Fortney strode down the street toward the market, trailed by Dhruva and Kadir. The bright sun shone down, warming the streets. By noontime the heat would be unbearable, but here in the early morning it was still warming the chill out of stone and mud houses and the dirt of the street.

  Dhruva trailed her, as did Kadir. The market was already bustling as hawkers set up their stalls.

  Fortney frowned at the sun. "We have many tasks to prepare for the palace festival," she said. "I hope we can get them all accomplished in time."

  Dhruva bowed low.

  "Shazedah, it is not necessary for you to oversee all preparations yourself. You should travel in a palanquin, and send servants for your tasks."

  Fortney scoffed. "Soon enough I shall be married, then I will have no choice but to lie idle around the palace. While I can, I will walk in the sun." She glanced up. "And yet the sun races me. Kadir, can you inspect the battlements? Dhruva and I will buy the silks and fruits. We can rejoin later."

  Kadir's mouth tightened.

  "I mislike this suggestion, Shazedah," he said. "If I leave to inspect the battlements, you would be unprotected."

  "I will stay in the market," Fortney rejoined, "and I will stay alert. Nobody would dare anything in so great a crowd."

  Kadir stood stiff for a minute, but finally nodded.

  "As the Shazedah commands. I will finish quickly, and return to your side."

  "I will await you at the market's east entrance."

  "As you wish, Shazedah." Kadir darted away.

  Fortney smiled a little. The guards on the battlements were in for a difficult morning. As a former soldier, Kadir had little patience for slackness from those who guarded the city. Fortney herself did not let much slide, but Kadir let nothing escape his notice.

  "Come, Dhruva," she said, marching into the bazaar.

  She stopped first at the silk-sellers, bartering for seven lengths of fine red silk. Some of her palace outfits were getting worn, and she needed new to replace them. She completed negotiations, and the silk was wrapped in burlap and handed to Dhruva.

  Fortney walked toward the fruit-sellers' stands.

  "I wonder if we should stop by Barzani's stand for some fish?" she wondered aloud. "We have many mouths to feed at the royal supper of the festival. Dhruva, do you think--" She turned around. Dhruva was nowhere to be seen.

  "Dhruva?" She looked over the heads of the bustling crowd. Fortney frowned. It wasn't like Dhruva to wander off.

  There, over by that alley. A flash of colorful servant's silks, disappearing between two buildings.

  "Dhruva!" she called, pushing through the crowds toward the alley. "Return at once! We have too many tasks today for distractions!"

  Fortney arrived at the alley. It was bare, with only a few old baskets piled against one wall.

  "Dhruva?"

  "Shazedah." Dhruva's voice floated dimly back to her from further down the alley. "Shazedah, you must see this!"

  "Dhruva, there is no time for this!" Fortney cried, her temper rising. "We have many more tasks to accomplish! I cannot carry everything by myself! Return instantly, or... or you will be punished when we return to the palace!"

  "But Shazedah, you must see this!" Dhruva's voice was fainter now, further away.

  Fortney stalked down the alley.

  "Enough of this nonsense! Come back!"

  The alley turned, becoming a narrow, uneven gap between the backs of houses. The sounds of the crying merchants grew distant and muffled. Blank walls closed in on every side. Fortney slowed. Something felt wrong. Her hackles rose.

  She frowned. This was Baradon. Her city. The thieves and cutthroats of the night didn't worry her, so why should this empty alley? In broad daylight, no less.

  "Shazedah!" came the voice of her servant. "This is amazing, you must see this!"

  Dhruva's voice prodded Fortney to movement again. She threaded through the narrow alley.

  "Dhruva, come back!" Fortney yelled. "We should not be here. We must return to the market!" She made another turn, then another. The alley ended in a wooden wall. A simple door had been cut into it, and darkness lay beyond. Her servant's voice floated out, rich with glee.

  "Come inside! You will see!"

  The square of blackness loomed. A prickle of fear ran up Fortney's back.

  She frowned, becoming angry at herself. She was no child, to be afraid of the dark. She set herself.

  "Dhruva!" Fortney cried.

  Masking fear with anger, Fortney stormed through the square of darkness.

