“You’re to stay away from the dancers,” Dasai said, “and the Patron, and the sanisi, during our final days here. I want you working only for the archive project now. We have much yet to accomplish.”

“Ora Dasai, I still–”

“This is not a negotiation, let alone an argument,” Dasai said. “Tomorrow, you and Kihin and Luna will travel a few hours south with a text we’ve uncovered. You’ll meet a man named Shodav, an old colleague of mine. You will give him a book to translate. In return, he’ll turn over a book to you to bring back in its place. I want you to deliver it to me. Discreetly. If anyone asks, you’re simply going there for the Bone Festival, to see the wolf dancing and meet with a friend of mine to discuss Saiduan grammar. Understood?”

Roh grinned. “Yes, Ora Dasai.” Dasai found it wearying that the boy was so excited at the prospect of deception. I was young once, he reminded himself, but that did not make him feel better. He should have left the boy in Dhai, Sina take the Kai.

Dasai eased to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. It was like the world itself wanted to suck him back into it, yanking painfully at his bones. “Good night, Rohinmey.”

He shuffled to the door.

“Ora Dasai?”

“Hm?”

“Were you a very good dancer?”

“The very best,” he said.

Chapter 37

37

Ghrasia Madah preferred fighting blinding-trees to questioning skittish Raonas. But she had three dead sparrows in her pocket and a description of the man who’d returned them to the clan’s primary dealer three days before. It was the best lead on the men who might be assassinating people in Dhai that she had had in days, and with a lead that fresh, she knew she had to work quickly, even if it meant spreading her people beyond the clan fence to suss out the stranger.

She walked with a young parajista named Halimey, a big-eyed, plump-cheeked young man who put her in mind of her own daughter. The militia was stretched thin, and the Oras she brought with her were even thinner. She had started out breaking them into teams of four – two militia, a parajista, and another Ora whose star was descendent. But the ground they had to cover around Clan Raona was substantial, and time was short. With no other leads beyond the vague description of the stranger, there was nothing to report to the Kai. The Kai, not Ahkio, she had to keep reminding herself. Because when she thought of him as Ahkio, it stirred up her memory of him at the fountain, and that stirred up a good many more feelings best left shuttered up. She’d gotten word of his marriage a few days before. A fine political match. She wished them much success. But she had far larger concerns.