“Get out!”

And so on, one grumbling as he slid out into the rain and another ducking under to take his turn, and then another, and another, men too wet to sleep or perhaps he had truly fallen into one of the hells where the rains, like lust and fear, could never slacken. The watchful boy swayed with exhaustion, and Shai took on more and more of the weight, sure that if the boy dropped he would be murdered right there for slacking his duty. His thoughts turned numb, the night blurred, but at length the rain eased and no more men came. The sergeant returned to chase out a girl.

“Eh! I want a dry cover for my head. Here, you, filthy slave. Get out. I’m going to sleep.”

She crawled out and lay curled in a ball off to one side with drizzle spitting over her. She’d been wearing a taloos—women’s garb—but the cloth was bunched up. The soles of her feet showed pale in the darkness. Shai eased the ache in his back by shifting. Wasn’t there a way to hook the canvas up so the water didn’t pool? He stretched, stood tiptoe, found a way to loop the guide-rope once around the stub of a broken branch. Carefully, he loosened his hold. Nodded to the boy who, waking from a standing doze, cautiously released his hold on his corner.

The lean-to held. Within, the sergeant snored peacefully.

The air had a thick texture, heavy enough to spoon; he’d never tasted so much moisture on the wind in his life. Kartu was desert country, the town alive because of its miraculous spring, which was said to rise from the heel print of the Merciful One walking the path of enlightenment, whatever that meant.

The ghost drifted in front of him, gesturing with open palms, trying to get him to listen to her, although her voice was a thread so fine he could not distinguish words. Had the blows to his head and back damaged his hearing?

“Uh, uh.” The girl who had been used under the shelter started crawling.

He wasn’t sure where she meant to go, but he leaned down to grasp her shoulders. Feeling her go rigid when he touched her was worse than being kicked.

“Here, now,” he whispered. “I’m just helping you.”

He eased her to her feet. She would have fallen without his arm braced around her back. He moved her toward the other captives, hoping he didn’t trip over anyone in the dark.

“Uh, uh, uh.” Her grunts were soft, a palliative against the pain, and he heard them only because she was pressed against him. He glanced back. Where had the watchful boy gone?

But it was all dark. They were lost in night. He had fallen into one of the hells, among demons.

BEFORE DAWN, SOLDIERS whipped the captives into line. Shai helped the shuddering girl to her feet. She was young, fifteen or sixteen, although it was hard to tell with her body made slight by lack of food. She flinched at everything, even his efforts to help her. Her hair was matted, her fingernails caked with dirt as though she had been digging with her hands. She could barely walk.