“I don’t think I’m meant to be afraid of you,” Idir told Alize the following day.

The morning sunlight dazzled through the billowing clothes covering the tent windows. Outside, Alize could hear swords clashing as Davram and Kell spared. She had completed her own exercises earlier in the morning, feeling the vastness of the steppes around her.

“But,” Idir continued, “I know that the echo bearers are dying with the earthquakes.”

“The earthquakes?” Alize repeated.

“Yes, I think they have something to do with the accumulation. Because even in this corrupted form, a bearer still can control who the echoes will go to upon their death. Someone is trying to disrupt this transfer and it seems they need to do some powerful magic. I think that’s what generates the earthquakes.”

“And how many earthquakes have we had?”

“I’ve lost count.” Idir replied.

Alize recalled the face of the man she had seen when she possessed the gray magic. Hadn’t he said something about echoes? Onder entered the room to join the discussion.

“I’ve run into at least two Conjurers with echoes – do you think whoever is accumulating it could be redistributing it?” said Alize.

“You’d need some sort of binding magic to do that,” Onder yawned.

Alize looked at him obviously, “Like the gray magic? The gray magic that stinks of a Conjurer who whispered his will to whole villages?”

Onder blinked. Alize watched him rise only to return a few moments later with his bag. He shuffled through it and produced the two vials containing the magic he had taken from Alize.

“If Idir’s right, the echo magic found you Alize. Arouah’s magic might have been bound to it and just came along for the ride. It could be that magic that made you ill.”

“And made me see the other Conjurer, if he’s the one binding it to his subjects,” said Alize. She picked up one of the vials. “What if you just hold back the gray magic and I’ll see what happens if I take the echo?” This had been Onder’s proposal two days prior, but now it was Alize’s choice.

The glass stopper scrapped against the sides of the vial as Alize pulled it off and the magic whirled out in a mass of gray. But Onder held his hand steady and the magic slowed, twisting before Alize until the gray peeled from the white. Alone, the echo sank into Alize gently. Onder moved to bottle the gray, but it dissipated. A moment of silence followed.

“Let me try something,” Idir murmured. She performed the ceremonial sign of subordination, and though Alize rebelled against receiving it, the feeling subsided as Idir produced her mass of echoes. It manifested into a small white light that floated between them – the veneration of surviving clan members from Idir’s period of leadership. It peacefully transferred to Alize who closed her eyes to consider the implications.

Idir watched her in curiosity and amazement, and a little bit of pride.

“We need to leave,” Alize stated as she looked up. She probed the echoes. Through them, she could vaguely see many other bearers. But that link was broken by a barrier obscuring her perception – one that she quickly understood to be Onder’s protective spell. She could view the other Conjurers as if through a veil, seeing enough to understand that some of them were looking for her, and unable to locate her. Many, but not all, bore the same gray magic that had ripped into her in Julfa and in the mountain pass.

Others held only the white echoes and Alize could feel them drawn to her, although the words of the Eastern Temple were whispered frequently enough to help Alize understand that the white magic drew the bearers there. And through the veil Alize perceived the shadowy outline of a man emanating power in a way that did not translate well into Alize’s medium. But his presence persisted and when she focused on him she felt Onder’s protection weakening. So she withdrew.

They needed, she explained to the men as they gathered their belongings together, to go somewhere where it would be safe to break Onder’s protection magic so she could learn more about the shadowy man.

“I think the choice is clear,” said Davram.

“Jorin’s entourage,” Kell nodded grimly. “He should be in Venin by now – we can catch him there.”

When Idir approached them to say her farewell, Alize reacted with confusion. “I thought you were accompanying us to the Eastern Temple.”

“I am no longer called there.” Idir responded. “Truly, I am needed at home.” Alize dismounted from Josoun and stood in front of Idir, who after a moment pulled her into a warm embrace. “It has been such a pleasure,” Idir whispered into her hair, “to meet another Hrumi. Renounced or not, you honor the true Hrumi heritage.”

