“As far from here as I can,” he said swiftly. “I’ve never been to Chand. Or perhaps I’ll find the coast, cross the sea.” A pause. Then: “You could come, Lalita. See the world with me.”

“Not with you,” Lalita said with a laugh, tossing her hair back. But Mehr could see the yearning in her eyes. Desert life wasn’t one Lalita had chosen. Irinah wouldn’t keep her forever.

They watched Kamal go. When he was no more than a dark speck on the horizon, Lalita let out a sigh.

“Do you think he’ll be safe, Mehr?” she asked.

“I think the world is very changed,” Mehr said. She shook her head. “I just don’t know. I only hope he finds Arwa safe and well.”

Lalita put an arm around Mehr for comfort. They stood like that for a long moment, watching Kamal vanish into the distance, the sunshine beating down on their heads. Then Lalita broke the silence.

“Your mother is looking for you, by the way,” she said. “I hear there’s a great deal to be done.”

There was indeed a great deal that needed to be done. More Amrithi kept arriving at the temple, beckoned by the daiva, the gifted and ungifted alike emerging from hiding and seeking the temple’s shelter. The oasis provided some sustenance, but work had to be done to ensure that the growing clan would be properly cared for. It was the kind of work Mehr knew nothing of and would never be able to assist with helpfully, but her mother seemed determined to involve her in it regardless.

Mehr listened semipatiently as her mother and the elders discussed how the growing conglomeration of clans would be governed, and shared what little fragments of news they’d managed to discover about what was occurring beyond the desert’s borders. The Amrithi who had arrived so far had been by and large normal people. None were wealthy or well connected or in a position to know the direction of the political tides in Jah Irinah or the Empire beyond it. As a result, the clan elders—and Mehr—knew frustratingly little. Scraps. All they had were scraps.