With my father and brothers, I had scaled the steep fells of our home county. Those breathtaking summits of my childhood memory were only knolls to the foothills of the Pylon. At their apex, these Narshurian hills were as inhospitable as the driest of deserts, yet life-giving streams trickled in the twisted avenues between the aeonic rock.

Vesija had insisted on guiding the wagon, saying the 'exercise' for his finger would help his arm recover. "Do you think it likely that your employer will put a public call on our head?"

"It's possible", I said. "Still, I suspect that Motsa wants to keep the situation under wraps. For the sake of his own career prospects, if..." I shuddered and placed my hands on the driver's backrest. "Why do you wonder about that only now?"

"Before now, it mattered little. Only thing we could hope for was to build distance between us and the Jaan authorities. Presently, I'd prefer that no unpleasantness follow us back home." The chirurgeon said 'home' as if Hitunna was that for both of us. I leaned down to gaze at the haloed silhouette of the Pylon. The world held mountains larger than this one, yet few jutted from the earth in such an audacious solitude.

"Is the Pylon a volcano?" I asked.

Vesija flashed a smile at me over his shoulder. "Do you fear that it might erupt?"

"No. Just wondering based on its shape and prominence relative to this mountain range."

"I didn't know you were versed in geology."

"Not beyond amateurish trivia, I'm afraid. Mountaineering is a hobby of my father, though a certain appreciation for big rocks has rubbed onto me."

"Is your father one of those hunting patricians?"

"We are common citizens of the Commonwealth."

"You know, what I mean."

I hissed through my teeth. "The subject is one we avoid reproaching."

"Then forgive my inquisitiveness. I merely asked because of the name you said had been yours. If I recall correctly, rumours use that name for a notorious gunslinger of genteel conduct."

"Such gossip, no matter how detached from the truth, pertains to my exploits in a former life, yes."

"Hadn't I seen your shooting, I might not have believed any of. Frankly, such prowess belongs to legends and fairy tales."

"The mutineer council did their best to make it so."

"Oh... I'm sorry. Self-sacrifice of that calibre is rather daunting to think of."

When I remained silent, Vesija continued: "Were any of your family slain?"

"Yes. My grandparents. All four of them."

"Ah. I'm sorry."

I accepted the late consolation with a dismissive gesture. "At the time, my parents were barely out of the cradle. Any trauma I have from the event is merely generational."

"Do you resent the Commonwealth?" Vesija's expression didn't change to indicate any motive for the question.

"No, I don't. The Directory has been competent in its work for our people and the Jaan dominion. And besides, I'm spared from the toilsome life of arms and politics, which would have been expected of my lineage in the exalted past."

Vesija didn't answer, but I suspected he shared my thoughts: I was dangerously close to getting tangled to matters, which I had keenly avoided in my previous life.

"This place seems forlorn for being so close to the fortress town", I said to change the subject.

"We took a route off the usual path. But the lack of traffic mostly because of the season. After the first warm rains, herds pour through these ravines and dells." Vesija beckoned me with his crippled hand. "Come, sit on my lap."

"You are driving."

He repeated the gesture. "By all rights, it's your turn to drive anyhow."

"But your shoulder..." I said, all the while moving in front of him.

"Just lean on the other side." He adjusted the seat, so both of us fit.

I sat on his thighs, and he wrapped the healthy arm around me. The gentle sway of the wagon, as it crawled over the riverbed rocks, rubbed my posterior against his lap. Satisfied breath brushed past my ear. I giggled and took the control nerves.

"I've wondered, dear chirurgeon, why haven't you had a woman with you before?"

"Where would I have fit her in here?" He chuckled, while his ravenous fingers raked into the flesh of my belly. "The answer is simple. I wasn't keen on keeping just any pretty face, and the sort of ladies that would have suited my preferences tended not to be the type to suffer the life on the road." He tightened his hold of me, until I was deliciously trapped. He continued: "That is well. My fastidiousness ended up with you in my arms."

I sighed out the melting fumes of my heart. "I know you fancy me as this refined creature. But such an impression is as false as my fantasies of your savagery."

Vesija clutched a breast, which sported more than enough softness to fill even one of his large hands. "I'll try to be as rough as you'd prefer."

His squeezing intensified until it would have crushed a fruit. A yelp left my mouth, and the wagon jerked to the side from my reflexive pull of the control nerves. Deep in my core, a kernel of desire glowed ever more incandescent. The vestiges of my virility stirred in a vain endeavour to engorge. If I had to be male, at least I wasn't forced to feel like a man.

A shrivelled voice from the depths of my mind screamed that I should have loathed this weakness. However, I was too much distracted by the precise pincer-fingers, which searched through the fabric of my gown to find the swollen tip of a teat.

I slowed the wagon down, so we wouldn't stumble into rough terrain or worse.

"The treatment performed well on your mammaries." The man eased his administrations, giving me room to calm my breath.

"It is arrogant to praise your own handiwork", I said. "Don't you think?"

