He continued to hail and they continued to ignore him. A body’s length from the gate, Meoraq halted his herd of women and went the last few steps alone. He would be calm. Threading his arms through the bars, Meoraq clasped his hands and leaned on the gate which Praxas boldly shut against him. He looked at each man who had perhaps come to fight him off. The only one who held his stare was Onahi.

“I have not released this city,” Meoraq said at length.

Onahi raised his spines slightly in acknowledgement. He did not answer.

“Praxas stands in the shadow of Uyane,” Meoraq said. “Open to me.”

“I am barracks-ward here, sir,” Onahi told him. “I no longer hold a key.”

Barracks…ward? Meoraq had never seen that title held by a boy older than sixteen. “What is happening here?” he asked bluntly.

“They’ve gone to fetch the governor. It won’t be long. He’s been boarding here since you left us, sir. I turn his sheets,” Onahi added caustically. He glanced behind his shoulder and stepped aside as Warden Myselo lumbered into sight.

“Open this gate,” ordered Meoraq in what he felt was an admirably patient voice.

Warden Myselo drew himself up importantly and raised a hand in salute, not to Meoraq, but to one of the two men coming up the tunnel behind him. “Governor Rsstha Tolmar of House Rsstha, a son of Lonagra, who was son of—”

“I’ve never heard of you,” interrupted Meoraq, and knew at once which was Rsstha by the flattening of his spines.

“—a son of Posh’ar, who—”

“I am Uyane Meoraq,” said Meoraq, lowering his own spines with deliberate insolence. “Son of Uyane Rasozul, steward of House Uyane which is champion to the city of Xeqor in Yroq. Have you heard of me?”

“—who is Praxas in the sight of Sheul,” Myselo finished, flustered.

Governor Rsstha gave the warden a tap of release that did not quite reach the man’s actual shoulder. “I have,” he said. His voice was ridiculously deep and full coming from such a reedy, workless body. “Praxas welcomes you, Sheulek.”

Meoraq leaned back to run his gaze over the bars of the gate. “Such is Praxas’ welcome, eh?”

“We are happy to make provision for you on your journey. House Rsstha itself shall board you for however long you desire to rest within my walls, but before I open to your conquest, I will hear your intentions.”

How easy it would be to argue. Meoraq had never once been given so audacious an order in all his years of service and he thought no tribunal in the world would so much as call him for query if he cut Rsstha down for making it. He yearned to say this aloud…

Ah, but even valid arguments turned easily to insults, which had a way of building to a surge of temper when Meoraq was tired, even when he hadn’t been four days keeping a herd of unwanted women ahead of the murderous raiders who may be in pursuit. So instead of parrying the governor’s demand, Meoraq simply said, “I do not intend to stay. I will speak with the high judge here. Afterwards, I have a short list of needs for your provisioner and as soon as they are met, I will release your city and go. Open the gate.”

“You will go,” the governor repeated. “You and your…party?”

Meoraq’s temper, none too secure already, slipped. “Take the sneer out of your tone when you speak of them,” he said, and Myselo took a broad step back, bumping into his watchmen. “These women come from this city, your city, and it was here just days ago that their own fathers conspired to place them in Gann’s hands for coin.”

“You have proof of this accusation?”

His temper slipped again. “I am proof!” he snapped. “Are you involved in this commerce?”

“Certainly not!” The governor’s indignation did not appear to be feigned. “Neither have I any reason to question the judgments executed at my tribunals! These women were exiled according to the laws we are all sworn before God to uphold!”

“These women were not exiled, they were sold! That crime is unforgiveable and will be rooted out at its source and if those roots go as deep as the Governor’s Seat, so be it!” Meoraq bared his samr and stabbed it suddenly through the bars, restraining himself with less than a finger’s breadth between his blade and Rsstha’s neck. “Open this gate or here do I swear in the sight of Sheul that I will come through it.”

The governor hissed at Myselo and retreated to an ignoble distance with his aide. The nervous jangling of the warden’s keys could not quite cover the sound of their voices, but Meoraq did not care enough to listen. He returned to his herd with an itch under his scales and paced among them, coming to stand at last beside his wife. Predictably, the women shrank away, leaving a wide space around him.

And Amber.

Activity at the gate ceased. Rsstha came a few steps forward, staring, then retreated again. More hissing.

Warden Myselo opened the gate and raised a salute. “Honored one, the governor wishes to speak.”

“Is everything okay?” Amber whispered.

He glanced at her, wondering blackly how close he’d come to being able to just do what he’d come to do and walk away. He shouldn’t have pulled a sword on the governor. A Sheulek was supposed to be the master of his emotions at all times and this was probably why. Fuck.

“Stay here,” he said and went to see what the piss-licker wanted.

“The barracks-ward here will take your list of needs to be filled,” Rsstha said with a wave at Onahi. “And to arrange your meeting with the high judge. Until that matter is settled, I must insist the women be confined under arms. Regardless of the sins of their fathers, they still stand convicted of criminal acts and have by your own acknowledgement been exposed to further corruption in the grip of Gann.”

“Insist,” Meoraq said. His hand flexed on the hilt of his samr. “Go on.”

“The human.” Rsstha tucked his hands into his sleeves, oblivious to all danger. “My guards will take it now, honored one.”

“I’ll split the man who so much as…” Meoraq’s hiss died in his throat. His head cocked. “What did you just call her?”

“Human.” Rsstha flared his mouth and hissed delicately through his teeth. “It is the word for their monstrous kind.”

“It is.” Meoraq tipped his head further. “How did you come to hear it?”

Rsstha’s answer took few words. Meoraq stared at him, at Myselo, at the ceiling of the tunnel (which had several disturbing cracks). He took six deep breaths and six again. At length, he released the grip on his sword. He brought his eyes down and his spines up. He looked at Onahi.

“Do you have a room where these women can be held?” he asked. Calmly.

“Yes, sir.”

“And defended, if need be?”

Governor Rsstha bristled. Meoraq ignored him.

“Yes, sir.”

“Gather your men, then. See that the women of my party are provided food and fresh clothing. A bath, if one can be managed. And hold that door until you are given my word to open, do you mark me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Meoraq released Onahi, who left the tunnel at a soldierly run, and turned to Myselo. He leaned in very close, taking up every step that the warden tried to put between them, until there was a wall at the man’s back and Meoraq full in his face. “You know my father,” he said.

“I, eh, I’ve heard of him, sir.”

“You’ve heard of how he climbed the wall at Kuaq.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Killed one hundred and eleven men, alone. Killed the Raider-Lord Szadt.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who am I, warden?”

“Sheulek, sir.”

“Who am I?”

Myselo’s throat worked weakly as he cast his eyes about for aid. “Uyane?”

“I am Uyane. I am my father’s son. I am the Sword and the Striding Foot of Sheul. I am—” Meoraq caught the warden’s broad face and forced him to look at him. “—the man who comes to you now from the ruins where your Raider-Lord Zhuqa laired and who killed his way in and out to bring you these women. I did not count them,” he admitted. “I will not say that I have bettered my father’s tally at Kuaq, but I will tell you this, warden.” He yanked Myselo’s snout down so that he could lean even closer. “I can climb this wall.”