“There’s nothing here to use. No timber, no workforce, no good harbor. So Falcrest decided to preserve them for study.” Yawa took Baru’s hand and pointed. “Do you see those mills in the tide? The ones that turn those wheels of flags? Those are worship engines. The Sydani worship the ykari virtues, just as in Aurdwynn.”

“Those engines hardly seem ilykari.” Thinking of the subtle serene priestess she’d known, Ulyu Xe, who looked so much like cousin Lao. Ulyu Xe hadn’t needed a mill-wheel temple to turn her faith (or Baru’s eyes).

“No. Faith here is closer to the ancient Belthyc practice. More crass and monumental than Aurdwynn’s ilykari.”

“Who you murdered by the droves,” Apparitor said, which made Baru think, yes, Yawa knew about the ilykari palimpsest, of course she would be the one to take it. But how did she know Baru had received a copy? Just a lucky guess?

“Who I pruned as necessary to assure Falcrest of my diligence.” Yawa gave him a formidably baited smile. “The infanticide here should make you feel right at home, I imagine.”

“Oh, don’t you—”

“What infanticide?” Baru looked between them. “Yawa, what infanticide?”

Her smile snapped shut on them. Oh, Baru thought, with a sort of delight, she practices that face, doesn’t she?

“Rather like the Stakhieczi Wintercrests,” Yawa said, “this is a very hard place to live. They fish, they grow dates to sell, they shit the fish out and use the shit to grow more dates. So—as in most civilizations, Falcrest and the Mbo are the great exceptions—they murder a good number of their children by exposure to the weather.”

“That’s not true,” Baru said, suspiciously. “Is that true?”

Apparitor nodded silently.

“The sanctity of the infant,” Yawa enunciated, “is a very modern construct. Do you see those bridges?”

Baru and Apparitor fought over the spyglass until Yawa gave Baru hers. “Rope bridges,” Baru marveled. “The islands are bridged together!”

“Indeed. When I was your age, there was a war fought over those bridges.”

“I thought you were a kitchen wench when you were my age.”

“I was, I was, but everyone in Lachta heard the news. The old Duke had business here, and the Llosydanes are full of Aurdwynni families.” She was settling into the cadence of the old storyteller, and Baru was surprised to find herself soothed. It had been fifteen years since she listened to a Taranoki elder teach.…

“Now don’t interrupt,” Yawa snapped. “They called it the Datefig War, but deep down it was about honor, not trade.”

“Honor,” Apparitor murmured, “is just a credit rating for violence.”