Kyrie grinned. “You mean to steal Hezram’s gates?”

“Yes.” Awa would do whatever it took to counter Father’s spells. Maybe he’d never had a chance to change the weather, but … “I won’t be a weak good person.”

Bal groaned. “I’m sorry I said that.”

“Without trees and bush, we’ll have to commandeer silver-mesh and find a willing sacrifice.” Kyrie squinted at Awa’s resolve. “Why not? Let’s talk more later.”

“Anawanama perform moon masquerade before a battle,” Djola said. “What are the rebels up to?”

“Reminding us what we fight and perhaps die for,” Bal said, enthusiastically.

The piebald crow swooped around Awa’s hat and flew off. Awa turned from the stage to watch the bird soar. The sky flushed orange and the wind moaned like a dying thing. The afternoon sandstorm raced toward the market, an hour before midday. Crows screeched and bells clanged in Rainbow Square. The audience was suddenly still. Fear scented the air. Players bowed one last time before racing into the towers and slamming windows shut.

The Master of Arms and his warriors kept panic in check. The audience mumble-grumbled but, row by row, headed to Zamanzi storm tents at the base of cathedral trees ringing the garden. Cotton woven with Lahesh metal-mesh threads glinted in the sun. Poison dust could not penetrate the shelters. Arms clutched a squealing child who’d lost his family. The boy tugged his beard. Arms whispered nonsense and waved his sword at anyone about to bolt.

“So orderly and fast.” Awa marveled at the crowd.

“They dance with a dust storm almost every day,” Bal said.

“Our show now.” Kyrie led the troupe up a ramp to the empty stage.

Awa dropped a moon mask in Vandana’s bag. Kyrie grabbed two sea-monster robes and with Bal’s help draped Fannie and Mango. The Anawanama weave of gold thread and sweetgrass was as powerful as the silver-mesh Djola gave out to protect eyes, nose, and ears. Awa and Soot had mesh veils in their hats.

“Abelzowadyo.” The shapeshifter clown smiled at her from a treehouse then pulled down a heavy drape. Stage towers and treehouses were storm shelters too. Void whirlwinds danced everywhere in the market but avoided the wall of trees that surrounded the oasis. Only a few tendrils lapped the storm shelters. The trees made the weather here—just as Awa suspected.

“Hurry,” Kyrie shouted and led Mango and Fannie onto the citadel bridge.