Alize flushed. “Thank you.”

Idir released Alize to hug Kell, who accepted her fondly. Then she stood back to observe all four of the travelers. “You take care of each other now.” Her eyes danced between Kell and Alize for the longest.

The road to Venin took them back through the forest for nearly a week, but the trees did not again warn of Kogaloks. On the fifth day the winds rustled the branches overhead as Davram and Kell deliberated how to introduce Alize at the court. They finally agreed she should pose as Onder’s niece. It would be a flimsy story to anyone who knew him, but better than the any other alternative.

“And don’t talk to anyone,” Davram warned.

Alize’s face was drawn as they guided their horses into the throngs entering the gates of Venin. She mentally recited all the instructions the Sargons had repeated. All around people jostled against their horses and Alize watched a man pick up a small girl as the crowding intensified. The girl smiled as he lifted her to his shoulders. He kept walking while he pressed his hand to the lower back of the willow woman beside to him, urging her ahead of him. When they turned to speak to each other, their mutual exhaustion shifted to encouragement, and they began anew to press their way through the crowd. Alize touched the spot on her own back, remembering Kell’s hand resting there during the last earthquake.

Through the gates the streets cleared and the riders dismounted.

“Sargon Davram?” A woman spoke above the murmurs of the crowd. Alize took a step backwards as she turned to face her. The woman stood at the center of a group of willow women, all dressed deep hues of pomegranates and evening skies. The golden and silver threads adorning their silk robes twinkled with the amulets at their necks. As Alize watched, they parted like wheat stalks in the wind so the speaker could glide forward on perfectly placed slippers sewn with tiny pearls.

Because Davram paused directly in front of her, Alize shifted to reclaim her view. The woman stood tall and sturdy, and in truth Alize observed nothing willowy about her. Before she could puzzle over that, Kell’s hand grip her wrist to tug her behind Davram again.

“Milady Greer,” Davram spoke. He and Kell both bowed lowly and over them, the woman raised her chin as her gaze flitted to Alize. Somehow her eyes seemed uncommonly large even as she kept them half closed. Her arched eyebrows stood out against her brown skin, with just a hint of rosiness around her cheekbones. She smiled at Alize with tight lips.

It might not have been a smile.

Before Alize, Davram rose quickly, blocking her view once more. As he glanced backwards at her, his expression made it clear the action was deliberate.

“Have you spoken to my grandfather?” the woman asked. Unlike her voice, her gaze bore nothing so mild or demure.

“We are only just arriving,” Davram answered. “How may I be of service to you?”

“My grandfather seeks you – both of you, actually.” She nodded to Kell. “I advise you attend to him immediately.”

"Your counsel is deeply appreciated,” Davram responded.

“Please,” the woman’s continued, “introduce your companions.”

“I’m certain you remember Mage Onder,” Davram answered as Onder too dipped into a bow. “And this is his niece, the lady Alize.”

Alize had just started to wonder if the ceremonial sign of subordination was appropriate when Kell stepped close beside her. He pressed her knee from behind, causing Alize to stumble forward. But Kell was ready, and he caught her with his arms around her waist.

He set her gently back on her feet. “Careful there,” he murmured, just loud enough for the woman to overhear.

Alize glared at Kell as she wrenched away from him, but the woman laughed softly. “Lady Alize, you must learn to curtsy lest you give our Sargon another excuse to ‘help’ you.”

All three men laughed a little too forcefully in response. The burning in her stomach prevented Alize from joining them. She had some sharp words for Kell.

“Would you be so kind to escort us to your grandfather?” Davram interrupted. As he spoke, he subtly adjusted his stance to again block Alize from the woman’s gaze. While Kell handed Onder their horse’s reigns, Davram mouthed to Alize, “Don’t talk to anyone.”

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Alize smiled sweetly.

