“Sisters?” Awa exclaimed.

Kyrie turned a large boulder in her way to vapor. She was zigzagging up toward the mirage cave. “I conjure only with the willing.”

“Samina was willing to do whatever you asked.” Djola hugged his rage. “Why not ask her to save herself?”

Kyrie stared into the trees. “After you were exiled, I didn’t know where Samina and your children were.”

Djola sank down again. “In a secret hideaway I built up the coast. Nobody but half-brother Nuar knew that. And my guard.”

“Ahh.” Kyrie stumbled over nothing. “Samina brought the children to Arkhys City to find you.”

“Of course,” he muttered.

“She didn’t dare smoke-walk under the eyes of priests. When we finally met in Smokeland, she wanted to find you. Who argues with Samina when her mind is set?” Kyrie paused at a bulging ledge. “I don’t force rocks, trees, and people to do my bidding or command a haint army. People tell lies on me.”

Djola trembled and shook his head. The crystal in his foot flared.

Awa stepped on the path Kyrie carved. It was steep and narrow, but Fannie could manage it. “Your power is not a lie.”

Bal bristled. “People fear and hate power in a woman.”

Awa touched a silver fleck from Kyrie’s wound. Her finger burned. She rubbed it quickly in soothing dirt. “They think Kyrie is ruthless and heartless.”

“Heartless for protecting her mountain, her people?” Bal shouted. “That’s the nettle weed calling the prickly pear too sharp.”

Awa stood breath close to Bal. “Griots say Kyrie’s people are stingy haints, hiding in a green-land mountain paradise.”

“They’re refugees from Empire wars,” Bal replied.

“Why care about refugees or their pile of rocks? Arkhysian farmers and good citizens starve and freeze. Hezram promises a sweet yesterday instead of a bleak tomorrow. Who can resist that?”

Bal’s face twisted. “You defend that dung heap after what he did to you?”

“I don’t defend Hezram,” Awa stammered. “You’re too angry to—”

“Aren’t you angry?”

“We have to see how other people see.” Djola’s voice cracked.

“I do,” Bal shouted. “Northlanders and good citizens would make me choose woman or man, or burn me alive. Zamanzi burned Isra right in front of us. Remember?”

“Yes, but—” Awa wanted to forget. “We—”

“Barbarians kill elder trees for temple bonfires. Good citizens suck every root dry to light the night. They let Hezram bleed a thousand thousand transgressors to death. I could—”

“What?” Awa hissed. “I siphoned oil from roots and slaughtered many, many trees.” She touched a young cathedral sapling. “You’d put an arrow through every heart that bowed to Hezram’s power? You’d kill us all?”

“Come!” Kyrie hugged a boulder partially blocking the cave entrance. It rolled aside until the opening was big enough for a warhorse. Kyrie’s blood path sparkled in the sun, beckoning them. “I’ll help with Djola.”