Mount Eidhou hides its snowy head in mist for most of their journey, but on the fourth day at sunset, blue ice glaciers ghost above a ring of clouds. Arkhys City is a festering splotch sprawled at the base of the foothills, spewing dark rivulets into the sea. Fannie smells the riots before she hears or sees them. The wind reeks of blood, vomit, and burnt flesh. The city attacks itself. What do Awa or Djola hope to find there?

Years ago, Fannie rode into the capital, twice, with the big herd, when she was not yet leader, when she was young, and they followed a sandy mare with a golden mane and a brave heart. The city smelled of clover, oats, and ripe fruits. Baskets lined the roads, and she ate whatever she wanted. Crowds threw flowers and cheered. The morning after Fannie’s second and last visit, the sandy mare went down and never stood up. Warriors hacked her legs and thrust spears into her heart.

Several brave mares died, and then Fannie was leader, charging through blood and bones, running toward spears and bows, and the herd followed her. Death came from every shadow. So many lives ambushed and lost, who could claim victory? Fannie stumbled around all night with a dead man on her back. Finally, hairy warriors, stinking of tree oil and blood, brought the herd to Holy City. Fannie chomped fingers, broke ribs, and kicked a few heads so they’d kill her quickly or leave her alone. She never trusted Hezram’s gang. Raiders and thieves, blood always on their breath, they would prey on anyone, even themselves.

If nobody shows mercy, as the Amethyst River says, who should Fannie trust?

The last splinters of sunlight leave the sky. They are almost down the final hill. Awa falls asleep against Fannie’s neck, snoring into her mane, trusting her and the void-smoke direction they take. Distant screams and last breaths make Fannie’s ears shiver. Soot howls. Not an everyday yapper, this dog comes from beyond the smoke, from Jumbajabbaland like Fannie, or she might have stomped him already.

The emperor’s warhorses all come from beyond the smoke. The Lahesh admired their strong hearts, loyalty, and courage. They invited a herd to the everyday, as friends. Raiders killed the Lahesh, stole the horses from themselves, and made them laborers and warriors. The mares who led that first journey are long dead, and young colts born recently know only the everyday. Fannie is old enough to remember life on the other side, but she is afraid to take the herd back home. What if they get stranded in the void?

And now the border-void leaks into the everyday …