There was a day when Tamir saw something in the rocks that sent him reeling. He was a nest of old fears and new worries. Something to the east of us, I think, but I can’t tell you what it was that touched him off. He pushed us hard that day; we covered a lot of ground, and he kept us going until after dusk, driven forward until he felt safe enough to stop. He spoke only once, to tell Shayat he was adjusting the route. Sorcha says the only reason he knew Tamir was in a state was because I was crumbling. I rode the camel hunched over, doubled up. The sun was too bright, the air too thick. For hours I felt like I could not catch my breath. I was constantly on the verge of that same panic that had plagued me in the early days of my training with Vathorem. That night, I smoked.

Tamir ate and retreated to his tent. Shayat lingered with Sorcha and I, vaguely curious at first, and then with a honed and pointed attention when Sorcha brought out the pipe. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

“I need it.” She moved to grab the pipe from me; I darted away. “Without it I will be useless tomorrow. He wouldn’t have stopped if he wasn’t sure we were safe here. He doesn’t trust me to count, Shayat. I won’t be able to tomorrow without it.”

My frankness embarrassed her. She opened her mouth and closed it again. She peered at Tamir’s tent. “The shaper in my crew does not smoke,” she said quietly.

“Not in front of you,” I said. Sorcha laughed.

“What?”

“Shayat, if it’s not herb, then it’s alcohol. If it’s not drink, it’s sex. Or rahna. Or violence. We have to cope. It’s overwhelming. It’s a secret of the gift: you use what you can to take your life back sometimes. I am telling you I am stretched thin. I am telling you he has run me ragged. I will be no use tomorrow without tonight to myself.”

She stared at me open-mouthed for a second. She blinked. She was deeply, deeply unsettled. I felt it crawling beneath her skin, this revulsion, this fundamental wince at all the taboos I’d just flouted. All the things I’d just admitted. “Ariah,” she said finally, “you are careless with honesty.”

I laughed. “Well, yes. I am. I suppose that’s true.”