Roh pushed open the door – there were no locks on doors in Dhai – and called, “I’ve brought-”

He looked at his feet as he entered, careful not to trip over the tapestried carpet. He heard something hiss. For a moment, it sounded like a spitting lily, and he wondered how such a dangerous plant had gotten into the temple.

Then he saw the flash of metal, the flurry of movement.

It was a blade.

Roh threw the tray ahead of him and stepped back. The blade met the tray and sliced it in two. Rice and bits of yam spattered the walls, the rug.

Roh rotated his body and crouched low, making himself a smaller, thinner target. He held out his forearms to take the worst of the onslaught and called on Para for aid. It was like drawing air through his skin, air only he could sense, only he could breathe – and power only another parajista could see. His fists tightened. He held the breath of Para there, just beneath his skin. He concentrated on the Litany of the Palisade to construct a shield of air. The air began to condense around him, grow heavy. A brilliant blue mist swirled around him: a blessing. Para was fickle and didn’t always respond when he called. Even now, the shield he wove came together slowly. Far too slowly.

He heard harsh words in Saiduan and peered through his raised arms. The sanisi stared at him, blade pointed at the floor. Roh let go of his breath, but not Para. His knuckles grazed the solid wall of misty blue air in front of him, formed a moment too late.

“Is there no privacy in this country?” the sanisi said in heavily accented Dhai.

Roh straightened. He let go of the litany. The air around him returned to its regular pressure. His ears popped. The blue breath of Para dissipated.

Roh stared at the mess of rice and broken yam pieces scattered across the room. One half of the tray rested near his foot. The other had settled behind the sanisi. Roh imagined that could have been his head. It was a stupid mistake. He should have known better.

“Sorry,” Roh said. “I’m Rohinmey Tadisa Garika, a student of Ora Dasai’s. Forgot about Saiduan privacy. I meant no offense. We’re very open here.”

The sanisi sheathed his blade.