For a spirit of the night winds, a simple stone atop a mound would probably be home enough, but Ilati wanted to make certain the people of Sa Dul successfully appeased Ezezu. It was always better not to anger such creatures. "I wish we had a mason's tools," the priestess said as she looked up at the raw piece of stone, uneven and jagged.

"Tell me what you wish carved into it and I will make it so," Eigou said. The one-eyed sorcerer stood at her side as the people of Sa Dul continued to work, wrapping reeds into tight bundles they would use to build a shrine around the stone. It was the same construction as their houses, far less grand than the temple Ilati had once spent her days in. "Here." The sorcerer pressed a piece of chalk into her palm.

The priestess nodded and approached the stone, watched by the almost reverent eyes of the villagers. She still ached from her battle with the demon, particularly her healing leg. The claw marks up and down her arm were already healing thanks to Eigou's herbs. She heard a few shocked breaths from behind her when she wrote on the stone. Likely no one in the village of Sa Dul knew how, but they'd dealt with merchants who had learned literacy in the kingdom's centers of learning. To even know how to read was a mark of status.

Here is the home of the god

Of the vineyards, of the fallen tree

Most powerful and most giving

Many are his blessings

Many are our thanks

For twelve and twelve years

His tree stood proud

May this stone house him now

And remind

That all praises and gifts

All beneficences return sevenfold

Ilati took a step back once she had finished marking the stone. "If you could make this last, Eigou, I would most appreciate it."

The sorcerer smiled, scratching at his jaw. "Of course." He gestured with his hands and muttered something under his breath.

On the stone, the chalk markings seemed to burn with a sudden bright white light, etching themselves deep into the stone. A symbol appeared beneath them: the trunk and branches of a leafless tree. The villagers clustered together with a sharp collective inhale of awe, watching. They looked to Eigou and Ilati. "Two sorcerers?" Shammu said with a mix of caution and fascination.

"I am only a priestess," Ilati said as she stepped down from the mound. "Are you ready, Shammu?"

The young man nodded, holding the last jar of Sa Dul's fine wine to his chest and the best of the grain they had remaining in the pouch in his fist. "Are you certain of this, priestess?" he asked as he approached the mound, eyeing the new impromptu stela nervously. "I do not wish to be struck dead by its anger."

Eigou dusted off his hands. "You are at no greater risk than you were before."

Shammu did not look comforted by that comment, at least until Ilati put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed slightly. She was still weak from the rending of claws, but she offered him a smile all the same. "As long as you are a man of your word, you will be safe under our protection. Trust in us."

He straightened his back slightly and gave her a much firmer nod. "For Sa Dul." Shammu sucked in a deep breath and looked again at Ilati. "What do I say? How do I sway such a being? If you are a priestess, you know what such things find pleasing, surely."

Ilati thought of K'adau and her time in the desert, crawling through the dunes as she died of thirst. For a moment, she could again taste the actinic flash of lightning against her lips. "The truth. Any child of the night winds will know a falsehood for what it is. The contents of your heart are more important than pretty words." She stepped out of Shammu's way, so he could come to the base of the stela where a small stone bowl sat ready for offerings.

The young man knelt with a bowed head at the base of the standing stone, wine in one hand and wheat in the other. "Spirit of the tree that I felled, hear me," the young man called out, his voice shaking despite all his resolve to be calm. "I am Shammu, son of Nabon. You were bound to the land that I coveted, and I wronged you with stinging words and stinging blows when you warned me of my trespass. I brought your wrath upon us and a great woe to my people."

A wind rose from the north, sudden and biting. At her side, Ilati caught a slight intake of breath from Menes and the shifting of Shir Del's fingers on her bowstring. Both warriors could feel the change in the air just as she could. It was like the charge in the air she had felt before the great thunderstorm in the desert had swept over her. Even under the sun, Ezezu's power and presence were palpable as the wind coursed around Shammu.

To his credit, the young man did not falter. "I have robbed you of your home, o spirit of the tree. Together we have made you another, with the help of these strangers. I invite you in to sit within our town as an honored guest, a beloved presence, a watchful guide on following what is proper. For all the days of my life, I will fill your cup and bring you grain, and I will teach all the sons of Sa Dul who I see grow to treat you with the same reverence." As he spoke, he poured the wine into the bowl and sprinkled the grain atop it. "Drink deeply, one whom I have wronged. My service will be my atonement, and for every year your tree has stood, I will guard this stela and venerate you as is proper."

