“One ill word from that man,” Dasai said, “and the Saiduan Patron sends one thousand men like him into Dhai. They murder every last one of us. Every one. They wanted us dead two millennia ago. They nearly succeeded. Don’t think they won’t look for a reason to come here and end it.” Dasai struck the floor between Roh’s feet with his walking stick. “And all because one vain boy could not stomach his fate.”

“I’m meant for greater things,” Roh said. “Anyone can see that.”

Dasai grimaced. Roh hated what he saw – disappointment, anger, disgust. Roh knew he was supposed to be like every other Dhai, like Lilia, just doing what he was told, having babies for Dhai, growing crops in the same spaces, fighting back the same toxic plants from the fields, using Para only to build, to defend, to grow. But to grow them into what?

“It’s not enough for me,” Roh said.

“Then maybe this temple is not the place for you.”

“No, no!” Roh said, because exile was worse. Exile meant Dorinah, to become a slave, or the woodland, to get eaten by some blinding-tree. And then he laughed, because maybe that’s how it would all play out – they would exile him, and he’d join some woodland exiles, and teach them farming. And he’d die a farmer.

“Sleep, Rohinmey,” Dasai said. “Tell Ora Almeysia I excuse your tardiness. Just… sleep. We’ll discuss atonement in the morning.”

Roh wiped at his face and hurried to the scullery stair. The risks he took were real, he knew. But the risk of being exiled still paled next to the risk of squandering his life. He pushed and pushed, and nothing ever changed. His parents had tired of his constant questions and boundless energy. It was almost a relief to them when the Oras who came to Clan Garika tested him for sensitivity to the satellites and discovered he could draw on Para.

But when Para was descendent? He’d be an unlovable burden again.

Roh sat on the scullery stair steps. He needed to think his way out, even though it wasn’t his strength. Lilia was the one good with strategy and problem solving.

The flame flies in the lanterns cast flickering light in the dark stairwell. He heard a voice from below, murmuring words he could not quite make out.

Roh leaned around the curl of the corridor to get a look at who was coming up.

It was Almeysia. Again. Talking aloud in the scullery stair. Again.

But she was not alone this time.

Almeysia walked up the stairs with a hooded woman. Roh knew the figure. It was Yisaoh Alais Garika, daughter to the clan leader of Clan Garika. Roh had seen her often enough there to recognize her generous shape and strong jaw, even with her face cowled in the dim light.