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Eglantine, I thought, would have appreciated her sentiments. I was not so sure Ysandre would. It hardly mattered, anymore.
    We set off from Nineveh with a good deal of fanfare, and a special ceremony by the priesthood of Shamash. A fire was kindled at dawn and a brace of sheep sacrificed. I swallowed hard, seeing it; we do not do such things, in Terre d’Ange. Shallow golden bowls were placed beneath the gaping throats of the sheep, the blood carefully collected. Each Akkadian man on the journey placed his sword in the pyre, letting it glow red-hot at the edges.
    When it did, each man quenched it in the sheep’s blood, laying his blade flat in the bowl and uttering a declaration as the hot steel sizzled and blood-stink filled the air: “Mighty Shamash willing, let me next sheath my blade in the blood of my enemies!”
    Well and so, I thought; they are not journeying into Drujan.
    Joscelin watched the ceremony without comment, and uttered no prayer. His sword had been consecrated long ago, by his uncle, and his great-uncle before him, plain steel with a worn grip, oft-replaced. For him to draw it was an act of prayer. Until then, it remained sheathed. He wore a new coat, too; sheepskin, embroidered without, warm wool inside. I wondered if it were a gift or if he’d bought it. His hair hung loose, twined in small braids about his face, bound with bits of rawhide.
    I’d not seen it thus since we escaped from the Skaldi.
    It made him look ... Elua, it made him look like a renegade D’Angeline lordling, fierce and desperate.
    The priests of Shamash gave an invocation and finished, bowing deeply, dawn-light flashing from their gilded breastplates, inlaid with the Lion of the Sun. Prince Sinaddan’s men bowed in reply, and the Lugal himself, on a balcony of the Palace, raised both hands skyward, hailing the sun. It was done. We were ready to depart.
    “Blessed Elua,” I whispered, stooping to touch the earth, the alien red earth of Nineveh, of Khebbel-im-Akkad, “keep us safe.”
    There was no answer, though I hadn’t really expected one.
    And thus we were on our way.
    After several days, the plains gave way to lowlands, and then the lowlands to hills. Tizrav, grinning around his eyepatch, led us unerring to the shortest route. If he were going to betray us, I thought, it would hardly be here, in Akkadian territory. I rode veiled, surrounded by Joscelin, Amaury Trente and his men. The Akkadians made jests, none directed at me; fierce and bloodthirsty jests, hoping for battle.
    So they might, I thought; they were young. It had been eight years since the Khalif had lost an army in Drujan, and dared not try again. These men were young and cocksure. Nonetheless, when nightfall came, they huddled close around the campfires, peering into their neighbor’s faces and reassuring one another: Yes, we are men of Akkad, Akkad-that-is-reborn, we are brave and dauntless, and fear no shadows of the night.
    “They are fools.” Tizrav spat expertly through a gap between his teeth, making the campfire sizzle. He nodded companionably toward the Lugal’s men. “Fools and children, jumping at shadows.”
    “Do you say shadows have no power?” Joscelin asked slowly, in fumbling Akkadian. He’d come late to the language, but his Habiru skills had stood him in good stead.
    “Power.” Tizrav grinned, showing his gap. Firelight played over the greasy leather patch that covered his missing eye. “What is power? These young fools surrender it with every heartbeat of fear. And so the shadows grow, and take on power. What is fear, but courage’s shadow?”
    “Common sense, mayhap,” Joscelin said shortly, rolling himself in his blanket and making ready for sleep.
    “You know better.” Tizrav leered at me, despite the veil. “Light casts a shadow, the brighter the one, the darker the other. This is only fire, tame and kept. It will be different in Drujan. You will see.”
    I stared at him through my veil. “We are not in Drujan yet, Persian. Do you wish to forfeit your purse?”
    “No.” He shrugged unevenly. “Light, dark; it is all the same to Tizrav, if their gold is good. I have sworn my bargain and I will see you delivered. Lies, truth; I do not mind. Afterward ...” He shrugged again. “You will see how great a shadow your courage casts. It is all the same to me.”
    The hills gave way to mountains, the air crisp and clear. It was here that we reached the outer boundaries of Akkadian rule, and bid farewell to our