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you of outlandersin this city? Know you of any man or woman, outlander or Hundred folk, who can see ghosts, as the gods-touched are said to do?”
    He did not want to tell her, but his thoughts spilled their secrets and she lapped them up however he struggled to conceal what he knew of Stone Quarter’s clans and compounds. He wept furiously, hating how he betrayed them: He knew of eight outlanders who were slaves in Stone Quarter, and he’d glimpsed others in Flag, Bell, Wolf, and Fifth Quarters as well. They came from foreign lands and usually served out their days with the clan who had purchased them. There was a young envoy stationed in Flag Quarter known to be gods-touched. Some years ago he’d met another at the Ilu temple up on the Ili Cutoff, an older man. A pair of gods-touched mendicants were said to wander the tracks and back roads of lower Haldia, aiding troubled ghosts in crossing away under Spirit Gate. Shouldn’t such holy ones be left in peace to do what the gods commanded?
    She released him by looking away to pinion the sergeant. “Sergeant Tomash, you will accompany me to Flag Quarter. I must search out this young gods-touched envoy. After that, I have a new assignment for you. Collect all the census records. I want a hostage taken from every compound and handed over to the army.”
    “But my work in Stone Quarter, Holy One?”
    “Is no longer your concern. There are two cohorts marching down from High Haldia to take over administrative duties here once the army marches on Nessumara. You will report directly to the main command as my personal adjutant, with your rank raised to that of captain. I’ll call on you and your company as I have need of them.”
    “You honor me, Holy One. Shall we cleanse the ostiary, Holy One?”
    “No. The gods will dispose of an honest ostiary as they see fit. Come. My errand is urgent. The gods-touched are our enemies. All must be brought before me.”
    The soldiers shrank back as she skirted the bodies of the fallen to reach a gate that led into the alley separating thiscompound from an adjoining emporium. She opened the gate and walked through.
    The new captain paused under the lintel, a malicious smile slashing his face as he contemplated his enhanced authority. “Dump that one in Scavengers’ Alley like the rubbish he is. Then we’ll see how the gods choose to dispose of an honest ostiary.”
    The blow took Nekkar from behind. A second smashed into his shoulders as laughter hammered in his ears. Distantly, a man sobbed. He toppled dazedly to the dirt, wondering why there was a salty taste in his mouth. What had Vassa cooked tonight for supper?
    With the third blow came oblivion.

4
    H OW TO DESCRIBE what you grew up never having words for? Nallo had been born and raised in the rugged Soha Hills, where a person might stand on a ridge path and survey higher slopes where rock broke the surface of the soil like old bones, and deeper gullies where streams ran white. But to fly! To hang in the harness below an eagle as the land unrolled beneath you like so many bolts of multicolored cloth!
    That was something.
    She had never seen a river so wide that a shout might not carry across it. To the north, forest tangled the earth. To the south, on the far side of the river, neat rectangles marked densely packed fields, and every village boasted a flagpole and one or two small temples, each one easily identifiable from the air. There lay a quartered square, a temple built for Kotaru the Thunderer, the god she had served for one year as an apprentice. Here rose the three-tiered gates holy to Ilu the Herald. Roofs thatched with fanned leaves from the thatch-oil tree covered altars raised to Taru the Witherer, their bright green color withering as the rains faded. She spotted a walled garden sacred to Ushara the Merciless One, a few people loitering in the forecourt,too tiny to distinguish male from female; in the Devourer’s garden, such distinctions did not matter as long as