Chapter I

Book 1: The Veil

Chapter I

Struggles and Strangers

''Show him who's boss, Nirasha!''

''Spit in his eye!''

''Grind him in the dirt!''

I twisted my arm out of Geet's grasp, bringing my other hand up to land an open-handed punch on his nose. I felt cartilage crunch beneath the heel of my hand, and then I was on him, shoving him to the dirt and landing solidly atop him. He twisted and flailed, trying to get rid of me, but it was no use. I leaned forward and bit down on his ear, hard, growling like an animal. It tasted disgusting! The fellow needed a bath. Desperately.

''Ow-w-w-w! I give, I give!'' he squealed. Grinning viciously, I stood and spat at him. There was derisive laughter from my crowd of brothers, and from some of the other village lads that'd showed up to see the sport.

''Try that again, goatface, and you'll be missing teeth!'' I told him. My brothers growled in agreement. The various threatening expressions on their faces said plainly that a few teeth weren't all he'd be missing when they finished with him.

''City boy,'' someone scoffed. ''No one messes with Raza's brood!'' There was a chorus of agreement. Geet crawled away, sniffing blood and doing his best to gather the tatters of his dignity.

Later that evening, as I was helping Maata prepare dinner, I boasted about my victory. ''That bratty merchant's boy tried to kiss me today, Maata! I broke his nose for him and sent him packing. Little idiot had no idea who he was dealing with.''

Her reaction was not at all what I expected. She rounded on me, brandishing her ladle, and I took a hasty step back.

''Have you been possessed? No man will take a wife that fights in the street!''

I took another step away. She looked about ready to smack me over the head with that ladle of hers, and I knew full well the pain such a blow could bring.

''Here is your Pitaa, working hard to find a husband for you... And everybody knows your reputation, your outrageous behavior. You are a disgrace, Nirasha!''

With an inward sigh, I settled in for a lecture. This could take a while.

''How are we ever to find a proper match for you, if you do not better control yourself? I ask you! You should have let the merchant's boy kiss you, if that is what he wanted.'' She went back to stirring the pot, now with furious intent.

Of course, I was horrified, but she plowed on before I could protest. With every new point, she would jab the ladle viciously at me, then return to stirring for a moment before another occurred to her.

''He will be taking over his father's business, and will be a very good provider.'' Jab. ''I hear his father has a beautiful house in the city.'' Jab. ''He will often be away from home, so you would not have to spend too much time with him on a regular basis.'' Jab. ''The less you saw him, the fewer children you would have, and there is another blessing!'' She shook her head sadly, lowering the ladle for the last time, as if my wickedness had quite drained her strength. ''It is out of the question now, of course. Honestly, girl! What were you thinking?''

'He smells of his pitaa's goats, and his beard is laughable!', I thought, with a tiny smile. Unfortunately, she chose that moment to turn to me, and she didn't think it was a laughing matter. Once again, she brandished the ladle at me.

''Horrible child!'' She started to say something more, then stopped, apparently deciding that it was useless to continue. Defeated, she merely said ''Go and fetch your brothers.''

Later that evening, I lay on the packed earth, staring up at the grass roof of our tiny hut. Pancavam's feet were in my face, but I didn't mind – I was used to it. In such a small space, with six children to share it, it was a wonder anyone had any room at all to rest their heads. How fortunate I was, to have no more than five brothers! We all smelled terrible, and if there had been any more of us, I am quite sure I would have suffocated before I turned five.

As it was, I would be sixteen years old on the following day. It would mark my passage into womanhood, and I would finally be of age to find a husband. My parents had already chosen quite a few candidates, of course... I may have been only a girl, but if they could fool someone into thinking I was pretty, they might be able to get a nice bride-price for me.

I was awakened by a man landing heavily across my legs.

This was, as you can imagine, quite startling. He scrambled right up again, and I groped for a weapon as he charged at his enemy.

There were, for some reason, two men in my family's hut - apparently dueling to the death. They both had to fight from a deep crouch, often bumping their heads on the low thatch, and kept stumbling over abandoned head-rolls.

My brothers and parents were all off somewhere, doing chores. They had let me sleep in a bit, seeing as it was my coming-of-age day and all.

One of the combatants (who had black hair and an unsettling goatee) lunged at his counterpart (brown-haired and angelic). Sword clashed against sword, and I hastily scooted away, snatched up the night-water pot and hurled it at them.

It spiraled beautifully through the air, covering both of them (and the surrounding area) in muck. The crude clay pot shattered against Goatee'd-Hothead's chest and sent him staggering backwards, giving Angelic-Hothead just the opportunity he needed. He lunged forward, thrust his sword deep into Goatee'd-Hotead's stomach. The loser choked, and slowly fell to his knees, then sprawled flat on the ground, blood appearing on his lips even as it blossomed on his tunic.

The victor yanked out his sword, still dripping in gore, and turned to me.

I had not screamed. I never scream. Instead, I stared, horrified.

An eshwar, of a rank that a najeet like me could never hope to attain, lay dead. He had been killed by another lord, right here in my hut, and I was sure there would be retribution of some kind on my family. I could easily tell they were eshwar – not only by their clothes, but by the vivid green eyes and pointed ears characteristic of their kind.

As I said, a man lay dead on my floor, and in my stupor of disbelief, only one thing was clear to me...

Those bloodstains would never come out! Maata would not be pleased, and neither would the owners of the sullied pillows.

