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“It’s true I made that offer to Henry,” she continued. “Because that was the will of the council. But those who wished for an alliance no longer lead the people.”
“Who leads?”
“I lead. I am Feather Cloak.”
“Is this the same position your son claims among the Wendish? He calls himself king.”
“Does he?” she asked, but it was obvious by her expression that she already knew. “Something like, in your eyes, I suppose. What is your offer? What sword do you bring to us?”
He shrugged, a movement that might have been designed to dislodge an annoying fly. “First of all, I have information. The Aostans are weak and divided.”
“The Aostans?”
“Those who live in the south. The Arethousans, too, have suffered grievously and are weak.”
“The Arethousans?”
“Let me proceed in a different manner. I have with me a map, which I can read, that shows the lay of the land.”
“Such a map would save us time and trouble, it is true. If we meant to march to war. But it is a long journey from these southern lands to those in the east, and the west, and the north. There is a great deal of wasteland to cross. It is an even longer road to Wendar.”
“So it is. There are shorter paths.”
“Ah.” She smiled in the manner of a warrior who has humbled his worst enemy. “You speak of the crowns. I know the secret of the crowns.”
“So you do, according to Brother Zacharias. Still, you were forced to walk across the breadth of the country through many lands in both winter and summer. I need not do so. I can walk where I will. I can cross between any crown and any other crown in the space of no more than three days. I can cross great distances in a short time. Who else has this power? Do you, Uapeani-kazonkansi-a-lari?”
Anna thought her legs would collapse, but she held steady. Disbelief choked her, and it was just as well, lest she cry out.
Traitor! Would you sell your own people to the enemy?
“This offer tempts,” said the woman coolly. Her tongue flicked between her lips, as though she began to lick her lips for a taste of what she desired, but stopped herself. “So I ask myself: what do you want? In the marketplace, no one trades without asking a thing in return.”
He nodded, but he was tense now, eager, held taut. He teased his lower lip with his teeth, caught himself doing so it seemed, and licked his lips instead, in an echo of her, blinking quickly and taking a deep breath. “I want only one thing. One thing, in exchange.”
The faces of the Ashioi were masks, their expression impenetrable, even those whose features were not concealed by the painted snarls and open maws of animals.
“I want the half daimone woman called Liathano.”
Blessing twisted in his grip and bit him on the hand.
He shouted in pain, shook loose his hand, and slapped her so hard backhanded that the blow sent her tumbling to the dirt.
“Little beast!”
She lay there, breathing hard. Anna hesitated, hating herself for her fear, before sidling forward to kneel beside her. The girl’s hair concealed her face, but as Anna smoothed it back she saw the mark of Hugh’s ring, which had cut the skin, and the deep purple red welt that would spread and hurt.
Blessing grinned at her through tears of pain. “I’ve been waiting to do that,” she said triumphantly.
All around them, the Ashioi laughed.
6
THE pale ones had little to recommend them by the standards of civilized folk. They were not a beautiful race; they were too hairy, too pallid, too big. Of course they smelled bad. Yet the wealth of metal they bore was staggering. Each of the warriors carried a metal-pointed spear and a strong metal sword. All were armed with such riches. They stank of cold iron. Even the captive girl was shackled in iron chains as she stared fixedly with her eagle’s glare at Zuangua, as though she recognized him. She lay with one hand propping herself up and the other gingerly exploring the pattern of cut and bruise on her face. Her expression was a mirror of her emotions, and it took no great cunning to see the thoughts filter by the way she frowned, then smiled one-sidedly to spare the bruised cheek, then winced and cocked a shoulder as though shutting off a nagging voice.
Secha knew that to clad prisoners in iron was to be wealthy beyond imagining. It would be difficult to defeat an enemy whose soldiers fought with such weapons. The Ashioi possessed only stone and bronze, but they had captured a few iron implements in recent months. They knew what power iron held and how difficult it would be to learn to forge in the manner known to humankind. There was a kind of magic to it.
No one willingly gave up such secrets, not unless they wanted something very badly in return.