  Kadir glared down at the cluster of soldiers that bowed low before him. He stood atop the wall that surrounded the city. The soldiers were downcast.

  "How far can you see from the top of the wall?" he barked.

  "Two parsang!" they cried in unison.

  "Wrong!" He clapped one of the nearest soldiers on the ear hard enough to knock him over. "You can see nothing if your eyes are on dice and coins! Guard duty is not a time for idleness and play. Look out there!"

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  The soldiers turned and looked out from the wall they were standing on. The grass of the plain rustled gently in the light breeze that swept across.

  "You guard the Sun Gate of Baradon! One hundred nations have spilled their blood on the soil down there! A thousand times a thousand enemies lie in that dirt! And why? Because watchful men saw them, and alerted the city! Because they were not distracted with gambling!" Kadir snatched the dice and coins from the ground and flung them off the wall, far into the field around the city. "Would you have your name recorded as the guard that let an enemy slip close? As the ignorant lizards that sun themselves with no care for danger? As the wild dogs that did not bark when the jackals drew near?"

  The soldiers hung their heads as Kadir scoured them.

  "Report yourselves for reduced rations," he said. "If I hear of this ever again, you will all be pulled off the wall. Unfit for this duty." The soldiers' faces filled with shame, and they bowed low before Kadir. He gave them a long, angry look, then turned and stormed off.

  Kadir's thoughts were a turmoil as he stalked back down the wall into the fortification. Gambling was not a problem per se; it was a major pastime for soldiers. But to do so when on guard duty! The very thought infuriated him.

  The interior of the fortification was dim and empty. There were not even any of the soldiers lounging off-duty in the barracks. The word had already spread: Kadir was inspecting, and he was angry. Everyone needed to be in top form and looking busy.

  Kadir frowned. Next on his list was the armory, to see if the weapons had been kept up. Even in the dry air of Baradon, rust was an ever-present enemy, always seeking an unprotected or unmaintained weapon to consume.

  As he walked through the empty halls his senses pricked up.

  Something was wrong.

  He slowed his walk, entering a storage chamber. He was deep inside the fortification, and the light here was dim, with cheap clay lamps hanging from the walls. Boxes and stacks of equipment filled the room. He put his hands behind his back and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath.

  Kadir stepped left suddenly, and a blade whistled through the air where his neck had been. He lashed out in the darkness to his right. His fist connected with a meaty thump, and a body tumbled to the ground next to him. He ducked as another blade swung by. He grabbed the arm holding it and yanked. As he did so, his gnarled fingers squeezed a pressure point in the wrist, grinding ruthlessly into the sensitive flesh. A long, curved saber clattered to the floor. The dark figure struck at him with its other hand, aiming low on his chest, but Kadir twisted his body to deflect the strike. He twisted the arm in his hand, sending a second assailant to the floor as well.

  Shadows detached from the walls and slowly approached him. They were wrapped in black linen, head to toe, and their faces were covered. Each one carried a long, cruel saber. The two he'd knocked down recovered, and rejoined their brethren.

  "So, the hashashim have arrived," he said. He drew his battered training-stick from beneath his robes with his right hand. "Long have I wondered about these so-called legendary assassins. Let us see how the truth matches the stories."

  Five assassins surrounded him. They circled him in confusing patterns, subtly turning their blades to catch the limited light, making misleading gleams and sparkles, distracting the eye. Their glittering eyes fixed unerringly on him. Kadir stood unmoving as the assassins swirled around him.

  Without warning, three of the hashashim lunged simultaneously. Their blades clanged together in empty air as Kadir spun aside. His stick lashed out, cracking one of their elbows with shattering force. Even through the length of his stick, Kadir could feel the dry crunch of breaking bone.

  The man made no cry of pain as his saber tumbled from his grip. He scooped it back up with his left hand, his glittering eyes never leaving Kadir.

  The other two hashashim slashed at him. He leapt away, and drove the tip of his training-stick at them. The stick slammed home in an eye socket. The man stumbled back, blood pouring down his ruined face. He recovered his stance, and fixed his remaining glittering eye back on Kadir.

