No explanation was given. His father simply came into his room in the middle of the night with his servant and ordered him to pack his things. "It is time to go, Camros."

Camros, fuzzy with sleep, feebly shook off the hand nudging his shoulder. "Where to?" he mumbled. Although he could barely hold his eyes open, he saw that it was still dark but for the single oil lamp in his father's hand.

"Quickly now," urged Narisen, "and do not argue with me. There is no time for dawdling."

Packing was always done leisurely, the household servants taking their time choosing what their masters would need away from home and carefully filling the great iron-bound chests. Now the servant rummaged through Camros' clothes press and stuffed garments into a canvas bag as if they were laundry. Camros wanted to ask what was going on, but his father's tone brooked no argument. He put on the clothes that were handed to him, combed his hair as best he could and tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Horses were waiting for them in the courtyard. "We are going to the estate in Besar," said Narisen.

Spring was not the right time of year for leaving the city. This puzzled Camros, as did riding out while the moon was still high and a chill bit the air, but when his father wished something done no one questioned it.

A pair of guards and the household eunuch Ranu accompanied them from the house down the streets to the first of many gates closed for the night. Camros heard his father say something to the sentries at each post, and each time they were let through. The city, so lively during the day, had a different character at night; all felt oppressively quiet, so that a single hoof beat striking the pavement sounded like a thunderclap.

As he gradually stirred from his sluggishness, Camros pondered the smallness of their escort. Whenever the household moved to the country for the summer, an entire baggage train was needed to cart furniture, clothing and other necessities. Now there were only five of them abroad, carrying as much as could fit in a single saddlebag. Because of the circumstances and his father's refusal to provide an explanation, Camros wondered if there was some trouble that required so much secrecy. Though he had not yet been presented at court, he knew from his friends and their tutors that sometimes men who displeased the Great King prudently escaped the city and went into exile before the royal hand could take more punitive measures against them.

Perhaps his father had done something to make the king angry. Camros bristled at the thought that Narisen did not trust him enough to confide in him, whilst hauling him from his comfortable bed in the middle of the night. It was irksome enough that he had all he could do to hold his tongue and not demand to know outright.

Three days on the southeast road brought them to the Besarian countryside, where on a hillside surrounded by olive trees and wild grapevines stood a villa roofed with fading terracotta tiles. When Narisen and his small party rode up the dusty track from the gate to the main courtyard, the servants who ran out were surprised by the arrival, but once their confusion subsided they quickly went about the business of making the household presentable for their masters.

Food and wine were laid out on a terrace downstairs while the suites were properly aired out and fresh linens brought up. As in the city, bath water was more of a luxury than ever these days, but enough was available for both Narisen and Camros to refresh themselves before going down to eat.

Despite the rigors of the journey, Camros found he had little appetite. He toyed with the food a servant set before him, drank enough wine to unsettle his stomach and brooded. Not once had his father explained the reason for the sudden move, and Camros could read his moods well enough to guess his questions would not be tolerated. After a while, Narisen noticed the untouched food on his plate and dismissed him. "A long ride is supposed to sharpen the appetite," he said, "but perhaps you need rest more than nourishment. Go, and I will speak to you later."

At twilight, as the moon rose among the first stars, Camros received a summons from his father. Narisen sat in a downstairs room that, during the day, commanded a handsome view of the estate's orchards. Now the fretted screens were drawn aside to admit a breeze carrying the mingled smells of herbs and dust. Narisen wore a loose, belted robe and nursed a glass of the white wine for which the Besar valley was famous.

"After three days," he said, "you must be wondering why I brought you here."

Camros did not know what to say. "I thought--that is to say--I was under the impression that--"

"What did you think, son?"

"I wondered if perhaps we had left because the king was angry with you."

Narisen smiled and took a sip of his wine. His dark eyes remained troubled. "You mean, have I fallen out of favor with Ampheres? No, but I might well if he learns the real reason for my sudden departure from court. Come, sit here beside me. Gods, you have grown so in the last year! Eighteen already and not yet presented at court? With all the other matters requiring my attention that was remiss of me, but it might be to your advantage now."

"I am afraid I do not understand."

Hesitating, Narisen indicated the decanter on the sideboard. Camros looked at it, puzzled as to why his father wanted him to drink when it was not his custom to ply his son with wine. "More than a year has passed without rain. Of course, we have cisterns throughout Khalgar to see us through such difficulties, but the water levels are dangerously low and what harvest we will have this year will be poor. People will die of hunger and disease."

"What has this to do with us?"

The raised eyebrow his father gave him told Camros this was the wrong thing to say. "Has your education been so neglected that you do not understand the importance of a good harvest? I should see about having your tutors instruct you in more practical matters than they have been. Food and water do not magically appear, son, and this is something you will have to comprehend if you are ever to hold a government position."

