It was a half-day worth of riding before they’d found a spot to camp beyond the usual patrol route of Imperial soldiers, and in a place on the way from the palace to their camps at the foothills of the Taaga Mountains. But this half-day turned into two days because of the market supply they carried with them, and donkeys were not fast by any stretch of imagination. So, although he and Merkus rode ahead to scout a place to camp, they rode back in the end to rejoin Inalchi and the rest of the men.

Khojin had fallen asleep at least three times in that time and was thankful that Kairi loved him enough to walk steadily so that he wouldn’t fall off the saddle. Every time that he was about to wake up, he heard the voice of the third prince— a few hours from collapsing of exhaustion— and startled awake. They’d never exchanged words before, only making eye contact at tribute ceremonies. He had mistakenly thought that Zhisen was just another Jirandai prince, although since the Crown Prince’s death four years ago, Khojin had heard Zhisen’s name more and more. He was attached to such comments as ‘master swordsman’ and ‘highly educated’ and ‘well-connected in court.’ It was clear from this new, proper— if uncivil— meeting that Khojin had seriously underestimated what kind of presence it took to spread such praise around. But it did not explain his other nickname: court executioner.

He was leaning forward against Kairi’s neck, her mane tickling his cheek as he watched the snow-capped mountains at the edge of the distant steppe, when Merkus spoke. “Why’ve you not breathed a word beyond, ‘this place works’ since emerging from the city gates? Did the prince steal your tongue?”

Inalchi was the one who answered him. “Can’t you see that he’s half-dead?”

“Half-alive,” Khojin said, and really wanted nothing more than to lie down with Kairi and sleep.

Merkus didn’t stop talking, probably to keep him awake. “I barely caught a glimpse of him between the soldiers, but I thought that prince would rather run himself through than take off his armour when you told him to.”

“If he had his head screwed on straight, he would have shot Khojin and talked politics over his grave, not made a deal to stop the fight,” Inalchi said, and Khojin couldn’t really tell if he sounded happy or upset about the fact that Zhisen hadn’t shot him. “Well, Khojin? Is it screwed on straight or not?”

Stop trying to wake me up, he wanted to tell them, but answered, “More than yours.”

Inalchi’s laughter was the competitive sort. “Oh? Let me hear that once again.”

“Wait, wait, fight later— look, that’s the place, just beyond those pines,” Merkus said, and then turned to shout over his shoulder at the rest of the men. “Beyond the trees!”

Well, now I’m awake, Khojin thought with a great deal of irritation, and dismounted while Kairi was still walking. His knees felt like congee, but he stabilized himself with a hand on her shoulder before taking the first step. Inalchi asked him, “When do you think they’ll send the request?”

“Whenever they feel like it,” Khojin said, and pointed northward. “But we can see the road from here, so whoever first catches sight of red-string armour gets a purse of silver from me.”

Merkus laughed. “Hear that?” he asked, loudly, addressing the warriors. “Whoever catches the Imperial messenger first gets a fistful of silver from Khojin!”

Khojin added, “I’ll catch him first and save you all the trouble.”

“As if I’d let you,” Inalchi said, and with a smooth motion dismounted his stallion just before they passed through the trees. It was likely to avoid hitting his head on a branch. “That money is mine.”

“My dice beat yours fairly.”

“I’ll ask the shaman if they’re loaded at home.”

Khojin laughed and shook his head. “Go on, waste her time, and she’ll curse you. Then I’ll be rid of you at last.” Merkus snickered as he joined them, looping an arm around Khojin’s shoulders. Inalchi smacked a low branch out of the way of his face. “And Togene will be pleased too.”

Inalchi made an exasperated face. “Man, how many times do I have to tell you that I love her?”

“Tell me as many times as you like, but I know you’re good for nothing when it comes to women.”

Merkus made a hissing sound. “Ouch. But he’s right, you know.”

With a sweet smile, Inalchi said, “Aren’t you my clansman? I should wring your neck.”

