“Nothing,” she hissed. “Get that boy back, or you’ll be back with that goat to make another child.”

Maunyn cleared his throat.

“Oh?” she said, sitting up. “Already? Well, then you’re redeemed for the moment. Find him!”

He turned to leave.

“One more thing,” she said to his back. “I want no Kiseyl hounds in Halkamas, inner or outer. I know you are friends with them, but we can’t risk those beasts sniffing out something they shouldn’t. Understood?”

He looked over his shoulder and nodded. “How should we find the killer?”

Gishna exhaled. “Is it our duty to find the killer for a low tier house?”

He stiffened, the corner of his mouth drooping slightly. She’d not meant it. She was just fearful. His honor was something she had never understood. It was worse than the loyalty to his own house. It was almost as if he’d vowed to the goddess instead of his matron.

“Fine, search,” she croaked. She wiped her mouth of red-lined saliva. “But if those hounds find out even the smallest hint of our doings, it will be on you. Deny everything!”

He nodded and left her. Her two most trusted handmaids rushed into the room, fussing over her.

A mouth and two ears. That’s what I am, she thought.

She closed her eyes and dreamt of times when she’d not had this burden. It didn’t last. So many things left undone swamped those memories. And the Valmasin? How sweet was her hope to have them here again. The bond with Vakayne could be reestablished, as in ancient times. She could heal so many past wrongs. Mornae had long memories, though. She could only hope they’d see this for what it was: the last heroic effort to right their growth.

Can a star change its course, though? Can a constellation drift across the sky as it willed?

“Fortunately, we are not stars,” she said.

The women looked at her confused.

“No,” she said to them. “We are just flesh and can dominate flesh. Isn’t that, right?”

They looked at each other and gave Gishna awkward nods. Excellent servants, still earnest enough to want to help her.

That would fade as well. Especially once the truth came out.

Saugraen was still a problem. He was clearly with the eldest Vakayne girl regularly. Had she hooked him already? What was going on in Velkamas? She needed to know. The deal had to be made before the consorting, everything laid out clearly. That girl was so lovely and headstrong. She could bind him with a single kiss—that was the rumor.

Ridiculous chatter.

Still, there were stories of powerful priestesses that had done just that. That would be a calamity! He would go to them, so many secrets in his head. He seemed languid, though. It could be an appearance for her sake. He was clever, and all his cleverness would become Vakayne’s. Then what? Would they be amenable to her plan after they learned of her dark deeds?

And what of this assassination in her east valley? Who would dare? And in public… in a sacred place? Had the goddess unleashed her Umbral Knight at last? Were cryptic prophecies playing out? Crazed prophets in the south valley! Was the end near?

“I need time,” she whispered, pleading to the goddess for a moment to set her house right. “I take it all on myself,” she added for piety’s sake. “Let the doom be on me.”

A scribe entered, bowed, and walked to the far corner where there was a small stove with a pipe running up the wall. The fire was just embers, so the scribe stirred them and dropped vellum and paper clippings on them.

“What…” she choked.

The scribe stopped and turned to her.

“What are you burning?” she asked.

“Discards, high matron.”

She shook her head questioningly.

“The prior said they wouldn't do,” he added.

The prior… that really meant Kandah had rejected them. Thensil and Sinnin did nothing without Kandah’s guidance—not on this work.

“Show me,” she said, offering her lap. The scribe placed the wad of scraps in her cupped hands. She struggled to see anything. “What’s different about these?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, high matron. I don’t know.”

“Get me Thensil,” she said. “Now!”

The scribe bowed and scuttled to the door.

“Sinnin as well, while you’re at it,” she added.

She waited patiently with the clump of scraps on her lap.

The door latch clicked, and she turned her gaze that way. She wanted to take in every nuance of their faces. It was hard, but she must try. She dared not use her other power on them.

Thensil entered, wrapped in heavy blue robes. His garb got more and more elaborate over the centuries, but Sinnin’s was simple. In every other regard, they could be twins, with their bald pates glowing with goddess-marks. She was fortunate to have true diviners in her employ—and both Hosmyr born.

“Explain these to me,” she said, motioning to the discards. “Why are they burned?”

They stared at her.

“Well?” she asked.

Sinnin sighed. “They are discards, high matron.”

“Yes, I know that much, but why are they discarded?”

They drew close, and each took a discard from her lap.

“These candidates have too much native blood,” Sinnin said. “Or is it too little?” he asked Thensil.

“I think it could be both,” Thensil said.

“What does that matter?” Gishna asked.

“Some native blood introduces features unacceptable to crater Mornae,” Thensil said. “If we are to embed them in houses and maintain their support, then they must keep an acceptable purity.”

“Appearance?” Gishna asked. Mornae had become such vain creatures. Their world was crumbling, but they struggled to appear rather than be Mornae.