I stared out at the two women who were sparring under Xivan’s critical eye. “It’s been a hundred years since it was legal to worship Suless. Did Veixizhau learn it from her family? From her mother? Seems like the sort of thing a clan leader wouldn’t want to encourage in his own family.”

“That must have been what happened.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think that?”

The older woman swallowed and looked to the side. “No, I don’t.”

I followed her line of sight. She stared at Wyrga, who’d started coming to the training yard to watch the women practice. The old woman had her polar bear cub carried in the crook of one arm while she watched.

“I’ve been here for almost fifteen years,” Bikeinoh said quietly. “She’s always had that damn cub. It’s never grown a day older than it is right now. Kind of like her.”

Wyrga must have felt us staring. She looked back, grinned, and laughed. She was too far away to hear, but I knew her terrible cackle well enough to imagine.

I stood up from the bench. “Thanks. Tell Xivan I wasn’t feeling well, okay? I’ll be back later.”

The woman shrugged. “Sure.”

I left to see if I could find a special someone to answer a question.

Senera kept an irregular schedule, but I was in luck. She’d returned.

She answered her door red-eyed with tears streaking her face. Her gray eyes turned flint hard as she regarded me, as if I’d committed an unforgivable sin by witnessing her vulnerability. She walked back to her chair without saying a word, leaving the door open behind her.

Well. I took it as permission to enter.

She sat back down by the fireplace and refilled her tea. Then she watched the fire, her expression blank.

Senera’s room turned out to be the same room I’d woken in on that first day. And it contained no more traces of personality than when I’d first seen it.

Senera spent her time and energy in the field.

Then I saw I’d been mistaken about the traces of personality. Senera had left papers and charcoal pencils on a table, alongside a small doll made from white linen and bleached yarn. The doll appeared colorless except for two silver beads that had been used for the eyes. And the paper …

The top paper had been ripped in half, but still showed a young Joratese youth’s face. I couldn’t say whether she’d captured his likeness, but the boy’s eyes shone brilliant and joyful. And I had no reason to think this sinister, except …

Except. I remembered the tears on Senera’s face when she opened the door, her red eyes. If there had been a tragedy, likely as not Senera had caused it. I tore my gaze away, shuddering.