Camros chewed his lip. Whenever his father began chastising him, time dragged. Now was one of those moments. And all I did was ask a simple question. Instinct advised him against speaking further.

"Priests have consulted all the oracles in the city, and have come back with word that there is to be a Great Offering to Shedhu."

Rumors of such a sacrifice had reached Camros' ears in the academy where he was tutored with the other sons of government officials, but fearing to betray his ignorance he had not asked what it was. "Is it a special sacrifice?"

Narisen gave him an odd look, dismissing his bewilderment with another sip of wine. "It slipped my mind that the last Great Offering took place when you were very small. Yes, son, it is a very special sacrifice. A Great Offering is when the most beautiful youth or maiden of high birth is given to the rain god in exchange for his blessing. Sometimes Shedhu wants a girl, other times he wants a pretty youth; only his oracles can tell us. This time it is to be a youth, so you understand now why I had to get you out of the city."

But I am not beautiful or highborn, Camros wanted to say. "I am sure they would not have chosen me, Father."

"Priests select ten candidates, but the final offering is chosen by lot, so I could not take that chance. Camros, your sisters are now married with families of their own and you are my only son, all I have left of your dear mother."

Camros thought only of the secrecy with which his father had carried out their midnight escape from Bhellin. "The king will be angry when he finds out, Father."

"If he knew the real reason," replied Narisen, "then he would be, yes. I have accepted an assignment away from the city so it will not seem that we are defying the royal edict. I will hire a tutor for you and you will have some leisure pursuits, just as you do when we visit in the summer. By now, the priests will have already chosen the sacrifice and taken him into the temple. We will wait a few months and go back in the autumn, as we do every year. Think of this as a pleasant idyll."

For one who was accustomed to the noise and bustle of the Khalgari capital, the Besarian countryside was dull. The villa and its grounds were more extensive than the house in the city, but somehow it did not seem as splendid or exciting. In Bhellin, visitors were always coming to the house and Camros had many friends in his academy. Here, there was no one to talk to except Ranu, the guards and the servants, who were all uniformly boring, and since his tutor had not yet arrived from Bhellin he could only fill so many hours of the day with riding.

Sensing his father no longer wished to discuss the Great Offering, Camros did not mention it again, but in quiet moments he wondered if the king knew the truth and would send soldiers to arrest them, or if his name had been added to the lottery anyway. He was the son of a minor official and had been kept out of the public eye, so it was entirely possible the priests would forget about him.

A narrow channel from the nearby Olev river irrigated the estate's orchards. Fed by strong winter rains, the channel usually ran high. Now one could nearly see the channel's muddy bottom, and the orchards were brown. Only one corner of the estate was green, a shaded area where the channel pooled and ended. Curiosity, coupled with an off-key whistling from the trees, impelled him to investigate this odd oasis.

A man knelt in the short grass over the channel, tending the plants that grew on the bank. His back was to Camros, and he wore a wide-brimmed hat, so Camros could not see his face. "What are you doing?"

Slowly, the man straightened and stood. He was taller than Camros expected and younger, with the long, sinewy limbs of a laborer. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm tending the watercress. Would you care to help?"

Camros regarded the tumbled soil between the man's fingers with disdain. "I am the master's son. I do not scrabble about in the dirt."

The man snorted, shrugged. "Then you'll pardon me if I go back to work."

Although this was evidently his cue to leave, Camros lingered. Why the man bothered with this one little corner of the grounds when there were orchards that needed tending was beyond him.

Insufferable peasant. Camros gave up and went back to the house, but was back the following morning. This time the man was on his knees in the same place, working as if his task was a leisurely pastime. Camros stood just under an ancient dry oak, glaring at the laborer's back when his discreet cough and shuffling were not acknowledged.

Finally, without turning around, the man spoke, "Is there something you want?"

"Has no one ever taught you to mind your betters?"

Dark eyes roamed the garden before resting on Camros. "When I see my betters," the man said coolly, "then I'll mind them."

No one had ever dared speak to him like this; it was infuriating. "My father could have you whipped for this."

The man tilted his head, pressing his lips together in a tight line as he studied Camros. "Is there something you want, boy, or are you always such a nuisance?"

Camros knew he should turn on his heel and march straight back up to the house to report this outrageous behavior, but part of him was intrigued enough to stay. "I am not a nuisance. I just want to know what you are doing."

"I am tending these plants, as I told you yesterday. Is there something wrong with your wits?"

Camros rolled his eyes. "I can see what you are doing, but there is an entire orchard that is withering."

