Shifra Speartip entered the camp riding Rukin, her favorite gallimai. Not her fastest, but her most even-tempered. She hopped off her back, kicking up dust from the camp as she landed, and pulled an orange out of her bag.

“Good girl,” she said. She patted Rukin’s neck and tossed the orange in the air toward Rukin’s head. She caught and gobbled it with ease.

Qadi however, hadn’t climbed down from her mount.

“How do you jump off of these things as if they were nothing?” She looked on either side of her, unsure of where to go.

Shifra stepped forward and helped her friend down, grunting as she caught her foot in her hands and lowered her down.

Qadi almost stumbled as she landed but managed to keep her footing. She stretched her back, wincing as it popped. “I much prefer my own two feet. Or a carriage.”

“Both of which would have been much too slow,” Shifra said.

Shifra grabbed the reins and turned to the camp. It had taken her and Qadi longer than expected to catch up with the army. The army moved too quickly. She’d hoped to meet her father at Solinia, if possible.

The ground trembled with the footsteps of a brachio. Not far off, one patrolled the edge of the camp, the steady pounding strong enough to feel in your chest. Directly in front of her, saurians and men from the seven tribes of Ateya had gathered to fight. Ankylos and their squat, armored bodies hunkered along, their moans a low rumble. A ceratopsian let out a screech as a man stepped in front of it, and the saurian master struggled for a moment to reign it in.

As she and Qadi walked, the soldiers began to recognize her. Those who did placed their hands behind their backs and bowed or said aloud the words, “May my service lift you.” She found herself nodding and mumbling, “and you also, and you also.” Most had no response to Qadi, not knowing her.

As she lifted her head from yet another nod, Shifra noticed a field of makeshift tents, very different from the uniform tents of the military. She turned to a soldier.

“Soldier, what’s out there?” She pointed with her free hand to the odd tents.

A soldier looked that way, then frowned. “Refugees from the east. General Omrai said we must protect them on the way.”

Shifra squinted her eyes, trying to pick out details. Most of the tents were the black and yellow of Farinia, the far eastern tribe of Ateya. “Are they all Farinites?”

“Most,” the soldier said.

She looked him up and down. It was hard to tell what tribe he was from (since uniforms bore no tribal colors), but he had a dark red streak in the center of his brown hair. “Solinite?”

The man nodded. His frown deepened. “My family should have time; they’ve only just begun attacking Solinia.”

Shifra felt a rush of concern. Solinia was the next tribe over. Had this conqueror already taken all Farinia? She looked over at Qadi. Her best friend also frowned. “How did they get so far?” Qadi said.

The man looked at Qadi, confused. He then looked back to Shifra.

“Answer the question,” Shifra said.

The soldier nodded. “They have… terrible weapons. They can fly. Their bodies are made of metal.”

Qadi hummed in disbelief. “Not just armor?”

“We’ll see soon enough. We go to meet Jebuthar the conqueror in a few days’ time.” The soldier’s voice fell almost to a whisper, his breathing less steady.

“Where is my father?” she said.

“Out at the southern edge of the camp, with the monk.”

“The monk?” Shifra said, confused.

The soldier waved one hand, “Oh, I’m sorry Miss Speartip, you haven’t been here. He’s a magic monk, talks to animals. Seems crazy.”

Shifra turned to Qadi, “What do you say I let you rest for a while?”

Qadi raised an eyebrow. “Trying to get rid of me?”

Shifra shook her head. “Trying to talk to my father alone.”

Qadi nodded. “Fine, fine. I guess that makes more sense than bringing me with you. Why, hello my Speartip, I’m what you’ve been calling the bad influence in your daughter, how are you today?”

Shifra laughed. “Come on, I’ll show you to the visitors’ tents. They should have a few set up.”

Qadi nodded. “Lead the way.”

Shifra smiled as they walked. Qadi tried to hide it, but she was no rider. The trip had been hard on her. But Shifra truly did want to speak to her father alone. Qadi would just be another complication.

✦✦✦

After setting Qadi up in a visitor’s tent, Shifra made her way across the camp. At one point, she walked past the forge. Workstations and smithies were arrayed in neat rows, and it was covered by a large canopy with a hole in the center, where smoke made its way out of the tent. The open design left a wide opening for the wind to blow through, cooling the sweating men working amongst the fires. Shifra noticed a Koyejian working amongst them.

She stopped walking and blinked. Yes, it was a Koyejian. His dark skin made the browns and tans of Ateyans look pale in comparison. He pointed and gestured at different items on a worktable, and the different smiths listened intently. His voice carried; his accent not too thick to understand.

“You’ve got to set your rifling just right, or the bullet's spin will be off. Your bore must cut in a consistent spiral.”

As he grabbed a few items, Shifra approached even closer.

He stood in front of a large mechanical apparatus where a musket barrel was clamped into a pair of vices. “The rifler must be perfectly centered on your drill-rod.” He held up a small round metal contraption, it had a few sharp blades on it, going out in a circle. “At least, I think this is the right size. I did tell your General that I am no gunsmith.”

