"There are more tents on the islands," Rojeh said in Imperial Latin as he came into the makeshift laboratory Ragoczy Franciscus had established in the house he had hired. He had paid an outrageous price for three months' residence, and additional sums for furnishings and other supplies; he made no complaint, aware that the Master of Foreigners would support the landlord in any situation.

"Ah? Whose, do you know?" He was in the process of sifting the whitest sand through a silken sieve, removing every imperfection.

"They are Jou'an-Jou'an," Rojeh told him, watching him closely to see his reaction.

Ragoczy Franciscus continued his work, but his fine brows lifted, an indication of curiosity. "Do you know which clan?"

"They appear to be the Desert Cats; I recognized Baru Ksoka's tent, in any case, so either they have come, or they were vanquished by a rival clan and their goods seized." Rojeh stopped by the plank table and studied Ragoczy Franciscus' face. "Do you think it strange that they should come here?"

"Not particularly. It is far more likely that we should meet in a place like this than on one of the stretches of trade route that cross this region." He glanced toward the window. "I am more curious about why they have come so far west than that, having done so, they have come to this place."

"Does it bode well?" Rojeh asked.

"How can I tell until I have seen them? if the new clan is the Desert Cats." He set his sieve aside, straightened up, and added, "This will keep for now."

"You are making glass?" Rojeh asked.

"Three of my vessels are broken and I cannot do half of what I would like to do without having the necessary instruments, including glass vessels," Ragoczy Franciscus said. "Pragmatic necessity, old friend."

"The athanor you're building isn't ready yet," Rojeh pointed out.

"I know, but I am aware that I must make the most of it as soon as it is," Ragoczy Franciscus said, wiping his hands on a cotton cloth. "Is the blue roan in her stall or in the paddock?"

"In her stall. I was planning to turn her out at midday." Rojeh paused. "Would you rather wait until late afternoon to-"

"I still have my native earth in my soles, and the sun is still feeble; between those factors, I should do very well, at least for as long as I will require to investigate the Jou'an-Jou'an." He rubbed his chin, testing his newly trimmed beard and nodding with satisfaction. "I had best wear a sen-gai."

"Most of them are looking shabby," said Rojeh. "But the one with the dark-red piping is quite presentable. Would you like me to lay it out for you?"

"No need," said Ragoczy Franciscus, "I can find it well enough." He set down the cloth and started toward the door. "Make sure this room is locked when you leave."

"Certainly," said Rojeh.

Ragoczy Franciscus left his laboratory and went to the rooms set aside for his use in the sprawling house. Since he had hired the house some nine days since, he had been working to make it into a suitable residence without doing anything to alarm the landlord or his neighbors, one of whom was a Hunnic trader, the other of whom was the widow of a wealthy Constantinopolitan with three surviving children. His comings and goings occasioned no observation, particularly those private expeditions he made very late at night, so he knew his departure now would not give cause for alarm. He reached his apartments and went to the chest containing the clothespress. Unfastening the sturdy boards, he looked through the various garments and finally pulled out the sen-gai he had been seeking. He closed and buckled the press and took off his Persian caftan of heavy black cotton, which he wore over leather leggings; he tossed this onto the back of the single chair in the room, then pulled on the sen-gai, securing the belt before looking for his silver-and-black-sapphire pectoral; since arriving in Sarai, he had made a point of wearing jewelry to indicate he was a man of rank as well as fortune. He found his chilanum and its scabbard; he secured these to his belt. Now that he was suitably armed, he went to the stable to groom and saddle the blue roan.

The guards no longer stopped him at the gate, and he rode out of Sarai without incident, letting his roan set the pace down the low hill to the delta islands. Threading his way along the narrow tracks, he noticed that there were five more bodies wrapped in reeds and left out for cremation on ground already blackened by repeated fires. He continued along the tangle of paths toward the island Rojeh had indicated, and as he rode, he began to consider what he would say if this were indeed the Desert Cats clan who had arrived here. He chided himself for anticipating an answer and put his concentration on the narrow track ahead.

Three children were playing at the edge of the camp, one of them Baru Ksoka's son Zumir; the boy looked up from pursuing a rough leather ball as he heard Ragoczy Franciscus' horse approach; there was an angular scar on his jaw that had not been there when Ragoczy Franciscus had last seen him. He took a defensive stance and shaded his eyes. "Who are you?" he shouted in dreadful Persian. "What do you want here?"

