Chapter 25: Complicated Thoughts

The moment he saw Chris step out of the tent, Hugo knew something had changed. The captain of the knights emerged slumping, her shoulders hunched, her head bowed. She seemed a small thing. But then she straightened, and when she lifted her head, her whole body rose with it. As if she had shed a great weight.

Whatever had happened between Chris and Lu's mother, it had set the knight free. Hugo watched her pause outside the tent, eyes turning skyward to take in the twinkling stars. She sighed audibly.

Then she saw him. Hugo had meant to approach her, but now he felt frozen. The woman's eyes were tracked with tears. He could see the relief in every inch of her body. She'd been shedding long unshed tears tonight. He felt awkward suddenly, wondering if she wanted to be alone. He looked away, then shrugged and said, "I wanted to see if you were okay." His pulse quickened, and he found himself saying, "If you wish, I'll leave."

"Stay," Chris said. Her lips twisted into a shy smile. "You do not need to say anything. But stay." She started towards him, timidly almost, arms wrapped about her as if shivering.

They walked through the village together. Neither said anything for a time. Around them, the sights of Chisha's nighttime bustle passed. The warm glow of oil lamps spilled from tents and houses, where men and women were still awake, preparing food, working the pottery wheel, and sewing clothes. Wartime had changed the village, but despite the underlying sense of urgency, Chisha had a sense of life and warmth to it. The smell of baked bread wafted from the ovens, while the gentle clanging of a blacksmith's hammer sounded from a nearby workshop, where a smith repaired knives and spearheads. A fletcher's apprentice sat on a log outside, binding arrows by the light of a stubby candle.

"I think this would be a wonderful place to live," Chris said suddenly. She turned to take in the sights around her. She had a wistful look on her face. "In another lifetime."

"Once this war is over," Hugo said, "You can come back."

Chris gave an indulgent smile. "I doubt I shall be welcome back here, Hugo. Your people have every reason to hate me."

"They'll have reason to admire you before this is over."

"You believe this to be true?"

Hugo nodded firmly. "What happened today… Not everyone takes you for a coward. There are those who believe what you did in the sharikee took real courage."

"You, for one?" Chris asked, feigning disinterest.

Hugo's throat felt suddenly dry. "Um. Yes. I think you're brave." Feeling awkward, he hastened to add, "But I'm not the only one."

Chris laughed, her voice light as silver. "Thank you, Hugo."

"I'll teach you," he said. "How to behave as a Karayan. How to win the trust of the Grasslanders. How to lead us, if necessary."

Chris regarded him curiously as she weighed his words. He saw skepticism first, but slowly her face turned to something like sober realization.

"You truly mean that, do you not? Very well, I shall hold you to that."

They fell silent again, continuing their walk.

Hugo glanced at Chris when he thought she wasn't looking. She kept staring up at the stars, a small smile on her lips. Walking beside her felt easy. Right, somehow. It shouldn't have. She was an Ironhead, and a member of the dreaded Zexen Knights. His enemy. His best friend's killer.

Looking at her now, he saw no monster. Just a woman. A warrior fighting for her people. He saw the way the lamplight touched the curve of her cheek. He saw the way she took in everything around her, her eyes huge and violet. Her smile achingly beautiful. He saw all of this, and felt a clump of despair in the pit of his stomach.

When had the damned woman stolen his anger?

They stopped in the middle of the village. Chris turned her head suddenly, and their eyes met. She looked surprised to find him looking at her, but then her lips curled into a smile that sent shivers down his spine. They stood very close together now, and for a long moment, Hugo stared into her eyes.

What he saw in her eyes made him realize two things, both equally shocking.

The first realization came as a relief, the lifting of a burden. When he searched his feelings, he found no anger remaining in his heart for what she'd done. He no longer blamed her for what had happened at Karaya. He no longer laid Lulu's death at her feet.