While these incongruous thoughts flashed through my mind, the surviving intruder looked me up and down. It occurred to me then that I was still in my nightclothes, but I held my head high, slowly rising to a crouch. My hands clenched into fists, almost of their own accord. He laughed at that, took a step toward me.

''If you come a single inch nearer,'' I said, with apparent calm, ''I will hit you so hard that your unborn children cry out for mercy.''

He smirked and stepped closer still. I lashed out, landing a solid punch on his elbow, right where I knew it would be most sensitive. It had probably bruised my fist (which stung abominably), but the result was worth it: the intruder yelped and dropped his sword, rubbing his stinging arm and looking at me with a mixture of wonder and irritation.

''That, raja, was a warning. I don't take kindly to strange men barging into my house before I'm decently clad, knocking each other about and getting blood all over the place! Explain yourself!'' It seemed to me that things were pretty much hopeless for my family anyway. We'd probably get blamed for the murder – I might as well get an explanation before we were thrown to the tigers.

The stranger stared at me for a moment longer, then stepped back and held up his hands in an unmistakable request for peace. ''I am sorry I frightened you, miss...?''

''Nirasha Raza– of the Raza Parekhs.''

''Well, Nirasha Raza of the Raza Parekhs, I think you should give me a chance to explain myself before you form any opinions about me. Come, let us not be unpleasant! I am here to help you, believe it or not.''

''Help me? How do you mean?''

''Surely you jest? Don't you know that this man came here to murder you in your sleep?''
''I've only got your word for it that it's so.''

''Would I lie to you?''

''I don't see how killing a fellow with a silly beard means you're any more trustworthy than any other strange man with a sword.''

''I didn't say it did! Just... Listen, please!'' I grudgingly lowered my fists a little, though I kept a wary eye on him, and nodded curtly. ''Miss Nirasha, I come to tell you that you are not who you think you are.''

''Beg pardon?''

''You do not belong in this dusty little village. Your home is in Uccasita – the Maharajah's city.''

''And why would that be?''

''Can you not guess?'' At my skeptical look, he grinned most charmingly. ''You... are a maj! Numbered among the Blessed Ones!'' He seemed to expect applause. I wasn't about to believe him, though – he seemed to have forgotten one of the fundamental aspects of maji.

''I thought that only worked for the seventh son of a seventh-''

''Are you not the seventh child of a seventh child? Is that not enough?''

''I've never shown any of the signs!''

''What do the najeet know of signs?'' he asked scornfully. I glared at him, and he flashed me another of those accursedly dazzling smiles. ''Not you, of course. Why, with your powers, you can claim the title of 'Eshwar'!''

For a moment, I was almost fooled. Then I remembered all that I'd been told, every day of my life. I gave him my most withering look. ''In case you had not noticed, Raja Eshwar, I am a woman, and women cannot work magic.''

''Of course you would think that, raised in a slum like this.'' He really wasn't endearing himself to me by insulting my hometown. ''Are you not also told that women can't fight?''

''No – only that they shouldn't.''

He acted as if I hadn't spoken. ''Exactly! It is the same with magic, girl. Women can work magic, but the men suppress them, wanting all the glory for themselves.''

But wouldn't my magic-working have brought riches and glory to the whole town? Perhaps this eshwar didn't realize it, but in a village where one extra goat meant more food for everybody, no one could afford to suppress the talents of any percentage of the populace.

Perhaps they had simply been misinformed?

He mistook the reason for my hesitation and gave me an ingratiating smile. Even in such a situation as this, I couldn't help but notice that it was quite an attractive one. ''Ah! You are beginning to think!'' he cried, as smugly as if he, himself, had gifted me with intelligence. ''Now – will you come with me? I will take you to the court of the Maharajah, who will-''

''Wait! First off, I'm not in the habit of running off with strange men. Second, you haven't even introduced yourself, much less given me any reason to trust you.''

''But of course! You must pardon me for my lack of manners, Miss Nirasha.'' He bowed gracefully. ''You may know me as... Ashvar.''

''No surname?''

''I may tell you that another time.'' Ashvar tried another of his dashing smiles on me. I rolled my eyes, wondering if he expected me to run off, leaving my family with no message but a dead body on the floor. ''Please, Miss Nirasha... Come with me?''

''As I said, I'm not in the habit of running off with strange men.'' He looked so downhearted at this that I almost felt sorry for him. But, really! He'd killed someone in my family's hut! What else had he expected?

''Well, then... Goodbye, and good luck.'' He reached out and gently took hold of my hand.

I would have pulled away, but I was completely unprepared for the strange gesture. As soon as his hand touched mine, I found myself looking into his eyes. Well, more than looking, really. Gazing. They were so, so... green. I had never seen green eyes before. How vivid a color! And the face that went with it... I was staring, I knew, but somehow I just couldn't stop.

''Won't you come with me, Nirasha?'' His voice was silky-smooth; gentle, but commanding.

''Of course,'' I found myself saying. Somewhere, deep inside my mind, common sense screamed that I was a fool... But it was drowned out by Ashvar's honeyed words.

''I'm so glad. You know this is the right thing to do.'' His lips touched the back of my hand, and then he was gently leading me away, out of my family's hut and then out of the village itself.

