She gave him a long look, one he recognized, but he ignored it. If she meant to woo him, she would fail at it. That was one fight he did not want to have with Liaro.

This time, he threw her, so hard he heard her shoulder crack against the stone. She rolled away and came up clutching at her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Are you all right?”

She shook her head. “Give it a minute. Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. Just working some things out.”

“There are more productive ways to do that. Write an opera or something.”

“Do you want me to call a physician?”

“No, it’s fine.”

He picked up his tunic and went to the fountain to wash up. Who was he to tussle with a novice? What he really wanted was to pick up a sword and run Nasaka through with it, because she was only going to trade him the answers he wanted for some horrible thing she wanted.

Ahkio undressed and dumped a bucket of water over his head. His clothes, bunched about his feet, got soaked, but he didn’t care. They would need washing anyway. As he turned, he saw Ghrasia Madah standing a few paces away, staring at him.

Ghrasia came up into the council house from the rear entrance. The day was warm for high autumn, and the bad news she carried made it all seem that much worse. She had more dead bodies to bring to the Kai’s attention, and a recommendation she already knew he was going to resist.

She found Caisa flirting with Liaro near the hearth of the main room of the Osono council house. Caisa was bathed in sweat and laughing uproariously at something Liaro said. Ghrasia remembered how delightful it was the first few years she dressed in a red skirt and called herself a member of the militia. She recognized the girl’s easy confidence and open face. Chances were very good that Caisa had yet to kill anyone. She didn’t truly know what the sword meant yet. It was just an ornament, like a particularly fine pair of earrings.

“Have either of you seen the Kai?” Ghrasia asked.

Caisa sobered. “He’s out training in the courtyard.” She rolled her shoulder. “Nearly dislocated my arm. Tell him to take up poetry or something. He needs to relax.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Liaro said, standing.

“Don’t,” Ghrasia said. “I need to speak to him first.”

“He should be by the fountain,” Caisa said. “That’s where he was headed.”