"I was merely an instigator and assistant. Your body committed the actual labour according to its inborn specifics. And who knows, with the hint of the mastery of the ancients left in my tonics, what sort of psychosomatic aspects there might be?"

"Do you mean, I might myself have willed this..." I licked my lip, weighing the suitable adjective. "...oversized bosom?"

Vesija pushed the mound up as if measuring the weight. "No man of taste would call these 'oversized'. But if you find it necessary, we can start the diminution process immediately."

"No! I'm merely being difficult. These do fill my garments so wonderfully." I pressed the insolent hand with mine. "And there are other benefits..."

"That I can imagine." His voice lowered into an insistent whisper. "I've seen you revel in the attention this display brings. Yet you reserve the depths of your soul to me alone."

"Wait a moment." I spun enough to look into the man's eyes. "Out of us two, you are the one, who absolutely luxuriates in public attention." I poked his bicep without managing to touch bone through the thickness.

He grinned. "That tone is just lovely. But you should keep your eyes on the path."

Because there was a distinct chance of collision, I did as the chirurgeon suggested. He rested his forearm on my thigh with the hand on my abdomen. Raw thoughts incongruous to my form surged up my brainstem. The man's fingers pressed into me as if he experienced the antipode of my burgeoning instinct.

For most of my life before Narshur, I had thought I'd never become a parent. Through the recent weeks my disinclination had narrowed towards only fatherhood. Now, I dared to hope in Vesija's expert's opinion that a thorough chance wasn't impossible. Inside me gnawed the worm of yearning, which no amount of reason could trap again. While the desire seemed freshly unleashed, perhaps it had always been in me, unadmitted.

My gaze flicked to a silhouette on the bare hill in front of us. "There's a man with a long rifle riding one of those reindeers."

Vesija craned his neck to look past me. "That lump up there is someone? No matter. Probably a patrol of 'the Narshurian Auxiliary Dragoon Legion'. Even though the Legion is in service, few of them must remain in the city. They take note of all travellers, even though there are little danger of a surprise raid in Jaanlaw."

The ground steepened, until the apex of the Pylon disappeared behind the steep hillside. Under the wagon's feet, loose gravel slid in ever more audible flux. When the cabin tilted with particular force, a cabinet door dropped open.

"We really should circle around", I said, leaning forward with a hand on the wall to keep upright.

"It's fine. Just grab onto something."

An insistent rattle disagreed with the chirurgeon's assessment. Little more than the wide blue sky could be seen in the driver's window.

I threw myself on the cabinets to keep the clanking contents from spilling out. "Vesija! We are going to tip over!"

"Hold on! For a moment more..."

Before I could figure out whether he was talking to me or to the wagon, we crested the hill.

In a bowl between high crags, swayed a forest of verdant cane. Underneath the sparse canopy, water glittered. Instead of a stagnant mire, the shallow lake was sapphire clear. This clarity I suspected to be due to igneous mechanisms, but it wasn't unthinkable that it was a remnant of ancient environmental architecture.

The gnarly forms of the Iwunian structures, like particularly stout watch towers or mighty petrified mushrooms, were strewn across the expanse of the bowl. As a fortress, this was a place of diffused strength.

Vesija stopped the wagon and said in his his mercantile voice: "Welcome to Lake Hitunna." He smiled with self-satisfaction suitable to handing out a thoroughly considerate gift.

Perhaps the view had been worth the risky ascent. I moved to kiss his cheek as a thanks, but he guided my head so our lips touched.

"I'm elated that you are here with me, Neru", he murmured after we were done the mutual taste test.

The chirurgeon drove the wagon between the ramparts of an old earthwork bastion, where the open caravansary swallowed our vehicle.

"We should pack up enough to leave in a hurry", Vesija said. "In case your friends show up, and we need to ditch the wagon."

"That's my thoughts too. But where is there to flee any further? As far as I'm concerned, this is the edge of the known world."

He smiled at my remark, unperturbed. "Let us enjoy the town for a while, if we can." The man moved past me to the secret compartment in the ceiling. He took out the necklace of primordial metal. "I want you to wear this."

I took the jewellery and rubbed my finger against a smooth scintillating strip. "Are there anyone here, who shall understand the implication?"

"I've distant relations in Hitunna, but my clan lives on the plains." Vesija stepped closer. "I'd prefer the world to get the insinuation you speak of. Could you also put on that sun-set gown?" Vesija had wasted a vial of fancy hemophage to clean my formal gown without tarnishing the orange dye.

"It was bought by the chief intendant", I said.

"Yes, yes. And I'm the one, who gets to enjoy the sight of you in it."

My lips pursed into a smile. A rugged frontier fortress wasn't the place for elegant attire, but I couldn't resist the pleading eyes and my own desire to make a spectacle of myself.

When I visited the Global Menagerie of Haaksa, its ornithology exhibit boasted paradise birds with males of such elaborate splendour that they couldn't possibly have survived in the wild.

