As they pulled out of the expedition camp the next morning, Penrys followed carefully behind Najud, trying to anticipate his movements. When he stopped at the outer perimeter, she reined back her confiscated Rasesni mare, and checked to make sure the three pack horses abandoned to her by Veneshjug halted with her and waited patiently.
Najud had far better control over his horses. He was riding his favorite black mare, Badaz, and leading a string of all his horses as well as the Rasesni mare he’d stolen. His horses’ packs were light, like hers—they’d be getting their supplies in Neshilik.
He held the end of his lead rope in his hand, for better control. Hers was looped over her saddle horn, since her right hand was occupied holding her reins. A neat leather glove covered her left hand, stuffed in the fingers and upper palm with sheep’s wool to both pad the injury, and mask the damage.
Najud had switched saddles for her yesterday, giving the squadron’s trooper saddle back and getting her a working saddle from the ones supplied for the herdsmen. “The horn will be good for you. Lets you swap hands from one thing to another more easily,” he’d said, and today she could see what he meant. She wasn’t sure if she could manage both reins and pack string one-handed, but she’d wanted to try, not thinking it fair for Najud to lead all the pack animals while she did nothing.
She couldn’t have loaded them, however, not even if she’d still had both hands. Najud had been quick and efficient. He’d made sure yesterday that all the pack frames were padded correctly for each animal’s configuration. The farrier had seen to all the shoeing needs and even taken a look at the teeth of the two new mares.
Though the Maiju had been unwilling to sell him supplies for more than a day or two, citing the cavalry’s need, he hadn’t been stingy about equipment parts and repairs. They had more than enough sheepskins and rope to supplement what Najud had brought with him, and the speed with which he assembled the packs and loaded the frames was an education, as were the hitches he used, a complex system that was clearly an expertise in its own right.
Penrys had watched him and tried to take mental notes, but she knew she could only slow him down until her hand healed well enough to allow her to be of some use.
He’d glanced at her once and told her, “Never mind, Pen-sha, we learn how to do this as children. I’ll teach you as we go along.”
Now, stopped outside the camp, she wondered why Najud had halted.
He dismounted and tied the reins of his horse as well as the lead rope to a tree and walked back her way, past his string.
To her surprise, Tun Jeju walked with him.
*What does he want? I thought we were done with farewells.*
Najud’s reply made her smile crookedly.
*What, you weren’t satisfied with Chang’s dismissal?*
Chang, alone in his command tent, had thanked “Zandaril” formally for sarq-Zannib’s assistance and presented him with a small scroll. Then he’d nodded to Penrys as though unsure whether or not to credit Ellech for her own help, and that was the end.
*Well, we’re lowly wizards—what did you expect, after all, gratitude?*
At least they’d been able to genuinely thank Hing Ganau, themselves, with a gift Najud pressed upon him. Coins, surely, considering the clink.
The little girl Tak Tuzap had rescued was talking now and said her name was Tan Omi, though everyone called her Gailen anyway. Najud had left another present for her welfare. “On Tak’s behalf,” he’d said. “Easy for me, and she’ll think well of him when she’s older. He’ll be pleased, I think.”
Najud has interesting notions of obligation. Why haven’t I heard him mention Dzantig yet?
“Notju-chi was kind enough to come with me so you wouldn’t have to dismount,” Najud said, as he came into earshot. “Maybe now he’ll tell us what he wants, out here where no one can see him.”
Tun gave him a sidelong glance, but proceeded down the trail unperturbed to her horse’s shoulder, and bowed to them both.
“Let me begin by thanking you for the liju, our Serene Emperor. I am sorry for your losses”—he looked pointedly at Penrys’s gloved hand—“and hope you will accept this small compensation for your efforts on behalf of an empire not your own.”
He put his hand into his tunic and pulled out two small red silk pouches.
Najud’s face froze.
*Those are imperial grants. That will be gold inside.*
Penrys took her cue from him and bowed from her saddle.
Tun gave one pouch to Najud and reached up to give her the other one. It was small but not at all light in her hand, and she tucked it away carefully in an inner tunic pocket.
After waiting politely for them to finish disposing of his gifts, Tun said, “It may be that someday Kigali might wish to call upon you again. Perhaps word could be sent to find you, through Ussha and the Ghuzl mar-Tawirqaj?”
Penrys reminded Najud. *Better tell him your name.*
“Notju-chi, please use the name Najud, son of Ilsahr of clan Zamjilah, of the Shubzah tribe. I am no longer Zandaril.”
Tun nodded. “I had wondered. The archives speak of other ‘Zandarils’ in the past.”
He glanced at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Still ‘Penrys,’” she said. “Different customs. That’s just my name.”
This time, anyway.
Najud bowed to Tun. “Chan do ne Te ba Gen ka Liju.”
Penrys bit her lip. He must have memorized the traditional phrase—A thousand years to the King of Earth and Sea.
Tun nodded, and walked down past Penrys’s string, back toward the camp.