The Kharsaanu Saquutu was said to be the greatest of all the world’s forests in both breadth and beauty. Standing at its edge, watching it stretch off beyond the horizon in either direction like an endless parade of emerald statues, Ilati could believe the truth of it. Every footfall on the soft, rich earth beneath these branches sent up the perfume of cracking cedar needles and fragrant wildflowers that grew amongst the loam. Birds sang symphonies in the branches, more than she had heard even among the rushes. They filled an otherwise silent air with golden notes that lingered in the sunbeams like chimes echoing through the halls of a temple. The songs and stories of its beauties and mysterious depths could only come to a fingernail’s worth of its truth, as immeasurable as the endless grains of sand in the Desert of Kings.

As much as she wanted to stay merely staring spellbound into the maze of trunks and branches, Ilati knew that this first glimpse would only be improved upon by entering the depths of the wood. Besides, after Eigou’s hint at his possible origins, she was curious what his reaction might be.

The old man was as transparent as a mudbrick, humming to himself as he brushed Ankhu’s coarse hair. The mule who had endured so much, including the pace of much swifter horses, was taking his opportunity to rest and bask in Eigou’s care while Shir Del and Roshanak said their goodbyes to their people. They had made a small camp at the very edge of the wood, stopped at the mouth of a path weaving through the great cedar trunks.

“We will not be able to see the stars,” Menes commented, testing the edge on his sickle-sword carefully. “You will have to be our guide, Eigou. This is not the Kingsroad.”

The sorcerer shrugged, apparently unconcerned that their navigation would not be so easy. “Until we know how far the Nadaren have spread, I thought it wiser to avoid a known thoroughfare. Besides, with the fall of Kullah, if there is an absence of Nadaren on the eastern half of the path, there will undoubtedly be unsavory people ready to fall upon travelers.”

“We do not look like a caravan,” Ilati murmured, tearing her eyes away from the woods. She stepped over to Youtab’s side, running a fond hand along the arch of the horse’s neck. Her equine friend was calm at the moment, clearly content in her company. Eigou was right to take the time to prepare, and part of that meant caring for their four-legged companions. Menes had taught her how to check a horse’s hooves and care for them. Years of working with a chariot’s team had made the dark-skinned man excellent at handling horses. Even Tahmasp grudgingly respected the man’s knowledge.

Ilati clicked her tongue against her teeth, running her hand down Youtab’s front leg and then tapping the back of it. Sut Resi only used whistle cues and tactile signals, feeling no need to jerk their mounts about with reins or prods. Youtab shifted her weight, then lifted her hoof for Ilati to look. The priestess supported the hoof with one hand, taking the stiff-bristled brush that Menes held out to her. She used it to gently clear all the earth away, checking each part of Youtab’s foot in turn. Mercifully, there was no sign of a stone or thorn or other discomfort to trouble her. Ilati still made her rounds diligently, checking each hoof and brushing away dirt and stones wherever needed to ensure her friend was well enough to run all she pleased.

“She is so gentle with you,” Menes observed with a smile. “It’s hard to remember sometimes that she would bite off my fingers if I tried to touch her.”

Eigou grinned as he sensed an opportunity. “I agree. Ilati is being most well mannered.”

Ilati snorted at that, looking up at the one-eyed man. “I thank the one who shaped you that you are a better sorcerer than a jester.”

Menes just shook his head in exasperation before looking toward the Sut Resi tribe. Whatever ceremony they were doing was hopefully almost at its completion, hidden at the center of the circle of their tents. “He cannot resist being a pest when in a good mood.”

Ilati finished her circuit around Youtab, all four hooves cleaned and checked. She knew that Menes was anything but wrong: the mare still fiercely resisted anyone who came too close except Ilati. Her hooves and teeth had maimed and killed before. No doubt they would again. “I pity the stablehands of Ulmanna.”

The sorcerer rubbed at his sole remaining eye. Clearly it was something he had considered, because he said, “Hopefully by then she will be used to human company, though I suspect you will have to care for her each day in such a situation. If she cannot handle the press of a city, however, she must remain outside it.”

The thought was an ache in Ilati’s heart, but it was better than having Youtab hurt or taken from her. “I would hate for a creature of endless plains to be confined in a box.”

“The stables where we go are most expansive. She could remain outside. The problem I see is the city streets,” Eigou explained.

Menes sighed. “And where are we going, old man?”

Their guide shrugged a little. “Even the help of the Sut Resi will not be enough alone to rid ourselves of the King of Nadar. His army is professional and more numerous than even Kullah’s, not to mention his magic and his other servants. We need Tudhaliya’s help.”

“Tudhaliya?” Ilati looked up, surprised. “He still lives? By now, he must be older than my grandfather was when he died!”

“When I was last in Ulmanna, he still ruled, though you are correct: his age is considerable. He was gods-blessed to sire sons when he did. Dying without an heir would have made Nysra’s job all the easier.” Eigou smiled, though there was a hardness to it that Ilati hadn’t expected. “That said, he has seeded the roots of his own undoing.”

“You think one of his sons means to kill him?” Menes said bluntly, sliding his sword back into its sheath.

Eigou shook his head. “No, no. Nothing so direct.”

“But there is something there,” Ilati said as she studied the old man. “Something dangerous.”

The sorcerer scratched at his beard, clearly weighing his words before speaking. “The end of Tudhaliya’s days fast approaches, though he would deny it. His court is divided regarding which of his two sons, Hattusa or Zidanta, should inherit upon his death. One is brave, noble, and kind. Unfortunately, he lacks any acumen or wisdom for rule and trusts too much. The other is shrewd, cruel, and warlike, but clever and well-suited for command.”