Among the Narshurians, in his finest suit, Vesija was like those dandy avians. The local dress was by no means drab, but everything beyond the vivid touches ––denoting military rank, tribal affiliation, dedication to a faith and whatnot–– had been restricted by practical concerns. On the men, unless they wore their scruffy carapace suits in the open, drooped greatcoats of coarse fibrewool or voluminous silk robes. The women had barely any lace to their name, but the fabrics of their gowns were thick and warm-looking with bizarre eye-catching textures. By rule the garments had been well taken care off, though most showed the wrinkles and knobby growths common in ancient heirlooms.

Unlike the females of those impossible paradise birds, I was far from colourless and inconspicuous. A thick embroidered cape-shawl protected my upper body, yet I made sure to keep the remote chance of a glimpse at my cleavage like the coquette I acted.

The main streets of Hitunna were mighty trunks of twined roots just above the water level. Above our heads, more ramshackle constructions served as bridges between houses and freely twisting spires. Contrary to my suspicion, the lake wasn't sterilely dead like such clarity of water usually indicated. Gleaming schools of fish swarmed among the ubiquitous cane and volcanic coral, and aquatic fowl descended to paddle and feed without the fear of caustic substances in the water.

The locals followed us with their gazes, with a mix of curiosity and bemusement. Vesija's incongruous outfit and unperturbed aplomb gave him the air of a city slicker tourist. Nevertheless, the looks we received weren't by rule those of disapproval. The townspeople recognised the chirurgeon, and he kept me close. Vesija wanted me to be seen with him. My guts stirred with a cocktail of vacillating emotion. I was an object ––in the grammatical sense–– worth coveting. Thrilled shivers tickled up my skin under the embrace of my corset.

I clutched Vesija's hand and, with the excuse of examining our surroundings, let myself trail half a step after him, so that a fraction of his strength had to pull me along.

No uniformed legionaries caught my eye, and in fact, the town appeared to lack any law the habitants didn't make for themselves. Most locals, men and women alike, carried their arms openly, though seldom they had the long rifles of the outriders and herders. Their baldrics sported spindly bone-framed pistols and knives, which must have hidden true alloy under their decorated scabbards. In that regard I was woefully underdressed, as my own carbine was tied to Vesija's trunk. He himself carried no weapon. Even his pistol was left in the wagon.

I leaned close to Vesija and said: "Could we buy me a dagger?"

The chirurgeon stopped and blasted me with his half-amused look. "There's knives in the wagon. But a mere sharp blade is not what you want, right?"

"True. A 'dame' should have a dainty and dazzling one, don't you think?"

"Now that you've brought up the subject, I do." He made a small motion with his ailing hand. "The traders at the market here stocks such accoutrements." His smile widened. "Even particularly enchanting ones for tourists."

The gust seeped into the massive framework of the market, mixing the chilled steppe air with the scent of fried food and honest spices. Twisting stairs of polished cane took us the second floor of the complex.

"It's rather vacant here." I gestured at the empty booths and facades.

"Spring isn't the season for a trade fair. After the warm rains come and go, the gathering of clans will bring in the foreign merchants, and also the prospectors eager for native guidance."

"Does that help, the guidance I mean? Is there untapped mother lodes to be found here?"

"The assistance we give is more for keeping them out of trouble. Not all clans take well to outsiders with digging through our more or less revered sites."

"They are the revered sites of ours too, as might say those who give credence to the out-of-Narshur hypothesis."

"Right." Vesija stopped in front of a quaint store front squashed between mighty support pillars. Hanging trinkets both gaudy and deceptively refined flashed in the muted light of the market hall.

"Strange that Hitunna has enough outside traffic to warrant a souvenir shop."

The chirurgeon smiled. "I'm sure old Oiri would be amused of your assessment of his enterprise. Still, his clientele indeed tends towards adventurers, who dare not face the ignominy of a return to civilisation empty handed." Gentlemanly, he opened the door and gestured me to step inside.

Under my boot, the wizened welcoming mat honked to declare our entrance. In the warm illumination of the shop, the vitrine and shelves strained under the weight of antiques and crafty replicas. Because there was barely any room between the merchandise, Vesija stopped with his baggage at the small foyer.

"Take a look to see if you can find anything to catch your fancy."

I caught my hem to keep the bustle from knocking the lower artefacts and stepped into an aisle. "So you know the owner?"

"He's a family friend of sorts."

An overhuge fibrewool hat caught my eye. Just as I scurried to it, the door at the back of the shop opened. A greying woman with bulging Jaan eyes, but otherwise narrow far-Narshurian features, hurried into the room. She patted her apron and grinned wide.

"Lil' Vesj!" The woman spared barely a glance at me, as she hurried to hug the chirurgeon.

"Hello, Mirra." Vesija returned the familial embrace with one awkward arm. "Please, be careful."

"Oh." The shopkeeper pulled back. "Are you hurt?"