A crack of thunder split the blue sky and Ilati felt the presence step into the stone like a king assuming his throne. For a moment, she saw Ezezu in her mind with crystal clarity, not the devouring monster she had encountered, but a primal spirit of nature, calm and alive with green growth. A sigh of wind pulsed this time not from the north, but outward from the stone itself. As it passed over the people, fresh green grass worked its way up through the paving stones in a ripple outwards.

The choking thorns in the vegetable gardens and vineyards crumbled into nothingness as the wind moved further and further out. Withered grapes suddenly swelled with sweetness and abundance, hanging heavily on reinvigorated vines. The many channels and irrigation flows that once stank with yellowed foam ran clear, the life–giving waters of the River Nintu restored to their pristine state. The sound of lively, hungry goats echoed from the depths of several sheds, where the animals had lain in their sick-beds.

Shammu collapsed forward, pressing his forehead to the earth in front of the stone. In an unsteady, but fervent chant, they could hear his gratitude as a simple, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

All around, the pall of sorrow lifted like the joy of waking from a terrible nightmare. Green growth and flowers bloomed out from the stone, fed by the power of the one who now called it home. While jubilation and gratitude filled the air, Ilati made her own prayer silently.

May he forever remember his promise.

Hedis seized Ilati from the side, squeezing the priestess in a sudden hug. "Thank you for your part in this," the older woman whispered, tears of relief running down her cheeks. "I thought I would lose my sons."

Eigou crouched down near the base of the mound that the stela sat on, his fingers caressing a few of the small purple irises that had just sprouted in the freshly compacted earth. He made no move to pick them as they blossomed and grew in height. For a moment, Ilati didn't even hear Hedis's words. She was watching the sorcerer, the love in his expression, the tenderness of his touch to such a little thing. The flowers seemed to lean into his touch. When he finally turned his eye back to the people of Sa Dul and their celebration, the bringing of more offerings, Ilati had expected to see a reflection of their joy.

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Instead, there was a strange wistfulness to the old man's expression as he left the flower behind.

"Are you well, Eigou?" Ilati asked.

He blinked out of his daze and then scratched at his beard. "Not half as well as the people of Sa Dul. They seem most pleased with the outcome, may they honor their neighbor for many a year." He looked past Ilati at Hedis, chuckling at the widow's enthusiastic gratitude.

"For all the days of my life," Hedis promised fervently. "We will take fine care of the god of the vineyards." The woman released Ilati when her sons called her name and scurried off to join the congregation of villagers around the stone.

Shir Del moved her fingers from her bow's string, relaxing as the growth continued. "A demon one night, a god another. I do not understand your people."

"Well, you only have two gods. That simplifies things greatly," Eigou said cheerfully. "Try a city like Ulmanna, where there are almost as many gods as people."

"I had not realized that you collected such things, staying in one place all the time." The warrior woman considered the idea, trying it on for mental size. "Is that why you build so many huts of earth and never travel? The gods weigh you down?"

Menes chuckled and shook his head. "Perhaps we will be fortunate and the answer to many shadows along the path will be so amicable." The dark-skinned warrior seemed as pleased as the villagers as he watched them pour libations in celebration.

Shir Del raised an eyebrow. "Amicable? Eigou can be forgiven for overlooking the claw marks on Ilati, he is half blind, but you have both of your eyes, Menes."

"On the grand scheme of things. It could have been much worse." Even with Ezezu's name, Ilati was certain that the beast could have destroyed Sa Dul and devoured every one of its inhabitants. The priestess was profoundly grateful that had not come to pass. Enough Kullan villages had burned at the hands of the Nadaren already, so one being spared misfortune was a great mercy in her eyes. "What ends well is well, yes? Not that this is over, exactly, but the danger is past so long as they hold to their oaths. There is hope in that."

"Indeed," Eigou said. He clapped his hands together. "Let us leave the people of Sa Dul to their celebrating. We have other matters to attend to."

Menes frowned slightly. "Such as?"

"Our farewells." The sorcerer gestured to Shir Del. "I am told that we will be parting ways with the Sut Resi at the edge of the forest, and that is only half a day's ride from here."

Ilati felt a pang of loss at that. She knew that Shir Del and Roshanak were going to accompany them, but there were many among the Sut Resi tribe they had come to know who she would miss.

