an acquiescing pose. She'd won. He'd know that soon enough.
Once Danat's body servant had been sent scampering for his bow, Idaan
returned to her apartments, shrugged out of her robes and put on the
wide, loose trousers and red leather shirt of a hunter. She paused by
her table of paints, her mirror. She sat for a moment and looked at her
bare face. Her eyes seemed small and flat without the kohl. Her lips
seemed pale and wide as a fish's, her cheeks pallid and low. She could
be a peasant girl, plowing fields outside some low town. Her beauty had
been in paint. Perhaps it would be again, someday. '['his was a poor day
for beauty.
The huntsmen were waiting impatiently outside the palaces of the
Vaunyogi, their mounts' hooves clattering against the dark stones of the
courtyard. Adrah took a pose of query when he saw her clothes. ldaan
didn't answer it, but went to one of the horsemen, ordered him down,
took his blade and his bow and mounted in his place. Adrah cantered over
to her side. His mount was the larger, and he looked down at her as if
he were standing on a step.
"My brother is coming," she said. "I'll ride with him."
"You think that wise?" he asked coolly.
"I have asked too much of you already, Adrah-kya."
His expression was cold, but he didn't object further. Danat Nlachi rode
in wearing pale robes of mourning and seated on a great hunting
stallion, the very picture of vigor and manly prowess. Five riders were
with him: his friends, members of the utkhaicm unfortunate enough to
have heard of this hunt and marry themselves to the effort. "They would
have to be dealt with. Adrah took a pose of obeisance before l)anat.
"We've had word that a cart left by the south gate last night," Adrah
said. "It was seen coming from an alley beside the tower."
"Then let its follow it," l)anat said. He turned and rode. ldaan
followed, the wind whipping her hair, the smell of the beast under her
rich and sweet. There was no keeping up the gallop, of course. But this
was theater-the last remaining sons of the Khai Machi, one the assassin
and servant of chaos slipping away in darkness, one the righteous
avenger riding forth in the name of justice. I)anat knew the part he was
to act, and Idaan gave him credit for playing it, now that she had
goaded him into action. Those who saw them in the streets would tell
others, and the word would spread. It was a sight songs were made from.
Once they had crossed the bridge over the "l'idat, they slowed, looking
for people who had heard or seen the cart go by. 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."