Page 37 of The Summer Pass

“And you were supposed to kill him? Someone thought you could … ”

“Not in a fair fight, obviously. In his bed or … or by trickery some other way. I could certainly have done that.”

“But you didn’t. You kept that bowl he gave you—it’s your prized possession, you won’t let anyone touch it. You fell in love with him.”

She was looking at Lill with an expression of awe, as if she was both amazed by his story and also now, definitely, more than a little afraid of him.

“You can have the house to yourself tonight,” he said, taking a step backwards, away from her. “I’ll go sleep down at the forge.”

Vanu rode into Artayarasha’s camp with Mikhi beside him and Khatu following closely with the Zashian messenger. Their approach had been noticed from a distance, and there was no need for them to announce themselves. A guard ducked inside the purple-fringed tent at the centre of the camp, and after a moment the Protector of Akramarra, Prince Artayarasha, stepped out.

“Tell Khatu to hand over the prisoner,” Vanu signed to Mikhi.

“Hand over the prisoner, Khatu.”

“My lord,” Khatu addressed Artayarasha, who raised an expressive Zashian eyebrow at him. He was probably supposed to be called something more formal than “my lord.” Khatu went on: “We have brought your courier, who was waylaid by our guards.”

“You have my thanks,” said Artayarasha, not looking at Khatu or the messenger now. “You could have sent him on his way, but you have come in person instead.”

“We—” Khatu started, but Vanu held up a hand to stop him.

Vanu gestured to the courier, who dismounted and bowed low before the prince.

“The news from the north, your highness,” he began, and related the same message Vanu had heard.

Artayarasha frowned. His keen, dark eyes flicked up to meet Vanu’s again.

“Will you drink tea with me in my tent?” He gestured behind him.

Vanu nodded and swung down from his horse. He unbuckled his sword belt and handed it to one of the guards without being asked.

“Your … daughter? may join us,” Artayarasha added.

The guard held open the tent flap with a pose like a palace servant, and Vanu and Mikhi entered.

Vanu was not exactly a stranger to luxury—he’d grown up around the spoils of raiding in the Summer Pass—but Artayarasha’s tent was something beyond his experience. There was no mistaking that the man was Zashian royalty. He seemed to have brought a small palace room with him: little inlaid tables with silver bowls of fruit and carved game boards on them, hangings and cushions with gold threads, incense curling in the air. Seated in the middle of it, picking seeds out of a pomegranate, was the prince’s daughter, in another silk tunic and striped trousers, her pet monkey clinging to her shoulder.

“It’s you!” she cried, looking up to see Vanu. “I didn’t think we’d see you again!”

The tent flap swung closed behind them, and Artayarasha turned to Vanu and clasped his right arm above the elbow with a surprisingly strong grip. Vanu had not been sure what to expect, but the gesture was frankly friendly, and Artayarasha was smiling.

The two girls were having a less friendly meeting. Mikhi signing scornfully, “Who’s she?” while Artayarasha’s daughter asked the same question aloud, in a more courtly but still hostile way.

“My daughter tells me you understand Zashian?” Artayarasha said.

Vanu nodded. “Though you may not be able to understand me.”

The prince made a princely gesture. “We’ll manage. Here—sit.”

There were cushions all over the carpet-covered floor of the tent. Vanu and Mikhi sat and pulled off their boots. A servant—Vanu knew he was a servant by the way he was standing stiffly in the background, although he was dressed as richly as Artayarasha and his daughter—came to spirit the boots away. Mikhi scowled and tried to hold onto hers.

“Stop that,” Vanu signed.

Artayarasha sat opposite Vanu. His daughter’s pet climbed down from her shoulder and sat between her and her father, as if taking its place at the table.

“What is that thing?” Mikhi signed, grimacing horribly at it.

The monkey was weird, Vanu had to admit. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen one, but it was the first time he’d seen one alive, which actually made it weirder. It had grey-brown fur, long thin limbs, and a wizened black face surrounded by a white fringe. Large, liquid brown eyes looked knowingly at them while it picked at the fur on its tail with paws that looked like little hands.