“They are open!” he said, wondering what kind of an idiot they took him for. “Silk is always welcome in the Hundred. No silk rivals Sirniakan silk, heh?” His chuckle did not elicit agreement, even though his statement was not flattery but truth.

“Seen you much traffic on the road?” asked the eldest with a sly glance toward the guards and drovers.

Eliar looked away.

Keshad lifted his chin, the Sirniakan way of motioning no. “No one in the last three days. Should we fear bandits on the pass?”

“The priests make all roads in the empire safe,” said the eldest, as if Kesh had insulted them. “But we hear stories in Sarida, maybe there is trouble in the Hundred, maybe some fighting with outlanders? You know anything of that?”

“There’s trouble in the north, but not in Olossi, where we come from.”

“Are there many outlanders in Olossi? Like us?”

“Not like you.” He wondered now why they wore red caps and not some other color. “We hope for a rich market in Sarida, eh?”

Another glanced at Eliar. “If you worship at the temple.”

“I will worship at the temple.”

They nodded, made their parting gestures, and took their leave.

Keshad got the men moving. Eliar waited perhaps four breaths before he began poking.

“What was that all about? What temple? Why do you think they were asking about outlanders in Olossi? Do you think we should return to Olossi to warn the captain?”

“Now, there’s a fruitful idea. Naturally we can easily outpace trained soldiers racing at night out of the empire armed with numerous weapons and a string of remounts. Who may perhaps be on their way into the Hundred to assassinate Captain Anji. So when they catch us hounding their trail, they won’t just kill us outright, do you think? I don’t either.”

“Why do you dislike me? What have I ever done to you?”

“Nothing.” And then, because he couldn’t speak the truth, he ate his anger and went on in a tight voice. “I apologize for my bad temper. This expedition means everything to me.”

Everything.

Eliar’s gaze drifted to sharp peaks so majestic that one might believe gods dwelt there, if one believed in gods. What Eliar saw in the crags and white-cloaked spires, Kesh could not guess, but when the young Silver frowned and looked back, his shoulders were taut and his expression scarred with something akin to grudging respect and a kind of weary pain. “Aui! How Miravia would love this! It’s noble of you to risk everything to aid your sister.”

“Yes, it is.”

Flakes of snow spun past, and the rest of the company plodded steadily behind as they pushed down into the empire, where fortunes might be lost or won.

A fortune he would win, to use for unselfish reasons, not selfish ones. Unlike Eliar, he would risk everything to save a sister. His own. And now Eliar’s. He would save her even if she never thanked him for it, even if that brief look they had shared in the inner court had meant nothing to her. Let others ride into Olossi on the trail of Captain Anji, if that’s what those men were: spies, Red Hounds, assassins. Let others argue for prominence in the city council, guide the temples, or stand in authority over the reeve halls. Kesh had his eyes set on a far more precious prize, the one Eliar had already selfishly traded away.