She said, “In the tribes, such a crime is punishable by death.”

Sayan loosed an arrow and hit her in the belly. She grunted, but despite her evident agony, she did not go down.

“Stop this!” the envoy cried.

They ignored him.

“A man cannot do only as he pleases,” she said in gasps as blood soaked through her tunic. “Otherwise there is no law. Did you commit the act?”

Eitai’s answer was soundless, a sideways look through narrowed eyes, the tilt of his head as he leveled his bow.

“You cannot kill me,” she said hoarsely. “I will return again and again, and the next time I will kill you. See your fate in this mirror, that shows the heart of those who are guilty and those who are innocent.”

She turned the mirror’s face toward the men. Light caught and flashed. Sayan screamed with fear. Eitai collapsed in silence, his spirit taken.

Eiya!

The living soldier dropped to his knees and pressed a hand to the dead man’s neck, but such efforts would be in vain.

She stumbled forward. The living man shrieked. His gaze skimmed the envoy’s face, the blast of his terror like a cold wind out of the mountains. He bolted for the horses, and galloped away as Kirit dropped to her knees beside the dead man, grunting as the impact jarred the arrows stuck in her body. The fall had loosened the soldier’s topknot. Strands of black hair spread a delta of fine channels on the dirt.

She held her mirror a hand’s breadth above his parted lips. Breathing raggedly, she watched the mirror’s surface. “Is that his spirit? Caught in my mirror? How did he die?”

He had to speak, although he feared the consequences. “The Guardian’s staff—”

“It can kill. I killed him!”

“Vengeance is not justice.”

Her face was sheened white under sweat. She grinned, showing teeth. “The wolf pack picks off those in the herd who are diseased. It’s for the best.”

“We are not wolves. We are human beings, and we serve the law, not our own impulses. We do not bring down death with a casual flick of our hands. Death is the most severe sentence. It was long ago agreed that in death sentences, the council must be unanimous, all the Guardians must investigate such a serious case and agree, not just take matters into their own hands at their whim. The hells! Let me get those arrows out of your body.”

“Go away! I am not your slave!”

She grasped the arrow that protruded from her belly and, with a shrill yaaah!, yanked it out. With less difficulty, because it had already punched mostly through the meat of her shoulder, she pushed the second arrow out through the sinews of her back and, reaching under her arm, pulled it free. Weeping, coughing, mewling, she rested on her hands as blood dripped onto the dusty earth. The sinks of pitch burped like foul cauldrons.

He had no idea what to do now.