I trailed along behind him, meek as a lamb. He still held my hand, but I didn't object. Against my rough, calloused palm, his was soft and warm. But the strength of his grip!
He had retrieved his bloody sword, which he carried now in his free hand. We ran through the outlying fields around our village, farmers raising their heads to watch us as we passed. If we had been near the field my brothers worked, they would certainly have given chase... But as we were currently on the other side of the village from them, the only family member to witness our rapid departure was Maata. She was walking home after hunting down and milking the family goat. Her eyes met mine, and she smiled smugly. Surely a handsome eshwar running away with her daughter was a good sign!

We were at the treeline before we heard her scream. Evidently she'd found the other eshwar.

It was too late to send anyone after us – Ashvar was leading me off into the depths of the jungle.

~*~

We were several miles in before I began to come to my senses. Ashvar had let go of my hand and seated himself on a fallen tree, then pulled out an old rag and started cleaning his sword. I stood there, watching him, trying to figure out why I'd followed him all this way. All of a sudden, his every move no longer enchanted me. His eyes didn't seem quite so green, or so deep. I took a careful step away from him, preparing myself for a fight. I was suddenly realizing that he'd played me for a fool, and I was starting to get angry. This man had lured me away from house and home by unnatural means (I never would have been so foolish without help), and I wasn't about to stand for it.

He glanced up at me, evidently sensing trouble. ''What's wrong, Nirasha?'' he asked, in that silky voice of his.

''What do you want from me?'' I demanded, the words slightly muffled by gritted teeth.

''I want only the best for you, Nirasha. You know that.''

''No, I don't! All I know is that you killed a man in my home, then kidnapped me.''

'' 'Kidnapped'! You came along willingly!''

''That's a lie, and you know it! You.... you manipulated me, somehow! It had to be magic.''

''What a far-fetched thought! I am no maj, as you can plainly see.'' He stood and advanced. He was either about to run me through or get me under his control again, and I didn't know which was worse. I had no weapons but my fists, and somehow they seemed a mite inadequate when compared with that long sword of his... And, of course, I didn't want to risk touching him again, lest his mesmerizing magic worked by contact. Discretion is, after all, the better part of valor (though I had not yet heard that phrase), and so I took to my heels, fleeing through the thick underbrush.

Being native to this part of the country, I was well-used to finding the fastest way through thick clusters of trees and bushes, which gave me some small advantage. Behind me, though, I could hear Ashvar hacking his way through, and though a sword is not the best of tools for navigating a jungle with, I didn't doubt that he'd soon catch up with me.

What could I do?

A large hand reached out and took hold of my arm. I yelped and struggled, but my adversary was too strong, and held me fast.

''Let me help,'' a deep voice said, as quietly as it could manage. I found myself staring up at a dark face and darker eyes. ''Attack me later if you must, but at least deal with one enemy at a time.''

Well, if he meant to assist me, I would let him – Ashvar had caught up by now, and stood only a few feet away, glaring intensely at the man beside me.

''Release her, Raoul.''

''If you insist.'' He let go of my arm, casually placing himself between me and my pursuer. ''This isn't your usual style, Sharva. Chasing young women through jungles with a drawn sword? I expected something a little more... subtle.'' Sharva? The destroyer?

''She was under the misapprehension that I had kidnapped her. The sword is merely to help me make my way through this thick undergrowth.''

My new friend (for an enemy of an enemy must be one, however temporarily) gave me an amused look. ''You let him touch your hand, didn't you? I suppose you couldn't have known better.''

''It's not as though I routinely make the acquaintance of maji!''

''Oh, he's no maj. Just a demon, really.'' I stared at him, wondering if he could be joking. By the look of rage on Ashvar's – no, Sharva's – face, though, it seemed that the accusation must be more than mockery.

''A lie! Who would you believe, Nirasha, the man who saved your life or a stranger of the wood? He could very well be a demon, or at the least a bhoot.''

''Can't be a bhoot – his feet aren't facing backwards,'' I pointed out, though I couldn't deny the possibility that he was something worse. ''Also, for all I know you're some kind of murderer or slave-trader or what-have-you. What I know about you: you killed a man in my hut and then kidnapped me with magic. What I know about him: you're not friends with him and he's offered to help. So far, my friend, he's shown himself to be a much better ally than you.'' I ducked behind Raoul. ''Oh, and he's much bigger than you are.''

''I doubt you can persist in the face of such unassailable logic, Sharva,'' the nije said, a twinkle in his eye and the hint of a smile lurking somewhere in his voice. ''Face it: she will not fall for your tricks, so you can just take yourself off and find some other maiden to torment.''

''There can be no other.''

''Unfortunate for you, then, is it not?'' Raoul turned unconcernedly to me. ''Forgive me for my rudeness – I have neglected to introduce myself to you. I am Raoul One-Hand. And you?''

''Nirasha Raza Parekh.''

''Pleased to make your acquaintance.''

''Likewise.''

As we spoke, Sharva began to get more and more irate, until he looked about ready to burst. He pulled back his sword, preparing for a mighty thrust...

And then a pale figure fell from the trees, landing squarely on his back.

The demon (or whatever he was) fell forwards with a grunt, the weapon flying from his hand. A young man, around my age, sat atop him, ready to plunge a dagger into his back at the slightest hint of resistance.

''Got 'im, Raoul!''

''Well done.'' The nije's eyes smiled, though his lips moved only a little to match. ''Nirasha, allow me to introduce you to my friend, Theødel. Theødel, meet Nirasha Raza Parekh.''

