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There was no need for plications here。
〃These men will be hungry now； and vulnerable。 Get back to the others。 Tell them we attack now； in Ashar's name。〃
The god's stars were steady above them。 The new Jaddites were dismounting； even as he watched。 Their horses were being led away by servants。 These men would be fighters； Aziz knew； but on foot？ Against one hundred of the best…trained Muwardis in Al…Rassan？
A moment later Aziz heard the sound of hooves。 He stood up and looked back。 He saw the curved line of his tribesmen approaching。 One man came sweeping up to him； the reins of Aziz's horse in one hand。 Aziz swung up onto the saddle cloth while the horses were still moving。 He pulled his hammer free of his belt。
He heard a scream from one of the cookfires。 The sound broke off sharply。 Someone had shot an arrow。 There were other cries； the desperate sounds of men caught utterly by surprise。
They reached the low fence and hurdled it。 Aziz lifted his own voice then； crying Ashar's name in triumph beneath the watching； holy stars。
They did； in the darkness of night； what they had e out from Fezana to do。 They killed； and more than that。 A message was to be given here； and the northerners were not to be permitted to avoid that message。
There was some resistance； which offered a kind of pleasure。 The fifty men who had e were soldiers； but they were outnumbered and on foot； and the Muwardis knew exactly what they were doing。
Aziz had already identified the leader of the soldiers and chosen him for his own； as a captain of the tribes had to do if he wanted to keep his honor and rank。 He raced up to the man； wheeling his hammer in anticipation…but then had to rock wildly in the saddle to avoid a leaping sword blow from the northerner。
The man was no longer young； but he was quick； and had very nearly been deadly。 Aziz； going past； turning his horse； saw the tribesman behind him fall to a second slash of the same sword。 The Jaddite mander； a dark； tall man； shoved the tribesman from the saddle and swung himself up on the horse in the same motion。 The two leaders faced each other。 Aziz smiled。 This was life； this was what a man lived for。
The Valledan screamed something suddenly； and brandished his sword high。 It was too flamboyant； he was too far away。 A distraction。
Aziz turned； instinctively； and saw the boy with a blade ing towards him from behind。 If his horse had been stabbed Aziz might have been in peril； but the boy disdained such tactics； swinging upwards for the Muwardi's ribs。 Aziz blocked the blow and then…something he had done a hundred times； at least…brought his hammer across and down； through the feeble parrying of that sword。 He smashed the boy's skull； felt it break like the shell of an egg。
〃Diego！〃 the Valledan leader cried。
Aziz laughed aloud。 The dark Valledan drove his seized mount forward and chopped at the neck of Aziz's horse。 The sword bit deep。 The animal screamed； rearing wildly on its hind legs。 Aziz fought to keep his seat； felt himself sliding； and saw the northerner's long sword ing。
Had Aziz ibn Dabir been a lesser man he would have died then。 He was a Muwardi though； of the Zuhrites； hand…picked to e to Al…Rassan。 He hurled his body from the saddle； away from the sweeping blade； and hit the ground on the far side of his horse。
He came up with his left shoulder hurting but his hammer ready。 It wasn't necessary。 Aziz saw that the Valledan had been dispatched from behind by two of the tribesmen。 One sword had gone in so far it had e out through the man's breast where he lay on the ground。
Aware that he had lost more than dignity in this encounter； Aziz strode over and seized the sword from the second tribesman。 Enraged； he severed the dead man's head with a blow。 He spoke a mand； breathing hard。 One of his men leaped from his horse and pulled down the lower clothing of the dead man。 Aziz； not troubling to be neat about it； castrated the Valledan。 Then he seized the dead boy； flipped him on his belly； and dragged the headless； emasculated captain on top of him； as if they had been lovers butchered in congress。
It was all a matter of sending a message。 Making the Jaddites brutally aware of what they faced if they remained in the lands of Ashar so far from their pastures in the north。
Aziz looked up。 An outrider was racing towards them from the eastern edge of the hamlet。
〃More of them！〃 he shouted。 〃Riding from Fezana。〃
〃How many？〃
〃Fifty。 Maybe more。〃
Aziz scowled。 He badly wanted to stay and defeat these men as well； especially since his own disgrace； but surprise was gone now； and the new Valledans would be mounted and ready。 His orders had been clear； and he understood them too well to disobey； whatever pride might desire。
He ordered the withdrawal。 Dead Valledans were strewn through the camp。 The food and the supply wagons were burning。 They rode out to the north and crossed the river by the narrow bridge。 The last men chopped it down； just to be sure。
They raced back to Fezana without incident； were known and admitted at the southern gate。 Aziz made his report to the governor。 Then he and his men were immediately detailed to join others in fighting the fires that had begun in their absence。 It appeared that someone had chosen a poor moment to perform an entirely proper act： dealing with the Kindath of the city。
It was mid…morning before Aziz ibn Dabir fell； exhausted； into bed。 His shoulder had begun to hurt quite badly during the labors of the long night。 He dozed fitfully； despite his fatigue； knowing that word would be travelling south across Al…Rassan and then the straits to the desert all too soon。
Word of how Aziz ibn Dabir had been on the very brink of defeat in bat with a single Valledan and had only been saved by the intercession of men he led。 Aziz was painfully aware that the extent of his own contribution to the ambush at Orvilla had been to kill a child and then mutilate a man others had slain for him…which； among the tribes； was woman's work。 Yazir might tolerate this； in a captain of experience； but his brother Ghalib； who manded the armies of the Majriti for him； was less likely to do so。
And Aziz happened to be one of those who knew the origins of the extremely unusual thong Ghalib ibn Q'arif wore about his neck。
He could not remember feeling so pure a terror in all his life。 His heart was pounding uncontrollably as he raced over the plain； he thought he might actually lose control of himself； fall off the horse； be trampled to death by those who followed in his wake。
That might be； thought Rodrigo Belmonte； a blessing； the way shooting a horse or a hunting dog with a broken leg was a gift of mercy。
He was a horse or a dog like that。
He was a father trying to outrun the arc of time to his son。 Terror was in him； defined him； made his mind a blank of dread。
Nothing like this； ever before。 Fear； yes。 No honest soldier could truly say he had never known fear。 Courage lay in fighting past that； through it； rising above it to do what one had to do。 He had faced his own death many times； and feared it； and dealt with that fear。 He had never felt what he was experiencing now； in this night of Al…Rassan； hurtling towards Orvilla for the second time in less than a year。
And with that thought； Rodrigo saw the fires burning ahead of him and knew…a soldier； a trained soldier…that he was too late。
He heard a sound in the night。 A name； his own voice crying； over and over； the one name。 His child's。 It was dark。 It was dark under the stars； and there were fires ahead。
The Muwardis…it would have been Muwardi warriors； of course…had left by the time he came racing up to the low stockade and leaped it and flung himself from his horse amid burning wagons and tents and slain； mutilated men he knew。
He found Ibero first。 He had no prehension of how the man had e to be here。 The little cleric lay in a pool of his own blood； black in the light of the fires。 His hands and feet had been cut off。 They lay a little distance from his body； pieces of a child's torn doll。
Rodrigo smelled burning flesh。 Some of their people had been t