The second realization was worse. Searching his feelings, Hugo found Chris still firmly lodged in his heart. Only, his anger had been replaced by something else. He'd denied the meaning of his dreams for so long. Anger at what she had done. Guilt over Lulu. Shame over associating with an Ironhead. All these things had only masked his true feelings. They had hidden the truth: that he'd fallen in love with her.

He felt sick, standing this close to her. His palms were sweaty, his clothes too tight. Spirits, this was a disaster.

"What is wrong?" Chris asked.

"Ah..." Frantically, Hugo searched for an excuse. After several long, awkward seconds, he clutched his hand where the botched Fire Rune rested. He scratched at the back of his hand, grimacing. "It's the damned rune. It distracts me."

Chris's eyes narrowed in concern. "You should have that looked at. Perhaps Chief Rina-"

Hugo forced a smile. "It's nothing. Anyway, it's late. Mother asked me to escort you back to your quarters."

Chris smiled. "So that is why you came looking for me? And here I thought you were worried for me."

Hugo cursed himself for a fool. He wanted to correct her, to say that he'd come because he cared about her. But the dawning realization of his feelings for the woman made him clamp his mouth shut. Instead, he walked her to her tent in silence.

Sleep came late for Hugo that night, as anguished thoughts boiled in his head. Spirits, why had he fallen for an Ironhead? And not just any Ironhead, but the damned captain of the knights? Why had he fallen in love with the one woman that could never be his?

When Hugo did fall asleep, his rest was troubled.

Chris knelt with her legs tucked beneath her, struggling to maintain the respectful posture. Her legs threatened to cramp up, and she worried that when she finally rose, they would never again stretch out properly. The morning sun dappled the canvas of the Grasslanders' command tent, and the shaded interior provided a welcome relief from the heat. Chris had worked up a light sweat merely making her way to the council.

With morning came a fury of activity. The sounds of a bustling town reached her through the canvas. Blacksmith's hammers rang on anvils. Work leaders shouted instructions for porters and laborers. Carpenters' hammers clapped against wood and nails.

Chris blocked the sounds out, focusing her attention on the conversation taking place within the command tent. The Grasslander Chiefs sat in a semi-circle throughout the command tent, each man and woman propped up on thick cushions. The chiefs spoke in calm, measured tones, their body language at times seeming bored. They leaned back, sipping sweet wine made from sorghum out of tiny saucers. The chiefs were about to decide the fate of the Grasslanders, but from outward appearance, it might have seemed that the discussion concerned some trivial thing. The choice of colors for an annual festival, perhaps, or the punishment of an unruly child.

And yet, to Chris's trained eyes, the chiefs were waging a hidden battle. Every question posed was a thrust, every answer given a careful parry. Chris could see tides shifting back and forth as the conversation went on. And she could see alliances forming.

More than the others, Chris watched Chief Lucia and Chief Dupa. The Karayan chief was the voice of moderation, though she was not above making a bold statement when it became necessary. As far as Chris could tell, Lucia was the closest thing to an ally she had on the council of chiefs.

If Chief Lucia could be said to favor, or at least tolerate Chris, then Chief Dupa presented the opposite view. The saraak chief commanded the respect of his peers for his military prowess and personal strength on the battlefield. Thousands of warriors followed him into battle, forming the backbone of the feared Grasslander ambushes and blitz raids that had harried the Zexens for generations. And he felt nothing but contempt for the "Ironheads", and for Chris personally. The outcome of the sharikee had only deepened the Lizard Clan chief's hatred.

To Chris' left sat Yumi, the only other person permitted to appear before this session of the council. As a representative of Alma-Kinan, Yumi was allowed to provide counsel for the chiefs. Chris knew, however, that the woman had come mostly to protect her own interests. Since reaching Chisha, she had continually hinted at how crucial it was that Chris come to Alma-Kinan at once. It was infuriating, especially since neither she nor the girl, Yun, would divulge more than what they had already said. Which was very little. Yumi looked completely comfortable before the council, sitting with her legs tucked beneath her – the posture Chris now tried to painfully emulate.

