“There was once a Dhai slave owned by the Patron of Saiduan. Not this Patron, but the one four Patrons before this one. He was captured very young, when the fishing boat his mothers took him out on was overtaken. This slave was a dancer like you, and a powerful sinajista. He was so powerful that for much of his life, he was paired with a flat-headed slave with greater talent who prevented him from tapping into his full abilities.”

“They just stayed together day and night?”

“Yes,” Dasai said. “He became very close to the Patron, and the flat-headed slave did, too. One day, the Dhai slave seduced the flat-headed slave and drugged him. Then he crept to the Patron’s rooms and tried to burn him in his bed. But the Patron was protected by powerful wards. He woke unscathed and had the Dhai slave’s legs broken.”

“Did the Dhai live?”

“He did,” Dasai said, “but he never danced again. And he could no longer fight. If he was going to improve his circumstances, he needed something other than brute force.” Dasai pointed to Roh’s head. “He needed to use his wits.”

“Did he escape?”

“He did,” Dasai said, “many years later, when the Patron’s family was killed by usurpers. He convinced the new Patron that he was a free Dhai. And, having no use for him, the new Patron released him. He walked one thousand miles to the harbor in Alorjan and rejoined his family in Dhai.”

“That’s a sad story,” Roh said. “But why tell me?”

“Because you may find yourself in a very bad position, Rohinmey,” Dasai said. “If things go wrong, I do not want you to fight. I want you to live.”

“He lost years of his life, Ora Dasai,” Roh said. “I couldn’t live like that.”

“You’d be surprised what one can endure,” Dasai said. He watched the boy’s face. He looked young and fragile. Dasai imagined listening to some old man tell him not to fight. To just endure. To have his legs and will broken time and again. Foolish old man, Dasai would have thought then.

“Ora Dasai, did you know I can see through wards? That’s what the sanisi said I did.”

“It was known to me, yes.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“You’re a young novice. We preferred to wait until you had more… discipline.”

“What does it mean? I don’t actually see any breath around them. I just… see them.”

“Some parajistas can see through wards. It means you can see things that others wish to keep hidden.”

“I thought I was just smart.”

“Being smart takes effort,” Dasai said. “I suspect that seeing the things you do requires little effort.”

“Can I get better at it?”

“Perhaps. But not here. I have other tasks for you.”

“Like what?”