Half out of curiosity, and half out of not wanting to face Qadi just yet, Shifra sought out the monk. What her father said still shook her. He had seen worse than a whipping?

It took her a while, but after asking a dozen soldiers and following his trail, Shifra finally found the monk. He had apparently just entered the stego tents, and she could hear shouting between a young man with an odd accent and a gruff soldier.

As she opened the tent, peering in, she saw the monk standing between the soldier and a saurian, a baby stego.

“It’s stubborn, won’t do as it’s told,” the soldier, a saurian trainer, said.

Shifra waited to announce her presence but chose to watch.

The monk had his hand on his sword handle, and the trainer held his whip. The trainer snarled, “You want a rampaging stego on the battlefield? One that refuses to listen?”

“No,” the monk said, “But there has to be a better way to treat it than whipping the poor thing.”

“You don’t know a thing about training, do you?” the man snapped. “It’s all about the whip and the sweet.”

The monk ignored him and knelt on one knee, meeting the baby stego’s eyes. The monk touched the stego’s nose and closed his eyes.

After a moment of yawning silence, the monk stood, smiling at the man.

“Guess I don’t,” the monk said, “I just know a better way.”

The stego bounced up and down, then obediently spun in a circle. The monk smiled, patting the stego on the head.

The man looked on in surprise, then scoffed. “You’re using magic,” the man said flippantly, “that doesn’t count.”

On closer inspection, Shifra saw the welts on the baby stego’s face. They looked painful. She frowned.

The man gripped the whip even tighter.

The monk gave a mock smile, then looked back at the baby stego. He had it honk once, twice, three times. Each time that he pointed at it, it honked.

“Is that really how you train your saurians?” the monk motioned a hand at the man’s whip.

“I don’t have to explain myself to a stranger like you.”

“One that has the protection of Omrai Speartip?”

“I’d like to see a letter of explanation.”

“You don’t need one,” Shifra said, entering the wide and large tent.

The man noticed Shifra and gave a deep nod of the head. “May my service lift you,” he spat.

“And you also,” she said. “What seems to be the problem here?”

The trainer motioned to the monk. “This foreigner thinks he gets to tell me how to train saurians.”

Shifra looked at Revin. “What are you doing here anyhow?”

The monk shrugged. “I’m just… trying to understand what saurians we have. Also, who are you?”

“Shifra Abaddon Speartip,” Shifra said.

The monk’s eyes widened. “Any relation to…”

Shifra nodded. “He’s my father.”

The conversation turned silent until Shifra turned to the trainer. “You are dismissed.”

The man frowned, “But-”

“I need to speak to the monk alone,” Shifra said. She knew the implications. But she’d rather not have this trainer be the broken horn to her conversation.

The man nodded and bowed. “May my service lift you.”

“And you also,” Shifra said.

With that, the trainer left the tent.

Shifra turned to the monk. “So, you’re the wandering monk everyone’s been talking about.”

“I prefer Revin,” the monk said with a smile, “a bit easier on the tongue.” Revin raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d be more... uptight... like your father.”

Shifra ignored the comment and approached the creature, kneeling and handing it a leaf . She patted the stego’s head as it munched, inspecting the welts with a frown.

“He might have gone too hard with the whipping and too easy with the sweets,” Shifra said. She looked at Revin. “But that’s not quite what you did, is it?”

She stood up only a few feet from Revin.

“No,” he said, laughing a little, “Not quite, I guess magic describes it well enough. I call it a gift from Father God. Beastspeaking is the power to connect with the mind of an animal and control it.”

She cocked her head. “I always thought such powers were pagan myths,” Shifra said.

“It’s in the Sephitaron.”

She gave him another confused look. “Don’t you mean the Shevidaron ?”

Revin took a breath and shook his head. “Something like that, yes, it’s there. Third chapter of Ankruish,” Revin said.

Shifra shook her head, “I’ve never heard of Ankruish.”

Revin shrugged, “From what I’ve seen, you’re missing a few books, and you’ve added some more.”

Wow, this guy really thinks he’s something special, Shifra thought. “So, you’re part of a schism?”

“Why does everyone ask that?” Revin said, “Of course not! You all are the schism.”

