She reached the mammoth tusks. Chieftain Oritan stood under the arch, clad in his armor of bones—an ape's rib cage around his chest, its skull over his head. His blades hung from his belt, and a necklace of scalps hung around his neck, trophies from his enemies. As Laira looked at him, she saw a leader, a warrior, a killer, and she thought of Jeid's kind eyes, and she steeled her heart. If Oritan hurt her, she would bear it. If she suffered, well—she had already suffered much in her life, and her heart was hardened. Her father flew toward this mountain, perhaps only moments away. Laira needed this chieftain's warriors, and she would sell herself to him, and she would endure any pain for her kingdom.

Let the stars above know, she thought, and let future poets sing, and let all generations of dragons whisper of Laira, a daughter of Requiem—and the sacrifice she made for the light of King and Column.

"For King and Column," she whispered and stepped under the archway.

She stood before the chieftain, so small by his towering form. Lokania stood at her side, holding her bowl, her eyes lowered. At Oritan's side stood one of his servants, a young woman clad only in a loincloth, her body painted white and red, a headdress of bones and beads upon her dark hair. Lokania dipped her finger into her bowl, then pressed the blood on to Laira's lips; it tasted coppery and was still warm. Oritan's servant reached into a box of ashes—taken from the burnt woman upon the mountaintop—and scattered them on Oritan's chest, a blessing from the dead. A shaman of Leatherwing stepped forth, an ancient man with a long white beard, three ape skulls stacked together above his head. He chanted, scattered green powder from a bowl, and prayed to the gods. And with that they were joined. And with that Goldtusk and Leatherwing were one. With that Laira was his.

The tribesmen cheered. Songs erupted across the mountainsides, even with an enemy approaching, even with the darkness inside her. Men drank spirits from copper-banded horns and skulls, and bison and deer cooked in pits. An entire mammoth, hunted on the plains below, roasted atop a great fire, the centerpiece of the feast. Men played drums and lutes, and people danced, and the smoke and firelight stung Laira's eyes. She wanted to return to her people, to the Vir Requis, to stand among them, but perhaps they were no longer her people—only in her heart. Today she had given herself fully to both tribes, and so she sat upon the mountainside with Oritan, accepting the gifts the people brought forth—pelts, beads, pottery, weapons, statuettes, jewels. Food and spirits were brought to them, though she ate and drank little; her belly was already full with fear.