“What will we see in the empire? I’ve read accounts, and talked to merchants, but—”

“We’ll see no women, that’s one thing. I suppose you’ll like that.”

“Is there some hidden meaning in your rude words?”

“Do you think there is? You Silvers keep your women hidden away. You wouldn’t like your sister out walking around, would you?”

“I’ve already told you I don’t talk about my female relatives with people who aren’t kin.”

“I might like you better if you did.”

“It was a shameful thing that happened to my sister.”

“It wasn’t her fault.”

“You know nothing of the matter. You know nothing.”

Kesh knew that Eliar could not forgive him because he had glimpsed his sister’s face that night in Olossi. Bai would urge him to befriend the man as an act of kindness, or maybe simply because it was the smart thing to do, but that gate was already closed, and it wasn’t Kesh who had closed it. He’d have loved nothing more than to hear the other man talk on and on and on all he wanted if only the subject was his glorious sister.

“Heya, ver,” called one of the guards. “Here comes someone.”

Kesh whistled, and they tightened up their formation, guards slipping wicker shields off their backs. Kesh had a sword, but he left it sheathed. Surely bandits would ambush them, not march up in the open.

A trio of peddlers walked into view, each man leading a string of laden horses. They wore red caps and the distinctive tiered robes common among Sirniakan merchants. The guards relaxed.

Keshad acknowledged them with the believer’s salute, speaking in the believer’s language. “Peace to you, in the Name of the Exalted One, King of Kings, Lord of Lords, the Shining One Who Rules Alone.”

“Peace to you,” they replied, and there was an awkward moment while both parties slowed so as not to ram into each other. Kesh pulled his mount aside, and his company followed suit, but instead of simply passing upward the men halted. They stared pointedly at Eliar and the turban that wrapped his head.

Kesh approached them. He didn’t like the way their gazes sucked him in, like they were spooling for secrets.

“A cold day higher up,” he said with a smile, switching back to the modified Hundred speech that could be understood in every trading town he’d ever walked. “You’ll be wanting more of a wrap, if you’ve got one. More snow ahead of you, but the road’s open yet all the way across. What news from the empire?”

Sour men offer sour smiles, and one refused to smile, still squinting at Eliar.

“All praise to Beltak, King of Kings and Lord of Lords,” said the eldest, and he also changed to the trade speech. “Sarida’s markets are open to foreign men. Believers such as you will be charged a lower toll. As for ourselves, we hope for good trade in the Hundred, despite the cold weather. How are the markets?”