''Hullo. Been looking for you.'' He flashed a quick smile at me, but most of his attention was focused on his prisoner.

''What?'' That suddenly made this whole situation much more dangerous. Why were all these strange men seeking me out? It was beginning to get more than a little ludicrous. It wasn't as thought I was any great find! Could these people be trusted?

''Please, don't take it amiss.'' Raoul's deep, calm voice soothed my doubts somewhat. ''I promise, we will not make any attempt to lure you off. All we want is to take you home and tell you why everyone's so keen to have you on their side.''

More than Sharva had promised. ''Fine. But if you turn out to be slavers...''

''Trust me, Nirasha. Slavery should be the least of your worries,'' he quietly replied.

''Sorry – did I say something wrong?'' The young man was focusing almost entirely on me now. He was like nothing I'd ever seen! His hair was yellow, like straw, and rather unruly; his eyes were a strange, pale blue and, on top of it all, his skin was white as goat's milk. I couldn't help but stare, and he stared right back. Then, apparently irritated, he turned to Raoul. ''Why's she looking at me like that?''

''I don't believe she's never seen anyone of your complexion before.''

''Oh!'' Theødel laughed, and though it was a pleasant sort of laugh, it irritated me. Why should he mock my curiosity? It was only natural, after all.

''Mind your manners, lad.'' Raoul glanced at me shrewdly, obviously guessing at the source of my irritation. ''And, Nirasha... Do not be so quick to feel insulted. Theødel was raised in an environment filled with people like him.''

''The koha-jahn?'' I had only heard of the pale folk in stories. They were said to be shiftless, untrustworthy.

''Exactly. Now, then - will you allow us to escort you home?''

I hesitated, but I didn't doubt that I could defend myself against the koha-jahnish boy easily enough. ''Please do. I don't suppose you'll be dragging that whatever-he-is along with you?'' I nodded towards the prone form of Sharva.

''Of course not. We will bind him and leave him here, though it may not do much good.''

''Wait. If he's a demon, how was your friend able to overcome him so easily?''

''His powers are weakened somewhat when he assumes a form that is not his own. I must admit, however, that I expected something more, well, formidable.''

Theødel seemed to be having some trouble. Slowly, in spite of his best efforts, his grip on the knife loosened, then failed altogether. It fell harmlessly to the ground, and Sharva threw him off easily, leaping to his feet with remarkable agility.

''Merely waiting for the right moment, my friend.'' He smiled, and his sword flew through the air towards his hand.

Before it could reach him, however, I landed a solid punch on his jaw.

He staggered backwards, his eyes rolled back in his head and he sagged to the ground, momentarily rendered unconscious. Meanwhile, my hand was stinging viciously for the second time that day, and I vowed to begin looking for less bony parts of the fellow to hit. A second later the hilt of the still-oncoming sword slammed into my shoulder and nearly knocked me over. I swore and spun around, but it had fallen harmlessly to the earth and looked almost smug.

''Impressive. Theødel, tend to him.'' I couldn't tell whether or not the dark fellow was being sarcastic. I decided to take the remark as a compliment.

The young man, looking rather embarrassed over his easy defeat, quickly bound Sharva hand and foot with lengths of mud-covered rope (pure earth weakens evil spirits, you see), then sent his sword whirling into the underbrush to make the demon's task that much harder. With that little matter settled, the three of us started off into the jungle, and soon Sharva's cry of rage echoed through the trees behind us.

As long as these people actually took me home, the day still had a chance of being a good one.

~*~

We had been walking for some time, hacking our way through the thick growth, before Raoul spoke again. ''I promised you an explanation, did I not?''

''I think so,'' I answered, after a slight pause. I was a little startled – my own thoughts had fully occupied me, and I do believe it would have taken me a moment or two to remember my own name, had I been asked.

''You know, of course, that it is quite rare to have seven sons in a row.''

''Of course.''

''Have you ever thought that it is just as rare to have six sons, followed by a daughter?''

''Well, obviously.''

''And that it only gets more unlikely when the father must, himself, be a seventh son?''

''Are you driving at anything in particular?''

''The odds of children being born in such a strict order... Ridiculous! I have looked into it myself.''

''Really?'' Well, that was something I hadn't heard before, at least. Was he trying to make me feel better about my failure to be born the right gender?

''According to my calculations, yes.'' He peered at me from beneath thick eyebrows. ''If you think about it, you are just as rare as any maj.''

''Well, thank you, I suppose, but what-''

''Please do not interrupt. You are, in fact, even rarer than a maj. The likelihood of allowing a male child to live is higher than that of keeping a female, which shifts the odds a little. This is, in part, why you are so sought-after today – your kind is born with alarming rarity.''

''What do you mean 'my kind'?'' I asked, rather coldly.

''I mean the psyches.''

''The what?''

''The psyches are a very rare sort of magic-user. They can employ a kind of power that no maj will ever see the like of – a power that allows them to move objects using nothing but strength of mind.''

''Impossible.'' Magic didn't work that way. Even a poor little najeet girl knew that! Maji could make one object look like another, completely different one. They could force something to age rapidly with a single touch, they were rumored to have more than one life, and their powers of mesmerism were legendary. And yet, with all this, they could neither form objects out of thin air nor move anything without touching it. To work any magic, they had to be touching whatever it was they wanted to enchant – that was just the way things were. To manipulate something without any contact was above and beyond anything they could ever do.

