“The captain must know,” said Chaji. “I send Seren and Tam to follow the spy. Avisha, return to our own compound. Tell Chief Deze what we saw. You and I—” He indicated Keshad. “—we go to the Ri Amarah compound, find the captain.”

Avisha admired the swift way Chaji took control of the situation, but Keshad balked. “Are you perhaps overreacting?”

The Qin were not in general demonstrative men. Chaji’s look of scorn flashed quickly, and was hidden at once. “From the empire, there is always danger to the captain. Even a tailman knows this. Avisha, you go quickly, yes?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly, not sure if his dazzling gaze was offered in praise or just because he was tense.

“Eiya!” muttered Keshad. “We’ll do as you say, but I know the city better, I’ll be able to retrace the spy’s trail. Send the others to follow the captain. You and I follow the beggar.”

“You try to escape, maybe?” Chaji said with a grin. “You try, I enjoy chasing you down.” He sent Seren and Tam off after the captain, then grabbed Keshad’s elbow and dragged him through the gate with Umar trotting behind, leaving her alone, the center of stares, a girl who consorted with outlanders and accepted their smiles.

“Trying to get a husband?” said a young laborer, passing her with a long-handled adze braced across his broad shoulders. “I’ll interview you, lass. They say the Qin soldiers have nubs instead of good sharp tools. Don’t waste that pretty face on them. Come by the carpenters’ guild house. Ask for Keness.”

“Leave her be,” said his older companion. “Don’t insult the lass. Anyway, the outlanders saved us, in case you forgot.”

“I don’t like the way they look. Cursed proud, if you ask me. Still, I suppose the coin is good, neh?”

She ran away into the crowd, tears burning. Of course the Qin didn’t worry she would run away from them: The coin was good; she had no better option. No use crying about it. She was protecting the children and doing what she must, and it wasn’t as if the Qin were so bad. Mai had been good to her! She was fortunate to have fallen in with them.

When she stopped sniffling she realized she had gone the wrong way and stumbled into a secondary market where men, women, and children were roped into lines. Labor gangs, being pressed into service. Half of them had fresh debt marks carved into the flesh by their left eyes, some still dribbling blood from a hasty job.

Their hard luck made her realize just how fortunate she was.

As men and women jostled her, she stopped, trying to remember in which direction lay the inner gate. Stunningly, an anonymous man groped her breasts. She shrieked, slapping out, but hit instead a woman carrying greens in baskets hanging from a pole balanced across her shoulders.

“Clumsy bitch! Sheh! And you a rich clan’s daughter in such silks. Not that you’d know what hunger is.”