Ragoczy Franciscus answered in the Jou'an-Jou'an tongue, "I am an old friend of this clan, though a foreigner, Zumir. Is your father about?"

Zumir peered up at him. "No. He's not. Neitis Ksoka is Kaigan now."

"Neitis?" said Ragoczy Franciscus. "What happened?"

The boy glared at him. "Why should I tell you, foreigner? You are not one of us."

"I would like to know what became of him." He spoke evenly, his dark eyes on the youngster.

"There was a landslide," said Zumir cautiously, trying to make out the stranger's features, his young countenance twisted with concentration. "He and four others perished, along with their ponies. Nine more were hurt." His face cleared suddenly. "Zangi-Ragozh. I know you. How do you come to be here?" He ran impulsively toward the blue roan, only stopping as the horse backed up a few steps.

"I stayed on the middle branch of the Silk Road when you went north," said Ragoczy Franciscus. "Did you reach Dzungaria?"

"Yes," said Zumir as the other boys came up beside him, their curiosity outweighing their trepidation.

"How long did you remain there?" Ragoczy Franciscus asked patiently. "It can't have been long."

"It wasn't." Heaving a prodigious sigh, Zumir began his account. "We went between the Tien Shan and the Atlai Mountains, searching for a region with grass enough for the ponies and goats. We eventually found a sheltered valley where we tried to make a place for our clan; most of the grass in other areas had dried up, but there enough grew for our needs, and that made the valley we found a good place for us; but another, larger clan of Uighurs found the valley as well-they drove us out by main force, killing ten of us before my father decided we had best abandon our site. We went northwest for many days and came to the Aral Route. We were crossing the pass southeast of Lake Balkhash when the landslide came. Most of the clan thought it was an omen and wanted to turn back, but Dukkai said we must go on. She read the smoke and said that the way forward was the only safe course for us to take."

"Then Dukkai is with you," said Ragoczy Franciscus.

"Yes," said Zumir, with a sly look at Ragoczy Franciscus. "She is as much our leader as Neitis Ksoka is. He makes no decisions until she reads the smoke for him." He clapped his hands once and turned around to his companions. "Go fetch Dukkai," he said. "Bring her here. At once. Muksi, don't tell her who has come, just bring her." He shooed them on with a gesture, then turned back to Ragoczy Franciscus. "What happened to your ponies? I haven't seen that horse before."

"I have the ponies still, three of them. I acquired this horse since I and my companion parted from you." He was amused by the question. "What of my wagon? Do you have it still?"

Zumir glowered. "The Uighurs took it during their fiercest raid." He squinted up at Ragoczy Franciscus. "Do you have another?"

"I did, but no longer." He swung down from his horse and walked up to the boy. "How have you fared in the last year, Zumir?"

"We have had lean times," he admitted as if confessing an error, "and the Lord of the Skies no longer hears our prayers, or, if he does, the God of the Day does not obey him anymore. Plants no longer thrive, and even the trees of the forests are withering."

"It has been a hard time," Ragoczy Franciscus said, kindness in his eyes.

"Nothing changes it. We have had so much to-" Zumir's face crumpled. "We have given sacrifice, and we have done all that Dukkai has said must be done, but nothing avails us. When our men are killed, we make food of them, so that we may live and be strong."

Ragoczy Franciscus was not shocked by this revelation, but he was saddened. "Did that happen with your father?"

Zumir nodded. "As much of him as we could recover." He coughed to hide a sob, and then stared hard at Ragoczy Franciscus. "It is necessary. We all know it."

"When you are starving, you must take what there is to eat," said Ragoczy Franciscus with a slow nod, glancing up as the two boys came hurrying toward them, all but dragging Dukkai between them.

"I only had a little," Zumir muttered, as if to reassure himself.

"See?" the taller of the two boys with Dukkai shouted. "A surprise!"

Dukkai halted, her face gone pale, her blue eyes wide. "Zangi-Ragozh," she exclaimed, one hand to her eyes as if she might rub the sight of him away. "How? Why are you here?"

"Dukkai," he said; he could see she was thinner, and her skin had taken on the fragile look of paper. He started toward her. "Zumir tells me things are much changed for the Desert Cats."