Sitting before the Council of Elders made Chris felt truly isolated. She longed to have Hugo by her side, but Lucia's son had not been permitted in the council. He was, after all, just a warrior.

Chief Dupa gave Chris a look of contempt, his yellow eyes flashing. "I say again, this dog should be removed from the council's presence."

Chris met his eyes coolly, refusing to be cowed. She held his gaze until the Lizard Clan chief snarled and looked away. Chris turned to Lucia and bowed her head. "I have come as a representative of the Zexen Confederacy. By your own laws, I deserve a voice here."

Lucia sat cross-legged on a bundle of rainbow-colored pillows, arms stretched out and palms resting on her sleek thighs. Did she seem annoyed? For once, Chris could not tell. The look on the face of the Karayan chief was unreadable. Lucia took a careful sip of her wine, then said, "The Silver Maiden speaks for Zexen. She will remain, for now."

Chief Sana smiled. "It gladdens me to see that for once, we may have an ally in the Zexens. Not since the War of the Fire Bringer, when I was a young woman, have we seen such an alliance." The chief of the Chisha sat to Lucia's right, hands clasped in her lap. Her back was bent by age, and her eyes peered out from folds of wrinkled, pale skin.

"A long time, yes," Dupa said. "A generation of treachery, backstabbing, and lies. The Ironheads can't be trusted." He gestured dismissively at Chris. "This one least of all. She has no honor."

Chris bristled at the insult, but did not rise to take the bait. She stiffened where she sat, but did not move speak. To respond to the saraak chief's attack would only lower her in the eyes of the council.

"It is the sincere wish of the Zexen Confederacy," Chris said, "That we come to terms for a lasting peace between our peoples. However, the pressing issue at hand is the Harmonian invasion. At the very least, a temporary truce is necessary."

"Aye," Chief Rina said, pausing to sip from her wine saucer. "Regardless of our feelings in the matter, we cannot fight the Zexens and the Harmonians at the same time." The chief of the Safir refugees sprawled back in her seat, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. She had been up most of the night, running her runes hot in the construction of Chisha's defenses. Rina shrugged. "As bizarre as it might seem, for once the Zexens and the Clans have a reason to pull together."

Lucia, Sana, Rina. The three women formed the heart and soul of the Council of Elders. Chief Lucia, the warrior. Chief Sana, the wisdom. Chief Rina, the rune sage. Together, they commanded the respect and admiration of all the Grasslanders. Ultimately, it was they who would determine Chris's fate, and the fate of the Grasslands as a whole.

A pang of envy swelled in Chris's chest as she watched the three women. The female chiefs spoke with confidence and assurance. They voiced their thoughts and concerns without hesitation, and without a trace of apology. The men of the Grasslanders heard them, and respected every counsel and command as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And indeed, to the barbarians, it seemed to be thus.

All her life, Chris had fought an uphill battle to win the trust and respect of her peers in the male-dominated Knights of Zexen. To do so, she had restrained her womanly instincts, keeping them under lock and key, knowing that such traits would damn her in the eyes of the knights. Indeed, the knights had come to see her as a knight first, and a woman second. As she too saw herself. For this reason, she had despised the titles of "Silver Maiden" and the ever-present jests of "Our Beautiful Goddess". Such appellations had seemed to downplay her persona as a knight, and to emphasize instead her persona as a woman.

Seeing now the three chiefs in council, Chris could not help but feel that she had lost something along the way. Lucia, Sana, and Rina had not forsaken their feminine sides. In fact, they seemed even more womanly for their courage and determination. Chris felt awkward in their presence, ungainly. She saw in them something she envied. Was it possible to be a knight and a woman both?

Shaking off the feeling, Chris said, "I understand that trust is fragile at this point. But we must trust each other if we are to repel this invasion. If the Clans stand alone against Harmonia, you will fall."

Dupa chuckled – a monstrous sound. "If the invaders crush the Clans, then they will crush the Ironheads, too."

