It had been three days since they'd fled from Harupa, and in all that time, Chang-li hadn't seen anyone beyond himself, Joshi, and Min. For the first day, he kept his ears open and his senses perked for any sign of pursuit, but they were not chased. He guessed that the lux technician caravan hadn't any cultivators of their own. They would no doubt return to their intended destination and report on what had happened; then perhaps someone would be dispatched to look for them. But by then, he'd be far off.

They plodded forward. Chang-li had suggested using the cloud again. Joshi refused.

"We hold on to our lux and we ride the horses. Otherwise, in a week, when we are out of lux and have no horses, we'll be stranded in the wilderness. From now on, you are in a world where your horse is your life. Better to lose your sword than your horse."

They bowed to Joshi's expertise, though as they lumbered along hour after interminable hour, Chang-li longed for the smooth flight of the cloud instead of the ornery, headstrong beasts. Still, it could have been worse.

They rode through a vast open land full of grass and sky. To Chang-li, it all looked very much the same. He felt open and exposed. The hawks stooping overhead made him wonder who else might be watching.

Min, too, was uncomfortable and withdrawn, but Joshi was in his element, riding ahead of them on his own mount, calling aloud in a language Chang-li didn't understand to the birds and the small animals that ran out from beneath their feet.

"We will have to find my clan," he told them. "Let me speak for us, whoever we meet."

"That'll be easy," Min muttered, "since you're the only one who knows the language."

Joshi laughed. "True, I had forgotten that. Once we find them, I will have to make a deal with whoever leads the clan in my father's place. One of my brothers, perhaps." His face darkened.

"Will we have trouble there?" Chang-li knew Joshi had never gotten along with his half-brothers, and had departed the clan on bad terms.

"I hope not. I shall remind them of the bundle of arrows."

"The what?" Chang-li asked.

Joshi laughed. "An ancient legend of my people. In the earliest days, when there were no nomads, a beautiful woman and her four sons were cast out of their village. Her husband had been a chief and poisoned by his rival. She, fearing for her sons' lives, fled into the wilderness along with her sons, their horses, and a few sheep. There she taught the boys to ride, to hunt, to take milk from the sheep and make it into cheese. They grew tall and strong. But when they were becoming men, she saw how they were inclined to argue with each other. The sheep they had were enough to keep any of them alive. But how were they to win wives, with so little to offer?"

Min was leaning forward in her saddle, clearly fascinated. Chang-li listened to Joshi's sing-song tone as he recited a story he clearly had learned at his mother's knee.

"The oldest brother argued he should be given all of the sheep, so that he could claim a beautiful woman as his wife. The other brothers insisted that would leave them with nothing. They fought and argued and seemed on the verge of killing each other.

"So their mother brought them together, and she gave each of them an arrow from the quiver with which she had hunted rabbits in the days when they were too young to feed themselves. She told them to break the arrows. They did, easily. Tossing the arrows into their fire, she took four more arrows from her quiver, handed all four in a bundle to her eldest son, and told him to break it. He tried, but found with the four arrows together he could not. He handed it to his next brother, and each in turn tried to break the bundle. They could not.

"'Remember that,' their mother told them. 'Separately, you are like the arrows. Easy for an enemy to break. Together, you cannot be broken, and can stand against the world.'

"Now, though we are eight clans and not one, we remember. And when one of our Khans sends out an arrow to the other clans, it is a sign to gather together to decide. My father did this when he raised the banners to call for war against the Empire. With my father dead it falls to my eldest brother to send out the arrow."

"I've heard a story like that," Min said. "The Brotherhood tells something similar, except it's not arrows. It's a bundle of sticks and a grandfather instructing his grandsons though they are simple craftsmen, if they stay united, they can defy even the governor of their city."

"There you are," Joshi said. "Perhaps we are not so different."

Though they weren't pursued, they were running out of food. Chang-li had been hoping to restock their supplies at Harupa. Of course, that had not happened. The horses could graze on the grass, but their own supplies had dwindled.