"Oh, yes. As the world is much changed. We are here, where we have never been before." She took a step toward him. "Zangi-Ragozh. I thought I would never see you again alive."

His smile was quick and ironic. "I am as alive now as you have ever known me to be."

"I had no message of your coming," she said a bit distractedly. "The smoke should have shown me."

"Perhaps because I came another way than the roads you took," he suggested gently. "How could your smoke know that I would remain in Sarai, as I have done? I might well have moved on by now, and our paths would never have crossed." He studied her features, noticing how much deeper the lines were, and how much more removed her gaze was.

"I have looked for signs, asked the gods and the Lord of the Skies and the Lords of the Earth for them, but all have been silent. The smoke should have-" She stopped. "My daughter died. She came too soon, and she struggled to live, but it was not enough."

"I am very sorry to hear that," said Ragoczy Franciscus, his concern genuine.

"So all you did to help me carry her turned out to be for nothing," she said remotely. "I should have read the smoke, but I could not believe that my child would be born only to die." She blinked twice and knotted her hands together.

"We are all born only to die," said Ragoczy Franciscus as gently as he could.

She gave him a hard, startled stare, then fixed her eyes on a point well beyond his head. "But later, not sooner." Her voice caught in her throat. "I mourn Baru Ksoka, but I know he lived out his life. My daughter did not live long enough to be given a name."

Ragoczy Franciscus recalled that the Desert Cats did not name their children officially until they had taken their first step. "So she is only Dukkai's Daughter?"

Dukkai nodded. "I had a name for her, but it will never be spoken. I wonder if Apostle Lazarus is right, and there must be suffering on earth for anyone to be worthy of joy in Paradise."

"There is a church in Sarai, not far from the Foreigners' Quarter. The priest will talk to you, if you like." He made the suggestion without expecting her to accept it.

"When we return to our territory, Apostle Lazarus may explain it to me, if he is still alive, and if I ever see him again," she said as if speaking of something in a distant time.

"I am sure he would be pleased to instruct you," said Ragoczy Franciscus as if speaking to child. "Are you planning to return to Kumul?"

She shook her head. "The smoke has not shown that as coming. I cannot tell when we shall go that way again."

Ragoczy Franciscus stopped himself for asking her more; instead he said, "This camp is very near the water, and much affected by damp. I have secured a house in the town, inside the walls. If you would like to stay there ... ?"

"In a house? With walls of brick or stone?" She stared at him in disbelief. "No. My place is here, with my clan, whether there is dampness or dryness."

Ragoczy Franciscus regarded her with a combination of anguish and tenderness. "You will find a place to make your own, Dukkai."

"But not with houses," she declared. "Houses keep the Lords of the Earth from speaking, and they turn against those who will not listen, and shut out the gifts the Lords of the Earth provide. The smoke has revealed that the houses and walls of the Middle Kingdom so blocked the Lords of the Earth that the lands became barren and the sun was robbed of his strength. The Lord of the Snows has taken the place of the Lords of the Earth, and we must warm the land with blood of our enemies to drive back the Lord of the Snows."

The three boys were staring at her raptly, their expressions revealing how totally captivated they were by her pronouncements. Zumir spoke for the three of them when he said, "We will bring the offerings the Lords of the Earth demand. We will find our enemies and drain their blood." He poked Muksi in the side. "We will find our enemies and drain their blood-won't we?"

Muksi gulped and held up his small, bony fist. "And ponies. We will take the blood of their ponies and give it to the Lords of the Earth."

Dukkai motioned to the youngsters to be quiet. "I want to talk with Zangi-Ragozh. Leave us. And tell the rest not to disturb us." She pointed to the line of ponies a short distance away. "Imgalas could use your help. He is still weak from fever."

Zumir frowned down at his feet. "But we want to stay with you."

"Go help Imgalas," said Dukkai more firmly.

With every indication of sulking, the three boys ambled away, making it as plain as possible that they had no use for the task Dukkai had given them.

"Imgalas has had fever?" Ragoczy Franciscus asked.

