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Everyone knew when Elder Brother Nikolai fled the cell of the novitiate, breath rapid and teeth chattering. Everyone knew why.

The Sacred Depths had first been natural caves, then mines for gold. In the chaos of the first Descent, the mines had become a refuge, then a prison, then a temple. Corridors and cells were cut to house the sibyls and their attendants, as well as shafts for light and air. When darkness came into fashion, most of the light-wells had been shuttered. Now, the shafts behind the walls carried air, and air carried secrets.

A novitiate priestess with scarlet fever had been quarantined in a cell just under Andrei's. Her name was Vlada, and she was thirteen years old.

"What happened?" Kori asked. "What did they say?"

"Mostly they just conjugated verbs," the girl told Kori.

"Oh no."

"And they talked about you a lot. My Maiden, what's 'Platonic'?"

Kori took a seat at the little girl's bedside.

"Little Echo," she said, "your curiosity has returned. You must be feeling better."

"I'm still cold."

The girl's forehead was damp and hot. "I'll give you some water," Kori said. "And comb that hair. Was it Elder Brother Nikolai who used that word? 'Platonic' means the ideal of something. The perfect form."

"The Maiden and the Wealthgiver have a 'perfect relationship'?"

Kori's fingers combed through Vlada's hair, finding tangles and teasing them apart. "That depends on what the Elder Brother meant by 'perfect.' The new novitiate might disagree."

At first, Kori had thought the high priest was simply pretending to go along with her schemes, waiting for his chance to get rid of Andrei Trifonovich. The most expedient route would be to allow the outsider to take part in the Un-Descent, then kill him when he made an inevitable mistake. As Kori questioned Vlada, though, it became clear to her that Nikolai took his role of teacher seriously. He seemed to really mean to teach Andrei the Good language. Why? What for?

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"You're sighing again."

Kori twitched her mind back into her body. "Sometimes grownups sigh, Vlada."

"You say that as if I'm a child, and I'm not."

"Calm, little sister." When Kori could find no tangles with her hands, she gave a click to locate the tortoiseshell comb on the table. The comb, running through Vlada's hair, found more tangles. She started at the tips and worked her way up again.

"Ow! I'm gentler with you."

"Maybe I don't cry out as much as you do. Maybe you're very rough and you don't know it. What else did he say?"

"Who? The Fool?"

"Not a Fool," said Kori. "He's a novitiate to the Good. His name is, well—"

"He said his name! I just…" Vlada hesitated. "I don't want to say it."

"Little Echo doesn't want to repeat?" Kori smiled and waited. Vlada's hair flowed like warm water.

"He said 'I am the Unseen.'"

Kori kept combing. "That must have given Nikolai quite a shock."

"Did you," asked the sick girl, "bring him for me?"

No, thought Kori, for me.

"You still live, Little Echo." Kori told the girl. "The Host of Many will welcome you in his own time."

"I mean, did you bring him for me because he is a doctor?"

"Oh." Kori paused, momentarily stricken by guilt. She hadn't even considered using Andrei in that way. "His profession is useful, but that is Apollonian thinking," she said, mostly to herself.

"Ugh," said Vlada. "I know about that."

"Logic has its place, but logic is only the knife. It is the hand that drives the knife to cut, and the intentions of the mind."

"My Maiden, I know."

Kori passed the girl's hair from one hand to the other, thinking. She had one man who might heal or rule and another who might teach or kill him. She had a sick little girl, a nation to build, and a Mountain full of echoing voices.

Kori clicked and found Vlada's right hand. Gently, she held it while her nail traced the shape of a letter over the hot skin. It was Λ, the first letter in the Good word for "game."

Vlada found the back of her hand and traced Ν, the first letter of "yes."

In abbreviated form, Kori wrote: I will find the doctor.

Vlada's hand vanished while she used it to stifle a cough. Kori held her hands still, so the little girl could find them again.

Once she had, Vlada wrote, Ρ?

Love?

Kori took her hands away. "Tell me something, Vlada. What happened after the doctor named himself? Elder Brother left?"

"Yes. His teeth sounded scared."

"I understand." Kori stood. "All done. May Heaven not blind and Madness never touch you, Little Echo."

The high priest would be confused and upset. He would seek clarity and reassurance, but since he could never lower himself to ask for them, he would retreat into solitude and a place of safety. Kori would find him in the library.

"Are you going to talk to the doctor?" Vlada called after her. "Will he come cure me?"

Kori stopped, her fingertips on the door latch. "Trust the signs."