Tal gives her a tired smile. “Things have changed since the Amparan battalion fell ill while in our care. There’s been no official word from the emperor, but the military presence around here has increased, and there are more demands. The messenger yesterday, he says that our tithe will double this year yet again. I don’t know how we will meet this new demand, and they know it will be hard for us. It’s almost as if they are probing for some resistance on our part. I fear they blame us for the rose plague outbreak.”

Zivah wraps a mottled hand around the edge of her chair. “But the soldiers fell ill only five days after they arrived. That’s far too soon for us to have done this.”

Gatha’s laugh grates like sand across my eardrums. “Do you think a difference of five days matters to the Amparan court? Fear doesn’t listen to reason.”

“The main problem,” says Tal, “is that we simply don’t know enough about happenings in Central Ampara. All the news we get is indirect, and our ignorance could be deadly. We need our own eyes and ears inside Sehmar City. We need to know what Ampara truly thinks of Monyar and its people, and what her plans are.” He takes a breath. “We need to know what really happened to the battalion that fell ill here months ago. That knowledge could save us.”

“If Ampara catches us at this scheme,” Zivah says, “their wrath would fall on us even sooner.”

“That is a true risk,” says Tal. “And one you and Dineas will have to take seriously, since the worst of it would fall on you. For the village though, it’s a choice between bleeding slowly to death or taking a chance. If we wait too long to act, we may be too weak to fight. We may already be too weak.”

I watch the emotions play across Zivah’s face as the true danger to her people sinks in. For once, I pity her. I’ve lived under the threat of extermination all my life, but it must be hard to see it for the first time. Her face settles into intense concentration, and I wonder what she’s thinking.

Then she looks straight at me. “If you’re simply worried about being able to keep up a pretense, I can help,” she says.

I blink. “What do you mean?”

She speaks with an evenness that signifies either determination or shock. “You say you can’t pretend to be amnesic among the Amparans. I can make it real for you. I can take away your memory.”

My mouth drops open.

Zivah puts up a hand before I can object. “Only temporarily, until your mission is done.”

What is this, some kind of sick joke? “What kind of sorcery do your people practice?”