Chris inclined her head at the chief. "My point exactly."

Sana coughed. She seemed tired beyond her years suddenly. "Right now, Chisha hangs in the balance. Whatever decision we reach regarding the Zexens, we must first decide the fate of my home." The elderly chief waited a moment for her words to sink in, then asked, "How do we defeat the Harmonians?"

Dupa growled. "Our raid failed before it even began."

Lucia glanced furtively at Chris. "And yet, had we gone without warning, the blood of many of our bravest warriors would now run in the river. Rina, can the defenses of Chisha hold up against an assault by the Harmonians?"

Rina slowly shook her head. "Infantry, cavalry, these we can repulse. Archers, we can endure. But the Harmonian army shelters a large number of Rune Bearers, whose magic we are ill prepared to match."

"We do not lack for courage or boldness," Dupa said. "Even Rune Bearers can choke on their own blood."

Rina nodded slowly. "I know your warriors would charge into a wall of fire if need be, Dupa. But the Harmonian bishop bears a powerful rune. This advantage alone… its value cannot be overestimated."

Lucia slapped an open palm against her leg. "He is but one man!"

The scrunched look on Rina's face told Chris that she did not concur. The Safir rune mistress said, "I've suggested a strike-"

"No," Dupa said, holding up a clawed hand. "To sheathe one's scales in shadow as an Avenger is one thing. To kill for vengeance, that is justice. To kill for personal gain, or out of fear of facing one's enemy on the battlefield? That is murder. To slink into an enemy's lair to slit their leader's throat… that is no thing for a warrior to consider. We must face these Harmonians with honor." The saraak's mouth had twisted into a bitter scowl as he spoke. The saraak warrior remembered the fate of Chief Zepon all too well.

Lucia nodded. "I agree with Dupa. An attack on the Bishop would be a cowardly move."

Rina threw up her arms. "Well. It has been said. That leaves huddling up in Chisha, or marching boldly out to meeting the Harmonians halfway."

Chris cleared her throat. "There is one more way," she said. All eyes fell on her. "You could evacuate Chisha."

A round of gasps went through the council. Dupa was the first to recover. "Give the village to the Harmonians? Surrender?"

Chris kept her expression neutral, though her heart pounded in her chest. "Yes, and no. Withdrawing from an indefensible position does not equal surrender. If you fight in Chisha, you will lose."

Lucia rubbed her jaw. "Bold words. Where would we go, then? Where would we face the Harmonians?"

Chris drew herself up, planting her hands on her legs. "Withdraw to Brass Castle. The castle's the only true choke point in the Grasslands. It must be fortified and defended at all costs, or the Grasslands and Zexen will fall to Harmonia."

The silence that followed was as thick as it was long. The sounds of the outside intruded again, seeming to fill the tent with the clank and clatter of a village in movement. Finally, Dupa broke the silence. "You would have us abandon our homes and commit our people to the mercy of the Ironheads?" The saraak warrior laughed. "You must think us fools, She-Devil."

Lucia shook her head. "Chief Dupa is right. An alliance may yet be necessary, but the Clans cannot, will not, give up our homes."

"I thought you might say that," Chris said. "So I have prepared an alternative solution." She glanced at Yumi, and the Kinese archer returned a nod. "Again, Chisha cannot be defended. So, withdraw your forces to the forest village of Alma-Kinan. With your people sheltered in the woods, you then wage a guerrilla war against the Harmonians, giving Zexen time to bolster Brass Castle's defenses."

"It's true," Yumi chipped in, "Alma-Kinan would gladly welcome our brethren."

There was silence for a time. All those in the command tent shifted uncomfortably, as dark thoughts passed through their minds. Finally, Lucia said, "No. We cannot abandon Chisha. We are strong here, our defenses will hold. They must. We will meet the Harmonians at the foot of the hill, and fight them tooth and nail for every step."

