"One worries," Shoka said. "As far as Ygotai, you say."
"And further! I tell you, bad times. Bad times. Time was, there was law up and down the roads. Nowadays you're on your own the moment you leave a town. Don't look for the local lord to keep up his highways! He's sent all his levies to Cheng'di."
"To the Emperor."
"To wherever the Emperor sends them. Mercenary guards everywhere. And no law. Good for trade in the capital. But terrible in the provinces. And a smaller caravan would be in serious danger. I tell you, you should have a talk with your young wife. You should have a serious talk, sir. Homesick is one thing. It's a very dangerous road. Very dangerous. If you'll take my advice, you'll go back to Mon and not spend another night on this trail, for your young wife's sake."
"We're all right," Taizu said sharply.
The caravan-master's eyes slid toward Taizu and lingered, carefully, with a little of apprehension as he took in details, one of which, surely, was the scar; and another of which was, perhaps, the overall look of her, in armor, with her little knot of ribbons and her hair shorter than a woman's ought to be.
He cleared his throat.
"We're honest," Shoka said. "You don't have to worry, master Yi. We're not spies. Ask me what you like about Cheng'di and I can tell you—but all old news. We've been away for a long time; and we're anxious for whatever you can tell us."
Another slide of the trader's eyes toward Jiro, who stood grazing beside their baggage—one point in their favor, Shoka reckoned: Jiro's expensive accoutrements and his own accent and his costly if worn armor fit the story of a displaced gentleman-gone-rustic, and that fit the pattern of political troubles, while Taizu's scar, her diction—which had undergone some change under his teaching, but which still was not pure heartlands—and her unusual and very businesslike gear—meant, perhaps, something other than bandit, but still something worrisome.
If they were both men, one might say—mercenary. Professional. And one might worry about the smaller one with the scowling face as one of the crazy sort, the sort that might mean fights in camp and bloodshed before all was done.
Which made him crazier than his wife was and the both of them possibly more dangerous than bandits.
"What about the roads east of Ygotai?" Shoka asked.
"Good as far as Mandi. Then chancy. Is that where you're going? Where is your wife from?"
"Hua."
"Hua!"
"How is it there?" Taizu asked. Her fists were clenched on her knees. She bowed, being polite. "Please."
"I can't say. I don't know." Master Yi bowed too. "Everything I know is from rumor. But they say it's very bad everywhere east and north of Mandi. You'd be advised to listen to your husband. People are killed every day on these roads. Terrible things happen."
Master Yi fell silent, locked stare to stare with Taizu. He gave a twitch of the shoulders then.
"The regency is still in power?" Shoka asked.
"Oh, yes. Oh, yes. That doesn't change." Another odd look.
"We've been very isolated," Shoka said, and held up his cup as the caravan-master's boy poured more tea. "Thank you. —You've traveled this road recently then?"
"Twice this year. Our last trip before the snows. But we met with a caravan in Shothai—" The master had his cup filled. "And they plainly warned us. It's profit. Profit. There's shortage in Chiyaden. Where there's shortage, supply sells. That's my politics. That's all my politics."
"Prudent man. Gods prosper you, master Yi. We wish you well."
"I'll tell you," master Yi said. "If you won't take good advice and go back—you'd be safer far to travel with us. For a likely man like yourself, for your wife, no charge, seeing you bring your own gear and I suppose, your own food. Out of the goodness of my heart I offer it."
Shoka bowed. "That's very generous."
Taizu gave him a furious frown. "No."
"I'll talk with my wife," Shoka said. "I'm minded to accept, master Yi. It's a very kind offer."
"It's too slow!" Taizu said; and Shoka said: "Excuse me," and bowed to the caravan-master, stood up and seized Taizu by the wrist, dragging her up and off to have a word with her on Jiro's other side.
"It's good sense!" Shoka said. "Speed isn't enough. We can go as far as Ygotai with this lot! Use your head, girl!"
"That man is already suspicious! If we stay around he's going to go on wondering and pretty soon he'll start figuring you could be wanted by the law and there might be some money in us!"
That was a thought, audacious and crooked, decidedly a thought on Taizu's side of the slate.
"I trust us!" Taizu said. "I trust you, I don't trust this master Yi and his people. They're barbarians! Gods know what thoughts might get into their heads. They could get scared if they get to thinking you could be wanted! They could do all sorts of things and if we're sleeping with them and eating with them there's no way we can defend ourselves! I don't like it, I don't like it, I don't like it."
She knew stealth. She had gotten from Hua to Hoishi, alive.
And gods knew—outland traders might not know his face or his gear; but someone they met on the road might, and might talk, and an outland trader might get ideas what his life could be worth in gold. . . .
In certain terms, he was more danger than protection to Taizu; she was right in that; and that both galled him and worried him.
"All right," he said. "All right. I'll agree with you."
She drew a quick breath and let it go without a word.
And he led her back to master Yi and bowed. "Master Yi, thank you, but my wife is shy of strangers, and I've humored her this far. I thank you profoundly for your good advice, but a married man, you understand how it is with wives—"
Doubtless master Yi suspected how it must be with this one. Shoka put on a rueful face and tried to look as embarrassed as possible, not quite looking master Yi in the eye, and not missing, either, master Yi's shake of the head.
"M'lord, I trust you know what you're doing. I can't urge you strongly enough,"
"Women," Shoka said. He bowed again. "I certainly admire you, sir." And as he walked away: "Four wives. That's truly amazing."
"I recommend the stick," master Yi called after him.
Taizu started to turn around. Shoka grabbed her by the shoulder and marched her over to pick up the baggage. He climbed up to the saddle as Taizu thrust her arms through the ropes of the bedroll and the rest of their gear, and started off, with yet another bow to master Yi.
"Not a word," he said under his breath. "Not a word, Taizu."
She managed quite well, walking along with her head down while they passed beside the caravan, picking their way on the brushy margin, among rocks and in and out among the wagons as one side or the other of the trail offered sufficient room. Caravaneers stared at them. No few leered at Taizu, and two exchanged words in their outland tongue and laughed.
It was not easy, that passage. He thought fondly of taking that pair who laughed and seeing whether their humor extended to a beating. But satisfaction was much too expensive.
Down the long, long row of wagons, until they were well into the clear of the road, and rounding the curve of the hill.
Then Taizu turned half-about and said, indignantly: "They were making fun of you!"
"If we want them to report us to the nearest magistrate I can certainly go back and teach them proper respect: that should get our descriptions up and down the road as fast as anything I can think of."