''Not impossible: Very, very rare. But because a thing is scarce does not mean it is not in existence. For example, there is only one Maharajah, but no one doubts his reality.''

''But why has no one heard of these... these 'psyches', as you call them?''

''Many have forgotten that they ever existed. As I said, they are born only rarely, and even then they are often killed before they can reach their full potential.''

''Why hasn't anyone come after me before now, if I'm so very rare?''

''Good question.'' He gathered his thoughts for a moment before he continued. ''The Maharajah has been obsessed with the thought of having a psyche under his control for some time, as has his pitaa, his nana, so on and so forth, back through the generations. They even made a special post for the psyche-hunter: only a maj can hold it, and it is considered to be quite prestigious. The maj will send spies out all across the nation to gather information and seek out families close to having the seventh son of a seventh son, in hopes that it will be born the 'wrong' gender. It can take years at a time, but they usually find their target. Following so far?''

I nodded vaguely.

''Good. Other factions have spies of their own, and when the maj finds a psyche, it doesn't take too long for his rivals to learn of it. They tail him to wherever the psyche happens to reside, and from there it's a race to win her favor. It took a bit longer than normal for you to be found – your brother's death threw the Maharajah's searchers off the scent for a time.''

My youngest brother, Chatha, had been taken by fever not too long after my birth. Through some caprice of fate, it had passed over me entirely, though most of the village had suffered from it.

''We, too, had our spies. Almost as soon as the maj caught wind of your existence, we heard the news, as well. We were sent to protect you from less... desirable influences, and to make sure you were treated with the proper care.''

''And who are you, exactly?''

''Theødel and I represent the Phoenix Riders. They are a koha-jahnnish organization. One of the Riders' duties is to supply an honor guard for any psyche that might appear. It is an alliance going back generations, and is beneficial to both sides.'' Raoul indicated his young friend with a slight tilt of the head. ''Theødel has been selected to protect you, and to travel with you as long as you have need of his services.''

''I can take care of myself.''

''In a small village tussle, I am sure you could hold your own. However, you have no way of defending yourself against the weapons of others, both physical and psychological. Theødel will act as both council and protector.''

''How do I know I can trust him?'' I asked, and narrowed my eyes at this bodyguard of mine. He gave me one of his silly grins, which didn't summon much confidence. Weren't guards supposed to be big, hulking men? He was nothing but a scrap of a boy, barely older than I! I was sure that I could take him in a fight.

My expression must have showed my doubt, for I received a mildly scolding look from Raoul. ''Do not take this offer lightly, Nirasha. If necessary, Theødel has sworn to die in your service.''

''Only your word says it's so.''

''In another land, my word would halt an army in its charge.'' He was beginning to grow impatient. ''Allow him to accompany you, child. We have already saved you from one enemy, for which you have yet to thank us, and it is only by traveling with you that he can earn your trust.''

Well, he did have a point. It could be useful to have my own personal bodyguard... Wouldn't my brothers mock me, though! ''Oh, all right. He gets a trial run.''

~*~

It seemed like we had been walking for hours before we reached Basti. As we trekked through the jungle, Raoul told me more about my kidnapper.

''His name is Sharva. He is one of the less powerful demons – though he means to change that. He feeds on souls, but found out centuries ago that the soul of a psyche increases his powers dramatically. He can now take on the form of anyone whose soul he consumes, Nirasha; you must always be on your guard.''

''How does he steal someone's soul?''

''He can easily tear them out of normal humans, when in his true form, but a psyche must surrender it to him. A kiss, willingly given, is enough.''
I bit my lip as I contemplated what this would mean. Romantic advances would have to be treated with utmost suspicion. If I wasn't careful, my parents might marry me off to him, taking him for a nobleman!

We were approaching the village now. It was obvious that something was going on... Nary a soul was in the fields, but the dusty little cluster of huts was bustling. Soldiers in flashing armor mingled with rag-clad villagers, and most of the action seemed to be centered around my family's hut...

I ran towards home, ignoring Raoul's warning to wait. The army must have come, must have found the dead man. They would kill my mother, my father, my brothers... Behind me, I heard pounding footsteps. Probably Theødel's.

The hide that served as a door to our little hut was held aside, and out stepped the last man I'd expected to see alive.

''You're looking remarkably healthy, sir,'' I said, stammering a little. He didn't look very amused – was he this maj that Raoul had been telling me so much of? The leader of His Eminence's spies?

We stared at each other for a few minutes, just standing there. Then, with a curt nod of his head, he directed me into the small hut. I reluctantly entered, and he followed after me, along with Raoul and Theødel. My family had gathered in a semicircle around the walls of the little hut, and when my brothers saw me, they shouted for joy – even taciturn Pahale (my oldest brother). A look from the imposing man behind me quieted them, but as I moved to sit with them against the wall, he gestured for me to stop in the center of the room.

Only now could I really get a good look at him. He was tall, and since he couldn't stand upright in our little hut, he had seated himself cross-legged on an ornate mat. His hair was sleek and black, and his goatee in perfect order. I supposed he must have changed clothes, as there was no sign of the blood that had so recently stained his chest. As was the case with all members of the eshwar class, his ears were pointed, and his eyes were a piercing shade of green.

