Traitor's Moon

to join them. It was Sergeant Rhylin, and even in the warm glow of the torches, the tall sergeant’s face looked grey.
    â€œThero sent this—to be put on the pyre,” he whispered hoarsely, thrusting a small, canvas-wrapped parcel into Beka’s hands.
    â€œWhat is it?” she asked, already dreading the answer. The stiff cloth was tied up with a knotted thong and weighed almost nothing.
    â€œKlia—” he began, as tears rolled down his cheeks.
    â€œSakor’s Flame!” Beka’s fingers felt numb and clumsy as she yanked the thong free and unrolled the cloth. The smell gagged her, but she went on, unable to stop.
    Two black, swollen, fingers—first and middle—were packed in fresh cedar tips and rose petals. They were still joined by a sizable wedge of discolored flesh; the white tips of two neatly severed bones poked out from the raw lower edge.
    â€œMydri saved the hand, then?” she asked, spilling petals as she hurriedly tied the bundle up again.
    Rhylin wiped at his eyes. “She isn’t sure yet. The rot was spreading too fast. Thero worked a spell over Klia. We didn’t even have to hold her down.”
    Beka’s mind skittered away from the images that summoned, wondering instead if her commander would ever hold a bow again. “Thank the Maker it wasn’t her sword hand,” she mumbled. Climbing up the side of the pyre, she reached in and laid the little bundle on Torsin’s breast, above his heart.
    On the ground again, she knelt and thrust a torch into the thick bed of tinder and kindling packed under the logs. The Urgazhi sang a soldiers’ dirge as flames fueled by beeswax and fragrant resins leaped up to engulf it.
    The song ended, leaving only the crackle of the flames in its wake. As the thick white smoke went dark, a sorrowful keening started somewhere among the ’faie. It spread through the crowd and swelled to an uncanny, full-throated wail that rose and fell wordlessly and without cease. Her riders tensed, shooting Beka worried looks.
    She shrugged and turned back to watch the roaring blaze.
    The keening went on for hours, until the blaze had reduced itself to smoldering embers. Sometime during the night, hardly realizing what they did, the Skalans joined in.
    Beka and the others returned to the guest house through a hazy red dawn, hoarse, light-headed, and covered in soot. The quiver holding Torsin’s ashes hung warm against her thigh as she rode. In the end, they’d had to break the longer bones to fit them in.
    Mercalle was standing by the stable with the day’s courier, Urien, and his guide. The Akhendi had a nasty-looking bruise over his right cheekbone.
    â€œWhat happened to you, my friend?” Nyal asked, squinting at him with smoke-reddened eyes.
    The man gave him a cool stare and shrugged. “A slight disagreement with some of your kinsmen.”
    â€œSome of the Ra’basi support Virésse,” Mercalle told Beka, not looking at the interpreter.
    â€œI’m sure we’ll get it all sorted out by the time the vote comes around,” Beka replied.
    â€œCaptain!” a rider called out from the kitchen doorway. “Captain Beka, are you there?”
    Beka turned and saw Kipa looking anxiously around the yard.
    â€œOh, there you are, Captain,” she called, spotting Beka. “I’ve been watching for you. Lord Thero said I was to bring you as soon as you came in.”
    â€œIs it Klia? Has she—?” Beka asked, following the younger woman inside.
    â€œI don’t know, Captain, but it sure feels like bad news.”
    Beka could hardly breathe as she ran up to Klia’s room. Mydri met her in the doorway, balancing a basin full of bloody water and rags against one hip.
    â€œShe took a bad turn last night,” she told Beka. “She’s sleeping again. For now.”
    The bedchamber’s window was shuttered, the room lit only by the glow of a sizable bed of coals on the hearth. The stench of blood and seared flesh still hung heavily on the air. Thankfully, all other evidence of the amputation had been cleared away.
    Klia lay pale and still, thick new bandages swathed around her hand. Seregil and Alec slept awkwardly in chairs beside the bed. Judging by their plain, rumpled clothing, they’d been about their own business most of the night.
    Beka took a step toward the bed, then tensed as movement in a far corner caught her eye. Her hand