It was a week or so before the sanctum returned to what passed for normal. Fuligin Adept rose first. He busied himself right away with releasing certain detainees gathered by the sanctified porters in their inquest. Most were guilty of minor or even engineered infractions, and all were fathers or mothers. They were restored to their families with any injuries tended to (most of them were minor, though one woman had to be given a prosthetic leg), and those families affected were given additions to their food stores as well.

  I met a man named Oscar during this time of renewal. He and several others came looking for refuge. He had a woman by his side at all times for the first few days. Her name was Dolores. I took her for his wife, given the constancy of their company, but I learned they were siblings, and her husband had died while they fled from a blight that claimed the last township they passed through. Oscar and Dolores spoke for their group, earning the trust of the Ossarians and the respect of the tarrasquin. They and one of their older women were introduced to the Dolomites, who saw all newcomers before deciding if they could stay. The older woman seemed unnerved by them, as most are, but Oscar and Dolores were reverent. Something about Oscar reminded me of Turk. I can't say what. Perhaps it was his martial bearing, or his constant attentiveness. Or perhaps the two had met, and I sensed the residue left on souls when lives entwine.

  Albedo Adept joined Fuligin in interviewing the refugees, followed in time by Rouge and Xanthous. Their group acclimated quickly, and proved to be an asset as they were strong fighters and resourceful workers. They treated the Dolomites with respect, and some of their men even volunteered to help the tarrasquin with their patrols. Oscar was among those.

  I remember being agitated that I couldn't figure why he reminded me of Turk. Turk was tall, broad and thickly built, with a stern face and dark brown skin. Oscar was of average height, slender and sinewy, with a narrow jaw and pointy nose, and while much darker than me, he was a great deal lighter than Turk. The look Oscar gave me when I was in his sight differed greatly as well. Turk seemed interested in me, once he took notice, where Oscar eyed me through sidelong glances, and never spoke with more than a nod Yet he did take more note of me than any other porter or Boy of the Batch. I mentioned this to Martas one day. I'd taken to him somewhat, as if our shared horror had made us friends.

  "Who cares if they speak to us?" he answered obligingly, after I'd asked if he'd noticed the same things as I. "The townsfolk never speak to us, unless they're required to."

  "But these are newcomers," I replied, trying to speak in a more common way. It had occurred to me that only I spoke the way I did. I truly loved the dialogue and prose of the old books in the archives, but I only alienated others by insisting on emulating archaic speech. It was one of many layers of alienating behavior I had begun to peel away after my first meeting with Turk. I enjoyed my brief interaction with him, and hoped to have more with others.

  "They spoke to the Ossarians first," Martas reasoned, "they likely warned them off speaking with us. Fates! What's that lunatic up to now?".

  We were outside the skywatch dome, cleaning the pile of air vents with steel brushes. Kendra was dancing just outside the border, her silhouette outlined by the eerie white glow that lingered for a moment once one passed beyond the great torches. I called out to her, but she did not hear me, so I ran after her. The border was not so dangerous, but I did not want her to be in the habit of crossing it. One did not have to travel far to find trouble, or get lost in the darkness. For a well equipped group such as Oscar's, or a fearsome cataphract like Turk, the wilds were traversable. But Kendra would not likely last more than a few days. If a predator did not hunt her down, she could freeze at night, or be stung and then infested by poisonous insects. I took her hand and led her back.

  Dolores was in the westing house that night. I saw her among the giantesses as I entered, and thinking she needed the solace of the place more than I, I meant to back out the door, worried my presence might draw attention away from her. But she turned her head as if she heard my thought, and her eyes met mine with such a stare that I came to her side instantly. Anassa grumbled happily when she noticed I was standing by her big grey toes and wiggled them.

  "They speak of you," she said.

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  It occurred to me that I'd never heard a giant speak. I wondered too if perhaps I had, but had taken the sound as something else, or if their speaking voices were below my hearing, and this woman from beyond my world had learned to listen for them. Eventually I would hear the speech of the megatherian peoples, and learn a great many things about their grief.

