Under Heaven

His words drifted away in the thin air. It was cooler now, the sun low.

“Gnam,” said Bytsan, finally, “there is no time for a fight if we want to be away before dark, and, trust me, after what just happened, I do. Mount up. We’re going.”

He walked around the side of the cabin. He came back a moment later, on his magnificent Sardian, leading the soldier’s horse. Gnam was still staring at Tai. He hadn’t moved, the desire to fight written in his face.

“You’ve just won your second tattoo,” Tai said quietly.

He looked briefly at Bytsan, then back to the soldier in front of him. “Enjoy the moment. Don’t hurry to the afterworld. Accept my admiration, and my thanks.”

Gnam stared at him another moment, then turned deliberately and spat thickly into the grass, very near the body of the dead woman. He stalked over and seized his horse’s reins and mounted. He wheeled to ride away.

“Soldier!” Tai spoke before he was aware he’d intended to.

The other man turned again.

Tai took a breath. Some things were hard to do. “Take her swords,” he said. “Kanlin-forged. I doubt any soldier in Tagur carries their equal.”

Gnam did not move.

Bytsan laughed shortly. “I’ll take them if he does not.”

Tai smiled wearily at the captain. “I’ve no doubt.”

“It is a generous gift.”

“It carries my gratitude.”

He waited, didn’t move. There were limits to how far one would go to assuage a young man’s pride.

And behind him, through that open cabin door, a friend was lying dead.

After a long moment, Gnam moved his horse and extended a hand. Tai turned, bent, unslung the shoulder scabbards from the dead woman’s body, and sheathed the two blades. Her blood was on one sheath. He handed them up to the Taguran. Bent again and retrieved the two arrows, gave them to the young man, as well.

“Don’t hurry to the afterworld,” he repeated.

Gnam’s face was expressionless. Then, “My thanks,” he said.

He did say it. There was that much. Even here, beyond borders and boundaries, you could live a certain way, Tai thought, remembering his father. You could try, at least. He looked west, past the wheeling birds, at the red sun in low clouds, then back to Bytsan.

“You’ll need to ride fast.”

“I know it. The man inside…?”

“Is dead.”

“You killed him?”

“She did.”

“But he was with her.”

“He was my friend. It is a grief.”

Bytsan shook his head. “Is it possible to understand the Kitan?”

“Perhaps not.”

He was tired, suddenly. And it occurred to him that he’d have two bodies to bury quickly now—because he’d be leaving in the morning.

“He led an assassin to you.”

“He was a friend,” Tai repeated. “He was deceived. He came to bring me tidings. She, or whoever paid her, didn’t want me to hear them or live to do anything about it.”

“A friend,” Bytsan sri Nespo repeated. His tone betrayed nothing. He turned to go.

“Captain!”

Bytsan looked back, didn’t turn his horse.

“So are you, I believe. My thanks.” Tai closed fist in hand.

The other man stared at him for a long time, then nodded.

He was about to spur his horse away, Tai saw. But he did something else, instead. You could see a thought striking him, could read it in the square-chinned features.

“Did he tell you? Whatever it was he came to say?”

Tai shook his head.

Gnam had danced his horse farther south. He was ready to leave now. Had the two swords across his back.

Bytsan’s face clouded over. “You will leave now? To find out what it was?”

He was clever, this Taguran. Tai nodded again. “In the morning. Someone died to bring me tidings. Someone died to stop me from learning them.”

Bytsan nodded. He looked west himself this time, the sinking sun, darkness coming. Birds in the air, restless on the far side of the lake. Hardly any wind. Now.

The Taguran drew a deep breath. “Gnam, go on ahead. I’ll stay the night with the Kitan. If he’s leaving in the morning there are matters he and I must talk about. I’ll test my fate inside with him. It seems that whatever spirits are here mean him no harm. Tell the others I’ll catch you up tomorrow. You can wait for me in the middle pass.”

Gnam’s turn to stare. “You are staying here?”

“I just said that.”

“Captain! That is—”

“I know it is. Go.”

The younger man hesitated still. His mouth opened and closed. Bytsan’s tattooed face was hard, nothing vaguely close to a yielding there.