"Yes, but it's manageable. Where is Oiri?"

"Taking a day off. He's sick, but not in a way that you should concern yourself with." Mirra motioned at me with her chin. "Is she with you?"

Vesija's smile widened. "Oh yes. This is dame Nerutaara."

"An actual dame, eh?" Mirra gave me a look-over. "Can she speak properly?"

"Well, I can manage a bit of Iwunish", I answered in their tongue.

"Wonderful! And no offence, dear. It's just that my 'lofty speech' is rather rheumatic." The woman strode to me. "You must understand: few if any of the Jaans bother soiling their tongue with our language."

Vesija cleared his throat, which distracted me from my answer. He said: "And this lovely woman is Mirra. She was married to the late brother of my mother."

"Oh, do call me your aunt." Mirra pouted. "I've always treated you as a nephew, have I not, Vesj?"

Peculiar unease tinted Vesija's otherwise merry countenance. "Right. 'Aunt Mirra' it is, then."

The former aunt-in-law gave me a thorough look-over with the intensity an Iwunian might give to a reindeer cow at a sale. Her eyes lingered on my chest to the extend that I presumed she peered through my shawl, before I realised that her eyes had caught the heirloom necklace.

Mirra spun like a whirlwind of the steppe and stormed to Vesija. "She wears your mother's jewellery!"

"Yes." Vesija's bulk shifted from one leg to another and back again. "However, nothing permanent has been agreed to." The man's gaze darted to me. "Yet."

A pleasant shiver climbed up my frame and left out as a strained giggle.

"So!" The shopkeeper clasped her hands with a loud clap. "What did you two come to our cosy den for?"

Vesija jerked his frame and returned to look at the woman. "A dagger suitable for the best of free women."

"Then you came in the right place in Hitunna. We have blades both practical and beautiful and both also."

"How about neither?" I suggested.

Mirra pushed past me and scoffed: "For those, you must browse the merchandise of the shop seven slots to the right."

The chirurgeon dropped the trunk with a heavy thump on the poor carpet and followed us deeper into the shop. On a shelf in sight of the backroom was a collection of antique weaponry. Though most were less than three spans long, a few of the warknives seemed like they had served in proper battle. Part of my soul yearned for the lethal slender blades with their chopping shapes, but Mirra broke me from my fancy.

"Take a look at this one." She offered me a straight dagger in a sheath of amaranth velvet and striped gemstones. "An authentic accessory of a Jaan gentleman, though obviously pretty enough for a dame."

My hands took the surprisingly light weapon and pulled it free of its luxurious prison. The blade flashed despite the lack of bright light. Its alloy, true metal not worked chitin or bone, was whiter than any steel I had seen. Several reflections of my gaping countenance danced on the three perfect fullers. I moved my finger to the edge, but Mirra grabbed my wrist.

"Don't touch it!" Mirra took up a cord of tough sinew and let it droop near the dagger. "Try with this."

Though the cord wasn't fastened, the blade cut through it in a clean line.

"What is this made from?" I asked.

"Self-sharpening steel made by the skypeoples", Mirra explained. "Vesj is schooled; he can explain it better."

"Metallurgy––" Vesija used the Jaanish word, which sounded utterly posh mixed in Iwunish. "–– is not my speciality. But I think the crystalline structure chips itself to create an edge a few atoms wide. Only a handful smithies after the Collapse have had the arcana to work this sort of material without it crumpling into toxic dust."

I spun the blade to show the enamelled signature in it. "'Artalla'. The name does ring a familiar note." I caught myself before blurting that my family might have a relic or two from the guild of this particular master. "Then this can't be cheap." I tapped my powdered cheek. "It would fit the local fashion with personal flair. But... This blade must be beyond my current budget."

The woman smiled. "Our shop offers credit to respectable customers."

"What? That's not like Oi––” Vesija began, but was stopped by an elbow jab from Mirra.

After the bizarre interaction sunk into the back of my head, I grinned. "My creditors do not consider me particularly trustworthy."

"Oh, that's fine. Just give something as collateral." Mirra smiled even wider. "Perhaps a promise to accept that blade in place of any gift me and Orti would be socially expected to give. For example, at a wedding."

My face flared with heat. Getting so aggressively match-made wasn't what I had expected when I stepped into the trinket shop. Vesija controlled his expression a smidgen too tightly to hide his agitation.

"Oh, do take it!" The shopkeeper continued. "Nobody wants it anyhow. Too poisonous to use to cut food, and the personal style of most can't handle the fanciness."

I wasn't one to decline a gift even from a complete stranger. The implications made me pause with a certain warm queasiness in me. Vesija's expression committed to nothing save endearing uneasy bemusement.

"Alright", I conceded. While Ekku Luttami was all but insolvent, I wouldn't necessarily have to be. "If you insist, I shall accept the generosity with wide open heart." With a hand on my hem, I curtsied as deep as the lack of room allowed.