At first as they travelled farther into the grassy steppelands, the horizon seemed like an empty, infinite wall of blue. As they made their way further, though, its smooth line was broken by a jagged proturbence, dark against the sky. Soon Chang-li could make it out as a mountain.

But what a mountain it was! It seemed to be standing on its own and reaching toward heaven, white-capped and intimidating. He asked Joshi about it.

Joshi nodded. "That is the Pillar of Sky. My people range all around it. It's considered bad luck for any of our children to be born beyond its watch, so you'll rarely meet Darwur living beyond these lands."

"How tall is it?"

Joshi considered. "I don't know," he said after a moment. "It's the Pillar of Sky. Only at certain times is anyone permitted to climb its slopes. For adulthood rituals, mostly, and the shaman will sometimes ascend. And of course, the Heart of Ice is there, somewhere."

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Min looked at it and shivered. "We're going up there?"

"If we are fortunate." The conversation died then.

On the morning of the fourth day after Harupa, Chang-li stared into the saddlebags in dismay. "I don't think we have more than enough for two days here. If we don't find your people, we won't be able to make it back."

"The steppes will provide," Joshi said. "Besides, my people are not far off now."

"How can you tell?" Min asked.

Joshi pointed out a small stream lying in their path a mile or so off.

"See? Fresh tracks there."

Chang-li couldn't see anything. But when they reached it and crossed, he found the banks had been churned up by thousands of small hooves and hundreds of larger ones. People riding horses had brought a great quantity of sheep through here. He'd have to take Joshi's word that it had been so recent.

Around midday, they crossed a ridge and looked down. Several dozen mounted men, leading many unsaddled horses, rode with a pair of white banners at their heads. They spotted Chang-li and Joshi at once, pointing, and four men split off to ride for them.

"I'll speak with them. Hold back, but make no unfriendly moves," Joshi said. He rode out ahead, spreading his arms wide, and met the others. They conversed in long, unintelligible sentences. At last, Joshi returned.

"We are lucky. The arrows have been sent out, and these men are riding to answer the summons. We shall go with them

"Riding to what purpose? Why have they been summoned?" Chang-li asked.

"They didn't tell me. Just that they had been called, and they would come. It could be war. It could be peace. It could be the Heart of Ice. We shall see when we arrive."

If the great general of the West had, as rumors had reached Chang-li's ear, defeated Joshi's father in battle, then perhaps the Darwur War was nearly over. That would be good for Joshi's people, who might be able to join the Empire peacefully after all this time.

But it might be bad for Chang-li. The timing was suspicious. The great Primal Tower known as the Heart of Ice was emerging, and he needed to reach it without interference from other sects. It was more important now that he knew what he bore inside him. He had to find a way to rid himself of this Lens, or master it.

Now Joshi, Chang-li and Min joined the riders near the front of the pack. Min and Chang-li rode close together, neither daring to look around much, as a din rose around them. Dozens of voices laughed and argued in a language he'd never heard before. The smell of sweaty men and horses was overpowering. Min was looking ill, and Chang-li felt more than a bit queasy himself.

As they made their way along, Chang-li kept having to remind himself not to cycle. It was hard, like reminding himself not to breathe. Instead, he focused on his will, stretching it out cautiously at first, making sure that his core didn't respond. But unlike cycling lux, using his will didn't seem impacted by this Lens. This surprised him. While he had known Will was separate from Lux, somehow he had thought they were dependent on each other. Apparently that was not the case. Now that he had reached the Peak of Spiritual Refinement, Chang-li was starting to be able to do more than just wield his will like a club to smash against his enemies.

It was an uncomfortable, long day of riding. Surrounded by the Darwur, they rode at a pace much stiffer than Joshi had kept them to. But as the sun began to descend again, Chang-li spotted a haze on the horizon that resolved itself into a vast sprouting of tents, like enormous mushrooms rising up from the steppes, while the great mountain dominated the background, its base perhaps ten miles away.

The haze of cook fires hung around them. He couldn't tell how many there were. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands. Most of them were the round white tents of the Darwur, but in the center were standard Imperial Army tents, with their distinctive triangular silhouette, surrounding a set of tall square command tents.

