Idaan knew where it had really gone-the ruins of an old stone wayhouse a half-hand's walk from the nearest low town west of the city. The morning hadn't half passed before the hunt had taken a wrong scent, turned north and headed into the foothills. The false trail took them to a crossroad-a mining track led cast and west, the thin road from the city winding north up the side of a mountain. Danat looked frustrated and tired. When Adrah spoke-his voice loud enough for everyone in the party to hear-Idaan's belly tightened.
"We should fan out, Danat-cha. Eight east, eight west, eight north, and two to stay here. If one group finds sign of the upstart, they can send back a runner, and the two waiting here will retrieve the rest."
Danat weighed the thought, then agreed. Danat claimed the north road for himself, and the members of the utkhaiem, smelling the chance of glory, divided themselves among the hands heading east and west.
Adrah took the cast, his eyes locked on hers as he turned to go. She saw the meaning in his expression, daring her to do this thing. Idaan made no reply to him at all. She, six huntsmen of the Vaunyogi loyal to their house and master, and Danat rode into the mountains.
When the sun had reached the highest point in the day's arc, they stopped at small lake. The huntsmen rode out in their wide-ranging search as they had done at every pause before this. Danat dismounted, stretched, and paced. His eyes were dark. Idaan waited until the others disappeared into the trees, unslung her bow, and went to stand near her brother. He looked at her, then away.
"He didn't come this way," Danat said. "Ile's tricked us again."
"Perhaps. But he won't survive. Even if he killed you, he could never become Khai Machi. The utkhaiem and the poets wouldn't support him."
"It's hatred now," Danat said. "He's doing it from hatred."
"Perhaps," Idaan said. Out on the lake, a bird skimmed the shining surface of the water, then shrieked and plunged in, rising moments later with a flash of living silver in its claws. A quarter moon was in the sky-white crescent showing through the blue. The lake smelled colder than it was, and the wind tugged at her hair and the reeds alike. Danat sighed.
"Was it hard killing Kaiin?" Idaan asked.
Danat looked at her, as if shocked that she had asked. She met his gaze, her eyes fixed on his until he turned away.
"Yes," he said. "Yes it was. I loved him. I miss them both."
"But you did the thing anyway."
He nodded. Idaan stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek. His stubble tickled her lips, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she walked away, trying to stop the sensation. At ten paces she put an arrow to her bow, drew back the string. Uanat was still looking out over the water. Passionlessly, she judged the wind, the distance.
The arrow struck the back of his head with a sound like an axe splitting wood. Danat seemed at first not to notice, and then slowly sank to the ground. Blood soaked the collar of his robes, the pale cloth looking like cut meat by the time she walked back to him. She knelt by him, took his hand in her own, and looked out over the lake.
She was singing before she knew she intended to sing. In her imagination, she had screamed and shrieked, her cries calling the hunters hack to her, but instead she sang. It was an old song, a lamentation she'd heard in the darkness of the tunnels and the cold of winter. The words were from the Empire, and she hardly knew what they all meant. The rising and falling melody, aching and sorrowful, seemed to fill her and the world.
Two hunters approached her at last, unsure of themselves. She had not seen them emerge from the trees, and she didn't look at them now as she spoke.
"My brother has been murdered by Otah or one of his agents," she said. "While we were waiting for you."
The hunters looked at one another. For a long, sick moment, she thought they might not believe her. She wondered if they would be loyal enough to the Vaunyogi to overlook the crime. And then the elder of them spoke.
"We will find him, Idaan-cha," the man said, his voice trembling with rage. "We'll send for the others and turn every stone on