Mirra's expression brightened to a terrifying degree. "So you and Vesj are––" She cleared her throat. "I do insist." A dainty baldric appeared in the woman's hands from some close-by shelve. "Here, have this to wear the blade."

The straps of the baldric coiled around my waist and, with little input from me, found a practical position for my new knife. A weapon belt like that could have used a needler, but I disregarded the thought. All the pistols on the wall, with their exquisite carved shapes, were only petrified remnants, in any case.

"So, why did you turn up in Hitunna?" Mirra asked the chirurgeon.

Vesija shrug's was surprisingly cavalier. "Trouble with the authorities."

"Ah. Figures that'd be the reason for your return. Are you going to meet with Teuna? She was looking for you a few weeks back."

The abrupt question piqued my interest, but Vesija's lack of any reaction revealed nothing.

"In all likelihood, no", was Vesija's answer. "Not in Hitunna, at least." He turned to me. "Do you want to look for something else, Neru?"

"No––" A cluster of knick-knacks on the counter caught my eye. Scraps of corroded metal, a nacre arrowhead, ivory pieces black with age, a ceramic idol with its legs broken off and a carved sliver of wood that must have been a luxurious toothpick. They sprawled on a sheet of faded satin in the manner reminiscent of cleromancy.

I gestured at the pieces. "Are those for fortune-telling?"

The woman grinned. "Oh yes, they are. Travellers do love such exotic diversions."

Soothsaying was quite like gambling, if you believed in it. At the risk of conjuring up a strand for your fate to follow, you'd end up with a set future, good or unfortunate.

"Do you yourself perform divinations?" I asked.

"Oh, I do, dear. Would you want one?" The shopkeeper's pursed smile didn't even bother hiding her impish glee. "I have a knack for sensing the wisdom of the ancestors."

Actual divine guidance or not, Mirra's predictions should reveal what she thought of me. It might even be fun.

"Alright. As long as you promise not to peddle me any amulets to ward off the bad luck you might predict."

"I would never!" Mirra brought a hand on her chest in indignation, but presently grinned. "...try that trick on a customer as canny as yourself."

"You convinced me." I went to sit at the counter.

"My sweetbloom, this business must be private, and afterwards I need to get back to doing the inventory." Mirra patted Vesija's unwounded shoulder. "Would you be kind enough to wait for Neru outside?"

"Sure. Let us catch up later. Goodbye, 'aunt' Mirra."

"Great! See you, Vesj."

Mirra waited for the chirurgeon to leave before joining me on the opposite side of the counter. In the dim illumination of the shop, her smile widened to show plenty of the mildly disordered but snow-white teeth. Only a moist gleam revealed her immense eyes. My chest filled with an immense heartbeat, that of prey under the gaze of a predator.

"Now..." The woman let the muffled silence linger like the dust in the air. "What exactly do you want to know about? Futures of wealth... Or perhaps of love?"

"Shouldn't the ancestors tell you what I want, instead of leaving you to ask leading questions?"

Mirra chuckled and shook her head. "This doesn't work if you are at all cynical." She crossed her fingers and stretched them in preparation for an arduous task, which ended up being the picking up of the pieces. "Relax your nerves, and let the Vad see into your soul."

"Vaddites? What do th––"

She shushed at me. "Close your eyes." After I had obeyed, she continued in a low breathless murmur: "There... Breathe in deep and bring into focus the grand uncertainties of your life."

I wasn't insecure about anything that I'd dare to divulge to this near-stranger. Should my wishes prove impossible, maybe I'd prefer the ignorant hope to knowing the truth. Such notions implied I gave credence to this peddler's abilities as an oracle. The charade was supposed to be a fun distraction, but my gut ached with the weight of dread. Inside the darkness of my eyelids, insistent flickers of despair harried the disordered flock of my thoughts.

The clatter of trinkets shattered my self-indulged mental cage. On the fabric, the positions of the fallen objects offered no immediate revelations. Mirra began to hum from deep in her throat, her gaze focused on the tools of divination. Internally, I tried to scoff at myself for entertaining the possibility of supernatural powers in assorted baubles, yet I watched on.

My extremities twitched with frustration, while Mirra took her time to continue our seance.

"Do the bones say anything?" I snapped with too much force to appear suitably casual.

"They do, if I'm not entirely imagining it." She pointed at the toothpick with a piece of bone placed at its end reminiscent of the stock of a rifle. "Doesn't this look like a gun?"

I caught my surprise, and begrudgingly nodded.

"Well, usually tools of violence point at something on the table that hints at the nature of the coming incident. But this gun is pointed away from the other pieces."

There was nothing relevant in the shop in the direction the toothpick pointed at. "What does that mean?"

"It could be a warning against aggression, perhaps. Maybe the ancestors recommend you to avoid situations, which might end in a violent confrontation."

"That's awfully vague."

She shrugged. "I'm only an interpreter of the language of probability."

I rediscovered my smile. "Well, I can appreciate such peaceful advice. What else?"

