Jareen was dozing on a cushion under a blanket. The warm sunlight streaming in through a window had pressed her down into sleep. Approaching footsteps roused her. This was not the light tread of the sisters, and there were too many. She sat up, blinking. Coir sat with his back to the wall, snoring. When the door swung open, he startled awake.

It was Yelti. He looked at Lovniele, ignoring Coir.

"Come with me, Child of Vah."

Jareen rose, glancing at Coir and giving him what she hoped was a reassuring nod. She didn't like being separated from him, knowing he was likely at greater risk to his life.

Yelti had arrived with three other Canaen, all arrayed for war and bearing signs of the Change. Yelti walked beside her while the others followed behind, leaving the lone sentry on guard over Coir.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Do not fear," he said. He had a gentle voice, and she remembered how gently he had treated her when first they had met upon the hilltop. His presence made her feel a little safer.

"It is hard not to fear what you do not know."

Yelti took a deep breath and released it, appearing to weigh her words.

"News of you and your human have reached the other enclaves," Yelti said. "There are always spies."

"Spies? Between your own kind?"

"Delegates have arrived—" Yelti said, pausing to choose his next words carefully "—to argue what should be done."

"What are they arguing?"

Yelti shook his head.

"It has gone on since yesterday, and more have arrived since. They will question you."

"About what?"

He shrugged and said nothing.

"You will stay?" she asked.

He glanced at her.

"I will stay."

From the base of the trunk, it was only a short climb to the tir top. A far different scene presented itself than the first time she had seen the paved space. The entire tir-top was filled with Canaen sitting densely packed. There might have been over a thousand. Jareen had not known the settlement was so big. In the center stood a cluster of Canaen in the grass sward among the leafy growths. As she stepped onto the pavement, all faces turned to her in a sweeping rustle. Jareen's heart sank.

Yelti led her toward the grassy sward as Canaen scooted out of her way. Ahead, she recognized one of the riders that had found her and Coir in the Mingling, a vien mangled by the advanced effects of the Change. Most of those standing in the sward bore such signs of disease progression. Yelti stayed alongside her until they stopped in front of the horrible seated growth that yet bore the shape of a Vien. With a less-than-reassuring nod, he stepped back and settled cross-legged at the edge of the stone pavement.

The marred vienu who had examined her days before spoke:

"This is she, the Child of Vah who comes from the Nethec."

Jareen resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest or belly, standing with the poise her mother had taught her in childhood. She had never felt more uncomfortable than she did now, not even when she first joined the Order in Nosh and they forced the new sisters to examine and dissect the naked dead bodies of criminals and paupers. No one spoke for some time, but at last the vienu motioned for something, and another brought a lumpy bag forward and set it at the vienu's feet. It was Coir's bag of documents and belongings.

"From Theniel came one who could transcribe the Nethec script, who knows much of the ways of your people," she said to Jareen. "But there is much that is unclear. Many of these documents are reports from the Trees of the Synod. Why was your human receiving such reports?"

Noshian vulgarities flooded Jareen's mind, but she held back. Why had Coir brought such things with them? Was it merely his compulsion to save documents?

Yet she was to blame as well; she had seen his bag of tenae and had not inquired. She had allowed herself to be too distracted.

"They were not for him," she said. "The Synod forced me to care for those afflicted by the Malady, as they believed that it could not harm me. I was seeking to understand it. They gave him to me to assist in the work. I used him as a scribe."

"Malady?" someone asked. The Vienwé word was nodroth.

"Is this a Malady of Vien?" the vienu asked.

"It is."

There were whispers in the crowd.

"You were invested with authority," the vienu said. "And these reports were sent to you?"

"Yes, though I do not know what other documents Coir may have brought. Some were his own accounts and records."

"We have seen. Some are written in the human script. We have no translator for that."

Jareen nodded but did not reply.

"If these reports were sent to you," the vienu continued, "that would make you the Daughter of Talanael to whom they refer."

Jareen could have cursed again. She had focused on drawing suspicion away from Coir, and she had entrapped herself.

