“Something is strange about Thanet,” she said. “I didn’t notice it at first, but the longer we stay here, the less normal things seem. The empire’s built only a handful of language centers, all here in Vallessau. They haven’t recruited any locals into the ranks of their soldiers to help keep order. They’ve repurposed the churches to Lycaena and Endarius instead of burning them, and built none of their own. Foreign trade is slow to come, if at all, yet at the same time, they’ve hurried through other rules and changes, such as the Joining Laws and mandatory services.”

“Maybe it’s because of how far away we are from Gadir?” Stasia offered. Mari shook her head, unsatisfied with that explanation.

“It’s a lengthy travel by boat, but there are places on Gadir that take six months of travel to arrive from Eldrid. What of the mountain paths into Miquo, or the desert sands leading into Lahareed? Something is wrong here. Maybe Magus is to blame, or Anointed Sinshei. But it’s different than anywhere else we’ve been, and that worries me.”

She clenched her hands and struggled to find the right words.

“It feels like they’re not setting roots down, for they are too hurried and impatient. They’re creating a shallow, temporary faith, and I don’t understand why.”

Instead of answering, Stasia gave her a playful smile.

“You keep asking me questions with answers I cannot know. Ask someone wiser. Tell me, what does Endarius think?”

Mari closed her eyes and fell into herself. It was a comfortable act, akin to prayer but even more personal. Dwelling within her was the essence of a god. The presence, the power, was a cherished gift, a part of her to be called upon as she so desired. The nature of a god-whisperer was to seek answers from the divine, and so she offered to Endarius all her hopes and fears. It wasn’t a specific question, for she sought no specific answer. She wanted reassurance to her uncertainties. She wanted her faith in victory reaffirmed. He answered not with words, but with a single, rumbling snarl. Mari opened her eyes, and she smiled at the setting sun.

“I think the Lion is like you, Stasia. I think he merely wants to hunt.”

“Then let us hunt,” her sister said. She offered the horizon a raised fist. “The wise can rebuild a better world from the ashes, but for there to be ashes, we must first burn down the old and the rotten. I say we get to burning.”

“I suppose I should have expected as much from you, shouldn’t I?”

They shared a laugh, their embrace ending as Stasia hopped to her feet. The life in her, the joyful chaos, could part any cloud that darkened Mari’s mood.

“What can I say? I’m an arsonist at heart.”

CHAPTER 38

MAGUS