Shifra blinked. She’d never considered that before. “We’re getting distracted. I want to know where you’re from, how you do… this...” She motioned to Revin and the baby stego.

“It’s called Mastery ,” Revin said, “it’s a power given by Sephitaro.”

Shifra nodded. What did this monk’s powers have to do with religion?

✦✦✦

Almost forty-five minutes had passed before Shifra realized that she was alone in a tent with a man. Granted, there were saurians present, but if she thought her talking to Kaiato could risk a scandal, this was far worse.

He had told her about his magic, how it worked, how he maintained it. It was hard for her to keep up. Ceremonies and mindspeaking and mental lassoes. In turn, she answered many of his questions concerning saurians. He seemed especially interested in the giganoto and other carnivores.

Once Shifra had realized how long she had been alone with him, her cheeks warmed. She did not want to explain this any further.

“Well, Revin, I need to go,” Shifra said.

Revin cocked his head, “We only just got started.”

“I’m sure we’ll have time,” Shifra said, heading toward the door flap of the tent.

Stolen novel; please report.

“We’re meeting with Jebuthar the day after next. And I doubt I’ve answered all of your questions.”

“You haven’t,” Shifra said, “But… it’s improper for a woman my age to be alone with a man.”

Revin furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“Because you’re an unmarried foreigner, and I’m an eligible woman,” she looked at him, “People would talk.”

“Do you care what people say?”

“Sometimes I do,” Shifra said.

“Look, I’m not from around here,” Revin looked at the stego, “The animals where I come from are very different from yours. I need to get a leg up. There is so much to catch up on here.”

“You didn’t have saurians back home?” Shifra said, she wondered why he didn’t ask more questions. But she had seen that look, the look of someone telling a story.

Revin shook his head. “Different beasts entirely. Most of the soldiers are too nervous or defensive around me, and Omrai is so busy he’ll only meet with me when he’s got a reason to.”

Shifra wanted to laugh out loud. Her father had always treated her the same.

“I’ll do what I can to help,” Shifra said, smiling and nodding.

He bowed to her, so low his body was at nearly a right angle. “And you also.”

✦✦✦

Shifra walked alone. There was little grass beneath her, either grazed or trampled away by the army. She’d only been to a warcamp once, when she was a little girl. Back when she’d looked up at her father. Back before they’d starting fighting.

A glint of sunshine off an ankylo’s armored back brought a memory in a rising surge. It was faint, but the feelings were strong. She sat on her father’s shoulders as he walked through the camp, pointing out the massive beasts. She had felt so tall looking down on everyone’s gazes until they had stepped up to a brachio. Her neck had strained with the effort of looking up, awe filling her. A scout had climbed up its neck, ascending the rope ladder with a surprising nimbleness. She’d wanted to climb it too.

Later, that same day, she had watched him train. That had been a sight for the ages. He bore a blunted sword and a shortspear patterned after his own weapon, stolen from King Den Davod’s personal guard and used to save her uncle in glorious battle.

Watching him move was like watching a primwing, ducking and diving through the trees with little effort. He sparred with three men at once, swinging one weapon in wide arcs while thrusting with the other. They swung, he ducked. They thrust, he shoved aside and moved in, elbowing one in the face. She sat on a log fence surrounding the practice grounds, clapping her hands with excitement. And he looked back at her with that proud gaze, his eyes alight with joy. He was the mightiest warrior the world had ever seen. At least, she thought so.

And she had wanted to be just like him.

She looked around, focusing on her present circumstance. That little girl had been naive. There were so many things far more important. Taxes. Trade. Tithes.

She’d seen that look in him again, once. When she had completed her first year with a spearmaster. She’d moved through her katas, tripping only once. He had clapped that time and had taken her in his arms. She was just eleven years old. Not long after, the fighting started. The sense of unease, mistrust, confusion. He never seemed to hear her, and she could never understand him. He kept so much close to his chest, locked inside.

She found a hole that she had long been ignoring. A loss she had tried not to acknowledge, but now had no other choice. That childlike admiration was gone, dispirited by the harsher truths of this world.

✦✦✦

Shifra entered the tent she had reserved for herself and Qadi. Her mind bustling with questions. Her chest tightening with regret.

“So,” Qadi said, turning around. “How did it go?”