"Yes. I have given him boiled willow-bark and prepared as much broth as we might make from our skinny goats, but he is slow to improve, and he is often taken with chills." She seemed almost herself again, but for the way in which her eyes flickered from object to object, rarely lingering on him for very long. "We have lost ponies, as well. Some have got too weak to work, wolves took four, and seven goats. Three were wounded in our last fight with the Uighurs. Four children have died since Baru Ksoka died, and two nameless infants beyond my own." She stifled a sob. "We gave three goats to the Lords of the Earth a few days ago, and it was enough to bring us safely here. Now we will have to find something else to offer them, so that we may travel on and find a new place to stay, at least as long as winter lasts."

"Winter is still several fortnights away," Ragoczy Franciscus reminded her.

"But it is coming. The days are shortening, and in five fortnights, the nights will be longer than the days, and the year will close in again." She stared into the distance, as if she could see winter lurking at the northern horizon. "I never thought I would see you again, except in the Sky World of Spirits."

There was a flurry of activity near the second line of tents, and then Gotsada came rushing toward Dukkai, his hands raised protectively as if to wrest Dukkai out of harm's way. "Stand back, foreigner!" he warned in bad Persian.

"Foreigner I am," said Ragoczy Franciscus cordially, "but not even you, Gotsada, can call me a stranger." He stood still while he watched Gotsada wrestle with his various impulses. "I am here to discover how you have fared since we parted company."

Gotsada was puzzled. "Zangi-Ragozh? How do you come to be here?"

"Much the same way you do," he answered. "I came along the trade routes." He saw Dukkai's cousin falter and went on, "You went north and west, I stayed to the westbound roads until the Kushan Road, and then I came north." He was aware of a dozen sets of eyes upon him from vantage points around the camp, and he could sense the wariness in their scrutiny.

"He has been here a short while, I gather," said Dukkai.

"That I have. My companion and I have come a very long way, and our animals need rest, as do we," said Ragoczy Franciscus. "I have hired a house in the town."

Dukkai pressed her lips together tightly, then made herself ask, "Do you still have your sovereign remedy?"

"That is one I must make more of; I have only a very small portion left-not enough to treat any serious malady or injury," said Ragoczy Franciscus. "I am surprised you remember it."

"A very odd liquid," Dukkai said. "I was curious about its properties, but-" She closed her mouth abruptly once more.

Gotsada came up to Ragoczy Franciscus, his manner pugnacious. "He has not brought us anything but trouble. Before he joined us, we had our own lands to travel, and our herds were thriving. Once he began to move with us, adversity came upon us relentlessly. And here he is again."

"It was the darkening of the sun that brought our hardships," Dukkai said with strong conviction. "Had Zangi-Ragozh not helped us, we would have suffered more."

"You may think that," said Gotsada. "But you know he is part of the misfortunes that have been heaped upon us."

"Those same misfortunes have touched all the world," said Ragoczy Franciscus at his most reasonable. "I have seen suffering everywhere-"

"You bring it with you," said Gotsada, his ire mounting. "Leave us alone, you interloper." There was a scuffle of activity at the far side of the camp, and a curse bellowed, then hushed. "You see? We know, if you do not, that this foreigner is trouble."

Dukkai made a gesture and rounded on her cousin. "If there is any danger in Zangi-Ragozh, I will know of it, and I can see no miasma around him. No," she said as Gotsada attempted to speak. "I want to hear nothing from you. You have already said too much."

"I only speak what our clan thinks." Saying this, he turned on his heel and stomped off.

Dukkai spoke when Gotsada was gone. "He had no cause. No one has accused you of bringing us trouble."

"At least not where you could hear them," said Ragoczy Franciscus.

Dukkai laughed bitterly. "There are too few of us to keep secrets. Gotsada is discontented and often surly, and usually he finds an explanation for himself in what others have done. The clan would receive you well, if you want to join us once more."

Ragoczy Franciscus shook his head. "No; Gotsada is probably right-perhaps I should not linger here." He looked about the camp, still aware of being under surveillance. "I have no desire to impose upon any of you, but when Ro-shei told me that there were Jou'an-Jou'an on this island, I had to come and see for myself." He took a step back toward his horse. "I am glad to see you are well. I am truly sorry that your infant died. I hope you will be spared further trials." He reverenced her before he turned to mount his blue roan.

"You must come again," Dukkai exclaimed, a wild note in her voice. "Promise me you will come again."

Ragoczy Franciscus paused, one foot in the metal foot-loop. "Is that what you want?"

