And, ancestors preserve...! I pursued him all the way to the uncanny film that separated one world from the next. There, the guards stopped me. Or rather, I stopped myself at the sight of them.

They had ojun—rifles. I had never seen one, but I knew them by their filirij, red silk sleeves worn over the barrel as warning and concealment from Ai-Naidari eyes, as a visceral reminder to the Guardians using them that they were proscribed for anything but non-persons and that even they may not look upon them casually. Just one glance at those bright scarlet lengths and I back-pedaled, almost stepping on my own tail.

"Do you purpose to pass through?" one of Guardians asked, approaching me where I stood paralyzed. There was no menace in his voice, but he did not need it with that bright mark over his shoulder. I could just see the starlight glint off the metallic pout of its muzzle and stilled my shudder with difficulty.

"Duinikedi?" the guard said, more concerned now. "If you wish to pass, you need only show your permit."

"I... have no permit," I managed. "It was not my intent to cross."

"Did you come to look then?" he asked, more kindly. "It is an impressive sight. And I am glad you came past the guard post to do so. Since the attempt on the Gate there has been less tolerance for people walking its length without permission."

"Of course," I said. "And... the permit..."

"You may obtain one from any of the trading houses in the Gate-complex, if you are here on business," he said. "Once you have one, and you become familiar to us, you will no longer need to show it to pass on."

—no doubt how the lord had managed it. "I see," I said. "And I thank you." On a whim, I finished, "I am staying at Qenain for the duration."

"Qenain!" the guard said. "Yes, they do a great deal of business across the Gate. You may find yourself on the other side sooner than you think!"

"Perhaps," I said, "Perhaps. Good night."

"Good night," he said, and withdrew. When he turned his back I saw the full length of the rifle, limned in blood-carmine, as if someone had spilled paint on a diagonal across the guard's back. Nauseated, I trudged away.

So the lord of Qenain had risen. When? It was conceivable that the lady had kept it hidden from the household; such lies of pacification are expected of those above the Wall of Birth, and indeed there are books of rules and precedents they must read to educate themselves on when ojer nashaen are suggested or required. Truth may illuminate, but it can also create panic. The physician thought his patient was still a patient, however, so at very least the lord was abed the last time he was examined.

Perhaps the lady did not know herself, then. If he had woken and then immediately escaped, it was in fact likely that she did not know. I sighed as I returned to the Gate-house through the shadowed streets. The Gate-wind brushed the hair off the nape of my neck and then caressed me intimately on that place reserved only to one's master. I rearranged my stole to protect it and thought it appropriate. Only the armor of civilization could possibly save us from the usurpation of privilege that this alien influence attempted.

I would have to tell the lady, and offer my aid. Perhaps she would issue me the permit that would allow me to go find the lord... gods help me. But if Thirukedi had sent two to the work, and only one remained, then that one would have to serve.

I returned to Qenain then, and if the Servant admitting me did so with an askance look I did not look to see it. I was intent on the office of the lady, and it was there I went without delay. At her door I requested admittance, and was told by a Servant that the lady had retired.

"Wake her, please," I said, with as gentle a form of the Implacable as I could use while making it clear that I could brook no argument. "This cannot wait."

Resigned, the Servant left me at the door to the office, there to wait for the lady's arrival or summons, whichever she preferred. I almost paced in my agitation, but slid my arms into my sleeves and clasped them, and twined my tail around one ankle to keep from fidgeting. It would not do to present the appearance of distress and so give cause for doubt. It is easier to believe the word of someone composed, especially when that word is hard to credit. I would need all the aid I could marshal to win the lady's trust on a matter this delicate.

The Servant returned, looking careworn. "If you will come with me, osulkedi."

So we went together into the private wing of the house, all the lights dimmed for the deep evening. At the door to the lady's apartments stood a pair of Guardians. One of them was Ajan's acquaintance; I felt a frisson of unease at the sight of him, and at how he did not acknowledge me by even flicking his eyes toward my face. He was not supposed to, but it felt like a warning, one I was too late to heed as the Servant announced me and then left me in the lady's receiving room.