''Quite finished?'' he asked crisply, having noticed my curious inspection of him. I flushed and lowered my eyes, staring down at folded hands. Theødel and Raoul squatted just inside the doorway, choosing not to interfere. ''Good. I have come on behalf of His Eminence, the Maharajah. He extends an invitation to you, Nirasha, to join him at his court in Uccasita.'' I could hear Maata's gasp of shock behind me at this news.

''I don't think...'' I began, but he stopped me with an upraised hand.

''One does not lightly refuse the invitation of the Maharajah,'' he said, and now there was a warning note in his voice. I realized that it wasn't an invitation – not really. It was a summons, and one that could not be denied.

I would be going to Uccasita, whether or not I wanted to.

Well, might as well accept the inevitable. I bowed from the waist, almost kowtowing. ''I would be honored to accept His Eminence's kind invitation, sir,'' I told him, as politely as I could manage. Behind me, Dusara (second-oldest, and our self-nominated leader) cleared his throat.

''If it pleases the Maharajah, we would like to accompany our sister – my brothers and I,'' he said, bravely finishing his sentence in the face of the maj's cold stare.

''I have no wish to bring five filthy najeet into His Eminence's presence.'' He saw the look I gave him, seemed to sense that I was about to argue. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. ''...However, our psyche is looking rather mutinous. Very well – you may accompany us.''

''Theødel will be accompanying you, as well,'' Raoul rumbled. The maj seemed to notice him for the first time. He frowned a little, looking rather put out.

''If you insist. I had hoped to keep her away from third-party influence until we reached the capitol.''

''The Riders have served as an honor guard for psyches for the past seven hundred years. Nirasha will be shown the same courtesy as her predecessors.''

''Very well, very well.'' He turned back to me. ''I have yet to introduce myself. I am Maj Kushal Maj, leader of His Eminence's intelligence force. My title is also my surname, but for brevity's sake you may know me by my first name only. I still expect to be treated with respect, however.'' Maj Kushal Maj rose to a crouch, turning towards the exit. Raoul and Theødel obligingly moved out of his way. ''Prepare yourself for departure. We leave when the sun is at its peak.'' Then he exited, probably to marshal his troops.

So soon? I would have hardly any time to prepare, to say goodbye! At least my brothers would be accompanying me... Though Pitaa didn't seem very happy about the subject. He looked about to protest, but we were all too busy saying goodbye to him to pay attention. Then we moved on to Maata, and then out into the village, bidding farewell to the world we'd spent our lives in. Only Pahale and Dusara had been anywhere but here – they had visited the nearby city once in a while to trade what little stock we had for necessities that could not be made at home. The rest of us... Well, Basti was all we'd ever known. Few travelers had passed through it, after all, and there was little opportunity to leave.

But now, here we were, going to see the Maharajah in all his glory! The thought alone was enough to give one the shivers. What would it be like? All those grand people? The eshwar race? Now that I knew my brothers were coming, I could hardly wait!

Still... It was hard, leaving one's world for the first time.

I turned to Raoul, still wondering about something. ''You said Theødel would be coming... What about you?''

''My duties lie elsewhere, for the moment. Fear not – I shall be awaiting you in Uccasita, to assist you in your training.'' He smiled down at me. ''You will do well, Nirasha. You are obviously not one to give in easily to persuasive words, which will serve you well in the Maharajah's court. Expect everyone to have a stake in manipulating you, and you will do well.''

''Even you?''

''If you like. But I promise, Nirasha, that all I do is for your good.'' He turned away. ''I must depart, I fear. I am expected elsewhere. Good luck, Psyche. Farewell.'' A neighbor distracted my attention for a moment with her tearful farewell. When I turned back, the nije's brown, shaved head was barely visible through the press of people, heading for the village's edge.

Really, he couldn't have played the part of a cryptic wise man better if he'd been born for it!

~*~

When we returned to the hut for our belongings, Pitaa was waiting. He just looked at us for a long time, as if trying to figure out what to say. ''I will still need help in the fields.''

It was true... We couldn't all go waltzing off across the countryside. Pitaa was getting on in years, and he wasn't as skilled in his labors as he had once been. If he was left on his own, our family's field would likely go to seed, and it was unlikely that he would be able to catch the fresh game that supplemented our diet on his own. But which of my brothers would stay behind? I considered them each in turn.

Pahale, the oldest. He was skilled at working with his hands, and was usually the one to mend any little things that got broken. When I'd been young, he'd often made clever little toys for me. He rarely spoke, and never chattered, but his silences were as eloquent as anyone else's speeches. Pahale had practically fathered me, and I was closer to him than to any of my other brothers. I wouldn't readily leave him behind.

Dusara, the next in line, had somehow become the leader of our small clan. He was clever, witty... And he could run like a gazelle when the need arose. Not only that, but he was known to tell stories, and though he was a bit overfond of gore, I knew that a good tale-teller would be useful to have on this trip. Besides, I didn't think he would readily give up on this opportunity.

Tisara was the biggest and the strongest. He had a tendency to mumble, as he was usually afraid of speaking too loudly. I'd always thought that he was much cleverer than he let on – there was a certain gleam that never left his eyes, as if he was laughing at the world. He loved me, as all my brothers did, but he also loved his home. I could tell he would rather stay behind.

Cautha was a real man of the wilderness. He would often go to sit by himself in the woods for hours on end, and was rather more sensitive about ugliness and tragedy than the rest of us. He could never bring himself to kill an animal, and ate meat only with great reluctance, since he would have starved if he'd turned vegetarian. He probably wouldn't want to miss out on an adventure like this – a chance to see new and wonderful things.

