Zezili watched as the dajians streamed past, hurrying after tall women whose hair was curled or beribboned, pinned or sewn in place, and adorned in combs and jeweled pins. Zezili had learned how to tie hair up like that, a lifetime ago, before her mother had put a sword in her hand.

She rode past the booksellers and merchants’ stalls and into the religious quarter, where all of the lanterns were wound with red paper. The open awnings of the men’s mardanas lining the streets of the quarter were red, the sidewalks lined in brick. The Temple of Rhea stood at the end of the red-lantern road, its spires outlined by the gray sky. The Dorinah flag flew from the three topmost peaks of the stone towers: the Eye of Rhea on a background of purple.

“Syre Zezili!” someone called. “My favorite unwashed snapdragon. How are you?”

Zezili turned. A bear-drawn carriage pulled up next to her. The lacy curtains were swept back from the window, revealing a bright, rouged face with eyes heavily lined in kohl.

“Tulana Nikoel,” Zezili said. “Looking for a treat in the mardanas?”

“Nothing so amusing,” Tulana said. Her dark hair was arranged atop her head in a pile of forward-facing curls that had been sewn into place and knotted with yellow ribbons. It was not the most intricate style Zezili had ever seen, but nearly. The Empress’s gifted jistas, the Seekers, had little to do but sit around and braid each other’s hair between enemy-killing, road-building, and ditch-digging. Tulana’s little sloe-eyed shadow, Sokai, sat with her, gazing off in the opposite direction. Zezili had made a pass at him once during a campaign, and he hadn’t taken it well. Men had no sense of humor.

“I didn’t think the Empress let you out of the Seeker Sanctuary without a leash,” Zezili said.

“Being gifted is often a curse,” Tulana said, “but leading the gifted can be advantageous. Tell me, has the Empress called you here to speak of a campaign? I have six new parajistas hungry for experience in the field.”

“You know I can’t say,” Zezili said. “But when I can, you’ll be the first to know. Say hello to Amelia and Voralyn.” They were the only gifted women Zezili could tolerate, in large part because they often lost extraordinary amounts of money to her at cards.

“I will say hello to their purses for you,” Tulana said.

Zezili grunted and turned Dakar away. From the corner of her eye, she saw Tulana’s bright expression darken. Zezili suspected Tulana’s tolerance for Zezili was only slightly higher than Zezili’s for Tulana. But Zezili’s legion, without gifted Seekers, was just a mob of women with pointy sticks when facing the gifted forces of an enemy. She had to work with Tulana and her little jistas more often than not.