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At least； Ammar had thought； it isn't only me。
There had been uncontrolled noise by then； delirious； deafeningly loud。 Screaming from up on the walls and from the royal stand by the lists。 Hats and scarves and gloves and leather flasks of wine sailing through the air to land about them。 It had all seemed to be ing from a long way off。
He had tried； out of habit； to be sardonic。 〃Shall we kill each other for them now； to set a seal on it？〃 he'd said。
The men they'd defeated were being helped to their feet； those who could rise。 One man； the Karcher； had a broken arm from the flat of a sword。 Another was unable to stand； they were carrying him away on a litter。 A woman's pale blue scarf； drifting down through the sunlight； had fallen across his body。 Ammar could only vaguely remember having faced the man with the broken arm。 It had been at the very outset。 He could not clearly recall the blow； the sequence of it。 Too strange； that was。
Rodrigo Belmonte had not laughed at his attempted jest； or smiled； standing beside him amid that huge and distant noise。
〃Do we want a seal on it？〃 he'd asked。
Ammar had shaken his head。 They had stood alone in the middle of the world。 A small； still space。 Dreamlike。 Clothing； flowers now； more wine flasks； flying through the autumn air。 So much noise。
〃Not yet；〃 he'd said。 〃No。 It may e； though。 Whether we want it or not。〃
Rodrigo had been silent a moment； the grey eyes calm beneath an old helm with the figure of an eagle on it。 From the king's stand a herald was approaching； formally garbed； gracious； deeply deferential。
Just before he reached them； the Valledan had said softly； 〃If it es； it es。 The god determines all。 I never did anything like this； though； in all my life。 Not fighting beside another man。〃
A star fell into the darkness of the hills west of the lake。 Ibn Khairan heard footsteps behind him。 They paused； and then withdrew。 One person。 A watchman。 No danger。 There wouldn't be danger here； in any case。
He was very tired； but his mind would not allow him rest。 The high white moon laid a shining； rippled track on the water； the blue crescent cast a faint one from the east。 They met where he stood。 This was a property of water at night。 Light flowed along it to where one stood。
I earned a goodly portion of my wages today； he thought。 Wages。 He was a mercenary soldier now； in the service of a king who would be happy to see Cartada in ruins。 Who might decide to send an army west to achieve that in the spring。 Ammar； by his contract； would be a part of that army； a leader of it。 He wasn't used to such shiftings of allegiance。
He had killed Almalik。 Twenty years' panion。 The slow rise and then the swift rise to power together。 Men changed over the years。 Power ebbed and flowed； and did things to them。 Time and the stars turned and men changed。
The man he'd slain was the only person he could ever have called a friend in the world； even though one didn't use that word of kings。 He'd sung his lament tonight。 Mazur ben Avren's request； meant to wound。 A subtle mind； that。 But he'd already been working on the verses during the ride east with Zabira。 Had offered them this evening to a banquet hall of Cartada's enemies。 A room with a stream running through it。 Water again。 Ashar's dream amid the desert sands。 It was an affectation； that banquet room； but impressive nonetheless； and tastefully done。 He could e to like Badir of Ragosa； he told himself； could respect Mazur ben Avren。 There was a life beyond Cartada； with scope and sweep。
Where lesser beasts now gather 。。。
He shook his head。 Turned away from the lake and started back； with the wind and the moons behind him now。
From the shadows by the oak…timbered wall of a warehouse she saw him leave the water's edge and the outthrust arms of the city walls。 She had retreated here to wait； after walking almost to the pier。 As he approached she saw…her eyes by now adjusted to the moonlight…an odd； inward look to his face and she was half…inclined to let him pass。 But even as that thought formed she realized that she had stepped forward into the street after all。
He stopped。 His hand moved to his sword and then she saw that he knew her。 She expected something ironic； a jest。 Her heart was beating rapidly。
〃Jehane bet Ishak。 What are you doing abroad at night？〃
〃Walking；〃 she said。 〃The same as you。〃
〃Not the same at all。 It isn't safe for a woman。 There's no point to being foolish。〃
She felt a useful flare of anger。 〃I do wonder how I've survived this long in Ragosa without your guidance。〃