Menes sighed and ran a hand over his head, clearly not pleased with the problem now looming in their future. “Which is which?”

“Hattusa is the kind one. Handsome, endowed with all manner of courage and benevolence, but utterly lacking in wisdom and subtlety. Many of the common folk love him for his generosity and grasping men of power adore his foolish trust. Zidanta is cold and cruel, but wise in his choices and brilliant in his stratagems. He has his own supporters and the nobles would bow to his will quickly if he were to come to power, but does not wield the same adoration of the crowd.”

“What of the princes themselves?” Ilati asked softly, thinking of her own brothers. “If Hattusa is as you say, surely he should at least wish an amicable outcome.”

“Many have hitched their fortunes to one or the other, and for them to come to an accord would cause such men to potentially lose their own grip on advantage. There are plenty of things that have pitted them against each other, and neither have bridged the gap. When Tudhaliya dies, Sarru is poised to fall into a war of brother against brother.”

Ilati felt her hopes sink. “If that happens, they will surely succumb. We faced Nadar with a united front and could not endure.”

“Then we had best be certain that such an occasion does not arise, by hook or by crook.” Eigou’s gaze settled on the priestess, the ghost of an eye in his empty socket seeming to focus on her again. It was unsettling to be the recipient of such a look. “Tudhaliya’s court is a den of scorpions second only to Magan, Ilati, but there is no avoiding it.”

Ilati wondered if the word choice was intentional, if Eigou knew scorpions had meaning beyond merely danger in her life now. How much did the sorcerer know about what had happened in the desert? She had told him about her dream of one at the well. The old man always seemed to know more than he was saying and she was not inclined to believe nearly as much as she once had in accidents. “If that is where we must go, that is where we will go,” the priestess said with firmness.

Eigou softened slightly, as if he was setting the weightiness of such thoughts aside. “We can at least enjoy the forest.”

“That I look forward to,” Menes said with a faint smile. “Our last trip brought us much further south than the great forest, and I have never seen trees such as these. The palace gardens of Araka pale in comparison.”

“You knew a palace?” Ilati asked curiously. Menes had never carried himself with fine manners or anything approaching what she considered royalty. He seemed more like a mercenary most of the time, if gentle around Roshanak.

Menes rubbed the back of his neck. “I was a soldier,” he said finally. “As Eigou said, a fine charioteer favored by the royal court. I spent more time than I ever should have there, for all the trouble it has brought me.”

“It looks like they are finishing,” Eigou said abruptly, rising to his feet. “I will go tell Shir Del and Roshanak what we intend and return with them.” He strode off, Ankhu’s lead still in his hand. The mule followed him like a faithful hound.

The strangeness of the turn stuck like a burr in Ilati’s thoughts. “What just happened?”

Menes sighed heavily. “He goes to delay Shir Del and Roshanak, so we may speak a moment. There is something you should know, Ilati, that Eigou is well aware of.”

The priestess could tell that whatever it was, to dredge up even words was painful. Her demeanor softened immediately. “You do not have to tell me, Menes. Not if it cuts at you as it seems to.”

“I thank you, but you should know all the same,” Menes said. “I carry a curse, Ilati. Shir Del has seen it, that is why she calls me cat, but she does not know the reason. For the rest of my life, I carry the spirit of a beast, a leopard. Should I ever give my heart, I will become one. The skin I wear is no mere trophy: it is a reminder of what one foolish choice has made me.”

“Why would giving your heart do such a thing?”

Menes paused, hunting for words. “I loved a woman, Ilati,” he said slowly. “One who was wed to another man, a powerful one with powerful friends. When a cruel betrayal bared my feelings, his jealousy bid him to use the favor of a dangerous sorcerer to chain me so. I left Araka in a cage, a prowling and mindless thing. Eigou was charitable enough to use his magic to return me to this form, but he could not remove the ensorcellment entirely. So the threat remains.” He gave her a faint, bitter smile. “I am more beast than man, even now.”

Ilati sat down on the fallen cedar that marked the western edge of their little campsite. It was hard to believe that the gentle warrior could truly be a beast, even after seeing hints of his fury. “You seem like a man.”

“Many monsters do.”

She shook her head. “I have seen monsters, Menes,” Ilati said firmly. Her thoughts were not even with the demon of Sa Dul. Instead, all she could hear for a moment was the laughter of the men of Nadar and the screams of burning priestesses. “You are not among their number.”

He sighed, this time in relief. “Thank you, Ilati. I did not want you to be frightened of me, even if it might be wiser to.”

“I can handle a leopard.”

Menes rubbed a hand over his head and offered her a wider smile. “How fortunate for you. I do not think I could handle a lioness.”

“My combat training is nowhere near your own,” Ilati said dismissively. “Even if I was shooting, I’d probably hit Eigou by mistake.”

“Not a mistake you would make twice.” Menes bowed his head slightly towards her. “My gratitude for your friendship, Ilati.” He looked over, spotting Eigou on the return trip with Roshanak and Shir Del. The warrior seemed as focused as ever, but her daughter’s eyes were red from shed tears. When he smiled, Ilati wondered if he thought of the sisters and nieces he had left behind in Magan. It had never sunk in quite so deeply before, but the curse meant he likely could never return to them for fear of again being transfigured into a beast by the sorcerer dwelling in Araka.

The priestess moved her thoughts to their more pressing problem: Ulmanna and the kingdom around it, both poised to rip in two the moment Tudhaliya died. She wished the man long life under her breath, whatever role he might have had in causing this situation. Hopefully if they could somehow obtain an audience, they could help.

But how?