“Here,” said a woman from the crowd around the council house. She was broad and tall as Tir. Hazel eyes, a bit of a squint. Ahkio had looked up her name before they arrived. She looked nothing like her grandmother.

“You’re Shisa’s granddaughter,” Ahkio said.

“Yes. My mother was clan leader before Tir.”

“Will you sit with me in Osono as clan leader of Garika?”

“Don’t you–” Tir began. He stepped forward.

Three dozen militia drew three dozen glowing blades. Ohanni and Shanigan and the other Oras raised their hands, and the air in the square grew heavy. Ahkio knew the Oras’ stance was a ruse; they would not unleash Para on their own people. But the heft of the air made a strong statement.

Tir grunted. “You leave me with no choices.”

“You already chose,” Ahkio said. “When you murdered my sister.”

Yisaoh sneered at him and pointed with her cigarette. “You listen, you arrogant fool. Kirana’s messes were her own. You were off fucking sheep in Osono for years. What do you know what happened with Kirana, what promises were made? We did not touch your sister.”

“Only innocent novices and Ghrasia Madah’s fresh-faced militia, then?” Ahkio said. “You only murdered youths drawn from your neighboring clans?”

“There is a great assumption here,” Tir said. “You assume my sons acted-”

“Don’t lie to me in your own square while the bodies of your sons lie next to us.”

“You’re a fool boy.”

“A lot of old people tell me that,” Ahkio said, “usually when they fear me most.” His other hand had begun to tremble. He stuffed that one, too, into his tunic pocket.

“Why isn’t my youngest here, Kihin? Let him at least look his mothers in the face before you cast us off to Saiduan.”

“Kihin’s fate won’t take him to Dorinah,” Ahkio said. “Ora Dasai has agreed to take him to Saiduan on a mission of importance to Dhai.”

“You mean he’ll be your hostage,” Tir said.

“If you step away peaceably, you can make a life with him in Saiduan, when he’s finished his task for me,” Ahkio said.

“You’ve overstepped. They’ll make us slaves in Saiduan!”

“Would you rather he was lying here?” Ahkio asked.

Tir’s wife Alais put her hand on Tir’s elbow. A moment, no more. She was a solid woman, not yet fifty. Tir did not look at her.

“The militia waits on your decision,” Ahkio said. “Half a dozen will escort you and your family from Dhai. Whether they must do so forcibly is up to you.”

“You ask me to casually choose the course of my life. My children’s lives. It is a decision I cannot make in a moment, a day, a month. I need time.”

“You don’t have it,” Ahkio said.

Alais said, “We will step away peacefully.”

“Alais–” Tir said.