Traitor's Moon

trouble.
    They set off on foot as thunder wandered ever closer across the valley. Nyal headed south, pointing out tupas of various lesser clans as they went. He seemed to know a bit about all of them and shared a few amusing stories along the way. As they passed the outskirts of Akhendi tupa, she was tempted to ask more about the khirnari’s wife but resisted the urge.
    Most of the city was uninhabited, and the further they got from the center of it, the more overgrown the streets became. The grass grew longer here, and mud swallows had built nests in the corners of open windows.
    One place looked very much like another to Beka, but Nyal seemed to have a particular destination in mind. This turned out to be a deserted neighborhood in the southern part of the city, one more silent and peculiar than any she’d seen so far.
    â€œHere’s a place I think you’ll enjoy,” he announced at last, leading her into a broad thoroughfare where scrubby bushes were taking back the open spaces.
    She glanced around nervously. “I thought I’d gotten used to the feel of Sarikali, but this is different. Stronger.”
    â€œWe call it the Haunted City,” Nyal replied. “The magic works differently here. Can you feel it?”
    â€œI feel
something
.” Whether it was the magic of the place, the impending storm, or the way his arm occasionally brushed hers as they walked, she suddenly felt hot and restless. Pausing, she pulled the tunic off over her head, caring little that the loose linen shirt underneath was stained with sweat and metal tarnish. Tugging it free of her breeches, she undid the neck lacings to let the quickening breeze cool her skin. Like most of her female riders, she didn’t bother with binding her breasts when not in the field. Glancing his way, she saw an enigmatic smile on his lips and knew that she had his attention. Alone with him here, she had to admit at last that she liked it.
    â€œThis is a very special place,” he continued. “The Bash’wai who lived here simply walked away one day, leaving everything they owned behind.”
    They entered one of the houses and passed through an empty gallery to a fountain court. A stone table near the leaf-choked basin was set for six, complete with cups and cracked plates of fine red porcelain. A tarnished silver pitcher stood in the center, its interior still stained with the wine that had dried away countless years before. Beyond the courtyard lay a bedchamber. The furnishings were rotted with age, but a carved wooden tray on a chest still held a collection of gold jewelry, as if the woman who’d owned them had just taken them off before her bath.
    â€œWhy haven’t thieves carried all this away?” Beka asked, picking up a brooch.
    â€œNo one dares rob the dead. One of my aunts loves to tell the story of a woman who found a ring here that was so beautiful she couldn’t resist taking it. Her clan went home soon after and almost immediately she began to suffer nightmares. They became so powerful and terrifying that at last she threw the ring into a river. When she returned to Sarikali the following year, that ring was lying exactly where she’d found it.”
    Returning the brooch to the tray, Beka gave him a look of mock disapproval. “I think you brought me here to scare me, Ra’basi.”
    Nyal took her hand in his, stroking it with long fingers. “And why should I attempt such a thing with a brave Skalan captain?”
    His touch sent a sensuous tingle up her arm, stronger than before.
    â€œTo test my bravery, perhaps?” she teased. “Or to create the opportunity to offer comfort?”
    Looking into those clear hazel eyes, she felt another jolt of sensual anticipation; there was no mistaking the passion kindling there, or the open affection. It would be so easy to close the distance between her lips and his, she thought, as if gauging an arrow’s flight. Without further thought, she kissed him.
    She’d wanted this—wanted him—from the instant she’d laid eyes on him at Gedre. Now she let her hands roam, greedily exploring the hard, responsive body pressed to hers. His mouth was as sweet as she’d imagined, and when he pulled her close she buried her fingers in his hair, nipping his lower lip.
    His hands slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, encircling her bare waist above her sword belt, working their way slowly higher.
    â€œLovely