He attached it to a long metal rod that went through the barrel. Then he walked to the other side. “The grooves are tiny, less than the depth of paper. But you still may have to run it through more than once.”

The Koyejian grabbed a wheel and started cranking. As the gears moved, the rifler entered the barrel, spinning slowly and cutting a line. “If you keep going,” he said, patiently spinning the wheel. He let out a relieved breath. “If you keep a steady pace, you’ll get a good clean rifling in the barrel. Then, when the musketball is fired, the grooves on the side will catch it and spin it consistently. This gives you a much straighter shot.”

Without another word, the other smiths got to work, looking at Kaiato’s set up, taking their own vices, barrels, and measuring instruments to create their own stations.

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She approached him.

As she stepped under the canopy, many smiths stopped what they were doing. They bowed or nodded, saying “May my service lift you.”

“And you also,” she said several times. Kaiato noticed her, started a little, and bowed his head slightly.

He held out his hand in front of her, palm up. She carefully put hers forward, unaware of the custom, having never spoken to a Koyejian before. He took it, bowed low, and kissed her hand. A rush of heat filled her cheeks. She hoped it wasn’t obvious. His head lifted, dark hair parting to reveal a pair of intense eyes. Were all the blacksmiths watching? If her father heard about this...

“May I ask your name, archlady?” Kaiato said.

“Noble titles are illegal in Ateya,” Shifra said.

Kaiato nodded in understanding, but still did not release her hand. His eyebrows raised still. She realized with a start he was probably expecting an answer to his question. Her spine tingled and her stomach flipped. She tried to ignore it. She pulled her hand away.

“Shifra Speartip. General Speartip is my father.”

Kaiato’s smiling demeanor wavered, his brow and lips twitching towards a frown. He straightened. “Oh, your father is the general.” His casual stance turned stiff. “I didn’t know he had a daughter.”

“And a wife and three other children, too,” Shifra said. She narrowed her eyes at his sudden change. “What is a Koyejian doing in an Ateyan warcamp, anyway?”

“He’s a defector, Miss Speartip,” one of the smiths said, an older man with a voice like gravel and skin like it, too.

Kaiato scowled at the man. “No.” He pushed his black hair out of his face and turned back to Shifra. “I’m in exile. I ran into that beastspeaker, then your father. Now I work for him.”

“Since when are Koyejians exiled to Ateya?”

He stiffened further. “What can I do to help you?”

Her own frown deepened. “You can answer my question. Why are you here?”

“I was falsely accused of assassination.” He said it straight, with very little emotion. His body set in a stiff stance. He was hiding something… But the slight pulling down in the corners of his lips… the drawing up of the inner edges of his eyebrows… what she had first taken for unease, now looked more like sadness. She believed he was telling the truth.

After a moment of staring, she realized she’d hardly been breathing. “I’m, sorry. That sounds like… quite the story.”

“It is,” Kaiato said. He tried to maintain a neutral expression.

“So, tell me about this monk that speaks to animals. You ran into him?”

“I did,” he said. “In the north. He’s very… odd.”

“Is what they say about him true? That he can….”

Kaiato nodded. “I’ve seen it.”

“How does it work?”

Kaiato shrugged. “Something to do with rituals and ceremonies.”

They went quiet for a moment. Shifra wondered whether she should ask him more. She was about to when Kaiato spoke.

“I recommend you ask Revin, the monk,” Kaiato said. “He can tell you more.”

“Alright,” Shifra said. “Thank you.”

“May my service lift you.” He smiled at her. It was a hint of the smile he’d first given. The kind that made her stomach flip.

“And you also,” she said with a nod, then turned to leave. Hoping that every smith didn’t notice how she’d reacted to a Koyejian exile.

She tried to shake it off and looked around. Now she needed to find her father, and maybe even that monk. Revin.

✦✦✦

Shifra reached the other side of the camp, beholding a sight far stranger than the Tukite circus. Her father and some young man in robes stood in a field, watching a large group of leaders sitting astride gallimais. The beasts moved in formation, which wasn’t very odd. Except their riders were silent and made no tugs on the reigns.

She cocked her head. A beastspeaker? She stood next to a wagon, folding her arms and furrowing her brow. The gallimais moved in a near-perfect circle. Then they hopped, then moved in a few more circles.

All without a single uttered command nor a pull on the reigns. After a few minutes, they stopped. Her father and the monk exchanged a few words and then the entire group dispersed. Heading away from Shifra. The young man walked off to the right, and she noticed he wore long robes like a monk… How could someone so young be a monk? He had to be somewhere near her own age.

When she saw her father walking away, she ran toward him and shouted, “Father!”

Her father turned around and his eyes widened. “Shifra?”

She approached quickly and he stared, eyes wide, brow furled, and nostrils flared. He looked around, as if searching for something. Then that gaze locked back on her. “May my service lift you,” he snapped.

She replied with “And you also,” giving a slight nod of the head.

“What happened? What’s wrong? Does your mother know you’re here?”

“Yes, she’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Then why in the name of all that is sacred would you be here?

