“But it’s just a mistranslation, then; the Joratese clearly do understand the difference between male and female.”

“Do they? They know the difference between stallions and mares. But if you tell them only a man may inherit a noble title in Quur, they’ll nod and agree that’s how they do things here too. And if you pointed out someone like Janel has inherited a title, they would still agree they do things the same way. Because they don’t understand how that’s a contradiction.”

Father Zajhera looked confused. “But she’s female…?”

“Physically,” Brother Qown agreed. “But do you remember when you first told me about her? How you said there had been all those false reports about the Count of Tolamer having a grandson? You assumed people saw her dressed up in boy’s clothes and jumped to the wrong conclusions. I don’t think they did. Because the Joratese don’t see it the way you or I would. She’s not a mare; she’s a stallion. To the Joratese, Count Janel—and note how it’s Count and not Countess—is a man to the Joratese, by all the standards we’d use in the west. Except for one thing: she’s female.”

“But she was engaged to marry that boy—”

“It’s no scandal for two stallions to marry—and notice how those labels have nothing to do with biological sex. And they have three, you’ll note.”

“Three what?”

“Three genders. Gelding is also allowed. It has nothing to do with whether you like sex or are even capable of sex. Gelding is a catch-all term for anyone who doesn’t quite fit into the stallion and mare definitions or who doesn’t want to fit into those definitions. Anyway, there’s no reason two stallions can’t work as a match. But I gather Sir Oreth decided she should be a mare and tried to force the issue. She disagreed.” He paused. “Violently.”

“Huh.” Father Zajhera shook his head. “Well, there can be no doubt it’s a strange land. But even if they think she’s a man—or stallion—they’ll still burn her as a witch.”

“They’ll burn anyone who’s from this side of the mountains as a witch. Magical aptitude or not, apparently. It’s only us lucky few from the west who’re given a pass.” Brother Qown sighed. “I should mention the prophecy…”

Father Zajhera’s eyes regarded his, bright as gemstones.

“You knew about that too,” Brother Qown said.