With her little finger on the small idol, Mirra said: "Usually, I take this one as indicating my client, though possibly in the past rather than the future. The supine position implies a positive outcome."

"How so?"

"I just have that feeling." She lowered her head and smirked. "Would you prefer bad news? Many people tend to believe misfortune coming their way."

"That is easy to imagine."

"Right. Anyhow, rest of the signs are more difficult to explain in... in layman's terms."

That was convenient should the explanation be utter nonsense. I kept any snide remarks to myself.

"Oh!" the woman cooed. "There's something of love here. Going forward you will encounter turbulence, but if you can weather the storm, you will be rewarded."

Trite advice so widely applicable threatened to kill my respect for the woman's abilities as a charlatan. Nevertheless, it was a pleasant prediction, and one, which I could gladly believe in. My mind floated between the merchandise and outside to the man, who had so thoroughly engulfed my life.

"Yes... I see..." Mirra stretched the syllables into a low rumble. The muscles on her face tautened without conveying any understandable emotion, not even agony. Whatever fit had come over her passed, and she grinned again. However, her pronunciation of Jaanish dipped into antiquity too hoary even for my kin. "The ancestors bless you, madame. As decreed proper for our half of the servants of those sacred, you shall be bountiful, bringing forth a cadre of fit bairn without undue or chronic drain on your own vigour."

A surge of nausea rippled across the flesh that had previously felt mine. My gums hurt from the pressure of my clenched jaw. I needed to flee, anywhere, but a cold shiver had frozen the connection between my body and volition.

The overt satisfaction slipped off Mirra's face, soon to be followed by rest of her smile. "It can't be that shocking? To a healthy woman clearly not past the suitable age!"

I was making a scene by embarrassing my host through embarrassing myself. An incident like this should have been expected.

"Ah..." The smile I managed to force might have been convincing in the dimness. "It's how you spoke: to hear such articulation was certainly a surprise."

The shopkeeper grinned again. "Oh yes! Sometimes the mood takes over, when I sooth-say. You know, I'm not even all that fluent in Jaanish to begin with. The spirits must help me seem more dramatic."

She was pulling the fibre on my eyes, but the animal part of my brain evidently fell for it, as my nerves failed to relax.

"Vesija is waiting for me", I said in Jaanish and stood up. "I should get going. Thank you for the fortune telling. And the knife."

"You are welcome. Do come visit later. We live where Oiri has always lived. Vesj knows where to find us."

With the briefest of goodbyes I retreated outside. The chirurgeon leaned on a handrail, overlooking the great hall and crystal depths of the artificial lagoon below.

"How was it?" he asked.

I slumped on the rail. "Though riveting, it was the usual predictable humdrum of love... and the like."

Vesija turned around and examined me. "Isn't that quite harsh? Mirra didn't try to trick you."

"What? Do you think she might actually believe that stuff about ancestral messages?"

Instead of granting me solace by agreeing to the ludicrousness of the situation, Vesija's expression grew terribly solemn. "A majestic will stretches across Narshur. Here, under the Pylon's shadow, its influence is strongest. Even those untrained can have their intuition prodded in the right direction."

"What–– Are you talking about the 'Vad'?"

Vesija recoiled only to smile almost as if relieved. "Yes. Using that term with foreigners is frowned upon due to the unpleasant connotations."

An amalgamation of ancestral spirits into an apex deity wasn't exactly rare in world religion. I wouldn't have been surprised if there turned out to be a common origin for the beliefs, but then again I was no theologian.

"I see. In any case, Mirra couldn't have been guided by this genius loci, because in its boundless wisdom, 'it' predicted that I shall bear plenty of children." Anger without target boiled on the surface of my mind, but its heat was only a feeble bubble. My shoulders slumped.

The man stepped closer with his arms slightly open. I allowed him grab me and returned the tight embrace. His shirt hid the moisture on my cheeks from the world. He was my mountain.

As his hand caressed my head, my hair ended up thoroughly ruffled. I felt silly for caring about my coiffure, which was enough to help me calm down.

"Vesija, I'm hungry", I whispered.

"Then only a lunch can help." Vesija detached from me. "I know a good place a few floors up, if it's still there."

The deep crimson light painted the pitch black shadows, which enveloped us two in muffled privacy, even though the little restaurant crammed full of customers. My appetite had been swiftly sated by the pile of fish eggs and roasted patties compressed from tiny lake insects.

Though he still ate his own meal, I pressed against Vesija. Even in the dark, the strong line of his jaw showed past his beard and thin padding of soft cheeks. Despite the needs of his impressive body, he managed to project a certain sophistication while he ate. Nothing which the fine folk of my class would have recognised as particularly civilised, however. I myself found enjoyable to watch the chewing movement of the muscles over the bone.

Once he was finished, I curled my legs on the shared bench and lay my head on his lap.

"Do you want dessert?" His hand pawed the side of my face.

"I couldn't possibly fit any more. You may order for yourself."