  "I see," Kadir said. "I will not be able to dissuade you." Blades whirled by. Kadir deftly dodged them. "I have heard that you drink a tea of hūmao extract. It numbs you to pain."

  "Our reward gives us focus," said the one with the ruined eye. "It frees us from fear. You are slow because you fear death."

  Kadir grinned at the assassin.

  "I do not fear an old friend," he said. "The bone-collector has long lived with me, tucked up in my cloak." He pulled back from the fight, breathing heavily for a moment. "And now I have taken your measure. Since you have respect the bone-collector so, I will introduce you."

  "We will slay you," said one of the hashashim, his voice dry and papery.

  "And our brothers will slay the Shazedah," said the one with the ruined eye.

  "Then we get more of our reward." said a third.

  "Ah, you seek the Shazedah," Kadir said. "Then I will have to kill you all quickly." The hashashim encircled him. Kadir was backing toward a wall. It had one fitful lamp flickering in a sconce several feet above his head.

  Kadir regarded his stick for a moment, then tossed it on the floor at their feet.

  "If I am to kill you all quickly, I will need a better weapon. May I borrow one of yours?"

  In unison and without apparent communication, all five hashashim raised their heavy sabers and brought them down at the grizzled old bodyguard.

  Kadir darted back from their blows, and grabbed the lantern off the wall behind him. He hopped up, leapt off the wall, aiming himself at the hashashim on the far left. Kadir smashed the clay lamp down on the assassin's head. Oil and flame poured down over him. Within seconds, he was fully aflame. The hashashim screamed in agony as the flames seared his flesh.

  "Ah, the hūmao can be overcome," Kadir noted dryly.

  The remaining hashashim held their distance for a moment as the cries of their compatriot echoed through the dry room. Kadir dashed forward with blinding speed. Now, he aimed at the far right hashashim. The assassin brought his saber up to block, but Kadir drove a stomp kick at the man's leading knee. His leg folded backward and he collapsed.

  Kadir leaned back, dodging another slash, and managed to snag the falling man's saber.

  "Now I have a saber," Kadir said darkly. His grin widened. "Ho ho ho."

  The three remaining hashashim leapt for him. A clatter of crashing steel resounded through the room as he batted away their strikes, stepping aside to let the steel pass harmlessly. As he shifted, his broad, curved blade swept smoothly by, opening one man's stomach nearly to his spine. The stricken hashashim tried to stand, but his lifeblood poured out of his body like water from a pitcher, and in only seconds the glittering of his eyes dulled, his eyelids drooped sleepily, and he sank to the floor.

  "These are good sabers," Kadir noted.

  The two hashashim glanced at each other and dropped their sabers. In unison they drew daggers; long, wicked, sinuous things, bent back and forth like a snake.

  Kadir grimaced. When a man discarded a greater weapon for a lesser, it was because he knew something you didn't.

  "Hūmao sustains us, hūmao rewards us," they chanted. Then they closed with him.

  Kadir's saber rose in a lightning-quick vertical slash, opening one of the men up with a ghastly wound straight up his sternum. The other hashashim was able to slip past, jabbing with his sinuous blade. Kadir twisted away, but the hashashim pulled his strike short and swung his blade back. The dagger sank into Kadir's stomach, sliding in with almost no resistance.

  The wound immediately began burning like the sun. Kadir snarled and kicked the man away. The dagger yanked free of his flesh, tearing his wound wider on its way out. Kadir drove the saber down at the joint where the man's neck met his shoulder: all power and no finesse, splitting him nearly in half. The hashashim died with a smile on his lips.

  "Filthy dogs." Kadir spat on the corpse. With all his opponents down, he made a quick round, visiting each fallen with his saber to ensure they wouldn't rise again. Then he made for the door, stumbling.

  The wound in his gut burned like nothing he'd ever felt. It was not a long wound, but it was deep. Kadir had received worse, but none with this kind of overwhelming pain.

  Kadir slammed into the doorjamb, panting, his legs wobbling. He pressed a fist over his bleeding wound as his head began spinning.

  Poison. One of the hashashim's nasty little tricks. But he didn't have time to die.

  He had to save the princess.