And Pancavam... Poor Pancavam. He was a simpleminded lad, with the mind of a child and the body of a warrior. Though he was the best fighter of all of us, I couldn't bear to take him near danger of any kind... But he was so excited about this trip! I couldn't let him down. Besides, we had lots of strong warriors to guard us. He'd probably be well-protected.

We discussed it for a few minutes, and it was decided that Tisara would stay at home to help Pitaa and our other relatives (everyone in Basti was related, however remotely) in the fields. He was sorry to see us go, and I must admit that I was crying when I left, though I did my best to hide my tears.

~*~

Within the hour, we were on the road. My brothers and I each bore a pitiful little bundle, containing our few belongings worth taking along. They surrounded me in a protective circle as we walked, and Dusara fell in beside me. Even before he spoke, I knew I was going to have to answer some tough questions.

''So...'' He raised an eyebrow.

''It seems I'm some sort of rare, female magic-user that has a completely different kind of power from the average maj,'' I said, anticipating and forestalling his torrent of questions. ''I don't know much more than that... But now a minor demon is out to steal my soul, and I've been given a bodyguard.'' I tilted my head to indicate Theødel, who had been tagging along with our group for some time now, trying to find a way past my brothers. Dusara gave him a contemptuous glance, then motioned for the others to clear a path for him. Nervously, Theødel joined me in the protective circle. He nodded a greeting to Dusara, who gave him his most intimidating stare.

''Cut it out!'' I smacked my brother's arm. ''Don't scare him off – he could be handy to have around.'' I turned to Theødel, who looked like he was beginning to regret his decision to join me in the small ring of brothers. ''Don't mind him. He's a ninny.''

''You have... er... quite a few brothers,'' he commented.

''Not so many. A friend of mine, Aksayini, had thirteen brothers and six sisters at one point, but four of the little quintuplets died young.'' The koha-jahnnish whelp had the gall to look skeptical! ''It's true! Twenty children, all under one roof! Her mother kept having twins and triplets and whatnot. It started getting ridiculous after her third set of triplets, and then quintuplets! I think there are only fourteen left, though. There was a vicious fever about eight years back; took out half the village.''

Theødel shook his head disbelievingly. ''Twenty...! And this is common?''

''It's a little extreme, but the more kids you have, the more likely that some of them will survive. Unfortunately, there are some that get landed with a house full of daughters – that's what happened to the Danveer Parekhs. They had a couple of sons, but they all died young, and now they're stuck with ten daughters and no one to carry on the family name. Their poor pitaa is heartbroken, but he loves his daughters more than anything. They've sort of taken over tending the family field, and they're pretty good at it, too.'' I shifted my bundle into a more comfortable position. ''Really, it was a bit unreasonable of my Pitaa to get so frustrated about having a daughter, if you ask me. Sure, I could've been a maj, but at least he's got five sons, and lost only one!''

He looked even more surprised by this outlook on life than by my accounts of large families. ''But surely any child is a blessing?''

I snorted. How naive could you get? ''Not when every new child is food out of your mouth. A son can work hard in the fields, and hunt, and so on. A daughter can be traded in for a bit of a bride price, when she's old enough, but that's all. Sure, she can work the fields and tend the goats and make your clothing, but she won't bear your name for long and she won't be able to do as much as her brothers.'' A trace of bitterness had crept into my voice. ''So they say. Why do you ask? Is it different where you come from?''

''There aren't very many of us 'koha-jahn' around here, you know, especially not at the academy I was raised in. It's not like there's a whole lot of time for romance, either, so every child is considered to be precious, whether male or female.''

''Fortunate for you, then.''

He seemed to think it would be a good idea to change the subject. ''So – what are your brothers' names?''

''This idiot here is Dusara. He's second-oldest. That's Pahale over there, the oldest, and then there's Cautha and Pancavam.'' Pahale and Dusara were both listening in on our conversation, though Pahale was being much more discreet about it than his younger brother, pretending to focus on his little whittling project. Cautha, meanwhile, was looking all around us with wide, appreciative eyes, taking in the commonplace scenery along the road. Pancavam simply tagged along behind, a vacant sort of smile on his face. He was such a good-natured lad.

Theødel was giving me another of his funny looks. ''I hope I'm not being rude, but I've been studying this language for most of my life... Are your brothers really named...?''

''By the order of their birth? Yes. First, second, third, fourth, so on and so forth.''

''That's a little harsh. Your parents must really have been anticipating that maj. And yours?''

''Disappointment.''

''I'm sorry to hear that.''

''Don't be – I've grown used to it. At least it has a nice sort of sound to it.'' I glanced at him curiously. ''What about you? I know nothing about the koha-jahnnish language. What does your name mean?''

''Um... Something along the lines of 'king's glen,' I believe. It's from a legend of my people. A king is a sort of Maharajah, but more... Warlike, I suppose.''

''Odd sort of name for a person. No offense.''

''Odd to you, maybe! The battle at Theødel was one of the bravest moments in vandrande history!''

'' 'Vandrande'?''

''It's what we call ourselves. The koha-jahn, I mean.''

''Really?'' Interesting. I'd never thought that they might have their own name for themselves, but it made sense. ''What does it mean?''

'' 'Errant', I think. Or 'lost'. Something like that.''