Dancing out of the way of his reaching hand, Merkus said, “Hey, if you weren’t trying so hard to bed his beloved sister, maybe Khojin wouldn’t gamble all the money out of your pocket, my prince.”

“She’s my fiancée!” Inalchi burst out, as if he was frustrated to the point of combustion.

“As soon as I’m chief, I’ll cancel your engagement,” Khojin joked, and ducked out of the way of Inalchi’s arm that was about to choke him from behind. “After all, you’re probably diseased.”

When they reached the clearing, Merkus took some of the equipment for setting up simple tents from the back of a donkey and got to work. While Khojin joined him, Inalchi asked, “Does our friendship mean absolutely nothing to you? I’m going to turn forty before I have a child to spoil.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Merkus said. “There are still, what, seven years left before then.”

As he drove one of the stakes into the earth, Khojin contributed, “If we weren’t friends, I wouldn’t know that you’re as well-travelled as a rooster.” He paused to hand a hammer to Inalchi, so that he could drive in the nail for them to secure the tarp strings. “Besides, who are you to complain about this? Yesui is sixteen. I'm more than twice her age."

Inalchi sighed. “So you always say, but don't expect my uncle to hear you out on that.”

“It’s his choice if he doesn’t want grandchildren,” Khojin said, leaving the rest of the tarp to Inalchi and helping Merkus with the next tent. “I’ll marry her, but on my mother’s honour, I won’t touch her."

“And from what corner of heaven will your heir drop?”

“Out of my sister,” Khojin said with a smile, “as soon as I find a worthy husband for her.”

Inalchi threw a rolled-up blanket at his face, but Khojin dodged and it hit Merkus instead. A couple of the men were laughing, most likely at them, but Khojin understood them perfectly. At least there was something to laugh about, even though he could feel that the fragile peace wouldn’t last for long.

When they finally sat down to eat, it was night, and the moon had been new the day before, so the light was only from the stars and the fires around the clearing. Their party had some thirty men from various tribes, but Khojin didn’t know any of them well except for Merkus and Inalchi. Still, against the Jirandai, the bond between the Erdeni clans was completely unshakeable, and they had no reasons to fight amongst themselves, at least not now. Khojin could trust any man who wore their furs and scarves without knowing his name, but he was almost certain that it was not the same amongst the Jirandai. Their court was full of deception, his father was always saying. Their palace was a den of snakes tangled up in lies and envy.

The only thing Khojin envied was that Merkus had more wine left in his flask. Merkus was roasting a skewer of chicken meat from the market haul— the party had killed about ten of the hens they’d taken with them amongst themselves. While he was prodding the embers of the fire away from his boots, Khojin took his flask and drank. Merkus scowled at him. “I’m roasting meat for you, and you steal my drink?”

“What’s yours is mine,” he answered, and drank some more.

Inalchi snorted with laughter. “See, you took his side earlier and this is how he repays you.”

“You’re both villains,” Merkus said, and snatched the flask back while Khojin was still drinking— some of the wine spilled on his neck, but he could only laugh. Merkus brought the mouth of the flask to his lips, tipped his head back— and his eyes opened. Khojin could see the vein bulging in his temple as he turned his flask upside-down to show its emptiness. Teeth gnashing, he said, “Why, you…”

Khojin was ready to get to his feet and take shelter at another campfire, when the screech of an eagle suddenly sounded from above. A few heads turned, but it flew toward Khojin, who lifted his arm to offer a perch. Powerful talons curled around the thick arm of his coat and a dead rabbit was deposited on his lap. “If only every eagle was Dalav,” Merkus said. “My bird always mangles rabbits enough to disgust.”

Lifting his arm slightly and quickly, Khojin signaled his eagle to perch on his shoulder instead, then unsheathed his knife and started to skin the rabbit. “It’s not the bird’s fault. It’s the falconer’s.”

“Yes, yes, Master of Beasts,” Merkus sighed. “Is there any animal you can’t tame?”

“One that catches him first,” Inalchi said, and tore a piece of meat from the skewer he was eating.