She was seated there on one of the elegant chairs with its embroidered silk cushions, wearing a long dressing gown, dark blue at the floor fading up to soft rose at her shoulders, and stitched with reeds and birds flushed from their waving arcs toward the constellations pricked in silver thread over her breast and back. The sight of her in such near dishabille made me wonder what I thought I was doing here...

...and then I remembered. I bowed deeply, and waited for her to release me to words.

"Calligrapher," she said at last, her hands folded on her lap. "You are up past the hour."

"Lady," I murmured. "I had cause."

"And is it this cause that brings you to my door?" she asked.

"It is," I answered, allowing her to set the pace of the conversation; the more comfortable and in control she felt, the easier this would go for us both.

"So then," the lady said after a long pause, studying me. "Tell me what brings you here."

"Lady," I said. "The lord your brother has fled across the Gate."

"And what makes you think this?" she asked after another long, too long moment.

"I saw him," I said. "In fact, lady, I followed him. From Qenain's back gate all the way to the Gate itself, and I saw him pass through."

The silence that followed... was not precisely what I had been expecting. Those above the Wall of Birth are trained to maintain their calm, and some do so better than others, but most allow some touch of emotion to tint their demeanors, the better not to distress their subjects. There is such a thing as too much stoicism; it disturbs the mind, to see a blank face. But a blank face was exactly what the lady was wearing... all save her eyes, which were far too calm and far too assessing. As if I had done something wrong, not the lord.

And then I thought: Ancestors. She knew already.

Had I been intelligent, or calculating, or simply more wary, I would have said nothing more. I would have bowed, begged leave to go, and left the lady with my report like nothing more than a good Guardian or Servant.

But instead, I actually said—yes, I did—"You knew."

The lady sighed now. "Calligrapher, this is not your business."

"Forgive me, lady," I said, as Abased as I could speak without physically groveling... and yet dissenting all the same! "But we were sent—"

"You were asked for," the lady interrupted. "By my brother, the lord. Who wanted the help of an osulkedi in order to address an issue in his laboratory. But that issue has been rectified, if not in the way he planned; the observers are once again at their studies, and the work of Qenain continues unabated. You are no longer needed, osulkedi, and when your companion awakes I expect you both to go."

Stunned, I stared at her in rank discourtesy.

"That is my will," she finished, calm, her hands still folded in her lap. "I require your obedience."

"Lady," I said, the words winning free of me before I could trammel them, "this has grown beyond your brother's request. Thirukedi sent us to Qenain, and here we have found taint. It has felled two Ai-Naidar—"

"One," she said. "My brother is well enough as you yourself observed."

"Your brother the lord has created discord and unease in his house with his behavior," I said. "And now he is awake, and once again behaving erratically, and no one has stopped him! If you knew he had risen, lady, how could you allow him to remain without guard?"

"Perhaps I wanted him to reveal himself," she said.

"And he has!" I said. "All the more reason that Shame and I must abide! Until this mystery is solved..."

"There is no mystery, osulkedi," the lady said. "And we do not need your help." When I began to object she held up a hand. "And you, Calligrapher, are deeply remiss."

A great cold enveloped me at these words, and I knew it as fear.

The lady summoned a Servant then, and said, "Bring the Vines." Once the irimkedi had gone, she said to me, "You argue with me, Calligrapher. You question me. You hardly know my plans, but you presume that I have none, and that I have no right to make my own attempt at healing my brother's errors. But Correction first goes through the hierarchy of the household; so speaks the law of Kherishdar. You have forgotten this, but I have not. So I shall remind you."

"Lady," I whispered, trembling.

"Be silent," she said, without anger. There was pity in her voice. "Perhaps you have not felt the touch of a master in too long, and that is what has inspired your own wayward behavior. I shall amend this defect." At my expression, she added, "I shall be gentle."