LITMIR.BIZ

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you will trust them with information that you will not tell me.”

      Lillen and Ward gave no answer.

      “Well then, lead the way,” Demetri said, picking up his own pack. It hardly felt heavy to him at all. “Lead me to these Kin, who will do what the king’s trained Guard Riders fear they cannot.”

      Demetri didn’t say a word the rest of the morning. It was better that way. Ward filled the air with talk of history and botany and topography of the area, as if the swampland was an artifact to be studied instead of dangerous territory to be crossed. Although he knew Ward probably thought he ignored the lecture, Demetri heard and memorized every word.

      Facts were essential. They were not all that was needed for success, but pity the one who rushed into a dangerous mission without sufficient information.

      Demetri had been that fool once, and it had cost him dearly.

      Lillen, like Demetri, wasn’t afraid of silence. She spoke only when necessary, guiding them to the first of the encampments near the swamp.

      Demetri couldn’t call it a city, not really, because the community was primarily made up of wagons, colorfully painted and ringed in a large circle, as if the entire group could pick up and move at any point. As they walked into the circle, though, he noticed the grass had grown long around the wheels of the wagons. It had been a long time since this particular group had relocated.

      It was strange. There were people around: children playing, women doing the wash, two old men repairing a wagon. Yet no one spoke to them. No one tried to sell them wares or offered to bring them to an inn. They only stared at the strangers, clearly noting them as intruders, and went about their business. It was as if they were invisible, walking through the people instead of among them.

      Suddenly, Ward stopped. “Talk to that one,” he said, pointing.

      A young man around Demetri’s age was carrying a string of onions over his shoulder. He had deeply tanned skin, thick black hair, and a confident walk. Demetri had seen the same walk in many new recruits before the desert broke them down.

      Without another word, Lillen hurried over to him. Demetri was struck with the silent, graceful way she moved, like a breeze through the trees. It seemed to startle the young man, because he jumped when she placed a hand on his shoulder.

      “Why him in particular?” Demetri asked Ward, still watching Lillen.

      “He strikes me as one who is susceptible to greed, and therefore, to a bribe.”

      “How do you know that?” All he saw was a young man carrying onions.

      “As I said before, I served on the Council that divided the Youth Guard into squads. I quickly learned to understand people in little more than a glance. Most people display their virtues and faults to the world, rather like laundry blowing in the open air.”

      Demetri couldn’t resist asking, “And what are my virtues and faults?”

      “Are you sure you want to know, Captain?” Ward asked

      Demetri was sure he saw a slight mocking smile appear on Ward’s face.“I asked, didn’t I?” Demetri snapped. He wasn’t used to others defying his orders.

      “Why is anyone chosen for the Guard, Demetri?”

      Demetri was not feeling cooperative. He had asked a question. He expected an answer, not a series of riddles. “You were the one who served on the Council, Ward. You tell me.”

      “Physical strength, yes, at times. Or agility, a quick mind, swiftness, fortitude, even creativity. All of those outer signs, we train those at the musters to look for, but there is another quality that almost all Youth Guard possess: a noble spirit.”

      “And what does that mean?”

      “An inner resolve, the willingness to sacrifice and take a stand based on personal convictions—these make up a noble spirit. It’s quite obvious, once you know how to look for it.” Ward’s face twitched into a superior smile. “And you have it, Demetri. When misdirected, it is a great weakness. A noble spirit can cause you to take unnecessary risks and make foolish, emotional decisions.”

      Demetri laughed bitterly. “Never again. Any nobility you sense in me must be some trace remnant from my past. Nobility is not a weakness in Captain Demetri. Only Justis.”

      It was hard for Demetri even to speak his real name, the one he had gone by before…before the Youth Guard. Before the betrayal.

      “And where is Justis now?” Ward said, dark eyes staring probingly at him.

      “I killed him,” Demetri said tonelessly. “Long ago.”

      “Good,” Ward said, turning his attention back to Lillen and the young man. “Yes, he will be a good one. There will be others, of course. One hundred sceptres per head is payment enough for anyone, I would think.”

      If he was looking for a reaction of surprise, Demetri refused to give it to him, although the price was incredible. “Wouldn’t a smaller sum be enough of a temptation?”

      “Believe me, Captain, we have much greater amounts of money at our disposal,” Ward said casually, a small smile spreading over his face. “Riches beyond your imagination, riches that even the ancient Lidians would consider a threat.”

      “Lidians?” Demetri asked.

      “Ancient history,” Ward said. “They lived in this area. Their kingdom—or, rather, the fortress they called a kingdom—was deeper in the swamps, where they could hide from the rest of the world. Before their fortress collapsed and they fled from their home, they were the wealthiest civilization this land has ever known.”

      Demetri could not deny that talk of riches appealed to him. His father had been relatively wealthy, of course. But to be able to toss around four hundred sceptres like it was nothing at all….

      Lillen had stopped talking to the young man and moved on to an old woman in a bright purple shawl. “The town gossip, no doubt,” Ward said, nodding in approval. “Lillen can spot the most likely ones easily enough.”

      Demetri stared at the grandmotherly woman, bent and frail. “You really believe she’ll give up the Four? After all, they’re hardly more than children.”

      “I know she will,” Ward said. “These people care nothing about those who are not Kin.” He pointed to the scar on his jaw, a thick, jagged line of raised flesh. “It was one of the Kin who gave me this.”

      “A sword?” Demetri asked. A cut like that could only come from a person attempting to give a death blow.

      Ward shook his head. “A dagger. It barely pierced my skin,” he said, tracing the scar with one thin finger.

      “That’s not possible,” Demetri said. He knew how to recognize a lie. He had often called out boasters on inaccuracies in their wild stories told around the Patrol watchfire. Yet this was the first time he had accused someone of minimizing his story of injury and adventure. “It would take a deep cut to leave such a scar.”

      “Not if the blade was tainted with a poison,” Ward said. “How fortunate for me that it was not enough to be deadly.” His eyes seemed to turn darker. “And how fortunate that I killed the man and took the vial of poison from his dead body.”

      He tugged on a cord around his neck, pulling out the Guard Rider medallion, identical to Demetri’s. The symbol of the king was inscribed in it: the letter A inside a broken circle. But, dangling alongside it was a slim vial with a dark liquid inside.

      “I keep the poison still,” Ward said, lowering it beneath his shirt, “in case the need to use it ever arises.”

      Demetri didn’t like the way he spoke those words, and he was no man to back down from conflict. “Is that a threat, Ward?”

      “Yes, Captain,” Ward said simply. “Those of a noble spirit

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