“Yes, Father, but the Giver is kind,” Kelis responded. Sangae was not actually his father, but in the village of Umae the terms son and father had always been used liberally. The other man was clearly Ioma’s father, Sinper; they had the same facial structure and physique. The older man wore his hair cropped short around the ears, but it bloomed fuller on top, dusted with gray. Sinper was cordial in greeting him, though he did so with his chin raised and eyes heavy lidded in a manner that made it clear he expected Kelis to offer him the deference usually reserved for chieftains.

Looking over his shoulder as the old man gripped him, Kelis saw that a woman had followed the two men. Seeing her stirred something in him. There were things in her face that he remembered. The wide, smooth forehead; the large eyes separated by the gentle bridge of her nose; her lips full and shapely, held in the pucker that was traditional for Talayan women in formal situations. Part of it, as well, was that her beauty reminded him of an emotion: envy. It was that emotion that marked his realization of who she was: Benabe, one of the many young women who had pursued Aliver as he grew into a man.

“Benabe,” Kelis said, “the moon hides in your eyes.”

“No,” she said, “that is the sun in yours, which simply reflects in mine.”

The greeting completed, Ioma took Kelis by the arm and led him to a couch. They all sat, sipping the chilled drink as servants set a table with small bowls of pickled cabbage and tiny squids, fish eggs on triangles of hard bread. For a while they chatted with no particular direction to the conversation. This was normal enough, really, but Kelis could barely contain his curiosity. He half wondered if he would have to wait until he was alone to find out, and he more than half wondered if the young woman, so quiet as the men spoke, had some role in whatever had brought him here.

Sinper asked Kelis about his battles with the foulthings. He seemed honestly interested in the beasts but also in Mena Akaran. Was she really as fierce in battle as they say? Was it true that she had killed a many-eyed lion beast with her own sword? Could she truly keep pace with Talayan runners when on the hunt? Kelis answered with plainspoken honesty each time.

“So you admire her?” Sinper asked.

“There is much to admire.”

“And what of her sister?” Ioma asked.

“Queen Corinn,” Kelis said, “I do not know that well.”

Ioma grinned. “She doesn’t run barefoot beside our men, does she?”

“No,” Kelis acknowledged.

Ioma sat back. “That would be something to see. I would pay silver to watch our queen run a footrace. She would have to leave her fine dresses at home, but I wouldn’t mind that either.”