Chris's heart sank. She had prayed to the Goddess that the barbarians would not prove too stubborn. She had prayed that Lucia would see reason as she saw it. Now, she feared, Chisha would fall, and with it, the Grasslands.

Chris was about to protest when someone shuffled through the tent flap behind her. "Elders, forgive my intrusion," the young woman who stood there said. "There's a man… a stranger. He says he has information about the Harmonians."

Hours after the council's audience with the outlandish blonde man who claimed to have information about the Bishop, Lucia retreated to the steam tent. Tying the flap closed, she retreated from the worries and concerns of the day, leaving the troubles of leadership outside.

Wearily, she stripped, toeing out of her sandals and tossing the belt and sash. She slid tunic and leggings off and stood naked before the tub.

Steam rose from the water, misting the air in the small tent. Bending low, she tested the water with her fingers and found it had just the right balance between warm and scalding. Gingerly she stepped in and submerged her body. She hissed as the near-scalding water seared her skin, and sighed contentedly as the sensation faded from pain to comfort. She leaned back against the cool wood planks and let the warm waters soothe her weary body.

Beads of sweat budded on Lucia's forehead. The Chishan bath tent was a simple affair. Rainwater collected in barrels was used to fill the tub to the brim. To warm the water, the Chishans heated rocks in the fireplace and carried the searing stones to be dumped into the tub's cool water, sending clouds of hissing and sputtering steam up towards the ceiling. The tent kept the hot, humid air in, misting the tent and warming the water. The bath felt like sunshine after days of rain.

Lucia had Chief Sana to thank for this small mercy. The Chishan chief had prepared the bath in secret. She had caught up to Lucia when she was about to make yet another round of the village's defenses. Chief Sana had then proceeded to strong arm Lucia into at least taking a bath, if she would not sleep. Better the bath than the bed, Lucia thought, lifting a leg clear of the water. The air felt chilly on her skin, next to the heat of the water.

In a bath, at least she had time to think. Lucia's thoughts raced, going over the day's argument in the command tent. Could Chris Lightfellow be right? Would Chisha fall to the Harmonian advance, like wheat before the scythes of the Zexen farmers? Lucia knew that the Grasslanders would defend their home with the fury of mother bears, but would it be enough? This question haunted her. The Grasslanders looked to her for guidance. Decades after she returned to the spirits, would it be said of Chief Lucia of the Karaya that it was she who foolishly led the Grasslanders to their destruction at the hands of their Harmonian conquerors?

Her thoughts turned to Nash Latkje. The strange man had shown up at such a pivotal time, offering valuable information to the Grasslanders. Information about Bishop Sasarai and his Harmonian forces.

Could she trust him? The timing seemed all too convenient. Was Nash Latkje a spy sent by the Harmonians? Confusing the issue was the fact that Hugo knew the man. Near as she could tell, her son had embarked on some foolish adventure or the other with the mysterious blonde swordsman. If Nash Latkje wished harm on her family, he would have had ample opportunity to inflict it already.

Still, there could be a thousand other reasons for the man to betray them. Hugo vouching for the man meant something, to be sure, but it did not answer the most pressing questions. Could she trust him? Even if it meant the fate of her people?

Lucia thought of Hugo and tried to reconcile the vigorous young warrior with the pudgy-faced babe who had slept in her lap, years ago. Seventeen years. Spirits, it hardly seemed possible! Could time have slipped through her fingers so fast?

Lucia rubbed at her belly and sighed. There were times when she ached for another child, a babe to fill her belly again. A toddler to cradle and kiss. She was not yet forty. She had seen older women become with child. She was young enough yet, she hoped. But who would be the father? As chief, she often felt isolated from her people. She had to keep her own counsel and watch over the whole of her clan as a mother to her children. Few men had caught her eye over the years, and even among them, her interest had quickly waned. Hugo's father had been far her senior, and though her youthful passion had born fruit by the time Lucia returned to Karaya, there was never a future for the two of them. She had loved him, in a way, but even if Hugo's father had survived the Dunan Unification War, it would never have worked out between them.