Davram gave her a stern look.

After the Sargons departed with the women, Onder exhaled and staggered to lean against his horse, his hand on his heart. “The gods must smile upon you Alize. That was Princess Greer, Prince Jorin’s oldest grandchild. She’s not one known for overlooking anything.”

Granddaughter to a High Prince. Alize flashed her gaze back to the Sargons, watching the crowd swallow them and the princess.

Onder led her to the stables. When she began to tend Josoun he shook his head and took the reins. “You’d better let me do that, milady,” he murmured.

But at the caravanserai, Alize slipped out of the door before Onder had a chance to reiterate Davram’s warnings.

The royal court traveled from the summer to late autumn, when the heat and stink of their winter capitals became intolerable for the pampered nobility. Undoubtedly this autumn Jorin’s court was spurred towards the Eastern Temple like the rest of the steppe communities. His province bordered the old Ginmae lands to the north – less than two days’ ride from the Temple itself.

The Hrumi had elaborate stories about the High Prince’s court. They featured grotesque men, pathetic, abused women and banquets of raw meat served by stunted little house girls. But as Alize pressed her way through the streets she found herself mostly ignored unless she happened to meet someone’s eyes. In that case they would nod in acknowledgement before continuing on their way. Alize practiced mirroring the greeting on various groups of women walking arm and arm down the streets. Their musical laughter had not been featured in the Hrumi tales.

A man called something crude from the tannery and some of the women visibly bristled. But Alize felt satisfaction to witness the exchange: this abuse was at least familiar with Hrumi portrayals. She narrowed her eyes and walked towards the stall.

A large man within stood across the counter from her. He placed a bag on the counter while Alize studied his broad shoulders and easy smile. He was a great deal older than Davram, and moved nearly as stiffly as Onder. An easy opponent, if it came to that, she judged.

“Do you fancy it?”

There was something slightly unnerving about how he held eye contact with her. “It’s fresh made, Miringian leather.”

Alize nodded and broke from his gaze.

He leaned towards her and his fingers came to rest on the bag not far from Alize’s hands. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. Are you new to the court?”

“I am.” Alize said, still examining the bag. She did not want it, but under his attention she felt she could not simply leave without causing insult.

“Well, you know it’s tradition for the tanners in Venin to welcome the newest courtly women.”

“Is it?”

“It is.” The man bent forward, the top of his head almost touching Alize’s. His skin smelled of the leather he handled. “Will you allow me to do the honors?”

Alize could not think of any way to refuse. She tempered her desire to leave with her need to maintain her disguise. She felt the man’s lips touch her cheek gently. They were chapped, and just a little wet, and then there was a slight pressure and his lips lingered a moment above her skin. He sighed as he pulled away and suddenly gripped her hands in his. Alize knotted her brows and intuitively tugged from his reach.

“Well, thank you,” she spoke, hoping to pave the way for her departure.

The man looked solemn. “Should you require any services milady, anything at all, you know where to find me.” The man now wore a very strange expression, mostly confusion, but with an odd wistfulness too that Alize did not recognize.

She cleared her throat and bid him good day, nodding to him once more as she stepped away from the stall and kept walking. She had a strange feeling that he continued watching her.

Alize soon returned to the caravanserai where she found Davram cleaning his sword. “Listened to all my instructions I see,” he observed wryly.

“I listened to all your other instructions,” Alize said with a shrug, “You saw your prince?” She began stretching, preparing to do her exercises.

“Saw him.” Davram voice lost its amusement. “He’s in rare form.” Davram slashed his sword a little harder than before.

Alize felt too exhausted to inquire further. The cities made her mind sluggish. Instead she asked him, “Do all the tradesmen welcome the new women of the court, or just the tanners?”

Davram looked up. “Welcome who?”

“The new women - the new women of the court.” Alize did not stop moving in her exercise.

“I mean, I suppose anyone can.” Davram said, returning to his work.

