The woman leaned forward, got her weight over her feet, and pushed herself upright. She turned to walk back to their simple camp, the moment of confiding at an end. Kelis could not help but ask another question before she went. “You named Sinper Ou’s ambitions,” he said, “but what are yours? What do you want for your daughter?”

For a moment Benabe’s face looked hard, and Kelis thought she might lash out as she had done in their first days of travel. “I want her to live. Live and be happy, and I hate the world for making that hard for her.”

“Cousin, your daughter does seem happy. Listen to her laughter.”

Benabe did, and then said, “That comforts you, doesn’t it?” She did not wait for his answer but stepped away before he could respond.

The next day they began the ascent.

Or they intended to begin the ascent. They looked at the looming barricade before them and strode toward it. Kelis measured his strides, already trying to use his legs efficiently, knowing that he might soon have Shen’s weight to bear. It was there, in the muscles of his thighs, that he first knew something very strange was happening. Though they entered the foothills and soon the mountains, though by midday they could look back and see the plains dropping away behind them, though all around them were inclines above and ravines below and though they went around boulders and over ridges and intentionally sought the easiest passes upward—despite all the physical signs …

“Does this feel strange to you?” Kelis whispered to Naamen, drawing him back as Benabe and Shen led the way.

The younger man stood a moment, taking in the terrain, rubbing the elbow of his small arm with the palm of his other. “We’re not climbing,” he pronounced.

And that was exactly what Kelis had been thinking. His legs, which knew well the burden of carrying his body, were not feeling the strain of ascending. From what they could see, they seemed to have ascended several thousand feet, and yet not even Shen breathed heavily as she skipped forward, chatting with her mother.

“We are looking for sorcerers,” Naamen added, shrugging and walking again. “Perhaps finding sorcery is a good sign.”

They camped that evening near a small stream beside a copse of acacia trees. Kelis would normally have worried about their dwindling supplies. They had little more than roots and dried fruits and a few twists of oryx meat. But there were more disturbing things to consider—details, small ones but as disturbing as these mountains. How had the air grown so cool and moist? How, in southern Talay, had they come across a shallow stream of clear water rippling over white stones? At first the thickness of the trees was strange enough. From a distance, they were lovely to behold, signs of life and abundance they had left behind miles and miles ago.