Sometimes, Lucia felt guilty for bringing a child into the world without a father. She had tried to raise her son as her father had raised her, but she had watched Hugo struggle in finding his place as a man, sometimes overzealously. He would disappear for days on end, going on madcap hunts, cavorting with gryphons, and getting into fights. No doubt the boy would have benefited from the natural guidance a father would give. Could she put another fatherless child into this world?

Lucia stroked her legs. She leaned forward, shuddering at the seeming chill of the air as she lifted her wet stomach out of the bath. Bending forward, Lucia briefly dipped her head into the bath and came up gasping for the cool air, straightening her back. She swept her hair out of her eyes.

That's when she saw him. A man, his body outlined by the glow of a torch pouring in through a gap in the tent's canvas where he held it apart to enter.

The stranger. Nash.

Seeing that he had been spotted, Nash did not startle. Nor did he look ashamed, as he should have. Instead, the man merely smiled. "Hello, Chief Lucia." He bowed low, then approached the tub.

What possessed the man…! Lucia suddenly felt ice cold in spite of the searing heat. Water cascaded off her naked body as she shot up. She threw out a wild backhand at Nash's head.

The man put his forearm up to block her swipe, clutching her wrist and holding it close to his head. At least he had the decency to flinch. She liked that.

"Woah…" Nash breathed. His eyes flicked up and down her body, and he grinned appreciatively. Lucia let her arm go slack. Nash relaxed his guard. "Sorry to startle you. I came here to-"

Lucia smashed her fist into his jaw.

Nash stumbled back with a pained grunt. Before he could recover, Lucia grabbed his arm at the shoulder and twisted around, throwing him over her shoulder. Nash crashed into the water, splashing hot water as far as the canvas through which he'd entered moments ago.

Lucia knelt and held Nash down. His head submerged, Nash's golden blond hair streamed about his panicked face. Bubbles shot from his mouth. She let him stew for a time, then yanked him up by the scruff of his neck. She held him facing away from her, pinning him with an elbow around his neck and a knee on his stomach.

Nash gasped hungrily for air. His hair was plastered against his face.

"Well?" Lucia asked. "Have your eyes drunk their fill?" He twisted in her grip, testing her, but she was stronger than he had expected. "Your next few words will determine how much pain you'll be in as you stagger from this tent. If you are able to leave it walking."

"Oh, I don't doubt it." Nash's voice came off hoarse as he struggled for breath. "I came to tell you something, in confidence. Two things, actually. What I didn't want to say in front of all the others, I say now to you alone, because I trust your judgment."

Lucia snorted. "You are like the snake, skirting the campfire in the tall grasses. Get to the point, man."

Nash laughed, but there was no trace of mockery in that sound. Only amusement. "The first thing is… Don't fight the Harmonian army."

Lucia snarled. "You came here to tell me that?"

"The man who leads this army, Bishop Sasarai… He's incredibly dangerous. He leads a disciplined and battle-tried body of men. He has access to one of the greatest military minds in the world in his tactician… and he will stop at nothing to achieve what the Absolute One sent him here to do."

"His tactician claims that Bishop Sasarai seeks the True Fire Rune."

"Yes…" Nash coughed water.

"How can we trust that?" Lucia asked. "Harmonia has a history of conquering its neighbors. Isn't the True Fire Rune just a pretext?"

"What makes you think Holy Harmonia needs a pretext for invasion?"

Lucia hesitated. Nash's glib words filled her with unease. He truly had the qualities of the snake about him. He had a face no woman could trust, and the personality of a charlatan. No matter how much aid he had given to Hugo, she could not bring herself to trust the man.

And yet, what he said made sense. The Harmonians were a greater threat than the Clans had ever faced. She had her own doubts, and the idea that she was making a mistake in choosing to stand and fight in Chisha gnawed at the back of her mind. A part of her wanted to believe him.

