“Neh, neh, you go on. Vermin.”

Shai shouldered past them, and the children hurried after with the wagon rumbling in their wake. The winch-turners peered out as Shai strode out onto the landing stage and pulled open the railings to allow the wagon to maneuver onto the raft. He stepped back as the children flooded on afterward.

That cursed envoy was nattering to Eridit. “. . . Water-born Goats like you do have an unfortunate tendency to be self-centered, wanting the attention of others always fixed on them. They might not mean to be petty and selfish, but too often they don’t notice if they’ve violated the honor of other people, which is why it can be hard to trust them—”

“Who asked you?” she demanded furiously, half crying as she stormed past Shai and hopped over the widening gap onto the raft. She grabbed a rope and yanked the raft’s railings shut, latched them, and shouted to the laborers. “We’re ready!”

Gears ratcheted. Rope trembled.

Shai gripped the outer railing. “Behave!” he called to the children. “Don’t be stupid.”

“You’re not going with them,” said the envoy.

“Neither are you!”

The envoy met his gaze for a long careful while and then, abruptly, smiled with great sweetness. “I remember you.”

“Eh?”

“You see ghosts.”

The winch clanked, and footsteps trod the boards on the platform behind.

“Shai! Shai!” cried the children as the raft lurched a hand’s span out from the landing stage. The rope tautened.

“Aui!” continued the envoy. “So you are Shai, the one I’ve been searching for, eh? There’s a young woman looking for you. I fear she means to do you ill.”

“How do you know me?”

“You were with the Qin soldiers riding out of the empire. I saw your eyes follow the Beltak priest. A terrible thing to imprison their spirits in the bowl, isn’t it? You’re rare, you folk who see ghosts. You’re veiled to our sight. I don’t know why.”

Words croaked up, made hoarse by everything happening at once. “Who are you?”

“Beware,” said the envoy. “But be honest. Honesty might save you.”

“Shai!” As the raft slid away from the river, rocking in the current, Yudit pressed to the railing, the others crowding behind, their faces fading into the night. Then he heard their voices as they began to chant.

I sing to the mountain,

Mount Aua, who is sentinel

who guards the traveler

who watches over us.

He carries us on his shoulders

because he is strong, kissed by the heavens.

We survive in his shelter.

The river’s voice drowned theirs. His face was wet with river mist and tears.

He ran to the winch and found a place to slide in with the other laborers, pushing pushing pushing until his shoulders ached and his legs strained, until the mechanism caught and the rope, sighing, slackened. They were safely across. The men grunted and, straightening, rubbed their lower backs.

“Thanks for that,” they said. “Eihi! You’ve got good shoulders on you. Want our job?”