"Have a care," Besh said, as Sirj unhitched the horse from the cart. "The Fal'Borna don't like our kind."
"Nobody likes our kind," Sirj said with a grin. "Why should the Fal'Borna be any different."
Besh remained serious. "They are, and you know it. If they know of Lici and her curse, they'll be especially hostile."
Sirj nodded. "I'll be careful. Don't worry." He patted Besh's shoulder and started toward the sept, leaving Lici and Besh in the small copse.
Lici didn't seem to pay much attention to what they were doing. She sat on her cart, gazing into the trees, her expression unreadable. Besh eyed her briefly, then followed Sirj up the small rise leading out of the hollow, so that he might mark the man's progress toward the sept. Sirj was walking quickly, appearing a bit too eager. Besh had to resist an urge to shout to him to slow down.
He'll be fine, came Ema's voice in his head. He smart and he's strong, and he'll be just fine. Still Besh watched him until at last Sirj neared the edge of the settlement. He saw several riders set out from the village in Sirj's direction, swiftly covering the distance between them. He and Sirj should have anticipated that. The Fal'Borna wouldn't just allow a man to walk into their sept. They'd want him to state his business first.
"Damn," Besh muttered.
There was nothing he could do to help Sirj now. He had to trust that the younger man could convince the Qirsi that he was merely a traveler in need of food. He recalled pledging to his daughter that he would keep Sirj safe. Now, remembering, he scoffed at how arrogant he had been to make such a promise.
"Don't anger them," he said, as if Sirj could hear him. "Don't push too hard. Better we should go hungry."
He was still watching, trying to determine from Sirj's stance and the actions of the riders what was being said, when he heard a footstep behind him, far closer than should have been possible. He whirled around and found himself face-to-face with Lici. She had one hand balled into a fist and blood oozed from a fresh wound on the back of her other hand. He should have pulled his own blade free, but he simply froze, like a rabbit caught in the hungry glare of a wolf.
Earlier in the day she had appeared withdrawn, even meek, and both Besh and Sirj had been all too willing to believe that they had tamed her. Clearly she'd been deceiving them yet again.
All pretense had vanished now, and with it any semblance of submissiveness. Her eyes glittered like emeralds in the grey light, bright and angry, and she wore a cruel grin like a gash across her face.
"So," she said, in a voice as cold as death, "you think you can kill me."
Chapter 7
F'GHARA'S SEPT, THE CENTRAL PLAIN
Halfway between the copse of trees and the Fal'Borna sept, Sirj wished that he'd remained behind and left it to Besh to enter the settlement.
He could handle a trade, of course. He'd been trapping and selling skins for nearly sixteen years. He could deal with the Fal'Borna as well. They might hate the Mettai, but gold was gold and trade in the Southlands crossed all boundaries.
But Besh wanted him to learn what he could of the merchant, of this Brint HedFarren, who had bought Lici's baskets. Sirj didn't do well with people, at least not with people he didn't know. That was Besh's strength, and Elica's as well. Even Mihas, his eldest, was better than he at making conversation and winning people's trust.
He very nearly turned around and went back to the hollow where Besh and Lici waited for him. But Besh was old to be wandering so far from Mettai lands, and his appearance in the settlement would have raised more questions than Sirj's. And the last thing they needed was to draw attention to themselves and to Lici. Reluctantly, he continued toward the settlement.
He'd had few dealings with the Fal'Borna, none of them in Qirsi lands. They were said to be a hard people-arrogant, cold, fearsome in battle. Those Fal'Borna he'd encountered in the marketplaces of Kirayde and other Mettai villages around the Companion Lakes had struck him this way. They showed little humor; they rarely even smiled. It always seemed to Sirj that they charged too much for their goods and refused to entertain even the most reasonable counteroffers. He scoured his memory, but he couldn't remember a single pleasant exchange with a Fal'Borna peddler.
"That bodes well," he muttered under his breath.
Fortunately, Besh had taken a good deal of gold from Lici's but before leaving Kirayde, and Lici had been carrying a great deal more when they found her near Sentaya. He'd pay a lot for the food he bought this day, but they could afford it.
As he approached the sept he realized that it was smaller than he'd expected it to be. There were perhaps a hundred shelters clustered near a meandering stream. Beyond them he could see a large paddock holding several dozen horses and a series of rectangular plots of land that were now bare, where the Fal'Borna probably had grown their crops.
He hadn't yet reached the shelters when four figures ran to the paddock, leaped onto horses, and started riding in his direction. All of them carried spears. With his heart abruptly pounding in his chest, Sirj raised a hand in greeting. The riders, all of them men, halted a short distance from him.
"Stop there, dark-eye," one of the men called.
Sirj stopped and lowered his hand. Lici's horse let out a low whinny, and he stroked her nose, all the while keeping his eyes on the Fal'Borna.
"Who are you?" the man demanded. "What do you want here?"
"My name is Sirj," he said. "I come from Kirayde. It's a village on Ravens Wash, near the Companion Lakes. I was hoping to buy some food."
Too late, it occurred to him that he had been planning to buy a good deal of food, far more than a lone traveler would need. Probably he would be better off buying some here, and then finding another sept in which they could buy more. It wasn't an appealing proposition, but he thought it wiser to risk a second encounter with the Fal'Borna than to raise the suspicions of these folk. That is, if he survived this first encounter.
"Kirayde," the man said. "I don't know that place."
He tried to smile; failed. "It's very small."
"Are you Mettai, Sirj?"
For just an instant, Sirj thought about denying it. It quickly occurred to him, though, that the men had only to look at the back of his hand and see the scars there to know the truth.
"Yes, I am," he said.
"What do you have in the carry sack?"
Did these men know about Lici and her baskets? Is that why they were asking these questions and keeping their distance?"
"A second overshirt, a change of clothes, some rope, a waterskin, what little food I have left, and… and a pouch of gold."
"That's all?"
"That's all."
"Then you won't mind opening the sack and showing us."
They were as much as calling him a liar, but Sirj didn't say anything. He merely opened the sack and began to pull out every item it held. When he was done, he held it upside down and shook it.
"Satisfied?" he asked.
"I believe that your sack contains nothing more than what you told us it did," the Fal'Borna said. "But I still can't allow you to enter F'Ghara's Sept.
"Why not?"
"Our people have had dealings with the Mettai in recent turns. We know how dangerous your kind can be. Any of the things you just pulled out of your carry sack could be cursed."
"Cursed?" he said, trying to sound surprised. But inwardly he despaired. They did know about Lici. He'd buy no food here, or anywhere on the plain for that matter.