Chang-li puzzled. Had the Darwur conquered and raided a baggage train, then claimed the tents for themselves?

As they approached, he saw Imperial soldiers standing guard outside their section of the encampment, right beside Darwur coming and going.

He muttered his observations to Min. Joshi wasn't participating in their conversations anymore, riding stolidly like a man headed for his death.

More riders approached from the encampment. Chang-li shaded his eyes. There were quite a few of them, fierce-looking Darwur warrior, all well-armed with bows, spears, and swords. Different styles of decoration on their saddles likely meant something to them, but Chang-li couldn't interpret the meaning.

Joshi pulled back on his reins and slowed to a walk as their escort rode out around them. "There are men of several different clans here," he murmured.

"Is that surprising?"

"Not necessarily. If we are still at war against the Empire, then several may ride together." Then after a moment, he swore. "And Temaj is with them. He lives, at least."

"Who?"

Joshi didn't answer. In a moment, they were surrounded by the new riders, who began at once arguing loudly, pointing at Joshi. Joshi crossed his arms across his chest. He spoke a few sentences that sounded to Chang-li a bit defensive. The others yelled and shouted. He shook his head, arguing more.

"What are they saying?" Min asked.

One of the riders laughed. He looked at Min and spoke in broken Imperial.

"We say, good. The traitor has returned in time for us to seal our treaty with his blood."

Joshi grimaced. "Do not mock. These are my friends. My blood-brother and his wife." He spoke in the Imperial tongue, probably for Chang-li's benefit, but indicated the warrior who had spoken. "This is my father's son, Temaj. We have different mothers."

Temaj spat on the ground. "The only reason I do not cut your head from your body where you sits, is because I wish to present you to my new ally, for his judgement. But these, these I care nothing for. Why should I not have them killed as spies?"

"They are my sect members, my friends," Joshi said. "I brought them here so that they may help us on the path my father set for us, to teach our people to use lux so that we can stand on our own against the Empire."

"That plan is as dead as our father," Temaj retorted. He turned his head and barked orders. "But — it will do no harm to bring you before the general, as well. Come. If any of you try to escape, I'll kill you myself."

"The general?" Chang-li couldn't help asking.

"General Li. Our new ally." Temaj leered at Joshi. "The man you failed to murder. He's going to want to see you, all right."

They had reached the edge of the camp now. Imperial soldiers surrounded them as Joshi, Min and Chang-li dismounted. They followed Temaj deeper into the camp, toward the imperial tents. Two of them were command tents, tall and square. One had its walls raised on two sides. Stacks of crates formed tables where a pair of scribes worked. Chang-li was struck by a surprise wave of homesickness.

Temaj called out, and men poured out of the other tent. Imperial soldiers, surrounding their general.

He wore black lacquered armor, and his will wrapped around him like a cloak. Chang-li's blood froze. This man was a cultivator, very high level. Like Noren. Like a prism. His hair was dark, though streaked with grey, his neatly-trimmed beard making him look hard. He carried a helmet with an enormous red plume under his arm, and a red cape billowed out behind him.

"Khan Temaj? You call me?"

Temaj gestured. "We have brought prisoners. One you know, General Li."

The general strode toward them. Shock showed on his face. "You!" he said to Joshi. "You're the assassin I showed mercy to years ago. Your brother swore he knew nothing of what you did."

"Nor did he," Joshi called, his voice ringing out clearly. "I swear, general, none of my people had any share in my actions."

"I thought to seal our treaty in his blood," Temaj said. "General, will you—"

A woman burst from the command tent. Small, dressed in purple silks, Chang-li took a step back in astonishment as she raced forward. She flung herself in between Joshi and the general. "Father! Stop!"

"Hiroko?" The general looked as confused as Chang-li felt.

"Hiroko? How did you get here?" Min asked.

"Father, please, you must spare his life. This man is my betrothed, and I know in my heart, we will have need of him!"

Everyone from the general to the Darwur to Chang-li himself seemed struck dumb.

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