“Vish?” Jerad cantered up, all gangly legs and arms. Aui! He was growing! He shoved the covered bowl of rice into her hands, and snatched the half empty one off the bench. “I knew you weren’t that stupid!”

He bolted back to Jagi. Without really stopping, Jerad grabbed the man’s sleeve and yanked, and tugged, and pulled, while the soldier stood blinking like he’d been blinded by the sun and could not quite make out what was going on right in front of his eyes.

Someone laughed.

Abruptly, Jagi shook free of Jerad, took two steps, then thrust the riding whip into the boy’s hand and strode the rest of the way. Not smiling, not today. He plopped heavily down on the bench next to Avisha. He seemed about to say something, but then he let out all his breath as he fixed his gaze on the distant mountains. He was blushing.

The bowl of rice Jerad had given her was still warm, because he had been thoughtful enough to bring it covered. Just as her father would have. She laid the cover aside and handed the bowl to Jagi, because if a man sat on the bench next to a woman, the woman had to offer.

Hands trembling, he carefully ate half, and gave the bowl back into her hands.

Any man might eat, but to seal the agreement, the woman must finish the rice.

Chief Tuvi had an important position. Jagi did not; he ranked among the youngest and least experienced of the Qin soldiers.

Chaji—before his awful death—had been the best-looking of the Qin, since he looked more like the Hundred folk than his comrades. The scars of a childhood disease pocked Jagi’s round face; he could not be called a handsome man, but he had nice eyes and a sweet smile.

Keshad, of course, had a bold, bright, intense spirit. Having met him, she would never forget him. Did she regret that he was never meant for her?

Jagi shifted nervously on the bench, and looked at her. Not accusingly, but questioningly, as if to say: What will happen now?

After all, a kind man is best.

She raised the bowl, and ate the rest of the rice.

48

The Qin had set up their main militia training compound outside the city of Olossi, separate from the camps in the Barrens and at Storos-on-the-water. For Joss, the journey from Argent Hall to the substantial military camp was an easy one, up on a thermal and a long, long glide down. The local militiamen standing guard at the gates waved him through. The Qin guards allowed him entry past the inner palisade to the captain’s office, a raised platform built of planks and covered by a canvas roof. Its inner and outer walls were tied up in a configuration that let through light and air while concealing the innermost chamber. Rather like the man himself, Joss reflected as he navigated the brief maze.

Anji was seated at a low writing desk with paper unrolled on the slanting desk, one hand holding the missive open while he mouthed words.