When the Dara people surrendered peacefully to Amparan forces a generation ago, one of the stipulations, besides the yearly tithes, was that we would house battalions of soldiers that passed through our lands. One such group arrived five days ago. As always, our village leader split the battalion into groups to be hosted by each family. My mother, father, sisters, and I moved our cots to one side of our house so three foot soldiers could roll out their bedrolls on the other. It’s never pleasant, having the soldiers about. Feeding all these extra mouths stretches our supplies, and not all the soldiers follow the Imperial Army’s code of honor. Some have fingers that all too easily sweep valuables into their pockets, while others are aggressively friendly with the women. But the alternative is worse. The empire might be strict with those who surrender to them, but they are absolutely ruthless against those who resist. Those peoples have their homes burned to the ground, their people enslaved and shipped to the central empire. It’s the thought of these stories, carried back by those who travel beyond Dara’s borders, that makes me swallow the resentment in my chest as we walk by.

We’re quiet the rest of the way. Leora pauses just outside our bamboo cottage, and I know she’s wondering if the soldiers lodging with us are inside. But when she pushes the door open, the house is empty.

Leora smiles, regaining a bit of her cheer, and pulls me inside. “Come. You’ll be the most beautiful healer Dara has ever celebrated.”

They set to work immediately. Alia weaves colorful ribbons through my long black hair as Leora takes out my best silk dress, which she’s washed and pressed. Then Leora pulls out a red sash, and my breath catches. Healer’s sashes are usually plain red, the color of life, but this one has been embroidered with purple and green threads. Repeated along its length, subtle enough to avoid attention but clear enough to be seen, are images of the purple vel flower. It is said that the First Healer was taught the art of potions by the Goddess herself, and that the first lesson was vel tea for flu. Once the First Healer mastered the healing arts, the Goddess sent him forth to guard the curtain between life and death and ensure that none pass through before their time.

“Kaylah will present this to you at your ceremony,” Leora says. The embroidery is fine and even, clearly the work of Leora’s patient hands. For the second time today, my eyes prickle with tears. Soon my hair is pinned up, and my dress caresses my skin like a blessing. Leora smooths some berry juice onto my cheeks and lips, and then we’re back out the door.