"Oh, yes," she said a bit breathlessly. "If you will come again, I will be truly grateful."

"All right," he said as he mounted. "When shall I come?"

"Tomorrow night, or the night after. Come when the fires burn low. You remember which tent is mine?"

"The one with the basin in front of the door, for offerings," said Ragoczy Franciscus, taking the reins in hand and ready to depart.

She stared at him, an unspoken plea in her blue eyes. "Yes. Come in two nights. I will wait for you."

He nodded. "I will come." Then, with a tap of his heel, he swung the blue roan around and let her canter out of the Desert Cats camp.

Text of a letter from Vermakrides at Ecbatana in Persia to his father, Phocadoros Vermakrides, in Trebizond, carried by courier and delivered in December of 536.

To my father, the greetings of your most devoted son, from Ecbatana, where I will spend the winter. You may anticipate my arrival in the spring, in the Paschal Season, if God favors me.

You may question the wisdom of my decision to remain here for so long, but I have two reasons to do so: first is that I am recovering from an illness that has only recently begun to abate. I doubt that traveling in winter, given the severity of the winter of last year and the cold of the summer before, would help in the restoration of my health, and might bring about another onset of this sickness, which could prove more harrowing if it should strike while we are on the road in the more desolate stretches through the mountains. My second reason I will explain after I tell you what has befallen my companions.

This journey has been the most difficult of any I have undertaken, and not because of my illness, or the vicissitudes of weather. No, the reasons strike closer to home: I regret to inform you that my two cousins-Theocrates, living at Kokand, and Themistokles, who traveled with me-are dead, Theocrates from fever, Themistokles from the infection of a broken arm. I have seen them both buried with Christian ceremony and marked their graves with crosses so that no evil force can call them forth before Christ comes again. I have also lost three men from my caravan, one of whom was killed by marauding outlaws who attempted to steal our goods, and the other two from drinking polluted water. In addition, two mules died, and two camels. I have had to purchase ponies and donkeys to carry most of our goods home, and for one extraordinary find, I have also purchased a wagon.

I must tell you of this treasure: it is a bone wholly of rock, but such a bone as you have never seen! Stood on end, it reaches almost to my shoulder. It resembles a thighbone, but nothing like any other thigh, for it is massive. I am of the opinion it must be from a dragon, perhaps the very dragon that the Devil became when the Rebel Angels fell from Paradise. In any case, I have been exhibiting it as we go along, and I have made a tidy sum from those eager to see this prodigious relic. I secured it from a foreigner who was returning to the West from a long sojourn in China. He spoke of dreadful times in that faraway place, and many difficulties in his journey westward. He came upon this bone, he claimed, in a landslide and dug it out. Whatever the truth may be, I have seen nothing like this in my journey, and I believe I am most fortunate to have this astonishing object to display.

This town is much reduced in size from when I was last here. I was dumbfounded to see so many houses left empty, and the markets reduced to less than a third of their wonted size. I hope this does not continue, for I am certain that if it is allowed to go on much longer, the establishments along the Silk Road that contribute so much to our trade will wither as surely as the grass has done. For that reason, I am going to purchase a house here, so that when members of our family set out for the East, they will not be at the mercy of the whims of innkeepers and village tax collectors. I have already selected one of my companions to remain here until we relieve him. By having a house here, we will lessen the taxes that can be demanded of us, and it will let us be able to resupply our caravans on the same terms the locals do, which should shortly balance the price paid for the house.

I attended the gem-market two days ago and was able to secure amber, sapphires, and a number of lesser stones, all for less than I would expect to pay. This is another sign of the vicissitudes of the times-that the price of these jewels has lessened even while the difficulty of bringing them to the towns has increased. This speaks of a scarcity that has touched every trade route in Asia, and that may spread into the ports of the Mediterranean Sea as time goes by. I would urge you to have ships ready to sail as soon as the worst of the winter storms have passed, for I believe that we may find an advantage if we act swiftly, but if we falter, the returns on our efforts will drop as they have for so many others who have been laggard.

May this find you well, and all our family in good health. I ask you to inform my wife that I anticipate our reunion with joy, and the hope that she and our children have not endured any malady or loss of fortune in my absence. I ask you also to give three gold coins to our church for prayers for our safe return.

Basilios Vermakrides,

Merchant of Trebizond