“Do they welcome the new men too?” Alize asked after a moment.

“Alize, I’m not sure I understand what you’re talking about?”

“The man downstairs, in the tannery said he needed to welcome me. I agreed, and then he,” Alize gestured with her hands, “he put his face on my cheek and afterwards looked at me very oddly. Why didn’t you warn me about that? I didn’t know what to do. The Hrumi have no such greeting.” Alize leaned against the opposite wall for her next stretch. She waited for a response from Davram, but instead heard his deep rumbling laughter. Alize dropped her pose and turned to face him. “I beg your pardon.”

“You should beg his,” Davram breathed out, “oh dear, we’ve really got to prepare you better. These men are vicious.” Davram was still laughing.

“Vicious is hardly the right word-”

“Stop! Next you’ll be telling me that you liked it!”

“What are you talking about?!” While Alize stared at Davram, the door to the room creaked open. Kell entered and kicked the door shut behind him.

Alize continued, “I was trying to protect my disguise-”

“Kell,” Davram said, still laughing as Kell rummaged through his bag. “Someone’s taken a fancy to our Alize. Bastard tricked her into giving away a kiss.”

Kell paused and smiled belatedly with a forced expression. “Who kissed who?”

“I’m sorry,” Alize started, “am I missing something here?”

“Don’t let men kiss you.” Kell said bluntly before resuming his shuffling.

“Kell, what happened?” Davram sat up in his chair, his merriment dissipated.

Alize turned too, but Kell did not acknowledge her as he responded to Davram. “I just found out that Jorin’s got work for me.”

“Oh.” Alize wondered if she imagined Davram’s eyes briefly flicker to her. “You mean, uh-”

“Yes. So I’m now unavailable.”

“You can’t come tomorrow?” Davram asked, dismayed. They had discussed breaking Onder’s shield on Alize early the next morning.

“You know I can’t, Davram. You’ll have to manage without me.” Kell nodded to Alize before closing the door behind him. Alize tilted her head towards Davram, suspecting she understood, but dreading any confirmation.

Alize was dreaming of the forest when she felt herself shaken awake. She jerked to see Kell at her bedside, shrouded in darkness.

“Shh.” Kell whispered quickly. He knelt beside Alize’s pillow and seemed oblivious to his own shivering. As Alize pulled herself up to face him, he touched a finger to his lips and gestured to Onder, sleeping soundly in the next bed.

Alize spoke in a hush. “It’s the middle of the night?”

“I know.” Kell had circles under his eyes and blinked too often. “But I need to talk to you. It’s my work.”

Alize shook herself awake as she waited for Kell to elaborate.

“There’s a Hrumi here, just caught a week ago.”

Alize felt her insides seize. This was precisely the most uncomfortable she could be with the mixing of the two worlds she had come to know. Somewhere in this city sprawled a Hrumi, encased in Sargon’s iron prison. Alize drew her covers to her throat.

“I’ve spent all today just talking to her.” Kell continued, “She’s starving herself.”

“Of course she is. She fears losing her soul.”

“Alize,” Kell groused, “we’ve talked about this. No Sargon will soultruss her. If she survives, we’ll help her live in the Parousia Province.” Kell whispered.

“You swear it?” Alize demanded in a whisper. She could hear the aggression in her voice nonetheless. She could not spare Kell that window into her desperation.

“I do. But,” Kell formed his next words slowly, “it’s not looking good. She’s already had two episodes of becoming unresponsive. It’s the fastest I’ve seen. And she won’t talk to me at all.”

“Well you can hardly be surprised! You’ve told her your theories about the kidnapping?” Alize rubbed her eyes as she remembered her own frustrations with Kell’s calm insistences. “She’ll never listen to you!”

“I know what you said, but there isn’t time now. If we can just save-”

“We?” Alize repeated sharply.

