"Not long." Time was turning against us. The existence of the band had to be known up north. Potential political enemies would be digging in.

"Instead of mock combat we'll have a review. Spread a rumor that I'm thinking of moving out if what I see pleases me." That ought to motivate them.

"Yes, Mistress." Narayan retreated. He gathered his cronies, a dozen men who showed snips of colored cloth at their waists.

An interesting group. They sprang from all three major religions, two minor cults, and from among the liberated foreign slaves. They pretty much ran the camp though only Narayan and Ram had official standing. They kept the peace. The men weren't quite sure how to take them, but responded seriously because of that aura of the sinister that I'd noted myself.

Narayan admitted nothing. He handled my probes deftly. There was no doubt he directed the dozen, though several sprang from higher castes.

I kept an eye on him. Time would betray him-if he didn't open up, as he hinted he might.

For the moment he was too useful to press.

I nodded approval. "They almost look like soldiers." We'd have to get them uniform dress.

Narayan nodded. He seemed smug, as though his genius had produced our triumph and sparked a renascent spirit.

"How're the riding lessons coming?" Just making talk. I knew. Abysmally. None of these clowns belonged to a caste that got closer to a horse than to trail along behind cleaning up. But, damn, it would be a sin to waste those mounts.

"Poorly. Though a few men show promise. Not including myself or Ram. We were born to walk."

"Show promise" had become his favorite expression. In reference to everything. As he taught me to use the strangler's kerchief, or rumel, at my insistence, he said I showed promise.

I suspected he was surprised at how easily I picked it up. Its manipulation came as naturally as breathing, as though it was a skill I'd had all along. Maybe it came of centuries of practice at the quick, subtle gestures needed to manipulate sorceries.