"No, I'm fine. How did you enjoy your dish?"

"Thoroughly so. The palate was surprisingly intricate, especially the roe. I think I shall enjoy the foods here."

"That's good."

"Do you think we are safe here?"

"Yes. Our authorities barely tolerate the presence of Jaan officials and certainly won't allow them to enforce their laws directly on us. There used to be a legate of 'far Narshur' in Hitunna, but apparently he couldn't handle 'the society' here. He retreated to Tankai and was immediately discharged. At the moment our situation is unclear and has been so for years. It seems the Directory prefers to maintain the status quo over putting our loyalty to the test."

"Then are you loyal?"

His grin was only a red gleam of the teeth. "That depends on the people asked. As for myself, I think peace and co-operation should be beneficial to all the peoples in Narshur, on the condition they are achieved in terms most can accept."

"Ah. I see the problems. It's not just us Jaan and Iwunians who have to make nice. Of course, should push come to shove, we could just sic you Narshurians against each other and reap the benefits."

His finger slid down my chin and jaw, over the smooth skin unblighted by masculine hair. My frame shivered, and instinct stretched my legs on the curving back of the bench.

"In that case we must make sure to scrape up any and all possible benefits of our own."

"As enticing as the prospect of experiencing your desperate rapacity is, I hope those circumstances never come to pass."

All the suaveness of the chirurgeon was no match to the unwritten Iwunian laws of generosity and gratitude. Once Mirra found out that we had no lodging ready, she offered us room in Orti's house. No excuse could subdue her.

Yes, the inns and the Pylon Hotel would have been cheap due to being empty in the season, but Orti had almost a whole floor of empty space that needed to be filled. A hotel room would have offered privacy, but when did an unmarried couple need privacy? We couldn't possible inconvenience them, but Mirra assured that full upkeep was no trouble at all. After all, she loved to cook, and they had a machine for washing dishes and textiles.

As for Orti, his opinion was never asked. The tall and girthy man took the news of unexpected visitors with unfazed calm suited for an ascetic.

"And this will be your room, Neru", Mirra said and gave the door a push. Groaning reluctantly, it opened.

"'My room'?"

"Of course." Though she smiled wide, her eyes kept locked to mine. "A lady would want a room for herself, no? You did talk a lot about privacy. Well, here you won't have to pay for two rooms."

"I... Eh, we––"

She nodded at Vesija. "Privacy should be welcome after all those weeks stuck in that wagon of his. Look, our guest beds are as big as the cabin of that old thing."

The guest bed wasn't, in fact, that expansive, but it seemed magnificently so compared to the one-and-half person bed in the wagon.

"Aunt, dear", Vesija said. "Neru and I are beyond the stage, when separation would be useful."

Mirra's grin only widened. "I know. I'm just teasing you two. But you should get on with making your commitment official. Those fancy preventatives can't be perfectly secure." She tapped Vesija's chest. "Not even those cooked up by you, chirurgeon. Anyway, dinner is at sundown. Do note that that happens an hour early here under the Pylon's shadow."

Inside the room, I dropped my reticule on the night table and sighed. "She was talking about contraceptives."

"Think nothing of it."

"I try to." At least, I managed to smile. "It does feel I'm getting the mother-in-law treatment."

"Or the ex-aunt-in-law... in-law treatment. I reckon that in a band of a dozen tent-groups or so, all relations tend to grow familiar."

I dropped on the bed and promptly drowned in its softness. "So, where's your clan presently?"

"In all likelihood, travelling with the herds towards the vicinity of the Pylon." Vesija took off his coat and folded it neatly on a chair. "We are lucky to have warm winter pastures, even if they are far away."

"So, I might get to meet your kin. If we stay in Hitunna that long. Shall we?"

Vesija shrugged and removed his shirt. "Perhaps." He dropped on the bed with no regard for the poor thing. "We must see."

The lack of clear answer did grate my nerves, but I didn't feel like arguing. Instead, I asked: "Should I also get comfortable?"

His hand slid to my corseted waist. "The dinner will be soon enough."

Though the span of the man's fingers was wide, it felt weird and thrilling how much of my circumference he could claim with just one hand. During the wagon ride I had neglected my waist training, but the stale provisions had discouraged me from eating my fill. As a result most of the spare padding had slipped off my middle torso.

With a warm glee threatening to burst into fire, I wriggled closer to him. "Do you think I might have lost too much weight?"

He smirked at the obviously loaded question and tightened the grasp of me. "Is this a question to a physician or a lover?"

My hand glided over his torso to rest on a side of the firm chest. "Both."

"You have no reason to be concerned about your weight, just as you didn't earlier."

"How very diplomatic." My enunciation rang haughty, but my face failed to maintain the serious facade.

The impudent hand darted my breast and squeezed hard enough to force a gasp from me. "Besides, your body clung to the essentials. Nothing was lost where it mattered."

"I am glad of that, and admittedly a tiny bit proud. That doesn't make vain, does it now?"

