Zubaidit dropped the reins and crossed to stand directly in front of Joss. She stared into his face, as if daring him to look into her heart—or at least, to not drop his gaze down to the swell of her breasts under her tight vest. It was a struggle, but he managed it.

She took hold of one of his wrists. Her fingers were strong, her skin cooler than his own. “Every child who’s listened closely to the tales knows the Guardians can’t be killed. That’s part of what gives them their power. What if more than one Guardian has survived? Or if some are aligned against the others?”

Maybe he swayed, because her grip on his wrist tightened as if to stop him from falling. Marit was dead, but walking again in his dreams, claiming to be a Guardian. Was he crazy?

She released him and walked to the horses.

“We’ll go back with you,” she said, over her shoulder.

“Bai!”

“Kesh!” Her rejoinder was almost mocking. Her brother winced. There was a passionate quality in the young man’s heart that seemed about to burst out over the merchant’s chilly façade. “Keshad, what’s at stake here is greater than our freedom. We’ll go back and face the Hi-eros. Then we’ll seek out the truth about the winged horses people have seen, and the truth about people claiming to be Guardians.”

“Why do we have to do it?” he whined.

“Because you cheated the temple.” Between one breath and the next, Joss’s headache returned. “That’s a crime.”

“I can’t have known a mute girl I found at the edge of the desert in foreign lands was—”

“Kesh! We have to do it because it’s the right thing to do. Because it has to be done. Because we have an obligation to the gods, and to the Hundred. Now shut up.” She turned to Joss, all business now. “Is the road safe?”

“It should be cleared by now. The Qin are efficient and effective.”

She cocked her head to one side. “So they are. Let’s hope that wolf doesn’t bite back.”

She took the reins of her horse and, without a backward glance, began the long climb up the switchback. After a glance at Scar and a roll of dark eyes that girls might find pretty, the brother grabbed the reins of the other two horses and followed.

Joss watched them go. They had a hard trudge ahead, and he was already exhausted. Scar chirped an inquiry. Like their reeves, the best eagles learned to judge to a nicety danger and mood in any situation, and they were very smart birds, but they were birds all the same.

And yet what did he really know about the origin of the Hundred’s eagles? No more than he knew about the Guardians. He’d encountered strange things in his life: He had seen the eyes of a wilding at the edge of the deep forest where they hunted and lived; he had spoken to one of the rare delvings who walked out of the caverns of Arro into the sunlight; he had traded information with the nomadic lendings in the grasslands through a series of hand signs and stones; he had even heard the rippling voice of a fireling in its brief passage through the sky. He’d dealt with every manner of human greed and generosity, cruelty and kindness, anger and calm acceptance. He’d memorized the law, because it was carved in stone. He’d dedicated his life to serving justice.