Miyara glanced at Joss as if for support. “That’s not our way,” she said. “It’s—”

“Never mind it,” said Joss hastily. “She’ll name the child, or he will, as they please.”

“I guess we’re uncle and aunt now,” said Miyara. Then, as an afterthought, she added, “That’s how we do things here, Mai.”

Mai smiled wearily, too exhausted to move as Priya washed her and bound a pad of linen torn from Miyara’s shirt to absorb her bleeding. “And I am glad of it, for I thank you, both of you. What is it, Priya? A girl, or a boy?”

“A boy, mistress.”

“Just as Grandmother said. Aiyi! I thought it would never come out!” Her skin gleamed from sweat, and all at once Joss saw how naked she was.

“Marshal,” said Priya, “please fetch water so I can wash child and mother. It must be cooled enough so as not to burn, but still generously warm.”

He flinched as though he had been slapped, although she had spoken in an entirely pleasant tone. He hurried out, carrying the lamp. Thunder rumbled among the crags, and the air felt charged, ready to snap and spark. High in the air, almost out of range of his vision, a fireling winked into existence and vanished, and then a second, and ten more, and after that more than he could count, like kinfolk come to weave a new child into the heart of their clan, chanting the greeting.

He stopped to stare, but they were already gone.

Eiya! Never for him a child called from beyond the Spirit Gate to join father and mother; he must be content as an uncle, and unaccountably he wept as he trudged the long dirt path to the fire pit, where flames blazed and the wind caught sparks and sent them tumbling. Away up in the mountains, lightning flared, and thunder boomed, and as he hooked the pot off the tripod, rain washed over the valley, cleansing everything in its path.

“WHY DO YOU follow me?” asked Kirit.

“I’m the hells unlikely to follow them.” Downstream along the bank of the River Istri, Marit indicated distant lights sweeping northward through the sky out of the Toskala.

“They are looking for us,” said Kirit. “It is safer if we do not travel together.”

“You don’t trust me.”

The girl shrugged.

“I thank you anyway,” continued Marit, “for not joining them. I’m not your enemy, Kirit. But I have a cursed good idea that they’re headed back to their camp, to see if Hari has woken. To give him his staff. Then they’ll be after both of us.”

“He will betray us?”

“I like him. But that doesn’t mean we can trust him.”

“Or that I can trust you,” said the girl. “Do not follow me. Maybe you are their spy.”