Jareen sniffled. Her nose ran and her eyes stung from the smoke of the quthli fires. It had taken them hours to burn their dead and strip the fallen of the Findelvien contingent. The females had butchered scores of vaela already, hanging strips of flesh in rows upon the spears of the fallen vien above great pit fires. The quthli had piled vaela livers raw upon the upturned bloody vaela hides. Whole legs and haunches roasted and turned on spear points, grease dripping into the flames below.

Over two hundred riders and vaela had been slaughtered by a mix of quthli from different tribes. The Nethec riders had ridden light and fast, carrying few provisions. The quthli had barely managed to head them off. Jareen watched carefully, but Coir assured her that the quthli would not eat the fallen vien. The quthli had long lived for many generations under the subjugation of the Canaen, who forbid such a practice. While Vireel's free quthli formed a sizable portion of those present, many others served one or another enclave, sent into the Mingling as scouts and advanced guards.

The gorging had continued for more than an hour already, and Jareen tried to keep down her nausea as she sat beside Coir, hoping that the wind would not swirl the fires yet again and blow the smoke in her face. For his part, Coir hardly spoke, tearing greasy hunks of meat apart with his fingers and stuffing them into his mouth. He still had a fair number of teeth. Jareen knew that wasn't a given for humans of his age. It was good to know he did not lack, but how he could eat so much, Jareen couldn't understand.

"You might want to go easy," she said, wrinkling her eyes.

"Are you joking?" he asked, his mouth full. "Do you know long it's been since I've had a decent bit of meat?"

She did know how long, and she had been worried about him. He'd looked frailer and frailer through the summer.

Yet another quthli lifted a vaela haunch into the air and shouted into the dark, his words following the swirling sparks upward. Different quthli warriors had performed some variation of this again and again throughout the night, recounting how they had slain the vaela and its rider. When the short victory-tale was finished, the warrior approached different quthli around the fires and sliced off pieces of meat to show them honor. The latest quthli approached Coir. Thankfully, they knew not to offer flesh to a vienu, but for Coir, the quthli warrior cut off a thick slice.

Coir raised the glistening meat and huffed a few words, just as the quthli did upon receiving portions in these rituals. It was a scene repeating itself at many fires in the forest, except in this case, an old human raised the meat to extol the victory. The quthli grunted in adulation and moved on to the next honorary. Coir laid the slice down on the greasy piece of upturned bark that served as his plate.

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"What is it they keep calling you?" Jareen asked. "Uhbut hulhuna, or something?"

Coir smiled.

"Is that the first time you've tried to speak quthli?" he asked.

Jareen pretended to think about it, but she knew it was true. She'd heard them say that word in obvious reference to Coir many times.

"Possibly," she said.

"It means. . . well. . ."

"As best you can."

"Wise one, I suppose."

Jareen grinned.

"Wise one?"

"Well. . . There's more to it, I think. It means 'Not-hair-follows-tracks.' Because I'm bald, and to them, anyone who understands speech and the ways of the world 'follows tracks.' It's a hunting metaphor."

"You're not bald, though," Jareen said. He still had a head of white hair.

"They're not talking about my head," Coir said, raising his arm and pulling up his sleeve to show his skin. "To them, we're all bald."

"Ah," Jareen said. She supposed that made sense.

"I can't imagine a better night," Coir said, still smiling. "Tomorrow we find Vah'tane, and on a full stomach!"

"A full stomach for you," she said.

"It's my turn."

"It could be a misunderstanding. Are you sure it's Vah'tane?"

Coir paused, still chewing.

"We will find out for sure tomorrow, but. . . I think Vah's word has proved true. We searched, and we have found."

"We haven't found yet and if we do, it won't be because we searched but because the quthli knew about it."

"Why do you always need it to be one thing or the other?"

The smoke swirled back toward them. Jareen closed her eyes and held her breath as its foul heat passed over her. When she opened them again, she had to wipe the moisture out of her irritated eyes.

"We still don't know what it is, not for certain," she said.

"That is always true. We only know as much as we're told."

"I still doubt. How can you not?"

"You think I don't doubt?" Coir looked at her as if surprised at the question. "My dear Jareen, doubt has nothing to do with it. The question is, do you have faith enough to act? I think Vah can be trusted. I have decided to trust what he said. That is all I can do."

Coir paused for a while, staring up at the sparks swirling into the night. When he spoke next, his tone was low and confidential:

"Don't go for me, Jareen. Only go if you want it for yourself."

"And what if you're wrong?" she asked.

"I don't believe I am."

"But what if?"

Coir smiled at her, the light flickering in his grease-covered white beard.

"Then I have still lived quite a life. Quite a life, indeed."

He took another bite of vaela flesh.

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