don’t –’ His voice trailed away.
‘Don’t pry?’
He tossed his head, looked away, then nodded yes.
‘My first responsibility is always to the comnee,’ Ammadin said. ‘This secret of yours? Will it harm them?’
‘No.’ He looked at her again. ‘You know, I think I’d rather die than bring harm to any of you.’
‘You really mean that, don’t you? I can hear it in your voice.’
‘I do, yes.’
‘All right,’ Ammadin said. ‘Then your secret’s no business of mine. You have my word on that.’
He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, then came back and knelt by the fire.
‘I lied about that salt,’ he said. ‘We’ve got plenty.’
‘Somehow I figured that.’
They shared a smile, but Ammadin felt that something dangerous had just taken place. She merely wasn’t sure what it might be.
On the morrow the comnee packed up its tents and set out east, travelling steadily but slowly. The weather had turned so hot and dry that the whine of insects in the grass made Zayn think of fat sizzling on a griddle. Every morning, after the horses finished grazing, they would saddle up and ride until mid-afternoon, when they would make camp. Zayn fell into the long rhythms of driving stock, as soothing as drinking, and felt his life shrink to the motion of his horse and the rising and setting of the sun. He found himself thinking a traitor’s thoughts: I could spend my life this way, I could stay here forever. Whenever they rose, he shoved them away.
Inadvertently Ammadin reminded him that the Great Khan’s will still ruled him. They were sitting together in front of the tent when she mentioned that she’d been scanning.
‘Your enemies are tracking us,’ she said. ‘Two Kazraks, one older with a beard, one young with a truly magnificent nose, and then a sorcerer from the Cantons.’
‘A sorcerer?’
‘Just that. A middle-aged man with long grey hair.’
Soutan? Zayn thought. Out here in the plains? But Soutan was young and blond. ‘I don’t know anyone like that,’ he said.
‘Well, then, he must have some reason of his own for joining the Kazraks. Maybe they hired him to help hunt you down.’
‘Maybe.’ Zayn turned his palms up and shrugged. ‘I really don’t understand. I thought the people who live in the Cantons didn’t leave them.’
‘Not often, no.’ Ammadin thought for a moment. ‘I’ve never heard of a sorcerer travelling west, never.’
Zayn’s superiors had never heard of it, either; they’d sent him to gather information about Soutan for just that reason. Now here was a second sorcerer travelling around and following him to boot, along with the two Kazraks who had already tried to kill him.
‘No more ideas?’ Ammadin was watching him, waiting for him to speak.
‘I’m baffled,’ Zayn said, and quite honestly. ‘I don’t know who these men are, or why they’re following me.’
‘Here’s something that’s even stranger. Three female ChaMeech are following them.’
‘Good God!’
‘Unless they’re following you, too.’ Ammadin suddenly smiled. ‘If they are, I don’t think it’s adultery that’s on their minds.’
Zayn laughed. ‘I hope not,’ he said. ‘But ChaMeech are supposed to be fascinated with magic, aren’t they?’
‘That’s true.’
‘Maybe they know this sorcerer has some, then.’
‘Maybe. I –’ Ammadin suddenly paused. ‘Sorry,’ she said at length. ‘I just had a thought about something else. Anyway, I’m not sure what we can do about the sorcerer.’
‘I guess there’s nothing to do, except wait. I’m grateful you’ll keep a lookout for me.’
‘Why wouldn’t I? Every single person in this comnee is my responsibility.’
‘All right. But thank you anyway.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Ammadin stood up. ‘I’ve got work to do. I’ll be down by the stream if anyone needs me.’
‘Will you be safe?’
For an answer she smiled.
‘Sorry,’ Zayn said. ‘Stupid of me.’
With a little wave of her hand she walked off. He watched the fire and considered a new sensation: he cared enough about a woman to worry about her.
The Herd had just risen above the horizon, and in its silver light, Ammadin picked her way through the various roots, rocks, and thorn bushes that would have tripped an ordinary person. She sat down beside a stream and watched the water, glinting in the sky’s glow. Zayn had given her an idea, preposterous at first thought, but just possible upon a second. What if Water Woman were a ChaMeech who had managed to tame a spirit crystal?
By keeping careful track of how much of a spirit’s power she was draining, Ammadin had learned how to use the crystals in darkness. They disliked going hungry all night, but once she’d finished, an oil lamp or fire would feed them enough to tide them over till sunrise. She brought out both Sentry and Long Voice. She’d done some hard thinking about Long Voice’s possible abilities and commands, culled from the lore her teacher had told her as well as from her experiences with Spirit Eyes. She was guessing that the Riders were due to appear, and sure enough, in just a few minutes Sentry began to hum.
‘Long Voice!’ Ammadin said. ‘Open listen for.’
The spirit sang out. In the bone behind her left ear Ammadin heard a strange whispery sound, like sea waves hissing over gravel. She waited, listening to the distant waves rise and fall while the Herd eased itself higher into the sky and the Riders galloped far above her. She was just thinking that they would be setting soon when she heard the voice.
Witchwoman! Witchwoman!
‘Long Voice!’ Ammadin said. ‘Open lock on.’
The spirit sang three bright notes.
‘Long Voice! Lock on!’
Another note, and she smiled. ‘Water Woman,’ she said, ‘can you hear me?’
I hear-now you, Witchwoman, I hear, but faintly.
‘You’re too far away. My name is Ammadin.’
Ammadin. I hear you, Ammadin. Please, talk-soon-next. Water Woman’s voice was growing fainter, fading.
‘Yes, I will. Look to the Riders in the sky.’
Riders – Her voice vanished, swallowed in the long hiss of the strange sea, far off in the land of spirits.
‘Water Woman! Can you hear me?’
No answer, just waves, turning distant gravel. Ammadin closed down her crystals.
Back at camp, out in front of her tent, Zayn had already started a fire. When he saw her coming, he ducked inside and returned with cushions.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘The spirits will need feeding.’
‘I thought so,’ Zayn said. ‘That’s why I made the fire.’
‘Thank you.’ Ammadin smiled at him.
He was beginning to see her needs, a good thing in a servant. And yet, she was so pleased to see him smile in return that she began to wonder if she truly did see him as only a servant. He knelt down and arranged the cushions, then sat back on his heels and looked up. From his scent she knew that lovemaking was very much on his mind. Reluctantly she realized that it was on hers as well. He was watching her with half-closed eyes, smiling a little, as if perhaps he knew that she was weakening.
‘You can go drink with the other men,’ Ammadin said. ‘I won’t need anything more here.’
