“I would offer to show you around. The training yard is unlike anything you’ve seen, I’m sure. But perhaps another time would be better.”

Trynne nodded.

Morwenna smiled impishly. “I’ve gone to Chandigarl many times, Trynne. There are so many people, you couldn’t possibly imagine it.” She gave Trynne a coaxing smile. “Now be ready. It’s a long fall.”

The poisoner uttered the word of power again, but this time the feeling of falling down a waterfall persisted for much, much longer. Trynne’s stomach roiled with sickness and nausea as the magic swept them away. Would the journey never end? There was a fear that it might not, that she was trapped beneath some enormous cascade of water that fell into oblivion. She felt Morwenna’s arm tighten against hers.

Suddenly, they arrived. Trynne wobbled, wanting to fall down, but Morwenna held her up and uttered the word, “Anthisstemi.” It was the same word Myrddin had used when he had taken her to make her oaths.

Trynne straightened, feeling her strength instantly return.

“Thank you,” she muttered, disentangling their arms. The very air felt different, full of humidity and moisture and strange smells. She was used to the noise of morning birds chirping, but this land was full of clicking insects mixed with a different kind of birdsong.

Even the fountain was different. Instead of it being a circle, it was made of a series of half-circles at odd angles to each other. The porcelain tiles were a rich blue, and the waters had a greenish cast. No coins were resting in the basin.

Morwenna stepped outside of the fountain and her image shimmered as she disguised herself in courtly dress. Her hair was still black, but now it was done up into intricate ringlets that cascaded down from a series of headdresses. Her skin was darker, her eyes slanted, but Trynne could still tell it was Morwenna. The disguise could not shield that truth from Trynne’s magic.

“These are the ceremonial robes of a Shaliah,” Morwenna explained, gesturing to her pale silver gown and high girdle. “They are sacred healers in this society. I adopted the disguise because it allows me to wander wherever I wish. Come, we’re at the edge of the zenana. We cannot get there through the ley lines.”

Trynne adjusted the strap across her shoulder, feeling the bulk of the weapons in the lute case thump against the small of her back. She also stroked her arm, feeling the straps holding the Tay al-Ard beneath the garment, grateful for its reassuring presence.