The other mystic stepped toward the dais, only to find his way barred by a guardsman. He turned to look back at the woman. When she nodded, he reached into the folds of his robe and took out a sealed scroll. The noise of the crowd grew. They could all see what Mehr could see. The scroll was marked with the two entwined seals: the Emperor’s and the Maha’s. Law and faith. Even Mehr, raised in seclusion, knew their marks. Her breath caught. She felt the roar of the crowd fill her ears like water.

The guard accepted the scroll with shaking fingers and took it up to the Governor’s dais. Suren did not try to quiet the courtiers. His focus was on the paper in his hands.

The woman’s voice cut through the mutters of the courtiers. She seemed to take no notice of the displeasure of the crowd. She stood straight and tall, a faint smile still lifting the corners of her mouth. “Among our order is one son highly favored by the Gods. He has served faithfully, with all his soul. Our Maha told the Emperor how wisely this son has served him, and they both wish to reward his loyalty with a suitable marriage.”

“A marriage,” Suren repeated. His voice was colorless. “I did not know your kind married.”

“The Maha decides what we are and what we do, Governor, for we are his tools and his devotees,” the woman said. “Like all people of the Empire, noble to beggar, everything we have and everything we are has been granted to us by the faith and law of the Empire. We do not question. We merely serve. Just as you serve upon your throne, Governor, at the Emperor’s decree, we come to you seeking a specific marriage for our brother because the Maha and our Emperor have said it must be so.”

Mehr felt, more than saw, the way the nobles quailed back from the woman as she spoke. Around her the women were deathly silent. They all heard what the woman had not said:

Whatever the Emperor and the Maha gave, they could also take away.

The woman held out her hands, palms open. “Your daughter’s name reached the Maha’s ears on the wings of a storm, Governor. So here we are, my brothers and I, to offer her a great honor.”

Mehr felt a thud in her lungs, her bones. She felt like the ground had collapsed beneath her. She was suddenly finding it hard to breathe. She watched her father through the screen. He carefully rolled up the scroll. He placed it on his lap.

“I am afraid my daughter is unsuitable,” Suren said. “She is illegitimate. Her blood is impure. She is by no means worthy of a favored mystic of the Empire.”