“What’s that?” Zaidra demanded.

Her voice shook. Gishna suppressed a laugh. Goddess above, it felt so good to rattle her for once, to pick at mighty Ilor’Vakayne wounds—and she must find out the nature of it. Perhaps Matrons Kiseyl or Zashtrin, even Lauxyn, would be interested in what she had to say?

“Nothing,” Gishna said. “It’s nothing.”

The silence grew and compressed in the bubble. Zaidra glanced at her, her face twisted angrily. She’d need to tighten security around the work, the scriptorium, even the seer. Vakayne must have spies in her citadel, as she had hers in theirs.

But what to do now? She’d placed all hope on this bond between them. If the answer wasn’t Vakayne and its bloodlines, then what or where? Every step forward produced nothing but more difficulty, like pulling back the tarp on a compost heap only to see vermin had devoured it.

“Are we done then?” Zaidra asked. “These unplanned meetings grow tiresome.”

“Forgive me, sister,” Gishna said. “I am so very old… the days and years run into each other.”

Zaidra grunted, as if age was no concern to her. She looked younger than Gishna had at that age, and goddess above, she had three daughters!

Gishna lowered her head to her chest. “Goddess, keep your house,” she said in farewell.

Zaidra rattled a response, as if compelled.

Gishna remained seated, feigning the need for help. Once Zaidra had left, she said to her attendant, “Wait until she passes the boundary, then send word to Joumina. She’ll be waiting at the Zauhune border.”

“Yes, matron. Can I make you more comfortable?” her attendant asked.

“No, discomfort has its uses. Keeps me alert. A glass of water, though. I can barely speak.”

Within seconds, the attendant placed a glass in her hands. She sipped and waited for the familiar jangle of jewels and chains.

She sensed Joumina before seeing her in the pinhole of vision left to her.

“You’ve changed, Joumina,” Gishna said.

Joumina entered and took her seat.

“I’ve developed a taste for my priestly duties,” she said. The cloth was still outrageously expensive, but the style more in keeping with the devout priestesses of the time.

Gishna said nothing. Her spies within Zauhune’s citadel had already informed her of the many hours spent in the goddess-womb, and that Joumina was unblocking and restoring parts of the ancient towers for her use—no doubt at Yilness Lor’Vanarik’s direction. Yilness’s son was triumphant at the goddess-court, and she was winning in Zauhune’s. Gishna bobbed her head. Yes, she’d keep that secret. It served her well to keep Xaeltrin a secret. That bloodline would be hers someday.

“I hope it wasn’t too much trouble to meet,” Joumina said.

“Not at all, sister. I’m happy to meet with you and further our alliance. What brings you to Halkamas?”

She’d not reprimand Joumina as Zaidra did.

Joumina cleared her throat.

Oh dear, what could it be? So much anticipation. Gishna waved her gnarled fist, and her knights and servants retreated deeper into the side halls.

“Zaidra has a third daughter,” Joumina said.

“Yes, I am aware.” As was all Vaidolin.

“There is nothing in the Accord about how many high priestesses may sit for a high house in council.”

She’d memorized that line. It came out flat and practiced. Gishna’s chest seized as if she’d forgotten to breathe.

“I think…” Joumina started hesitantly, “I think Vakayne means to claim additional seats on the high council… for all three.”

Gishna struggled to shift her position, taking time to consider a response and to breathe again.

“That would only matter if all three pass the trial,” she said finally. Really, what did it matter? It’s not like they’d voted on anything important, anyway. Not for two and a half cycles.

“They are Vakayne… and Kiseyl, sister. And Lauxyn and Zashtrin. If anyone can pass the priestess trial—the temple trial—they can.”

“And what if they pass? Do you think Zaidra dipped her toe?”

“They will wait until she dies.”

Where was Joumina getting these ideas? Her new teacher, Yilness Lor’Vanarik? Would Yilness risk so much? Gishna didn’t think so. The woman acted like a valley priestess, according to her spies. Had Joumina come to this on her own?

Gishna leaned toward her. “What is it you fear would happen?”

Joumina chewed on the words and then said, “A census.”

“We are due for one, yes.”

Joumina shook her head. “No… a real one. With trials. Evidence.”

Gishna leaned back, mouth gaping, her throat a hollow pit. “Goddess above,” she croaked. And the valmasin would strengthen Vakayne at that moment and condemn most of Hosmyr.

“I fear she means to replace us,” Joumina said.

Gishna bobbed her head in a noncommittal way. It was so easy. Joumina was just the type to read what she wanted in a gesture rather than the truth behind it.

“To force us to a lower place,” Joumina added.

Gishna waved away the suggestion. “It won’t matter whether Hosmyr is third or hundredth. None can work the east valley as we do. What is ours is ours. Would it be so bad?”

“A census of that kind means civil war, sister. And there is already so much unrest.”

Gishna lowered her chin to her chest. How exhausting this all was!

“The unrest, sister,” Joumina said. “I hope you are managing. If there is anything I can do to help?”

“Zaidra and her daughters are not what they appear,” Gishna said.

“What do you mean?”

If Joumina knew about the secret work, her voice gave no hint of knowing.