Sighing, she relaxed her grip and pushed him away. While he scrambled for handholds in the sloshing water of the tub, she turned and stepped out onto the grass, yanking a folded towel from a peg on the canvas wall and wrapping it about her body for modesty's sake.

"What can you say that I don't already know?" Give me a reason to believe you."

Nash rose out of the tub and wrung water from his soggy sleeves. "How about this. Bishop Sasarai, he bears the True Earth Rune. But he is not a rune bearer like any other. The True Rune he carries, it is bonded to his soul, since birth. The pulse of his heart, the breath in his lungs, they beat in tune with the True Rune. Your best rune master could not hope to match him in strength. He will turn Chisha to churned mud, if he so wills it."

Lucia felt a chill run down her spine. She found it hard to breathe in the tent's humid air, suddenly. How do we face the bearer of a True Rune? It seemed like madness. The Grasslanders had seen the might of the Harmonian rune bearers at Uluath River. Now they had to defend Chisha against that same titanic force. How could they endure?

"The only way to win," Nash said, "Is not to fight."

"You're telling me to surrender."

Nash smiled. "No. The True Rune makes Bishop Sasarai powerful, even immortal. But not invincible. If you want to drive the Harmonians from the Grasslands, you must kill the Bishop."

Lucia breathed hoarsely. Assassination. It came back to that. She could see the Nash was right. If the Clans fought the Harmonians, the True Rune might destroy them. Unless she could find a way to neutralize the True Rune. Lucia was no stranger to the notion. Seventeen years ago, she had attempted the same during the Dunan Unification War. It had been an act of vengeance, of retribution for her father. She had been a foolish girl, then. Motherhood had changed her. But how much had it changed her? She had to admit that she found Nash's counsel tempting.

But not tempting enough.

"You're a spy," she said, crossing her arms over her toweled breast. When he showed no reaction, she added, "I just don't know for whom. Leave me. I will consider your words." She needed time to think.

Nash had ducked through the tent's flap by the time Lucia recalled something. "Wait. You said you had two things to tell me."

Nash spun around and bowed his head through the open flap. He looked confused for a moment. Then he said, "Oh, I almost forgot." He grinned. "You have a really cute butt."

Lucia froze. Stunned to silence, she listened to Nash's footsteps fade away. When he was gone, she combed her fingers through her hair.

What a snake!

At dawn the next day, Lucia sat astride a docile Karayan palfrey several miles east of Chisha. Her winded steed grazed calmly on the dew-damp grasses as Lucia's eyes tracked the approach of a sole figure on horseback appearing out of the horizon. As Bishop Sasarai came closer, the Harmonian leader's blue-white ceremonial robes glittered in the rising sun. A trick of the silver thread woven into the fabrics of his clothes, no doubt.

Lucia spurred her horse to meet the Bishop on the open ground. Sasarai had come alone, or so it seemed. That the Bishop trusted blindly to Lucia's honor as a chief in meeting her alone and unarmed under the flag of truce spoke either of monstrous arrogance, or a deep understanding of the Karayan ways. No Grasslander chief would break the peace of a flag of truce-unless her enemy struck first. The dishonor of such a thing was worse than death, and one of the reasons why the saarak showed such stubborn resistance to the idea that the sword which slew Chief Zepon might not have been gripped by a Zexen hand after all. To admit such a treachery would be to admit a deep and punishing loss of honor on the part of the Lizard Clan.

Lucia fondled the stock of her whip at the small of her back. Strictly speaking, her weapon, and indeed even the daggers concealed at her thighs, were not forbidden to bring beneath the flag of a truce. To wield them in an assault on her counterpart would, however, be unforgivable.

Lucia and Sasarai met in the middle of Sawu Field, a flat expanse of plains sheathed in tall grass. As a child, Lucia had often come here with friends from the village, playing hide and seek and tunneling through the tall grass. Now she sat in plain sight, face to face with one of Harmonia's highest commanders. The bearer of a True Rune, no less. With nowhere to hide.