“Ha! Doubtful— after all he told third prince ‘come here,’ and it happened just like that.” Having said it, Merkus glanced at him sidelong. “You didn’t notice him up on the battlement, did you?”

Khojin tried not to sound irritated about it. “He must be an incredible swordsman, to kill six men so swiftly.” Inalchi didn’t say anything, but he scoffed. “I only saw that one of our men had been pushed off the wall when the dust settled. Perhaps it is a matter of wit. He used the chaos of the fight to hide himself and the dust to point his bow at me for a level playing field. He wanted the markets to open to us again, for some reason. I’d wager a purse-full of gold that he joined the fight hoping there would be someone to negotiate with.” There was a brief silence, but they were waiting for him to keep talking— he didn’t know what else to add, because he was sure that the prince was up to something.  “It was calculated.”

“I have heard that’s he’s the brains in the palace,” Inalchi said, not sounding very enthusiastic.

Merkus conceded. “He knows how to draw back a bowstring, I’ll give him that.”

“But that his skin is as white as rice is not among the things I’ve heard about him,” Inalchi added, and offered a longer wooden skewer to Khojin for the skinned rabbit. Before readying it to put over the fire, Khojin offered it to Dalav, and allowed him a few chunks of meat before taking the skewer. While he watched the curve of his eagle’s beak shine like gold in the firelight, he remembered the aura of blinding sun behind Zhisen. Now that Inalchi mentioned it, he had been as fair as fresh snow on the steppe.

The only thing Khojin had paid attention to was the look in his eye. They were a brown so pale that they looked like they would seem red if he stood before the Imperial flags. His gaze, though, was like an avalanche. Overpowering, unstoppable, and decisive. There was a power twisting behind his face. It was wiser to stay away from men like him, who stoppered their inner turmoil until it would one day break free with great destruction. But Inalchi is right, he thought. His looks don’t match his bearing.

He snapped out of his pondering when Merkus spoke again. “Do you know much about the third prince, Inalchi? My knowledge doesn’t extend beyond ‘clever.’”

“I only know that his mother was Emperor Haoda’s favourite concubine, and he has no children.”

“With his wife?” Merkus asked.

“With any of his women,” Inalchi said, adding more wood to the fire. “It strikes me as odd.”

Merkus looked puzzled. “Eh? Is he impotent, or what?”

“If he were, he’d be a laughingstock, not a lauded tactician,” Inalchi said, shaking his head.

“That’s true,” Merkus agree, scratching his stubble. “What about you, Khojin?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“Yeah, what do you figure about him?”

Khojin thought back to their conversation on the way to the palace and said, “He might look like an agreeable person, but he is condescending and sarcastic. Oh, he also knows Erdeni.”

Merkus blinked in surprise. “Really? Impressive. What did he say to you?”

“That I stink of horses and asked if I know the meaning of the Jirandai word for ‘bath.’”

There was a brief silence, before Inalchi let out a huff of laughter. “Condescending indeed.”

“He also keeps a stiff upper lip like the rest of them. Stone-faced like his father,” Khojin added, turning the rabbit over to roast its other side. “I cut his neck, but he didn’t even flinch.”

“You what now?” Merkus asked with wide eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” Khojin said, “it was a shallow cut.”

Inalchi shook his head, incredulous. “He’s going to lop your head off next time you meet.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Khojin said, laughing. “His flowing hair would make a fine handhold.”

“What a savage man,” Merkus joked. “I don’t remember you being the type to resort to brutishness.”

“Getting a fistful of the hair of a Jirandai prince would be a dream come true,” Inalchi said, drinking some more of his wine. “I’d rip it out in pieces.” Another swig, and there was a gleam in his eye like he was picturing it and revelling in that violent fantasy. “I wonder if he’d keep a stiff face then, or scream.”

Merkus rubbed his arms as if chilled and changed the subject. Khojin didn’t want to remember that field of piked heads, nor the sound of Inalchi’s blood-curdling scream back then. He knew they’d given the Jirandai reasons to hate them, too. What he truly wanted was for it to all be over. He was sick of fighting.

But he knew that his people were not.