“I thought - I thought maybe you could help me-”

The sick feeling in Alize’s gut blossomed immediately into full-blown anger. “Kell,” she spat, “We’ve talked about this.” She sarcastically echoed his words.

“I know-”

“I will have nothing to do with your work, and that is an extremely generous concession on my part!”

“But she’s dying-”

“Of course she’s dying! This isn’t her world! You’ve ripped her from it and you’re trying to convince her that she’s a monster!” Alize was still trying to whisper but her words caught in her throat and some syllables became vocalized.

“I’m trying to save her life!” Kell too struggled to keep his voice low. Beside them, Onder shifted. They both froze, watching him, but he remained enveloped in his sleep.

And Alize wondered why she had such aversion to anyone else hearing them converse in heated whispers in the nighttime.

Kell turned back to her, his gaze wary and weary. “Don’t you know what the alternative is?”

“Don’t play innocent here; it’s murder no matter what you call it!”

“I’m not the one killing her!”

“You don’t have to wield the blade if your actions assure the outcome!” Alize threw her hands up, “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation!”

“Then help me! If you could just get her to listen-”

“I told you once, Kell, that I would never, ever be your messenger. What on earth made you think I’d changed my mind?”

“You’d rather doom her to death?” Kell mopped his brow.

Remorse washed over Alize. But she knew Kell would never follow the only advice she could offer.

She made a conscious effort to speak more gently. “I am not the one dooming her, Kell. If you want her to live, let her go.”

“You know I can’t do that.” Kell responded flatly. “But you can help Alize, and you won’t. Why?”

Alize shook her head, but then held Kell’s eyes while she replied. “You’re asking me to defend a story I’m not convinced I believe. But even if I did defend it, in a prison, in that forum, it will only foster her agony.” I know that from first-hand experience. “It won’t save her. You may know a lot about the Hrumi, Kell, but you can’t mistake information for understanding.”

Kell bent his head into the folds of the blankers and groaned.

Alize continued, sorrowfully. “Everything you will say is a lie because you are a both a Sargon and speaking. A kind Sargon doesn’t exist.”

“That’s what you believe?” Kell asked, raising his head. His eyes were bloodshot.

“A kind Sargon doesn’t exist for an imprisoned Hrumi,” Alize rephrased. “You can’t take away all her power and then ask her to admire you.”

“But if she listened to me-”

“You mean if she surrenders that little bit of power she still wields?”

Kell started to stammer but Alize preempted his retort. “Even an eagle won’t court the friendship of a lion, so why should a wounded rabbit?”

“You call me a killer! What have I done to-?”

“Listen, Kell. I’m talking about the space between what she sees and what you are. I know they are not the same. But you’re threatening her, and you have no right to act surprised that she won’t care to hear your justifications.”

Kell shook his head bitterly, “The Hrumi have a perfectly enclosed system to ensure you can never be proven wrong. Meanwhile your clan members are dying!”

“No one regrets that more than we do!”

“But if she dies anyway, at least you can say that you tried.”

Alize did not need to hear the frustration in Kell’s voice to understand it. The same boiling blood flowed in her veins. She pressed her fingers to her temple. “You’re asking me to take sides, Kell. I’ve already been renounced. As much as I want to save her, me walking in that prison wearing a dress won’t do it. She’ll hate me and my betrayal far more than she hates you.”

“Do you fear hurting her, or yourself, Alize?”

Alize clenched her fists but fought against the ferocity of her response. Just because she hated to hear that accusation did not make it untrue. “Can’t I fear both? Do you think I’m lying to you?”

Kell exhaled. “No, I don’t.”

“I’m not against helping you, but in this situation, what you’re doing is wrong. Nothing I can do will change that.”

Again Kell rested his head on the bed. The blankets muffled his voice. “I have good intentions Alize. I wish I was better at this.”

“I know you do, Kell.” It was unclear which statement Alize affirmed.

Kell sat with his head by her waist while the night spun a cloaking web of darkness.