Ve looked zir in the eye. Fierce, golden. “Well,” ve said. “For one thing, I’m learning to sit. I’m learning to be the still center.” Ve said it without a grin, without irony. A pang of inscrutable longing shot through Fift.

“Sit,” ze said.

Shria cracked vir knuckles, and then slowly, came back and sat by Fift on the nest room floor.

“And I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry,” ve said. “I don’t know why you need to be forming triads and quaternads at forty-six. I don’t know why you can’t wait for our Courting Century . . .”

“We’re not children,” Fift said. Their shoulders were a fingerwidth apart, not touching.

“That’s a spurious argument,” ve said. “Just because we rebelled against those structures doesn’t mean we have to do the opposite. I like the idea of a century to focus on who I am, just me, myself, connecting with whomever I want to however I want, with no expectations of anything lasting. But”—ve shrugged—“apparently you and Dobroc are in a hurry. I don’t know Cemerid, but I trust your judgement. And maybe my reluctance is . . . well, that same vailish fear of remaining still. And I know I want to break through that. Anyway, I didn’t say I’m ready to declare a semi-cohort or undertake a pledge. I said I’d stay. I’ll stay, I’ll try this, I won’t let my fear chase me away. And we’ll see what happens.” Ve turned to look at zir. “Is that enough?”

A great and terrible emotion was swelling inside of Fift like an invisible balloon, crushing zir organs to every side, filling zir intolerably until there was nothing left. Was it terror?

Chalia came up, trailing a hand over Mother Mulis’s back, and then reaching toward Fift, straightening zir robe. Ve squinted at zir. “You look happy,” ve said.

Oh: It was joy.

“Yes,” ze said, to Chalia, to Shria.

“It’s enough,” ze told Shria. Zir voice was thick, an awkward instrument which needed to be maneuvered out of zir throat. “For a start.”

Shria turned towards zir. Ze put zir arms around vem, and ve enveloped zir. Zir forehead against vir cheek, zir hands around the thick muscles of vir back. Ve smelled like—like dawnflowers, like gemmon, like a surface wind, like home? No: like Shria, here with zir again, after so long.

Ze sighed.

“Dinner!” Father Cartassia called.

Fathers Grobbard, Ellix, and Thrimon sprang up with uncharacteristic haste and crowded into the hall. “Kumru praise us!” Frill said, toweling vir hair. “I could eat a robot bat.”

“Lumlu!” Egathelie called. “Time for dinner, darling!”

“You know what’s funny?” Shria said, lifting vir head a fingerwidth away from zir, vir breath tickling zir ear. “You’re going to find this ridiculous. But part of my decision . . . you remember what Thavé said, when the Unraveling started? About star-ships?”