“Have things changed, Aesi’uah?” Yasammez asked.

The woman stopped before the chair and made a ritual obeisance of spread hands as her strange, still face lifted to Yasammez. Her pale blue eyes gleamed like sunlight through stained glass, giving the face a little animation: but for that effulgent stare she might have been an ancient statue. “Lady, things have, but only slightly. Still, I thought you should be told.”

Someone other than Yasammez, someone other than the famously imperturbable Lady Porcupine, might have sighed. Instead she only nodded.

Her chief eremite spread her arms again, this time in the posture of bringing-the-truth. Aesi’uah was of Dreamless blood, and although that blood had been diluted by her Qar heritage, she had inherited at least one trait beside her moonstone gaze from those ancient forebears: she had an extreme disinterest in lies or politic speech, which was why she had become Yasammez’ favorite of all her eremite order. “The touch of the King’s glass has made him restless.”

“Is he awakening already?”

“No, Mistress.” The face was placid but the words were not. “But he is stirring, and something is different, although I cannot say what. He is like one fevered—restless, full of unsettling dreams.”

Yasammez would have scowled at that, but she had lost the habit of showing emotion in such a naked way. “We know nothing of his dreams.”

“Just so.” Aesi’uah bowed her head. “But his sleep seems to be that sort of sleep, and what is just as important, his restlessness makes the other sleepers uneasy, too.”

She was just about to ask the chief eremite how much longer before everything ended for good and all when another voice spoke in her head, faint as a dying wind.

Where are you…do you hear me? Do you…know me?

Of course I know you, my heart. A claw of terror gripped Yasammez, but she tried to keep it from her thoughts. How could you doubt it?

Her beloved one was gone for a moment, then returned, sighing, tattered. So…cold. So dark.

Yasammez made the sign for “audience ended.” Aesi’uah did not change expression. She spread her hands, then glided out of the chamber like a phantom ship sailing beneath the moon.

Speak to me, my heart, said Yasammez.

I fear…I am going soon into…that greater sleep…

No. Strength is coming to you. I have sent the glass.

Where is it? I fear it will never come. The thoughts were timid, simple as a child’s. To Yasammez that was the worst torment of all.

Gyir brings it, she promised. He is young and strong and his thoughts are clear. He will find his way to you in time.

But what…what if he does not…?

Do not even think it. Yasammez put every bit of strength she could behind the thought. He will come and you will be strong again. I will bring the scorched stones of the sunlanders’ cities to make you a necklace.

But even so…even so…!

Quiet, my heart. Not even the gods themselves can unmake that which is. Rest. I will stay with you until you sleep—not the greater sleep, but only the lesser. Fear not. Gyir will come.