As if in answer to that thought, Youtab butted her nose into Ilati's hand. The wild horse was affectionate in her own way, even if she let no one besides the priestess touch her. Warmth flooded through Ilati's hand, a gentler version of the burning connection between mare and rider than had flared the night before.

"We will see them again," Shir Del said with confidence. "Artakhshathra will not sit idly by while the snake-tongued king sits on his golden throne."

"Oh?" Eigou said thoughtfully as they walked towards the riders gathered on the edge of town.

"The tribe will move south. Artakhshathra has already called for a meeting of our people on the silver-grass plains and much will be said of the evils Nysra has worked. There are other chieftains linked to our own by blood and dreams," Shir Del explained. She leaned down, plucking a purple iris from a different patch for Roshanak. "When the time comes, they will remind the Nadaren why they should quake at the thunder of hooves."

"How has he sent for them?" Menes asked.

Eigou answered before Shir Del. "A dream-walker can travel faster than birds or riders. It is a great advantage the Sut Resi wield when they wish to be more than just raiders."

It gave a new dimension to the stories Ilati had heard as a girl of the great hordes of Sut Resi that sometimes formed that had nearly shattered the southern kingdoms, even cracking the rule of her own father. Then again, Amar-Sin had never worn the title Conqueror the way her grandfather had. In life, he had been a man who saw war as a necessary, but unpleasant, occupation. It was not a passion, not a way of life, the way it had been for her grandfather and her brothers.

Now she would carry on that mantle without them and bring ruin to the one who devastated their home. It was a bitter thought.

The waiting Sut Resi greeted them with whoops and the strange hawk-like cry they saved to celebrate their victorious warriors. Artakhshathra swung down from his giant stallion's back, a wrapped bundle in his hands. "You took your time," the chieftain rumbled. "Farhata wished that I give you something, Ilati, though he said that he hopes you will treat this one with more care."

Behind Artakhshathra, the man in question chuckled, leaning forward on his horse to run his hand over his mount's shoulder. The Sut Resi horses seemed far more pleased without the strange curse lingering over the place, grazing contently even if their riders did try to nudge them away from the grapes. "No more letting demons take your weapon from you, priestess. Arrows are not meant to be used as daggers."

Ilati unwrapped the bundle, revealing the curve of a new bow. It was horn and wood lacquered and layered together, finely crafted in Sut Resi style. Her first bow had been barely more powerful than a child's and was of similar quality. This had been given far more thought and intention. "When did you make this, Farhata?" she asked, running her hand over the limbs of the bow with awe. It was simple and barely decorated, but every inch of it had been shaped to smoothness that fit the hand perfectly.

Farhata smiled faintly. "I began it the first night you came into our camp. I finished it this morning."

"I think his mother spent less time and far less effort in birthing him," Tahmasp said. The Sut Resi seer's gruff tone had lost much of its biting edge.

"One does not rush quality, Tahmasp."

"Hmph." The seer looked down at Ilati and her companions. "You're welcome, by the way. For sheltering you."

"You have our gratitude," Ilati said, bowing her head. She paused for a second, realizing a strangeness to this. "Why did Artakhshathra give me the bow, Farhata? Are your hands tired from the work?"

"There is a significance to it," Artakhshathra said. His sapphire eyes studied Ilati intently. "A bow given by its maker is a gift. A bow given by a chieftain is a challenge."

If Ilati knew anything about the Sut Resi after spending several cycles of the moon on the road with them, it was that the challenge would not be so different from the one Eigou had given her, of facing Ezezu in combat: it meant being willing to face mortal peril. "What is your challenge?"

"You have promised me the tongue of Nysra, he who would be King of Kings," Artakhshathra said as he watched her with the same hawkish intensity. "This is yours with the understanding that you will send as many of his warriors to the afterlife before and after him as your arm can."

Ilati met his gaze without hesitation or insincerity. "I will do this."

"Good," the chieftain said. "Then let us be off to rejoin the rest of the tribe. We will part ways at the bounds of the Great Forest."

A shiver ran through Ilati at the mention of the Kharsaanu Saquutu. Already she imagined she could smell the cedars. It was a place of mystery, beyond the land between the rivers that she called home. To step foot there would mean setting foot further from Shadi than either of her brothers had ever gone. The forest was the first threshold to cross before the Kingdom of Sarru and Ulmanna, the city that was its beating heart.

Beyond lay a world she had only imagined in flights of fancy as a temple priestess, something almost as daunting as the thought of avenging her home's destruction.