  "I grieve for my husband," she continued, "they grieve for their whole kindred."

  I scratched at the arch of Anassa's foot and she smiled.

  "My name is Dolores.". She looked at me with curiosity.

 I hesitated, only because I was reflexively going to reply with the same ridiculous pomp I gave to Turk, then said it plain. "I'm Victor. Thirty-ninth initiate of my Batch."

   "Your Batch?".

I stood tall with pride as I explained the entire procedure, beginning with my refusal to choose a covenant and my reasons why. As I progressed through the time I spent awaiting my fate in the labor pool, and my journey beneath the cold waves of the northern sea, Dolores grew increasingly despondent. Soon my shoulders sank and my voice trailed off, and I realised that I had begun discussing in detail the secret work of my masters. Anassa must have sensed my anxiousness, as she bent her small toe and gently pressed it against me.

 "Will you join us for our meal tonight?" Dolores asked.

I was surprised by the invitation, but agreed, eager to make friends. I brought Kendra with me, which pleased Dolores. They invited me into their home, a sort of lean-to of their own construction. They had children among them, who they kept hidden until they felt secure among the Ossarians. Kendra immediately embedded herself into their huddle, singing and laughing, doing anything but talk, but bringing smiles nonetheless.

"Is she your sister?" Dolores asked.

"No. She was orphaned after I arrived. I've looked after her since."

I noticed then that there were children of my age dressed as adults and cleaning their weapons. The food was served, and those boys and girls came to eat after washing their hands with a strange orange jel.

The meal was modest, but all from their own stores, and so a delight for Kendra and I, as it was different than that provided by either the Dolomites or piteous Ossarians. Kendra ate greedily while I minded my manners. There was a haunch of some great lizard that put my etiquette to the test, however.

  The conversation was sparse. I asked few questions, and gave only what information I thought polite to volunteer. Then Oscar asked me if I wanted to live.

  "Oscar," said Dolores, quietly upset. She looked at me apologetically.

  It was strange, but my reflexive answer of yes lacked finility. I began wondering why one would even ask such a question, then found myself considering reasons why death might be preferable to life, and I saw in my mind Asher being reborn as a soft rain that rose into the wind. I thought of Anassa, and the scars on the sad faces of the giantesses, their tears washing the stone floor as they tended to the excrutiants. I then thought of reasons a person might not deserve life, and how their clinging to it could bring pain to others. Ultimately, my pondering over Oscar's question moved me to look at Kendra.

  "You don't owe me an answer," he said.

  The old woman who'd first met the Dolomites spoke. Her name was Narriette, and she told me Kendra was always welcome under their roof. Kendra found a low wall ringing a half dead garden and danced on it. Something about her movement seemed to pull the distant blue trickle that came from the moon down closer.

  "She dances with her back to the light," said Narriette.

  Dolores came with us a ways as we left, and I felt hesitant to part company with her group, despite her brother's strange question. As that thought passed through my mind, Oscar emerged from the blackness under the torches, now dimmed to accommodate sleep.

  "I didn't want to pry anything secret from you," he said. "You seem a worthy young man, with many labors ahead. Such labors are bestowed upon those who can succeed at them, and such questions serve to stir powerful thoughts that might move one to action."

  I nodded and thanked him for his interest, then made my way to the porter house and lay in my bed, my thoughts circling around this strange man's strange words. The next day I brought a casque of lobelia wine to the examination chamber. Griseo Adept opened the door, but rather than usher me in, he took hold of the cart and wheeled it in himself, closing the door behind him. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  I wonder this now as I recall this day: Had I yet to peel flesh from the bones of wailing detainees, or observe in person the ritual devouring and purging of their meat by my masters, would Turk have taken interest in me? As it happened, the two of us met when he was in the eye of his storm, and I was in the calm before mine.