Toads and Diamonds by Heather Tomlinson Page A

rat,
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    Diribani tracked the scent of fear through the crowded streets. She ducked around pushcarts and between clumps of townsfolk, not caring that Ma Hiral chased her.
    With quiet determination, Diribani elbowed her way through a wall of white-coats. Servant-quality coats made of inferior fabric, these were patched and stained and trimmed with colored ribbons. Young women screamed insults, tears of rage streaking their faces. A group of boys had locked arms to keep the girls away from the squad marching past. In the middle of the soldiers, a spitting, howling Gulrang was being passed from hand to hand. Each man in turn smacked a kiss on her lips or took a punch in the face, depending on whether the servant girl had managed to jerk her wrists free. The whole company, even those men she hit, treated her distress as a great jest. Each time her flailing fists connected with flesh, they roared with laughter.
    Diribani ducked under a white sleeve and ran to the soldier with the most gold trim on his coat. She sketched a bow and walked beside him, offering the garland to show her goodwill. When he reached out, she dropped the uncut rubies into his palm. Then she gestured at Gulrang and folded her hands respectfully, begging with her eyes that he end the shameful treatment and return the girl to her friends.
    Instead, the man stepped on the garland and scattered the gemstones onto the ground. A heavy hand slapped Diribani's cheek. "Cow," he said loudly. "Flowers and rocks don't buy the emperor's men."
    Diribani stifled a cry of pain. Face throbbing, she backed into the crowd. The onlookers were packed so tightly that she couldn't escape. She could only watch as the ranks of soldiers passed. Their interest felt like beetles crawling over her skin.
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    Townsfolk who hadn't protested the white-coat girl's treatment by another Believer muttered angrily at the disrespect shown Diribani. Commoners weren't allowed to carry weapons, but dung pats had been known to stain white coats. In the wake of the procession's elephants, horses, and camels, steaming lumps of fresh ammunition littered the road.
    Gulrang had stopped fighting. Arms and legs and neck limp, she let herself be passed from man to man. Closed eyes didn't contain the tears that trickled from under her lids.
    The last soldier in that row might have tired of the game, or noticed how the mood of the crowd had changed. He shoved the weeping Gulrang at Diribani. "Take her. If she covered her face like a decent woman, she wouldn't be mistaken for a slut."
    Diribani kept her mouth closed, though she wanted to answer. How like a white-coat, to blame a woman for his bad behavior.
    "Sh, shh." Ma Hiral had found them. One arm held Diribani; the other wrapped around Gulrang's waist and supported her like another daughter.
    A soldier in a subsequent row, more observant or just more curious than his fellows, picked up one of the rubies his leader had rejected. His eyes widened. After a sharp sideways glance at Diribani, the man closed his fingers around the prize and marched on, eyes straight ahead.
    Many other people had also witnessed the exchange between Diribani and Gold-trim. More than a few knew who she was, and who her father had been. "Javerikh's daughter," one man said to another. "You remember, the gem dealer." Her name was whispered from ear to ear. A hush followed the whispers. The last few rows of soldiers hastened their steps to get through the crowd of too-quiet
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    people. Though Tenth Province was far from the restless border, the quality of silence in the merchant quarter had become charged with danger, like the pause between the flash of Grandfather Chelok's lightning lance and the bone-rattling roar of thunder. A large gap opened between the marching men and the oxcarts that followed, laden with spoils of the hunt.
    An indigo-stained dyer was the first to run into the empty stretch of street. His blue hands scrabbled in mud packed hard by marching feet. A brawny