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

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Nearby Sova, now fourteen and already considerably taller than Megan, tumbled with the puppies on
the flagstones, giggling, ash-blond hair pulling loose of its braids. Full-grown, the girl would be as tall as
Shkai'ra, and not less muscular if the Kommanza had her way; now she was all feet and hands and
tangled limbs, her breasts finally rounded. The pups,Dee and Dah, were bigger than the girl now, though
not full-grown; greathounds not only outsized common dogs by double, but grew faster in their first
months.
Megan had never expected to adopt a Thane, one of her people's oldest enemies; but then not much in
her quest up the River Brezhan a year and a half before, to regain the Slaf Hikarme from Habiku
Smoothtongue, had gone as expected. Even the ending, not quite: in her rage at what he'd done to so
many of her old shipmates, not to mention her, she'd planned to put him in a cage welded shut, and hang
it up in this very atrium. That hadn't worked out. But every now and then, pacing in the gallery, she would
imagine it was there, the room echoing with his screams, or perhaps mad laughter, instead of Sova's
carefree noise, and know it would have been for the worse. For one thing, it would have made the house
unfit for raising children.
Back to work. She ground a fist into the small of her back as she straightened; this sedentary life was
making her stiff. Only a bit more, she promised herself as she went back to the packet on her desk.
Examined closer, the writing seemed familiar. She broke the seal.
To MEGAN called Whitlock, Slaf Hikarme' (House of the Sleeping Dragon) F'talezon.
Third Iron-Cycle, Tenth Day, Year of the Lead Cat.
My investigations regarding your expatriate son LIXAND, heretofore futile for the year that I have
undertaken your contract, have suddenly borne substantial fruit. It seems very likelyhe is in Arko the City
Itself. An agent of mine discovered a dancing boy owned by the AITZAS Family TEMONEN, ofFidelity
Street , who fits his description perfectly: blond, black-eyed, small of build, about ten years old. Probing
revealed that RASAS, as he is called there, was bought at the age of two in the slave-market of Arko,
which matches well with the time he was abducted from you.
By all indications, he is healthy and well-fed, being prized as a lead performer in NUNINI-BAS
TEMONEN's troupe of dancing boys. I made the utmost attempt to purchase him, but was refused
absolutely; it seems he is also a favorite of the Lord.
I await your instructions.
Hoping you find this information of great value, I am your faithful agent,
TIRPAS ORREN,fessas
Avenue Aven
Arko, the City Itself.
She read it three or four times, her hands shaking, pulse pounding in her ears, barely believing. After
eight years, she knew where her son was. After eight years wondering, then this last year, when it had
finally become possible, feverishly searching through a network of spies hired in every major city in the
Empire of Arko, there was a house and a city to pin him to, circumstances to imagine, a setting to make
his life seem real to her. A place to track him to, to find him, to buy or steal or carve him free of… no,
not buy. She'd stated clearly from the start, the maximum price Tirpas was authorized to offer: all she