Merkus broke through the pines into the clearing guiding a stallion by his reins— Khojin had expected to see the Imperial messenger their scout had spotted. He got to his feet and crossed the clearing, avoiding being tugged to sit down and drink at one of the other campfires. While Merkus tied the stallion near Kairi, and someone made a toast that urged thunderous cheering, Khojin asked, “Where’s the rider?”

“Inalchi’s bringing him, but I’m not sure he’s the messenger we’re waiting for,” Merkus said, and patted the flank of his own horse as they passed by. “But pay up, you owe me a pouch of silver.”

Khojin raised an eyebrow. “I said a silver purse for the man who catches the messenger, not his horse. Unless you’re trying to tell me the horse was harder to catch.”

“He certainly was,” Merkus said, laughing and guiding Khojin back toward their campfire with an arm around his shoulders. “Inalchi scared the poor creature— it was quite the chase.”

Frowning, Khojin ducked out from under his arm. “What happened to the rider?”

Merkus scratched the back of his head. “Well, I’d like to tell you that he’s the messenger we’ve been waiting for, but since when does a messenger backflip off a rearing horse and land without injury? I think it’s more likely he’s a spy. After all, why else does an elite soldier cross the border?”

 They had barely made it to the campfire pitched outside their tents when Inalchi emerged from the woods with the messenger slung over his shoulder. Everyone stopped drinking and talking, looking at him with surprise. Inalchi stood there for a moment, looked a bit out of breath— a man in armour was by no means easy to carry— but he said, “Pay up, Khojin. He’s the messenger.” Having told them, he lifted up a rolled-up piece of paper. Considering that, a couple of the men lost interest. Inalchi started to walk over while Khojin retrieved some silver pieces from his coin purse, saying, “The bastard fights like a demon.”

He deposited the messenger rather gracelessly on the grass by their fire and rolled his shoulder as if it was aching. Merkus asked him, “How did you beat him, then? Exorcism?”

Inalchi paused in massaging his shoulder, then glanced at him sidelong. “He just stopped.”

“Stopped fighting?” Inalchi nodded, and Merkus looked confused. “Why, did he recognize you?”

While Inalchi shrugged and sat down on the log, Khojin finished reading the list of hides for the tribute that Inalchi had tossed to him. He watched the firelight shining on the messenger’s helm, until Inalchi’s curiosity  seemed to get the better of him, and he leaned over to drag the man’s helmet off. Long, dark hair flowed out like spilled ink. His skin was so fair that the firelight seemed to dye it thinly red, and he had a slender, handsome face. Inalchi was the first to react. “Oh, gods.”

Merkus asked, “Is that Prince Zhisen?” Khojin wiped his face, unable to articulate an intelligent response, and Merkus answered his own question. “Inalchi, what have you done?”

“I should have known, your average cavalryman doesn’t fight like that,” Inalchi said, and ruffled his hair with both hands in frustration. “Gods above, why wear a helmet if you’re hoping to be recognized?”

“Probably to avoid getting a bump on the head from the likes of you,” Merkus said.

“Shut up if you have nothing useful to say,” Inalchi snapped.

Quite a few of the men had heard Zhisen’s name and were looking in their direction, but Khojin was thankful that nobody was asking any questions. Like him, they probably figured that Zhisen had come to negotiate something, and it was not an attack of any sort. While Inalchi looked annoyed and Merkus seemed as if he was praying to the gods that Zhisen was not going to be furious upon waking up, Khojin crouched by his side and checked for any swelling near his temples. He assumed Inalchi had hit him there.

“Looks like you didn’t seriously injure him,” Khojin said. “So, it’s fine. He’ll wake up soon.”

“How is it fine?” Merkus asked. “Won’t he wake up and threaten war?”

Inalchi rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you hear a word out of his mouth in the market? He doesn’t want war, or else he would have shot Khojin.” A pause. “But his showing up here can’t bode well.”

Khojin let them debate about Zhisen’s arrival while disarming him. Like before, he had one dagger on his right thigh, another on his left bicep, and under his vest in a place he could retrieve it from if tied up, if he bent his head and used his teeth. But when he was closing Zhisen’s vest again, a small shining object rolled out onto the grass. Khojin picked it up: a white jade pendant with a cricket at the centre of the design.

It seemed like a strange thing to hide under clothes instead of displaying, but after a bit of searching he found the pocket it had fallen from and replaced it. When he was satisfied that there were probably no more knives left, Khojin rejoined Merkus and Inalchi by the fire to wait for Zhisen to wake up.