He was silent。 He still had that strange look to him。 She wondered what had driven him to the lake。 She hadn't e out to quarrel； although she couldn't have said why she had e。 She changed her tone。 〃I am known here；〃 she murmured。 〃There is no real danger。〃
〃In the dark？ On the waterfront？〃 He raised his eyebrows。 〃You could be killed for your cloak or merely because of your religion。 Where's your servant？〃
〃Velaz？ Asleep； I hope。 He's had a long day and night。〃
〃And you？〃
〃Long enough；〃 she said。 〃Where you injured I tried to heal。 I've e from the infirmary。〃 What was it； she asked herself； that kept causing her to challenge him？
He looked at her。 The steady； unrevealing gaze。 The pearl in his ear gleamed palely in the moonlight。 He said； 〃It's too cold to stand here。 e。〃 He started walking again； back towards the center of the city。
She fell into stride。 The wind was behind them； cutting through her cloak。 It was cold； and despite what she'd implied； Jehane was unused to being abroad this late。 In fact； the last time had been the night of the day she met this man。 The Day of the Moat。 She had thought it had been his savage device； that slaughter of innocent men。 All of Al…Rassan had thought so。
She said； 〃I remember what you said in Fezana。 That it was none of your doing。〃
〃You didn't believe me。〃
〃Yes； I did。〃
He glanced at her。 They continued walking。
She had seen him go by earlier； from the doorway of the infirmary。 Her two patients had been sleeping； one drugged against the pain of a shattered arm； the other still deeply confused； a contusion the size of an ostrich egg on the side of his head。 Jehane had left instructions that he be awakened after each of the night bells。 Too deep a sleep tonight carried a risk。
She had been standing near the open doorway； breathing the night air； struggling against fatigue； when ibn Khairan went past。 She had put on her cloak and followed him； without thinking about it； no reason save impulse for justification。
They had done something astonishing that day； he and Rodrigo Belmonte。 Two men against five and had she not known better it might have seemed that the five had consented to be cut down； so swift and crisply defined and elegant had it been。 She did know better； though。 She was treating two of the five tonight。 The Karcher with the broken arm was struggling to deal with what had happened。 He was bitter； humiliated。 Not a man accustomed to losing battles。 Not that way； at any rate。
Stepping out into the street after ibn Khairan Jehane had been awkwardly aware that there were other kinds of women who did this sort of thing； especially after what had happened today。 She half…expected to see some of them trailing behind the man； adorned； perfumed。 Pursuing the hero of the moment； approaching to touch…to be touched by…glory； the shimmer that clung to fame。 She had nothing but contempt for such women。
What she'd done in following him was not remotely the same thing； she told herself。 She wasn't young or bedazzled； she wore a plain white cloth cap to keep her hair from her eyes while she worked； no jewelry； mud…stained boots。 She was level…headed； a physician； and observant。
〃Weren't you hurt this afternoon？〃 she said； glancing sideways and up at him。 〃I thought I saw you take a sword in the leg。〃
He looked dryly amused； an expression she remembered。 〃A scratch； truly。 One of them caught me with his blade when he fell。 It is kind of you to ask； doctor。 How are your patients？〃
She shrugged。 〃The broken arm will be all right。 It set easily enough。 The Batiaran that Ser Rodrigo felled was still having trouble remembering his mother's name before he fell asleep。〃
Ibn Khairan grinned； the white teeth flashing。 〃Now that is serious。 If it were his father's name； of course； I'd call that normal for Batiara。〃
〃Go ahead and jest；〃 she said； refusing to laugh。 〃You don't have to deal with it。〃 A silly thing to say。
〃I'm so sorry；〃 he murmured； all solicitude。 〃Did I add to your burdens today？〃
She winced。 She'd asked for that。 It was important to watch what one said with this man。 He was as sharp as Mazur was。 At least as sharp。
〃How is your father？〃 he said； changing tone。 She glanced over in surprise and then away。 She had a clear memory； as they walked through the dark streets； of this man on his knees before Ishak last summer； their hands clasped together。
〃My parents are well enough； I thank you。 My father 。。。 has dictated some letters to me since that night in Fezana。 I believe that 。。。 speaking wit