"I see it is true," the vienu said. "Does the affliction you call the Malady still rage in the Nethec?"

"No," Jareen said. It was best not to hide anything but that which must remain hidden for her babe's safety. "The Synod burned it."

The burning and the screaming filled her mind, but she jerked her head away as she often did when horrible memories of departures and plague came to her, as if she could look away from the memories with a physical movement.

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"Burned it? What does this mean?"

"They consumed the afflicted with fire."

There was a new murmuring among the Canaen, a shifting of bodies and faces turned one to another.

"What was the day?" the vienu asked. Jareen thought back. How many days had it been? It felt like a long time, but it wasn't. She struggled to count them.

"Perhaps three weeks? I do not know for sure."

The vienu nodded to some of the other Change-marred nearby.

"Is the Malady from you?" Jareen asked. If she was going to be interrogated, she might as well seek answers of her own. The vienu looked surprised by the question, though it was hard to read any expression beside the widening of her eyes, for the Change had immobilized much of her face.

"What is your meaning?"

"Did you send the Malady among us—to my. . . to the Nethec?"

While it was hard to discern the vienu's expression, many around furrowed their brows.

"No," she answered. "It arose from the Mingling and has burdened our people for decades. We thought it a tool of your Synod, but there was doubt when we saw it among your own warriors."

"They are not my warriors," Jareen said. "Is there a way to heal it? I could find none, though some lived."

"Amputation saves some at the earliest signs."

That confirmed a suspicion Jareen had never managed to put to test.

"Has its spread slowed over time?"

The vienu paused.

"Yes. It raged for a few years and took many lives, but now it occurs more rarely."

"This is not why we are here," someone said, an edge to their song. It was one of the rider's Jareen and Coir had seen arriving the day before before their guard had forced them back to the weavers' house. "The human is too much of a risk. He should be killed and the Child of Vah taken east where she cannot hope to return to the Nethec. You have told them far too much."

The vienu turned to him.

"She was found by Yellan, and in Yellan she will remain. We have already given the human safe haven."

"She is the Daughter of a High Tree of the Synod, cast out for forbidden love. Has she mingled with another High Tree?"

"I lied, about love," Jareen said, now lying. That got their attention. "I did not want you to know that I was a Daughter of Talanael, out of fear of your vengeance on the Synod."

"Why did you flee?" the vien demanded.

"So the Synod could not take my child and make it one of them, to die by the Change. I want my babe to live the long life of our people. Not die like me."

"Is the babe the scion of Talanael?"

"There has never been a scion born to an Insensitive," she said. That much was true as far as she knew.

"But you fear they will take the child."

Jareen felt the sweat on her forehead. Deceits were not natural to her. She knew what it was to withhold knowledge, but trying to deliberately mislead was another matter.

"Who is your mate?" the vienu asked.

Jareen blushed—she couldn't help it, and all would see the blood rush to her transparent skin.

"I have none."

There was more shifting of weight in the crowd.

"Who is the father of the child?" the vienu asked, her tone more forceful.

"He was a rider sent to the Mingling."

"If what she says is true and the child might prove an heir," the vien said, "then it is too dangerous to keep her so near the Mingling. She should be sent east beyond the Synod's reach. I will take her back with me."

"Ieloe is farther than Torveli," another vien said, stepping forward. "She shall return with us."

"Ieloe is by the sea."

"But we are near the Wellspring. We will take the babe and raise it to the Current and teach it the ways of Isecan. It may be a great weapon."

"The risk is too great," the vienu of Yellan said. "The blessing passed to the scions of the Synod is strong. Maybe stronger than you anticipate."

"We can deal with one."

"Kill the babe!" another said. "Strike the Synod."

"I have brothers!" Jareen sang out. "If you kill the babe, the blessing will pass to one of them, and they are out of your reach." Now she stood with her hands on her belly, shielding her child.

"She could be lying."

"We cannot search her."

Jareen's heart raced. Never had she been such a focus of attention, and she wished more than anything to flee.

