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

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The only bright moment today had been when Chevenga had come into the cart, to squeeze hands,
stroke brows and present everyone with the decoration all wounded got, the Saint Mother's Bloodstone,
slipping it under their pillows if they were sleeping.Good thing he can't read Zak , she'd thought as they
exchanged pleasantries.
It was an old habit, laying out her thoughts on paper to see in black and white whether an idea was
viable. Most times she had to burn the paper once the decision was made, this time no exception.
Shkai'ra would have to count on the fact that no one would challenge the wound—on both head and
throat— and her limited Arkan vocabulary could be garbled enough that no one would notice the accent.
Scribbled in one corner of the list was the notation "Emmas Penaras,solas"; Shkai'ra could learn to write
that. For the rest, a few cards that Megan could easily forge, along with travel papers… If she could stall
therokatzk for an iron-cycle, and Shkai'ra were both lucky and careful, it was possible.
"I'll wrap my head in bandages stained with chicken blood." Shkai'ra, lying back by the fire with one
ankle over her knee and fingers laced behind her head, grinned raffishly. In two days, Megan had healed
enough to be let out of the wounded-cart at night. "Poor valiant… umm… Emmas Penaras,solas ,
head-wounded fighting the benighted barbarian invaders. Can't speak very well, forgetful, lost his letters
mostly, hands shaky anyway… it's perfect! We can get Imperial harness easily enough."
Megan appraised her. "You'll have to trim your hair some, dear. It's too long for asolas ."
Shkai'ra winced. "My hair! I guess I couldn't pass for anAitzas … Damn, I haven't done more than trim
the ends since I got warrior-braids." She brought the plaits, shining in the lamplight, around in her hands.
"Well, that should wait until I go missing, of course. So, love, think you could make a convincing
widow?"
Megan scanned the dark tents around them, idly wondering if the blackmailer was near, or whether
people were starting to wonder why she and her wife had started speaking Fehinnan so much. "Or at
least the worried wife of someone gone missing in action," she answered. "I'll stall things for an iron-cycle,
the length of time I told him first. I think I can do that."
"That should be enough time," Shkai'ra said.
"Then you bring Lixand back to the army… or if the army takes the City first, we'll meet on the steps of
the Marble Palace. Or, barring that, the Temonen manor. At noon. And if the other's not there in, say, an
eight-day after the army arrives, we'll know for sure." The Kommanza nodded wordlessly. "Hotblood
would have to stay here."
"He will, if I tell him to, even though he doesn't like it," Shkai'ra said. "You can trust me, my heart. I'll win
for both of us."
"Threeof us," Megan corrected. "Lixand, too."
I trust you, love, she thought later, when sleep would not come. Shkai'ra snored peacefully.Chevenga
will have to as well, though he doesn't know it . She tried to feel as determined as she could make her
voice sound.You always come through in the crunch. You're your best when things are worst .
The next morning, well enough to walk a little, she was summoned to the office-cart.Koru … It couldn't
be to plan; she was wounded.Lady grant he doesn't suspect something. He can't, how can he know