“Sister?” Oshi asked, looking up from the carp, worry and confusion in his cloudy eyes. One hand opened and closed as though attempting a fist. “Is there danger?” He glanced at Adare uncertainly, then at the land around them, eyes fixing on the pilgrims atop the bank. “Must we fight?”

Nira shifted her eyes from Adare to her brother, then back.

“Ask her,” she said.

Adare hesitated, fear, humiliation, and awe raging high inside her like a river about to burst its banks. She wanted to lash out, to physically strike the old woman. She wanted to whimper. There wasn’t much space left over for rational thought, but it was to that remaining sliver of her mind that her father’s voice spoke from the depth of her childhood. You cannot see clearly, Adare, when your sight is clouded by your own emotions.

She took an unsteady breath, then another. Rishinira was a leach, an abomination, one of the twisted vipers responsible for the deaths of thousands, but not, at least not necessarily, Adare’s enemy. Her mind spun, trying to see the truth. The old woman had helped her, hidden her, protected her, and asked for nothing in return except Adare’s complicity.

“No,” Adare said slowly, raising her hands. “I don’t want a fight.”

Nira studied her for a long time, then nodded brusquely. “All right then. When we’ve got to Olon and done what needs doin’ there, ya won’t see us again. We’ll disappear.” She glanced at her brother. “We’re good at that, ain’t we, ya stupid sack a’ shit?”

Adare frowned. She had spent so much time worrying about how to handle Nira and her brother that she never paused to wonder why the two had joined the pilgrimage in the first place. It seemed an unlikely decision. Travel involved unexpected surprises. Joining a large group increased the chance of awkward questions, prying glances, inadvertent disclosures. Adare’s own nerves were frayed ragged from two weeks maintaining her disguise, and yet, for some reason, the two Atmani had sought out the company, willingly attaching themselves to the other pilgrims for the long march south.

“And what,” Adare asked slowly, “are you doing on the road to Olon?”

Nira eyed her warily. “Didn’t we just get done pissin’ on each other over the keepin’ a’ secrets? Now you want ta go sharing more?”