The images faded. The daiva drew its shaded flesh back, coiling it back into a simulacrum of fingers. It watched her with its prayer-flame eyes, still and silent, as if a storm weren’t raging in a great circle around. It watched her as if they had all the time in the world.

“Men,” the daiva said, “are so often fools.”

“Do you want to punish me for the heresy I have committed?” Mehr asked. She held her head high, trembling a little, the eyes of all those daiva and pale nightmares following her every movement. “I know that binding the dreams of your forefathers is wrong. Daiva, I am sorry for it, but I can’t relent. I must try to perform the Maha’s rite. I must try to keep this world whole. Please don’t stop me. I beg you.”

“We do not care about heresy,” the daiva said. “That is a mortal concept.”

“Why have you come for me, then?” Mehr asked.

“Because we care about balance,” the veiled daiva told her. “We who are the sunrise and sunset, life and death, good and evil. We desire order. The man called Maha shattered the balance. He weakened us. He fed on the good dreams of our mothers and fathers and left their dark dreams caged, feral and alone. That was wrong of him.”

“He did many things that were wrong,” Mehr said in a small voice.

“The nightmares must be free,” the daiva said. Its voice held the compassion of Hema’s, the implacableness of Nahira’s. “You should not stop that.”

No. Mehr would not accept it, would not let the world burn.

“Should not or cannot?” Mehr demanded.

The daiva tilted its head again. It didn’t appear angry.

“Do you respect the will of your ancestors?” it asked.

“I can’t let the world die,” Mehr said.

“All things want to live,” the veiled daiva agreed. “So do we.” A susurration ran through the watching circle. “So we ask you for a trade. Daiva to mortal.”

The daiva was suddenly very close to Mehr, close enough that Mehr could discern the sunburst of its bright eyes and the ever-shifting contours of its face beneath the veil.

“Use the rite the Maha turned to his own purposes. Use it to return the world to balance, as it was always intended to be used.”

“Can I do that? Return the balance with the rite?” Mehr asked, full of wonder. “The Maha told us the Rite of the Bound was for two people. That it was an act of creation, not an act of balance.”

“You can,” said the daiva. “You, the Amrithi with amata. Or you, alone, here and now, because there is no one else.”