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〃He's right！〃 another man shouted。 〃Spread the bastards on their own beams； then spread their women another way！〃 There was laughter。
With some speed and even a measure of efficiency amid the chaos of fire the raiders began gathering and constructing wooden beams。 The night had begun to show promise of entertainment。 They had plenty of nails。 Meant for shoeing any horses they took on the raid； they would do as well for hammering men to wood。
They had just selected the first of the peasants for nailing…a blank…faced boy who would doubtless have grown up to kill innocent men and women north of the tagra lands…when someone shrieked a grievously tardy warning。
A whirlwind of men on horses thundered in among them； twisting between the fires； carrying swords and using them。 Most of the raiders had dismounted by then； many had laid down their weapons to prepare the diagonal beams for nailing the Asharites。 They were easy prey。 As easy as the villagers had been for them。
The raiders were men of breeding though； not lice…ridden outlaw brigands。 They knew how these things were done； even in Al…Rassan。 Peasants were one thing…on both sides of the no…man's…land…but men of means and status were another。 All over the hamlet of Orvilla； Jaddites began throwing up their hands in submission and loudly voicing the well…known cry： 〃Ransom！ Ransom！〃
Those who were killed in the first sweep of the new horsemen must have died in astonished disbelief。 This was not supposed to happen。 If； before they were dispatched； they realized who had e； that astonishment would likely have been redoubled； but these are not things one can know； with any certainty； of the dead。
Alvar hadn't given the matter any real thought； but he had certainly never imagined that the first man he killed in Al…Rassan would be from Valledo。 The man wasn't even on his horse at the time。 In a way； that didn't feel right； but Lain Nunez's instructions had been precise： kill them until you hear the order to stop。 Every man was fair game except the stocky； black…haired one who would be leading them。 He was to be left for the Captain。
The Captain was in a terrifying state。 He had been from the moment the three riders from Fezana came into the camp with their story。 The fat merchant…Abenmuza； he called himself…had told them what the king of Cartada had ordered done in Fezana that day。 Searching for clues as to how to react； Alvar had looked to his leaders。 If Lain Nunez had seemed indifferent to the bloody tale； almost as if he'd expected such foul deeds here in Al…Rassan； Ser Rodrigo's expression told a different story。 He'd said nothing though； when the merchant finished； save to ask the doctor…her name was Jehane…if she had ever served with a military pany。
〃I have not；〃 she'd murmured calmly； 〃though I'd consider it some other time。 For now； I have my own route to follow。 I'm happy to leave Husari ibn Musa〃…which was evidently the right way to say the name…〃in your pany to pursue his affairs and perhaps your own。 I'll be away； with your leave； in the morning。〃
That unhurried answer； elegantly spoken； went some ways to breaking Alvar's heart。 He was already half in love before she spoke。 He thought the doctor was beautiful。 Her hair…what he could see of it beneath the blue stole wrapped about her shoulders and head…was a rich； dark brown。 Her eyes were enormous； unexpectedly blue in the firelight。 Her voice was the voice Alvar thought he would like to hear speaking when he died； or for the rest of his life。 She was worldly； astonishingly poised； even here in the darkness with fifty riders from the north。 She would think him a child； Alvar knew； and looking at her； he felt like one。
They never knew what the Captain would have replied to her； or even if he had been intending a serious invitation that she join them； because just then Martin said sharply； 〃There's fire。 To the west！〃
〃What will be there？〃 the Captain said to the three Fezanans as they all turned to look。 The flames were spreading already； and they weren't very far away。
It was the woman doctor； not the merchant； who answered。 〃A village。 Orvilla。 I have patients there。〃
〃e then；〃 said the Captain； his expression even grimmer than before。 〃You will have more now。 Leave the mule。 Ride with Lain…the older one。 Alvar； take her servant。 Ludus； Mauro； guard the camp with the merchant。 e on！ That crawling maggot Garcia de Rada is here after all。〃
At least half of the Jaddite raiders were slain in a matter of moments before Jehane； sheltering with Velaz at the side of one of the burning houses； heard the man the others called the Captain say clearly； 〃It is enough。 Gather the rest。〃
The Captain。 She knew who this was； of course。 Everyone in the peninsula knew who was called by that name alone； as a title。
His words were echoed quickly by two other riders； including the older one who had ridden here with her。 The killing stopped。
There was an interval of time during which the raiders were herded towards the center of the village； an open grassy space。 Some of Rodrigo Belmonte's men were filling buckets at the stream； trying to deal with the fires alongside a handful of the villagers。 It was hopeless； though； even to Jehane's untutored eye it was obviously wasted effort。
〃Doctor！ Oh； thank the holy stars！ e quickly； please！〃
Jehane turned； and recognized her patient…the woman who brought her eggs every week at the market。
〃Abirab！ What is it？〃
〃My sister！ She has been terribly hurt。 By one of the men。 She is bleeding； and with child。 And her husband is dead。 Oh； what are we to do； doctor？〃
The woman's face was black with soot and smoke； distorted with grief。 Her eyes were red from weeping。 Jehane； frozen for a moment by the brutal reality of horror； offered a quick inner prayer to Galinus…the only name she truly worshipped…and said； 〃Take me to her。 We will do what we can。〃
Ziri ibn Aram； standing on the far side of the circle； still did not know what had happened to his father or mother。 He saw his aunt approach a woman who had e with the new men。 He was about to follow them； but something held him where he was。 A few moments ago he had been preparing to die nailed to a beam from the barn。 He had spoken the words that offered his soul as a gift to the stars of Ashar。 It seemed the stars were not ready for his soul； after all。
He watched the brown…haired mander of the new arrivals remove a glove and stroke his moustache as he looked down from his black horse at the leader of those who had destroyed Ziri's village。 The man on the ground was stocky and dark。 He didn't seem at all； to Ziri's eyes； like someone who feared his approaching death。
〃You have achieved your own destruction；〃 he said with astonishing arrogance to the man on the horse。 〃Do you know who your louts have killed here？〃 His voice was high…pitched for a man； almost shrill。 〃Do you know what will happen when I report this in Esteren？〃
The broad…shouldered； brown…haired man on the black horse said nothing。 An older man beside him； extremely tall and lean； with greying hair； said sharply； 〃So sure you are going back； de Rada？〃