‘Can I help?’ asked Kiall.
‘Yes. Hold out your hands.’ He did so and her long leg swung up, her heel resting on his palms. She bent forward, grasping the back of her ankle, holding the position for a while and then switching to the other leg. Finally she lifted the blanket from her shoulders and stood naked before Kiall. He blushed and cleared his throat. ‘Place your hands on my shoulders,’ she said, turning her back on him, ‘and gently press at the muscles with your thumbs. Where they are rounded and supple, move on. Where they are knotted and tense, ease them.’
‘I do not know how,’ he told her, but tentatively his hands touched her skin. She sat down on her blanket with Kiall kneeling behind her. Her skin was smooth and white, the muscles beneath strong and firm, as his fingers moved over her.
‘Relax, Kiall. Close your eyes. Think of nothing. Let your hands search.’
His fingers slid down over the shoulder-blades. The muscles on the right side felt as if pebbles had been inserted into them. With great care he rubbed at them, growing more confident as the tautness faded. That is good,’ she told him. ‘You have fine hands – healing hands.’
He could feel himself becoming aroused, and hated himself for it. After what she had been through, it was wholly wrong for a man to react to her in this way. His hands losing their sureness, he stood and walked away. Tanaki covered herself with the blanket cloak and lay back on the ground. The pain of her body was less now, but she would never forget the abject humiliation she had suffered. The memory of the sweating men, the stink of them, the pawing and the pain would remain with her always. She shivered and rolled to her feet. Kiall’s horse stood tethered nearby; she saddled him and stepped into the stirrup, easing herself to his back. Kiall saw her and ran forward. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked, his voice full of concern.
‘I cannot start the rest of my life dressed like this,’ she said. ‘My clothes are down there in the hall. And I will need weapons.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ he offered, holding out his hand. She took it and he vaulted to the saddle behind her. ‘This is not wise, Tanaki.’
‘The merits cannot be decided until we are done,’ she told him.
The bodies had been removed from the settlement, but dried blood still stained the ground and the wood of the auction platform. Tanaki slid from the saddle and entered the hall. Kiall tethered his horse and moved to the ramparts, keeping watch for Nadir warriors. As the minutes passed, he felt his tension rise. Hearing the sound of booted feet on the steps he whirled, scrabbling for his sabre. Tanaki laughed at him. She was clad now in trousers of soft oiled leather and high riding-boots. Her upper body was clothed in a matching hooded tunic, and two short swords were belted at her hips. Over her shoulder was slung a fur-lined cloak of black leather, and in her hand she carried a canvas pack.
‘You have all you need?’ he asked.
‘Not quite. I need the head of Tsudai – but that will come to me.’
They rode back to the camp-site and tethered the horse. Tanaki drew her swords. ‘Come,’ she said to Kiall, ‘show me your skill.’
‘No. I … I’m not very good. I am not a warrior, you see.’
‘Show me.’
Embarrassed, he drew his sabre and dropped into the stance Chareos had taught him. As she leapt forward his sabre blocked her thrust, but she spun, her second sword-blade falling to touch his neck. ‘You are too stiff,’ she told him.
‘I loosen up when I am afraid,’ he said, with a smile.
‘Then be afraid!’ she said, her voice low and chilling. Her sword swept towards his head and he jumped back, but she followed him in. He blocked one thrust, then a second . . . she spun, but he dropped to his knees, her blade slashing the air where his head had been. As her sword sliced down, he dived to his left and rolled. ‘That is better,’ she said, ‘but unless you are a master – which you are not – you should fight with sabre and knife. That would double your killing power.’