“You should smile more often,” Abas said. “You could light the world with a grin like that.”

While the dancing progressed, the work in the archives did not. Roh spent more and more of his time with the dancers, especially Abas. Abas showed him around the hold one cold afternoon and said, “You have a special love of sanisi, do you not?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“You watch them like a hungry puppy,” Abas said. “It makes me jealous.”

Below, Roh saw two fighters who appeared to be dancing, the only sound the scuff of their boots on the stones. They were sanisi, and they had drawn a sizable crowd of spectators.

“Who’s that?” Roh asked.

Abas came to the rail. “That is Ren Kadaan Soagan and Shao Maralah Daonia.”

“I’ve heard of her,” Roh said.

“I expect you have. She’s the Patron’s most trusted general.”

“And Kadaan?”

“Her best student. Not many men apprenticed to her, in the beginning. But he was smart. He saw her for what she was.”

“Or she saw something in him,” Roh said.

“Perhaps it required intelligence from both of them,” Abas said, and showed his teeth, an exaggeration of a smile that Roh had seen many Saiduan flash publicly. The real smiles came in private. Roh cherished those much more.

The two sanisi moved in patterns too complex for Roh to follow, but the movements were fast enough for him to recognize that they were anticipating one another’s forms. Roh knew that feeling.

“You see Kadaan?” Abas said, and Roh heard the affection in his voice. “See how they keep pace with one another? A spar like this, between these two, can last hours. Kadaan is the best of them. He is not yet twenty-five and has killed forty-three of the invaders. He gained us many weeks in the northern cities. It’s sad they will destroy each other.”

“What do you mean?”

Abas shrugged and pushed away from the rail. “It’s how it’s done. She has lived a long time. Most think the only reason she still lives is because of the war. We lose too many sanisi. But before that… yes, Kadaan would have killed her, I’m sure. You haven’t seen it among the dancers yet, but we do it, too. The boy who had my place before me? He fell from this rail, here.” Abas rapped the railing. It came nearly to his chest. “You can see it would not be so easy to fall unaided.”

“You took his place?”

“Times were different. War has changed us. Now… well, now we have a Dhai dancing with us because we are so few. Things move quickly, don’t they?”

“It’s a good thing you changed with them.”

Abas gazed down at the sanisi again. “Some,” he said. “Not all.”