"There is only so much a single mortal can do. If you want a miracle in the orchard, you'd best make the proper offerings to the Rain Lord."

"A Great Offering is going to be made," Camros told him, as if divulging a delicious secret. "Then the rain will fall."

Other servants, to whom news from Bhellin came slowly, were duly impressed by this tidbit of information. For this man, however, there was no moving him. "If Shedhu is pleased by the morsel, he may well piss on your fields. Or not. Now, do you intend to help me, or do you intend to stand there all day with your aimless questions?"

The blasphemous remarks were both shocking and thrilling to hear. Despite his better judgment, Camros ventured closer. He saw no tools, only dark, moist soil sticking to the man's fingers, which he was using to prod the earth. "You have not yet told me your name."

"You didn't ask, boy. My name is Sedir," answered the man. "Now you can return the favor and tell me your name. You can be certain I'm not going to call you 'master' or some other such nonsense."

Such insolence begged for punishment. Narisen would have had Sedir taken away long ago. "My name is Camros ké Narisen."

Sedir arched thin black eyebrows at him. "Such a large name for such a small youth," he commented. "Well, then, Camros. What do you intend to do, stand there all day and gawk at me? Haven't you ever seen a common laborer before?"

"Never one with a tongue like yours." Camros shifted the loamy soil with his toe but did not bend down to help as he was apparently expected to do. "Do you live here?"

"Sometimes. I'm what is called a hired hand."

"I know what a hired hand is," Camros answered stiffly.

"And here I thought young lordlings like you had no idea what a field hand was."

Not for the first time, Camros wondered why Sedir's tone was laced with such sarcasm. Most servants and laborers maintained at least the appearance of respect even when it was clear they bore a grudge. Sedir did not seem to care what rank his audience had. "What I meant was all the other laborers work together in the fields but you are alone."

"That's because I do special work. Now then, if you want to stay you'll either help or sit quietly over there." Sedir indicated a grassy place under the tree where two roots diverged to create a natural seat.

Camros sat in the shade as the day steadily grew warmer. Spring usually was not so hot, but the drought had done more to the land than simply dried out the vegetation and the springs. Sedir went about his business as calmly as if no one else was there, going to and from a wooden shed where he kept various tools and a pallet for sleeping. He said very little unless prompted, though when the noon hour came he relaxed a little and joined Camros by the tree. "What are you supposed to be doing right now?"

"My tutor has not yet arrived from Bhellin."

"You came with a rather small train, didn't you? Just you, your father, a fat eunuch and some guards. The entire household is gossiping about it."

"They should not," said Camros. "Father had to leave the city very suddenly."

Without further explanation, it was no surprise that Sedir immediately drew the wrong conclusion. "Oh, a bit of trouble with our almighty Great King?"

"No, of course not. My father is a scribe, and he took a job gathering information about the low water levels here in Besar," answered Camros. "It is very important work and could not wait for all the usual arrangements." Everything he said was true, after a fashion. Narisen was compiling figures, a dull task that often kept him away from the estate or awake until very late at night.

Sedir smiled over the olive he was munching; he had not offered any of his lunch to Camros. "So why did he bring you with him? I imagine it must be rather dull around here if one isn't working the land. I can't imagine what you would do all day if you weren't irritating the hired help."

"I told you I would go if it bothered you."

"Such a cross little thing! Try taking the stylus out of your backside, boy. I never said you couldn't stay." Sedir popped the rest of the olive into his mouth. "Go on, tell me some more about your fascinating life here in the country."

The sarcasm of this invitation was not lost on Camros, but he was strangely reluctant to call the insult and storm out of the clearing. "We usually come here for two or three months in the summer, when it is too hot and unhealthy to stay in Bhellin. Father did not want to leave me alone in our house. I suppose he does not trust Ranu--that is my eunuch--to look after me properly, or perhaps he wants me to help him with his work, though he has not said anything to me about this."

"Have you asked him?"

"Why would I do such a thing?"

"You don't want to help your father with this very important work of his?" asked Sedir.

Camros shrugged. "Standing around measuring the drop in water channels and wells and making all those calculations is not very interesting."

"People are dying all over Khalgar, or will be very soon," Sedir pointed out. "I'd think you would care something about that."

"Did I ever say I did not?" Camros asked sharply. What right did this peasant with his overblown sense of self-importance have to question his betters so? "Nobody would have to die if Shedhu made the rain fall."

Lifting an earthenware jug to his lips, Sedir tilted his head back and took a draught. "And if the god Thozah didn't love war so much, nobody would ever go to war. It's not for you to question what the gods do or why they choose to do it. You can pray for the rain all you like, but it's clear that the god wants something. You can't expect to receive blessings if you don't give in return."