“I’m here to talk to you about something very important.” Shifra looked at her father, feeling the same confusion and frustration whenever they were close. This probably would go as well as their other discussions.

He let out a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “If you’re here to talk to me about Yishai again-”

“No,” Shifra said quickly, “well, I mean, not directly. I wanted to show you something. Something that I think will change your mind.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Shifra, I want you to go back home. The warcamp is no place for my daughter.”

“Master Atin says I’m as good as you were at my age, maybe even better.”

“A stray arrow cares not for the skill of the warrior,” Omrai said in a rumbling growl. “You should not be here.”

“I want you to go with me to a public punishing.”

Omrai paused, then his frown turned into a glare. “Why?”

“Because Yishai shouldn’t let the church whip the poor! Doesn’t the Shevidaron teach us to care for others?”

“There are fewer beggars than when the nobility reigned,” Omrai said, “They can’t smash the common man under their foot as they please.”

“The nobility still reigns!” Shifra snapped. “They’re the only ones who can afford the education to pass the merit tests Yishai requires for leadership.”

Omrai shook his head. “Anyone can prepare for the exams. The libraries are free to the public. Many of the merchants and scholars now hold office.”

Shifra groaned. “We’re getting distracted! I’m talking about showing you who Yishai is punishing. Not criminals, but parents deciding whether to pay the church or their baker. Once the state and the church take their money, the people are left to suffer.”

“We have programs for the poor,” Omrai said sharply.

“It’s not enough!”

“What would you have me do?” Omrai said his hand tightening into a fist, “Those taxes pay for my armies. Would you have me surrender our lands? Let another nation rule? Kings offer heavy yokes.”

“Just because Yishai kills the poor more slowly doesn’t make him better than the emperor was.”

Omrai’s eyes widened, and his voice got quiet. “Watch your tongue,” Omrai said.

“No,” Shifra said, “You refuse to see the pain around you. Is that why you’re always out on assignment? You can’t stand to look in the faces of those your brother hurts? Yishai’s trying so hard to make a perfect nation he’s turning into a tyrant himself.”

Omrai’s expression grew even more grim. “I said, watch your tongue. Yishai’s laws are just, your own grandmother helped write them.”

“Prove me wrong then,” Shifra said, “Go with me to a punishing, look me in the eyes and tell me he’s right. He forces people to follow Father God. We have no choice. It’s the slavery of the old empire all over again.”

“Shifra,” Omrai said sharply, “You weren’t alive when the old emperor was in charge, you don’t know how he treated his people.”

Shifra nodded, “Yes, Yishai doesn’t slaughter on a whim, but his demands are a yoke all their own! We’ve exchanged chaos for a leash.”

“Stop doubting him!” Omrai snapped. Shifra flinched. “Do you know what we went through to unite the seven tribes to remove the emperor? To fight off greedy invaders? You forget, daughter, that to speak ill of my brother is to speak ill of me, I supported his rise to power.”

Omrai stepped closer, until he was looking down on her. A tactic used to make her feel small.

It was working.

His gaze was hard, the muscles in his neck drawn tight. “I dragged him from beneath a pile of Sendevalian warriors. I made sure he lived so his vision for this nation could come to be. There was death, Shifra, death and pain. We stopped that. It was Yishai’s idea in the first place.”

“Don’t you see the pain around you?”

“I see all the pain around me!” Omrai said, shouting now, “I don’t have time to roll in it! To philosophize it! I keep the people alive. I trade the lives of soldiers for the lives of civilians. That is my duty. And Yishai’s duty is to manage the law.”

Omrai took a deep breath, closing his eyes. She leaned back and away from him, trying to calm her own nerves.

“I can’t worry about the people’s comfort when they need to be protected.”

Omrai massaged his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose, hard. His skin was turning red, and his muscles tensed. “Shifra,” Omrai said, “I’m done speaking of this. This is for senators to discuss. I want you home.”

“I’m going to my tent,” Shifra said, “We’ll talk more later.”

She turned away from him and marched off. She almost smirked, knowing how frustrated he must be becoming. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not until he forced her too.

Not until she took him to a public punishing.

“Shifra!” Omrai shouted to her, she paused and looked back with a raised eyebrow. What could he say? She doubted there was much.

“We have chaplains,” Omrai said. “If you think I’ve never been to a public punishing, you’re wrong. You want to witness what they do to a soldier who takes the name of God in vain? We can arrange that.”

Shifra’s mouth dropped slightly and she sucked in a quick breath. “You… you’ve already seen a whipping?”

He frowned at her. “I’ve seen far worse than a whipping. Blasphemy will earn you pain slower and deeper. Don’t think you’re going to show me anything I’ve never seen before.”

Shifra felt dizzy, her fingers tingling. Her entire plan. Everything...

Omrai nodded to himself. “In fact, stay. Don’t go home. Not yet. I want you to really witness war. Then maybe, just maybe, you’ll stop doubting what I sacrifice to keep you safe. Maybe then the wisdom you so desire will be yours. But I warn you, my child. Once you have it…”

He shook his head. “... you’ll wish you didn’t.”