“Are you wounded?”

He smiled at her, knowing she didn’t look at him with physical vision. Such powers as they used between themselves were anathema to her people, but natural to him. He’d taught her, and she’d taken in the teaching like an adept.

“Can Thensil not aid you?” she asked. “A valley priestess knowledgeable in healing, perhaps?” How had she missed this?

He shook his head and said, “I have my remedy here.” He pointed to the new plant.

“You will tell me if you need anything, magister. I can’t have you falling apart as well. One of us is enough.”

He grinned at her, and she shivered as his gaze traveled the length of her. He knew her too well.

“I will,” he said. “For now, please get more samples… and more plants.”

She nodded. All of that was doable. Abandoned kith potholes littered the east valley, growing who-knows-what. Most houses were not even aware of them.

“If I liberated some small trinket from my vault,” she said. “I must have assurances you will use it to my advantage. That it will bring your colleagues here.”

He breathed deeply, lost in a trance once more. This old injury must be worse than he admitted. She must find it out. She’d send for Thensil and get the truth from him.

“I can’t make guarantees, high matron,” he said. “They are far away, and many dangers abound below the Southern.”

“What?” she asked, waving away the suggestion. “Invaders with common iron for weapons? Only farmers and sheep herders! Alcar globes, they say. I’ve heard that from my spies as well.”

“There are worse things in the south than Alcarin globes,” he said. “I assure you.”

“Tell me! My house must prepare, magister.”

She was humoring him. The greatest dangers to her house lay here, lurking in the crater’s shadows, and in the fortresses of the high houses, not thousands of miles away at the bottom of the continent. But he seemed amenable to spilling his thoughts. Why not extract from him as he did from her?

“In the south,” he said, “are civilizations older than even your ancestors, the Alcarin. And there is power there⁠—”

“What?” she exclaimed. “That abomination? Bones and tomb dust? Oh yes, magister, my spies tell me much. It is pointless magic. Uthkaea lost its true power twenty cycles ago.”

His face hardened, his deep-set eyes two black dots. “It should concern you, though. Don’t the Mornae plan for the cycles?”

“We live for the cycles, magister. Only a fool tries to plan them.”

Who was he to educate her? She had quoted Matron Nedace, and the ancient matron’s wisdom strengthened her. It was a riddle for outsiders who couldn’t understand what the cycles felt like. Mornae used the Alcar designation of cycles rather than a thousand years or millennia because those terms yielded to the genalo, or unfavored, sense of time. The cycles were something different. She wasn’t sure if Kandah’s people understood it the same as the Mornae or if they had another way of experiencing time. She must know that, too. For now, she needed to smooth over the roughness she’d just created between them. She couldn’t bear it for long.

“I’m certain there is something there to learn, magister,” she said. “Now is not the time to dismiss lesser magics.”

“Of course, high matron,” he said with a wink. “We are always willing to learn.”

Gishna sighed, exhausted by battling him. She tried to stifle a deep cough. He must have noticed because the smirk left his face and he stood to brew more of his remedy. When he offered it to her, his fingers rubbed hers tenderly. Such a strange man!

“If you have any trinkets that would allow those of my line who are not Harahn to dwell near the black rock, they might come sooner, high matron.”

She sipped the tea and gazed at him over the rim of the cup, through tiny peepholes in the white curtains.

“I might have one or two,” she said. “If not, I can trade for them… or make new ones. There are still those who can craft them.”

“Not sayin, though, high matron. They must be vaiyin.”

She nodded once and set the cup on her lap. So, there were at least two of his kind willing to come. Now, finally, they were getting somewhere.

“I have tried to convince my sons not to use sayin, but alas!” She hunched helplessly. “They tempt the goddess with youthful defiance.”

He didn’t seem bothered by it. “It is your original power, high matron. Still deep within. But for us, for our work, it must be vaiyin. Others follow Sayin’s light, but we are not them.”

She nodded like she understood. She’d share it with Thensil later and rattle information from his old brain. The diviners hoarded their knowledge as she hoarded her bloodlines.

Kandah fidgeted with his cup, staring into it like the Dark’s void.

“I must be certain,” he said softly, “that you will adhere to our rules.”

“Of course, magister.”

“They will not come otherwise.”

He said it all so seriously, like a matron discussing the state of her house.

“You have my word,” she said, matching his tone. “When will they come?”

“I will send word, but they will not cross the Moon Sea until all is ready.”

She squinted. They must be important, but they were so far away still. She’d hoped they’d crossed already and were at least in Baikal territory.

“They will bring their families, high matron. Their houses.”

“Families?”

He let a faint smile build on his pale face. “And children.”

Her heart soared. All her plans were coming together now! Her valley would house the keystone of her work.

He winced again at the pain in his side. There must be more to this wound; things he didn’t share with her. There was time enough to draw them out. Yes, once his own people depended on her, became subject to her, then she’d know it all. The unrest in Uthkaea must be great indeed.

“Can you guarantee their safety?” he asked. “What with so much unrest brewing?”

“What unrest?”

“This new champion and the court. Lands changing hands in the south valley. And in the east. The influx of nomads and other barbarians.”

The trouble didn’t seem new or that worrisome. Was she missing something? If it wasn’t for her secret work, she’d fire Thensil and his lot.

“Your people will go around to the east valley,” she said. “We can provide instructions. There are paths over the border, through the mountains. Your people needn’t trouble themselves.”

He nodded, satisfied, but clearly in pain.