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company be allowed to pass unmolested.”
    “You have the power to order this?” I asked him.
    Lamplight lent his creased features a stern dignity. “By the grace of Ahura Mazda, I do.”
    “Ahura Mazda.” My voice hardened. “My lord Magus, I have never wittingly blasphemed the gods of any land, and I do not discount your long travail. But this night ... this night ... you owe any power you hold to the grace of Blessed Elua and the gods of Terre d’Ange, to Naamah’s compassion, to Kushiel’s cruel justice, and above all to Cassiel’s loyalty.”
    Joscelin stirred, at that. The Chief Magus never moved. “It may be, Elua’s child,” he said unflinching, his words an eerie echo of the Âka-Magus Gashtaham’s. “It may be. But it is the will of your gods that has freed the Lord of Light, and you are a long way from Terre d’Ange. Heed my counsel, take my offer, and go.”
    It was too great a matter to decide on my own. Though I was grateful to be alive, I was weary to the bone, exhausted in body and spirit. I did not know, until then, it was possible to know such utter weariness and live. The gods of Terre d’Ange may be merciful, but they use their chosen hard. My head ached from tears wept for the dead, and I had yet to reckon the cost to the living. Ah, Elua! To myself, and to Joscelin most of all. Still, my task was far from done. I owed a debt to the zenana -and there was my promise. There was Imriel. He trusted me. Whatever it took to see him safe, it must be done. Beyond that, I could not think. Turning away from the old man, I leant my brow upon the window-sash, gazing across the dark plain, scattered with fires like distant stars. “Joscelin,” I murmured. “What do we do?”
    He came to stand behind me, his bound arm clumsy between us. “Love.” The broken caress in his voice brought tears to my eyes. “I don’t think we have a choice. The priest speaks the truth. Will you order the captives slain, if they chafe at our hold? The servants?” In the darkness, he shook his head. “I couldn’t. Neither could you. And the others, were they to do it... from what have we freed them, if they become like that which they despised? For good or for ill, Blessed Elua has set free Ahura Mazda. It is his will that led us here. I think we can but trust in it, and pray it leads us out.”
    I tried to think of another way.
    I couldn’t.
    “I want aid,” I said, rounding on the Magus Arshaka. “As much as you can give, whatever you can give. I want horses, mounts for whomever can sit one, and wagons for those who can’t. I want armor and arms for whomever will bear them, and supplies, bandages and medicaments, tents and blankets, and provision enough to get us to the border and beyond. I want a mule-train to carry them, and hostlers and bearers. I want four Magi to accompany us, whomever you deem hale enough for the journey. If you have talismans or tokens that will signify the protection of Ahura Mazda, I want those, too.”
    With every sentence, he nodded, and when I finished, said, “It will be done. All of it.”
    “It had better.” I stepped close to the ancient priest, close enough that he drew back lest my nearness taint him, and I knew that in his eyes, I was still Death’s Whore, the Mahrkagir’s favorite. “My lord Magus, I swear to you, if you play us false, may Elua have mercy upon your soul.”
    “I do not lie,” Arshaka said stiffly. “Ever.”
    Thus our fate was decided.

Fifty-Eight
    WE DEPARTED before sundown.
    It was not enough time to make ready for a journey of such difficulty, not nearly enough, but our skins itched with the presence of danger, and all of us yearned to be free of the shadow of Daršanga.
    The Chief Magus Arshaka kept his word. Stores were plundered, stables looted to provide all that I had requested. When the doors of the palace were opened, we braced ourselves to fight or die, but the inrushing guards of the outer garrison hailed the Magi as heroes.
    It would have been a bitter irony, had I cared. I didn’t. All I wanted was to see us out of Drujan, and safe.
    Most of the zenana was going; only the Tatar women took their leave, rejoining such tribesmen as had survived, already preparing a hasty retreat of their own, no longer in favor. It surprised me, a little, that the women were willing to return to the very men who had given them to the Mahrkagir. Not much. The will that had united us had already begun to falter, and the call of blood-and