of one, then reached over to the other, and wrapped it around his waist, around her legs, tying her to him. Even before he was finished, Doroga had started hauling the rope up the face of the cliff. The other rope came in as well, where Hashat must have been pulling it along to keep it tight.
Tavi held on to the rope, and to Kitai, not really sure which one he held tighter. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed, and did not open them again until he and Kitai sat at the top of the cliff, in the cold, fresh, clean snow. When he opened his eyes again, he sat with his back against a stone and idly noted the fresh earth beside him, where Doroga had uprooted the boulder and hurled it down.
A moment later, he realized that Kitai lay against his side, beneath one of his arms, warm and limp, half-conscious. He tightened his arm on her, gently, confused-but certain that he wanted her to sleep, to rest, and to be right where she was.
Tavi looked up and found Hashat staring down at them, wide-eyed, her expression bewildered and then, by slow degrees, becoming indignant. She turned to Doroga and demanded, "What are you going to do about this?"
The headman, veins still standing out on his arms and thighs, tipped his head back and poured out a rich and rolling laugh. "You know as well as I, Hashat. It's done."
The Horse headman scowled and folded her arms over her chest. "I've never heard of such a thing," she said. "This is unacceptable."
"This is," Doroga rumbled. "Other matters are before us now."
Hashat flipped her mane out of her eyes with a toss of her head. "I don't like it," she said, her tone resigned. "This was a trick. You tricked me."
Doroga's eyes glittered, and a smile lurked at his lips, but he said in a stern tone, "Keep your mind on why we are here, Hashat."
"The trial," the Marat woman said and turned back to Tavi. "Well, Aleran? Did you recover the Blessing?"
Tavi shivered and felt abruptly stupid. He had forgotten. In all the excitement and confusion, he had forgotten the trial. He had forgotten that he had used the mushroom he'd needed to win on Kitai. And though he may have saved the girl's life, he had lost the trial. His own life was forfeit. And the Marat, united, would ride against the people of his home.
"I..." Tavi said. He reached toward his pouch-and felt warm fingers inside.
Tavi looked down and saw Kitai drawing her hand back out of his pouch. Her eyes blinked open once, toward his, and he felt more than saw the silent gratitude in them, the respect for his courage.
"But it was so stupid," she whispered. Then she closed her eyes again.
Wordlessly, Tavi reached inside his pouch and found the second Blessing of Night where Kitai had left it. He drew it out on fingers already pricked and bleeding and offered it to Doroga.
Doroga knelt down on both knees in front of Tavi and accepted the Blessing, his expression grave. He looked down at the mushroom, then at Kitai's thigh, the yellowish venom drying there. His eyes widened with sudden realization, then went back to Tavi. Doroga's head tilted to one side, staring at him, and the boy felt certain that Gargant headman knew exactly what had happened in the alien valley below.
Doroga reached out and laid one huge hand on Kitai's pale hair for a moment, eyes gentle. Then he looked back at Tavi and said, "I loved her mother very much. Kitai is all I have left of her. You have courage, Aleran. You risked your life to save hers. And in doing so, you have saved not one, but two whom I love. Who are my family."
The Marat rose to his full height and reached down his hand to Tavi. "You have protected my family, my home. The One demands that I repay you for that debt, Aleran."
Tavi drew in a sharp breath and looked from Doroga to Hashat. The Horse warrior's eyes gleamed with a sudden excitement, and she drew in a breath, laying one of her hands on the hilt of her saber.
"Come, young man," Doroga said quietly. "My daughter needs to rest. And if I am to repay you, I have work to do. Will you come with me?"
Tavi took a breath, and when he spoke, his voice sounded, to him, to be deeper, more steady than he'd heard