Chapter 66
Not one of the knife-dancers spoke to Hekat, nor she to any one of them. They hardly ever spoke to her, she was not lonely. Who could be lonely when filled with the King? The sun sank below the horizon. Dusk deepened into night. The Kingmoon was in the waning phase, his wife hid demurely in his shadow. Tajria ordered the torches lit, they traveled home in a flickering of light. Three fingers after the Kingmoon’s thin rising, they reached the city. The barracks’ main gates were thrown wide for them, and they rode to the stables. Amid the jostle and bustle of stable-slaves attending the horses, and the busyness of other warriors coming to greet them and make a noise, the skinned horsehides and those three bloodied enemy breastplates were taken from the mule-cart. Then the Kingd drove it to
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