Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...

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could masquerade as an Arkan would be you."
"Shit," Shkai'ra said, wrinkling her nose. "Just when this war was getting interesting.And I was in line for
a cavalry brigade ," she added to herself.My last chance at command. Oh, well .
"Love—you aren't taking meseriously , are you?"
Shkai'ra held out one, red-blond braid. "Ia, I am. Unless you think we could pull off a rescue through
letters in wartime?"
"Shkai'ra… you don't know the language well enough. You don't move like an Arkan woman and never
will. Arrgh—oww. I know you think Arkans are blind, but…"
"No, Megan," said the Kommanza, smiling. "Remember that time we were in one of those Thanish
trade-towns… Vyksa, wasn't it? And it took that idiot Thanish chandlerten minutes to realize we were
female.Zoweit-zum , I had my shirt unlaced almost to the bottom of my breastbone and he didn't notice!
People see what they expect; Arkans are even more trained to see 'men' in pants and 'women' in skirts
than Thanes, and city ones don't meet outsiders, like those Thanes would."
"As a man! You'retall enough… But you'd have to go as asolas if you wanted to be armed, and they're
fish-guttedliterate , let alone fluent in their mother-tongue, in a certain accent, and knowing who to talk
up and down to—not to mention the low voice! There'd' be no reason for you to be in the City Itself
unless you were wounded…" Her voice trailed off, thoughtfully. "Wounded on thehead . The right sort,
and you wouldn't be able to write much, or talk straight…"
She shook herself mentally. "No. Koru, what am I thinking? This isn't enough information for you to go
haring off ahead of the army to chase Lixand—one scrap of paper with a box number on it. Besides, you
can hardly walk up to You Know Who and say 'I need to leave your army for a few weeks to get my
wife's son, or she'll have to kill you.' " She put a hand on Shkai'ra's knee. "Thank you anyway, love, for
the thought."
"No," Shkai'ra said. "We were planning to think of a way to get you out of the choice, Lixand or
Gold-bottom; this is it. Think about it when you're a little less wretched, after you've slept some. There's
notearing hurry, because you have a good excuse for delay to give therokatzk now—you're wounded!
And think about that message; Lixand's obviouslynot being held by Irefas proper,nia ? If he were, that
would be going to the Marble Palace, not a drop-off box."
"Maybe. Maybe not."
"Yourrokatzk never said 'we have him in the Marble Palace dungeon'—just 'I have him.' He's
freelancing, with a few other people, probably not more than half a dozen—easy work for me. Worth the
attempt, at any rate." Her eyes closed for a second. "Rest now. We're going to win."
Megan chewed on her Arkan pen, looking at the neat columns of positives and negatives on the paper
before her. She was propped up on pillows, the lap-desk on her lap; her bad leg hurt like a rotten tooth
but bigger, the pain made worse by the lurching of the un-sprung wounded-cart, even on roads this
smooth. It was stuffy in there, and people kept groaning.Never thought I'd wish I were riding . But the
Haians weren't going to let her up yet; when she did try standing, just to see what would happen, she
instantly felt why they didn't—her head going light, and her whole body insisting on lying down again.