''I see.'' It was a strange thing to call ones' people but I wasn't about to comment on it. Not after his reaction to my earlier remark! I was finding myself more and more curious to learn about his people's history. I had never given much thought as to where the koha-jahn had come from, but now I was eager to learn. All in good time, of course... No sense in peppering him with such questions on our first day of getting to know each other.

''So... Theødel, right?'' Dusara finally interrupted our conversation. ''Why'd you get chosen to be her bodyguard?'' I gave him a warning look, but Theødel didn't seem to mind.

''I've been training in various martial arts and physical and mental disciplines since I was five years old. I'm the best sword fighter my age in our community, and I'm also reasonably capable of handling a seax or a spear, though I'm not anything special with them. I'm accomplished at glíma, which is a kind of grappling, I've studied how to live off the land, and in a year I'll be receiving my own phoenix, if all goes well. Oh, and they chose me, rather than an older, more accomplished warrior, so that I can serve as a companion – not just a guardian. They put it to a vote among my peers to select the most suitable candidate in my age group. Oh! I can also sing very nicely, and I know quite a few lovely traveling songs, if you're in the mood.'' He offered Dusara a winning smile. We were both staring at him, wondering if he could really be as good as he said he was. Dusara was obviously skeptical, but I felt a little readier to believe him. There was something of a coiled cobra about him, a sense of a deadly warrior behind that smiling face, ready to leap out at a moment's notice.

Pahale had drawn closer during this discussion, and he gave me one of his eloquent looks. 'So, not a braggart at all, then?' his raised eyebrow and amused little smile seemed to say. Without thinking, I replied to the unspoken question.

''Well, to be fair, Dusara did ask him.''

Theødel gave me an odd look. Dusara took it upon himself to explain. ''Pahale almost never talks, but Nirasha can pretty much read his mind, so it works out.''

Pahale nodded a greeting to Theødel, who nodded back a little nervously. Many were intimidated by my oldest brother, who was tall and wiry and had the bearing of a leader of men. This trip to the capitol could very well be the making of him, now that I thought about it. He was a handsome man, sure to catch even an eshwar woman's eye... After he'd had a good cleaning, of course! There was something noble about the cast of his face - the arch of his eyebrows, the line of his jaw, the slope of his forehead all combined to make him look like an eshwar in a najeet's skin. Theødel must have been thinking much the same thing, for he seemed rather wary of addressing this tall, quiet figure.

Pahale smirked at him. His expression was one of amused boredom, as if he found the koha-jahnnish boy to be rather wearisome. My bodyguard quickly turned his attention back to me, his cheeks burning under the intensity of Pahale's scornful stare. ''So... Are you looking forward to your sojourn at court, Nirasha?''

''I think so. It should be a nice change of pace. Really, though, I'm mostly hoping to learn more about this new kind of magic Raoul says I have.'' The idea of possessing abilities that no maj could rival was sweet, indeed. I only hoped that no one had made a mistake about me. How embarrassing that would be! But no, Raoul had sounded quite certain about the fact, and as for Sharva... Surely a demon could tell! ''What about you?''

''I've always wanted to see more of this country. One of my instructors was always going on about how wonderful the Maharajah's court is. I've longed to see it since I was a little boy.'' He smiled a little, though not quite as freely as he had before. Obviously, he was still acutely aware of Pahale's attention.

''Hurry up, you lot!'' one of the soldiers called out. ''We've got a lot of ground to cover!''

~*~

The next few days were filled with hours upon hours of walking. I had never walked so much in my life! Still, it wasn't quite as grueling as slaving away in the family field under a hot sun, and I had to say I was enjoying myself. Theødel was proving himself to be a delightful traveling companion, and even Pahale had warmed to him somewhat. Not that he let it show, of course – he was slightly less scornful, that's all. Still, he listened with as much interest as the rest of us to Theødel's campfire tales. Theødel, in his turn, was fascinated by Dusara's stories, and though he never said so, I was sure he'd never expected to find an uneducated najeet boy with such talents.

Maj Kushal Maj (what a name!) was rarely to be seen. He kept to himself, and to tell the truth, I rather preferred it that way. He was an unnerving sort of fellow, always watching me, as if he expected me to do something exciting. Whenever we stopped for the night, his men would pitch a tent for him, from which, as far as I knew, he would not emerge until morning.

On the fourth day of our travels, after walking through steep foothills at the base of a mountain range, we encountered an enormous forest. It stretched on for miles in either direction, even up the slopes of the mountain itself. It appeared innocuous enough, but at the sight of it the soldiers began muttering, casting dark glances towards their leader at the head of the column. Slowly, Maj Kushal Maj turned, holding up his hand in a request for silence, which was instantly granted.

''Camp here for tonight. On the morrow, we march into the forest.'' The muttering swelled up again, and even Theødel looked alarmed. ''Hold your tongues! I will not be delayed by superstitions and folly. The Maharajah is waiting, and I shall not keep him long.''

My brothers and I turned to Theødel. He was chewing his lip, staring in consternation at the retreating form of our leader. ''What's he going on about? It's just a forest.''

''No, it's not. It's Forest.''

''That's what I said, isn't it?''

''No. Its name is 'Forest'. It's the oldest wood in the country, and believe you me, it is not the kind of place one enters lightly.''

''Why not?''

''Unicorns,'' was his only reply, and nothing could induce him to explain himself.