"Bishop Sasarai," Lucia said, nodding her head in a show of respect.

"Chief Lucia." Sasarai smiled, but it was a distant expression, the beatific grin of a shepherd leading his flock by the crook of his cane. Sasarai's pale white purebreed stood so close, Lucia could almost reach out and tug on its reins, held lightly and slackly by the Bishop. Certainly he was close enough for her whip to coil around his throat.

"I will get right to the point," said Sasarai. The reins dropped from his hands, coiled about the saddlehorn. "I come to grant you a gift. One last chance to avoid disaster for your people."

"We've been over this," Lucia said hesitantly. Why had Sasarai called this meeting under the flag of truce? She thought him finished with words, ready to march his army. Certainly Lucia too had been clear enough about her intentions. When the Harmonian envoy had delivered the summons to the truce meeting in the pre-dawn hours, she had hesitated to come, fearing a trap. Lucia no longer feared for that. Here on Sawu Field she knew every nook and cranny, could tell the swaying of the grass in the light breeze from the thrashing of human movement low to the ground. The wooded hills stood too distant to house archers capable of hitting a target from a thousand paces with the wind spirits to contend with. No, Sasarai had come alone. And that almost made her more worried.

"See that hill over there?" Sasarai wheeled his arm to point a finger. Lucia nodded. It was Velgro's Knoll, a knobbly rise studded with thick-standing oak and acacia. There, among the shadowy embrace of the canopy and the twisted branches, Lucia had stolen her first kiss, far away from the prying eyes of her mother. She could still remember the dizzying excitement, the hunger of her lips, the warmth of Dyan's hands on her waist.

"Witness," Sasarai said. The word was little more than a whisper, but that whisper sent a chill down Lucia's spine. Her memory evaporated. Sasarai stripped a white glove from his right hand to reveal a glowing rune, and closed his eyes. Lucia's fingers clenched around the whip's stock, and for a moment she thought to ensnare the Bishop's throat with the heavy corded leather. But she did not move. Her honor held her back.

Light flashed from Sasarai's hand as he turned sideways to face Velgro's Knoll. The light flared brighter than even a higher order rune. The symbol, an elaborate five-pointed star with a thick base, shimmered in mid-air for a moment, imprinting its image into Lucia's retinas. Moments later, the sickening sound began.

At first, Lucia thought of a collapsing building. In her youth she had once witnessed a mudslide that sent a clay home crashing down onto a riverbed. This sound reminded her of that. But then she saw motion on the hill. No, not on the hill. In the hill. Velgro's Knoll buckled, sagging in the middle, twisting at the sides. The sound that reached her ears from the distant hill was a combination of churning dirt, grinding rock, and creaking wood.

The trees twisted and snapped like twigs as the earth moved and forced them closer together. Rocks the size of oxen clashed and scraped against each other as the top of the hill sank down into the earth, away from view. Within moments, Bishop Sasarai had unleashed the power of his true rune to suck Velgro's Knoll into the depths of the loamy soil.

Sasarai turned to face her, eyes open and steely. No trace of the smile remained on his lips. When he spoke, his voice was steel tinged with frustration. "Believe me, Chief Lucia, when I say this. Were I to will it, the very earth would split apart beneath your feet and swallow you down into a premature tomb, there to suffocate in a damp, dark pit. Believe me. I do not come here to bully your people, to threaten their chief. I have no wish for pointless bloodshed. But my will is the will of the Absolute One. I will carry out the mission I was given, whether you stand in my way or not. I do not come here to bully but to show mercy. Believe me, Chief Lucia, I am merciful. Surrender your people to Holy Harmonia. Do not let them die."

Lucia felt the blood drain from her face. She swallowed, tried to work moisture into her suddenly dry mouth. Her hands had fallen slack from her weapons and now rested in her lap in some subconscious gesture of harmless submission. "Give me until tonight," she said. "I must speak with my people."

Author's Notes: Please write me a brief review and tell me what you thought of the chapter. Thanks.