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hese Asharite scavengers might be； they would have cause to regret their presumption today。
For this provocation； Nino decided； it would be necessary to burn them。 Right here in the valley。 Let the screaming echo。 A message。 A warning。 Future panies ing south for the parias would thank him for it。
〃Nino； my shining one； it is your own Fruela！ I am dying for you！〃
The woman。 The woman would have to wait。 If she was burning and dying； well； there would be a flame for her as well； soon enough； and for whoever had put her up to this humiliating charade。
And so； focused in anger； did Nino di Carrera banish confusion and doubt。 He drew his sword。 His pany had already wheeled into position behind him。 He looked back； saw Edrique nod crisply； his own blade uplifted。
〃To Jalona's glory！〃 cried Nino then。 〃Ride now！ Ride； in the holy name of Jad！〃
They started north； moving quickly； but in tight formation； the mules with their gold still safely in the center of the pany。 They traversed the valley； shouting in battle fever now； in anticipation。 There was no fear。 They knew what they were and could do。 They rode through bright sunlight over frosted grass and came to the shadows where the hills closed in。 They thundered into the dark defile； screaming the god's name； one hundred brave； trained Horsemen of Jad。
Idar ibn Tarif； who had mand of the forty men on the western side of the gorge； had been swearing without surcease and with considerable inventiveness since the Jaddite advance scouts had been spotted above them on the slopes。 They had been shot at and briefly pursued； to no avail。
They had been discovered！ Their trap was exposed。 The long hunt was over。 Who would ever have imagined a Jaddite mander would be so timorous as to send scouts！ The man had a hundred Horsemen！ He was supposed to be arrogant； reckless。 In Ashar's star…bright name； what was he doing being so cautious？
Across the narrow； sharply angled canyon at the north end of the valley his brother and father were still waiting； oblivious to the disaster that had just taken place； readying their archers for a feathered volley of death against unsuspecting men。 Idar； sick at heart； had been about to slip across the shadowy ground to tell them about the scouts when he heard the woman's voice begin； up on the eastern ridges of the Emin ha'Nazar…the echoing valley where the stinking； dog…faced Horsemen had halted。
On this side of the defile beyond the valley the high voice could be clearly heard。 Idar was far from fluent in Esperanan； but he knew enough to be suddenly arrested in his purpose。 Wondering…and even amused in spite of the catastrophe that had befallen them…he decided to await events。
The Jaddites were going to double back。 It was evident to anyone with half a mind。 If they had spotted the ambush they would draw all the obvious conclusions。 They were swine and unbelievers； but they knew how to wage war。 They would circle back out of the Emin ha'Nazar and take the longer way around to the west。
And there was no other place of entrapment between here and the tagra lands that would allow eighty unevenly equipped men…a mix of bowmen； cut…throats； some riders； he and his brother and their notorious father…to have any hope of defeating so many soldiers。 Gold was worth a great deal of risk； and so was glory； but neither； in Idar's view； justified certain death。 He despised the Jaddites； but he was not so foolish as to underestimate how they could fight。 And his father had based his long career never giving battle save on ground of his own choosing。
It was over then； this uncharacteristic chance they had taken； so far north； so late in the year。 Well； it had always been that： a gamble。 They would wait for the Jaddites to clear the valley and head west。 Then they would start back south themselves and begin the long journey home。 If the season had not been so close to the winter rains and mud； they might have been able to take their time and find some solace in raiding through Ragosan lands along the way。
Solace； Idar thought glumly； was unlikely to be found before they got back to their own stone walls。 He wanted a drink right now； actually； but his father would forbid that。 Not for religious reasons of course； but as a mander on a raid。 A rule of forty years； that one。 Idar would have balked at the old man's strictures save for two things： he loved him； and he feared him more than anyone alive。
〃Look！〃 whispered one of the archers beside him。 〃In the name of Ashar's Paradise； look！〃
Idar looked。 He caught his breath。 They were ing。 The god had driven the Jaddites mad； or perhaps the woman's voice had done so。 Who knew what made men do such things as this？ What Idar did know was that he and his brother and father and their men were about to be in a battle such as they hadn't known in years。 Their ambush had been uncovered； and the Horsemen were still ing。
The Jaddites approached the defile； one hundred riders； with six mules laboring in their midst。 They were riding too fast。 They would be blind； Idar knew； the moment they entered the shadows where the steep slopes hid the sun。 They were making a terrible mistake。 It was time to make them pay for that。
His was one of the first arrows。 He launched another； and a third； then he started running and sliding down the slope to where Jaddites and their horses were screaming now in the pits that had been dug； hurled upon each other in a mangling of limbs； falling on the sharp spears planted in the cold ground for killing。
Fast as he moved； Idar saw that his father was ahead of him。
Jehane had been affronted at first by Rodrigo's suggestion； then amused； and finally inspired to inventiveness。 In the midst of the exercise she discovered that it was unexpectedly stimulating to be crying aloud in feverish； explicit desire for the whole of the valley below them to hear。
The two men beside her were nearly convulsed in silent hilarity as she offered increasingly flamboyant variations on the theme of her anguished physical yearning…as Queen Fruela of Jalona…for the golden…haired count who had e to claim the paras from Fibaz。 She had to concede that it was partly her pleasure at their helpless mirth； their unstinting approval of her performance； that led her on to wilder flights of suggestive fantasy。
They were high on the eastern slopes of the hills that ringed the valley bowl of Emin ha'Nazar； the well…known Place of Many Voices。 Well…known； that is； save to the Jaddites who had entered the valley this morning。 Even Rodrigo hadn't heard of the place before today； but ibn Khairan had not only known of it； he had anticipated that this might be the place where a trap would be laid for the gold of Fibaz。
The Emin ha'Nazar was known for more than echoes。 Among the ghostly voices said to resonate in the valley at night were those of men slain here in battles going back for centuries。
The first such encounter had involved Jaddites as well； in the great wave of the Khalifate's initial expansion； when the boundary between Ashar and Jad had been pushed as far north as it was ever to go。 Where it remained now； in fact； just south o