"Torveli is the strongest enclave," said the rider. "We can best safeguard the child, whether it be boon or danger. Yellan's vien lie dead on the field, the same for all the Mingling enclaves. You do not have the strength should the Nethec attack."

"Yellan's vien turned the Nethec attack with their lives," the vienu sang in a strident tone. "We stand here on the border, to do the work of Isecan, and you turn up late to demand reward—for what? How many of Torveli's warriors faced the Nethec assault?"

"We have sent quth by the thousands."

"How brave a sacrifice!"

"Torveli will not have her," said another, "but Yellan does not have the strength to keep her."

A piercing voice from behind cut through the argument:

"You are all fools!"

A thrill of fear ran down Jareen's body, and she spun as if the words were the growl of a beast. Walking through the seated crowd from the western side of the pavement was a vienu tall and fell. Those sitting pressed away from her, leaving a path. Yelti rose to his feet, his hand on his sword.

"How did she pass through?" the vienu of Yellan hissed at Yelti. He did not respond, staying focused on the approaching vienu.

"Fools, yes, but in one thing they spoke truly," the newcomer said, her voice projecting with unnatural force. "You do not have the strength to hold her."

"Do not come to our tir and threaten us," the vienu of Yellan answered.

The newcomer arrived before Yelti and stopped. Long robes of darkest green draped her form, and her abundant hair was violet and viridian, with no sign of natural color. Yet she was little marred by the Change otherwise. In places, her skin had pigmented, but her natural features remained, though one iris shone violet.

The strange vienu ignored the others and stared straight at Jareen, looking her up and down, lingering on her belly. Jareen felt like screaming, not out of fear, but out of frustration. The last thing she needed was one more incomprehensible influence arguing over her own child.

"I do not threaten," the vienu said, her voice much softer. "Sometimes I warn."

From the western opening in the stone ring-wall, Isla and a knot of his armed riders rushed onto the pavement, hurrying down the path in the wake of the newcomer.

"What do you want, enchantress?" the vienu of Yellan asked.

"Are you done with the Child of Vah?" the strange vienu asked. "What more do you wish to ask her?"

The Canaen looked around. No one spoke.

"You know who she is," the vienu went on. "You know a scion of the Synod is in her belly. Let us not argue in front of her. Send her away and we can speak freely."

The vienu of Yellan hesitated.

"Yelti, take her back," she said at last.

Jareen was happy to go, and she hurried through the crowd close beside Yelti. The sitting Canaen hardly paid her heed now, their attention strained toward the one called enchantress.

Up the winding tree-stair Jareen climbed, taking a break halfway to catch her breath. At last, they took the final turn around the tree. The front stoop of the house was empty; the sentry was gone. Yelti hesitated, placing a hand before Jareen to stop her. He stared at the windows and quietly drew his sword. For some time, he did not move. At last, he stepped soundlessly to the door. Releasing the latch, he pressed the door inward and leaned to survey the main room. He raised a hand to signal Jareen to stay put and stepped inside. Jareen was nervous, unsure of the danger and worried about Coir. Not wishing to be left by herself, she followed Yelti to the doorway.

The first room appeared empty. Yelti moved to the center, his sword held in a high guard.

"Neshlen?" he called.

"Coir?" Jareen called from the door. Silence followed. The five doorways ahead were closed. Yelti inched back toward the door, then drew in a sudden breath through his nose.

"Run!" he shouted. A door swung open, and a quth sprang out, ducking beneath the lintel. The beast was unarmed, but in its hand it held a tall glass vessel. Jareen screamed. Yelti reached a hand out toward the quth. The wooden doorframe around it burst into spiny growths, but at the same moment the monster flung the contents of the vessel. The dark liquid splashed over Yelti's face. He recoiled, staggering back. A thick, sweet smell spread through the room, flowing past Jareen. Yelti collapsed onto his side, his head lolling as he fought to rise. The quth strode toward Jareen, two more coming out of the room behind it. The world was confused. She turned, thinking she ought to run, but the stairs were sideways. The quth's hair-covered arm reached around her and lifted the glass vessel to her face.

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