Roh was not in the mood to argue. The other scholars disembarked behind them. Big Aramey and soft-eyed Nioni walked together, their heads almost touching as they spoke. Chali had spent much of the trip brushing up on his Saiduan, and carried a book even now down the gangplank. Dasai set the pace with his shuffling walk, moving past Roh and Kihin and calling for them to follow. Roh was never sure if he should admire Dasai or fear him, but he did pick up his pace.

At the end of the pier, two black-clad sanisi waited for them. The taller one was a woman with long frizzy hair knotted into a braid that touched the middle of her back. A smattering of freckles bruised her face. She had a dark complexion but not as dark as the man next to her. The other sanisi was a lean man with a massive beak of a nose and hair even longer than the woman’s. His was wound with a fine string of bells that seemed terribly impractical for an assassin.

It wasn’t until the man moved toward them, soundlessly, that Roh realized the bells had no clapper.

Dasai bowed at the waist. It was a strange thing to see. Dasai was a grizzled, petite man with a face like the gnarled confluence of some ancient tree. Roh found it difficult to watch him show deference – even respectful deference – to anyone. The sanisi made no gesture of deference in kind, not even a nod.

The sanisi exchanged pleasantries with Dasai, which Roh decided were boring. So he pushed his way ahead and stood next to Chali.

Chali gave him a stern look. Chali had spent the whole boat ride telling Roh how much he disapproved of Roh’s presence among the group.

“I’m Rohinmey Tadisa Garika,” he told the sanisi. “You can call me Roh.”

The man exchanged a look with the woman. “They’re Dhai,” he said, in Saiduan, as if it were an apology. “I’m Ren Wraisau Kilia,” he said, in very bad Dhai. “This is Shao Driaa Saarik.”

“You’re a woman,” Roh said, “like that other sanisi.”

“Not a woman,” she said, as if disgusted. “I’m ataisa.”

“Oh,” Roh said. “I’m sorry.” The Saiduan had three sexes – male, female, and ataisa. Ataisa were in-between people, those who lived in the seams of things, not quite male and not quite female. There was no equivalent term in Dhai, but it was just as rude to call someone by the wrong pronoun.

“You must be talking about Taigan,” Driaa said. “There are dozens of ataisa among the sanisi, but Taigan is not ataisa and not male, not female. Taigan changes often.” She shrugged. “Taigan is just Taigan. And Taigan will be the first to tell you that.”