“That’s a grand leap in logic.”

“Is it? He asked for Kirana first. She’s a powerful channeler, Nasaka. I’m not. And that girl…”

“We test every child in Dhai,” Nasaka said. “Could we have missed one, especially one not able to draw on a star we haven’t seen in two thousand years? Certainly.”

“And Kirana?”

Nasaka sighed. “We… speculated she may have some power besides that of a tirajista. The last few months, things were… strange with her.”

“She said she asked for me weeks ago.”

“She was not in her right mind, Ahkio.”

“Do you think she was killed for it?”

“Perhaps.” Nasaka set the pages on the table and came to his side, gazed with him toward Mount Ahya and the creeping dawn. “Do you want a part in saving all of this, Ahkio? Or will you run home to Meyna?”

“You’re giving me a choice?”

“With or without you in this seat, we are headed for civil war,” Nasaka said.

“War? In Dhai? That’s not possible.”

“The Garikas will contest your right to the seat. The Raonas will ask that I find your mad Aunt Etena and put her in it. And then there’s the matter of Oma…” Nasaka shook her head. “I suggest you sit with your sister now, before her body is prepared. The rest can wait until morning. But think clearly on this, Ahkio.”

“What changed?” Ahkio asked. He peered at her, but she did not meet his gaze. “You called me here to make me Kai. Now a sanisi tells us Oma is rising, and you say I can go home and pretend none of this happened?”

“I hoped having you here might spare you,” Nasaka said, “from whatever fate befell Kirana. But now… Now I worry that harm will come to you no matter what way I move you.”

“Like a piece on a board?”

“No. Like an ungifted man trying to fill a seat that’s only been held by gifted women.”

Ahkio referred to himself with the male-passive pronoun, and it was the same identifier Nasaka used when he said “man.” Ahkio always thought the pronoun very accurate, even complimentary – he was a teacher, a lover, a man who wanted four spouses and dozens of children, but somehow, the way Nasaka said it, it felt like an insult.

“Why does being a man matter?”

“To some, it matters,” Nasaka said. “More importantly, with Oma rising, having an ungifted man on the seat is even worse. They will tear you from this temple with their teeth and insist on a politically savvy and gifted woman.”

“Who killed her, Nasaka? Who wanted civil war now, of all times? The Saiduan?”

“That’s a question I can’t answer yet,” she said, “let alone prove.”

“But you suspect the Garikas?”

“I always suspect the Garikas. Yisaoh will come for your seat soon, I guarantee that. I’ve already set things into motion in preparation for that.”