It took Shifra a moment to remember which conversation Qadi was referring to. She shrugged. “Better than I expected. He said he’d let me stay. That’ll give me another chance. But we were wrong.”

“About what?”

“He said he’s seen punishments far worse than whippings and hangings.”

Qadi frowned. “Really?”

Shifra repeated to her what she could remember of her conversation with her father.

“We’ll need to make a new plan,” Qadi said, touching her chin.

Shifra sat on the floor of her tent. “I just want to sleep.”

“You and me both,” Qadi said, stretching in her chair. “Maybe we just need to assassinate Yishai.”

Shifra laughed. “Only if you do it.”

Qadi shook her head. “I think that’s something you are more qualified to do. I’ve never held a musket in my life.”

Shifra let out a slow breath. Muskets. The Koyejian. Kaiato. She thought of his lips on her hand and she felt a rush of energy, her lethargy evaporating. She wanted to talk to him. See him. Legal or no, she very much liked being called archlady by a handsome and exotic sharpshooter. Those dark eyes...

“What are you thinking about?” Qadi said, her voice spiking high in jest.

Shifra looked up at her friend. Qadi had an eyebrow raised, and she bore a knowing smirk.

“Nothing,” Shifra said, turning away.

“I know that sigh,” Qadi said. “You’re thinking about a man.”

“How would you know? I haven’t been that active on the courtship front.”

Qadi’s grin widened. “Because when anyone takes a deep, long breath, looking forlorn, then lets out a sigh, they’re most definitely thinking about a member of the opposite sex.”

“Have you tested this conclusion thoroughly?”

“I don’t know,” Qadi folded her arms. “You tell me.”

Shifra realized that Qadi wasn’t going to relent until she got the whole story. And, honestly, she felt a tingling of excitement at telling her best friend.

“On the way to find my father, I also met someone else at the camp…”

“That magic monk the soldiers keep ranting about? I hear he’s interesting. Despite being a bit… eccentric.”

“No, well, him too. But there was a… Koyejian. In the smithy.”

“What? That’s insane.”

Shifra shrugged. “He was teaching the men how to do… something with their muskets to make them more accurate. We chatted for a minute.” She thought of his half-smirk. Part respectful, part mischievous. Heat rose in her cheeks as she blushed.

“Is this just to piss off your family?”

“I said he was attractive ; I didn’t say I was marrying the man.”

“The color of your cheeks says differently.”

“Nether it, Qadi! You’re embarrassing me!”

Qadi narrowed her eyes. “In front of who?”

Shifra didn’t respond. But she felt a rush of longing. It confused her for a moment, what could she be missing? She looked back at Qadi and saw that her friend was starting to frown.

“We should have taken Zeki with us,” Shifra said.

“It’s fine,” Qadi said, “I’m not some silly little schoolgirl. I can stand to be away from my promised for a while.” Qadi let out a half-sad chuckle.

“What?”

“He was so mad when I left.”

“Why?” Shifra said, leaning into her best friend as she shared.

“He said he was going to speak to my father,” Qadi said, “Make the proper arrangements.”

Shifra’s eyes widened. “No!”

“Yes!” Qadi shouted in excitement. “He was going to ask this week, I told him he’d better hold off and not go anywhere.”

“What does his father think?”

“Oh, he wants to disown Zeki, but the new laws won’t let him.” Qadi’s grin turned mischievous. “If his father wants to deny him his inheritance, the government could take it all and give it to Zeki.”

“I guess weekly dinner with the in-laws is out.”

“Of course,” Qadi said. “And I won’t be trapped at home like some laurel. I’m going to be a senator. Zeki has promised me his whole support. Maybe when Yishai’s gone, I can test for his position.”

“Aiming low, I see,” Shifra said.

Qadi smiled hungrily. “I could do a lot in his position.”

“What, half-crippled?” Shifra said. And though they both laughed, she felt a twinge of guilt for the joke. Her uncle was in pain whenever he walked, and his body was nowhere near as agile as it used to be. Some said he lived off willpower alone.

Qadi looked at Shifra. “Look, I know you just met the guy. But hey, Ateya’s got some new rules. Maybe kissing a Koyejian, for the very least, won’t be taboo.”

Shifra shoved Qadi and smiled.