The hand pushed aside the alien necklace and forced the hot clasp inside my cleavage. "If so, then I find a certain amount of vanity attractive."

A moaned breath on my lips, I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Don't get me heated up, or the dinner shall be unendurable."

"Right." He removed his hand, eliciting a tinge of regret in me, and moved to hold my hip. "Wouldn't want to distract you from the meal and risk your withering away."

With an indignant snort, I rolled away and jumped off the bed. "Have you not been taught that you should never comment the weight of lady?" Grinning to myself, I went to the cloudy membrane that served as the room's only window. Orti and Mirra's top floor did have a decent view over the cane forests of Lake Hitunna. Rest of the rickety towerhouse suffocated among the verdant stalks. Apparently the cane plant grew so fast it was little use to try to cut it.

Floor boards groaned under approaching footsteps. They stopped behind me, and two strong arms coiled around me. I leaned in Vesija's strength, to let him keep me on my feet.

"Shall you finally tell me of your work in the clandestine business?"

The embrace caged me tighter, and his lips descended to caress my neck.

"Vesija... You are avoiding the question." Again.

"I'm afraid of what they might do to you, if you knew."

I let out long sigh. "You've already used that excuse. Should your compatriots possess healthy level of suspicion, they already assume I know everything you know. Just in case."

"That must be correct." The man pulled his prey against his powerful frame. "Truth be told, I fear what you would think of me."

"Vesija, you already know so much of me that'd make most men recoil. Don't belittle me by assuming I'm substantially less understanding than yourself."

"Alright." His voice reverberated in my inner ear. "I belong to a group of... formerly young idealists. Now, we have ––if not exactly grown up–– then aged."

"I'm not a stranger to such gangs. Get together around any old political notion, and use it as an excuse to get into trouble, yes?"

"A cabal might be a better word to describe it. And only politics that unite us is the concern for Narshurian autonomy, and the possibility of future sovereignty."

"Rebels, then."

The 'renegade' rewarded my remark with a crushing embrace. I pressed his hands against me with mine and let my legs go near-limp.

"'Rebels'... Not all of us. The main thing we are divided is on how to deal with your Commonwealth. Continued alliance, begrudging co-operation, organised disobedience or rebellion."

"Huh? Rebellion, how?"

"A faction among our 'cabal' can call on a weapon of near eschatologic capacity."

I wrenched around in his hold. The forlorn grimness of his expression made me queasy, but it didn't deter me. "The Vad plague."

"Indeed. The immune system of the continent, so to speak."

"That village. You think one of yours attacked them. A test run?"

Vesija nodded and swallowed something terribly sour.

"How does the plague work?"

"We... I'm not sure. The onset is unavoidable, though whether or not the particular strain spreads varies. Nevertheless, there are those, who appear all but immune. Us Narshurians, and those who have just only arrived to the continent."

"So. The plague needs something in here to set up itself." I let go off Vesija and took a few steps across the room to collect my thoughts. "Particles in the air or water?"

"That would be my guess." The chirurgeon followed me close as a shadow. "The hypothesis doesn't explain, why we are immune, but we believe that is the protection of the Vad."

"You aim to stop them, right?"

"If I can."

Slowly, against my will, a mental image crystallised into the rows of stained hospital beds. In an involuntary stage whisper, I uttered: "The blight shan't be reserved on military targets alone."

Discovering this had been what I had been employed for. It wasn't just some a theoretical struggle about logistics and morale. The non-native population of Narshur had to be in millions. An unfathomably cruel fate awaited them, and I lacked the ability to do anything.

Hands touched my shoulders, but in the jittery state I recoiled away from the Narshurian.

"Neru..."

I spun around. "They already showed no compunction using it against innocents. Every Jaan in Narshur could die. Everyone in Tankai, or in any of the little settlements, or even here. It'd strike me too. We–– You need to stop them."

"I'll try to convince––."

"No!" My short, shallow breath refused to calm down. "I mean, if that's not enough, we must get help. Even from the Survey."

Vesija's expression hardened. "The Jaan involvement won't do any good."

"Alright, if you think so. But promise me that you shall do everything necessary. I couldn't..." My eyes twisted away from his stare. "I couldn't handle all that death on my conscience."

"How peculiar." His tone oozed snide mock-politeness. "Aren't you Jaan?"

He couldn't possibly dare to try use the term as a slur. Of course I was Jaan, even if a subpar one. The conduct of my ancestors had consisted of nothing dishonourable.

"You and your ilk..." A part of my mind screamed for me to stop. "You are lucky that we Jaan retain a few qualms about needless slaughter."

True anger spread into Vesija's eyes. The defiance bolstered my spirit, which soared into what I knew to be arrogance. Maybe I wasn't all that impressive physically, or even in mental fortitude, but I was still Jaan.

A smile ruined my moment by appearing on Vesija's lips.

"What's so amusing?" I demanded. "This is a grave matter."

The Iwunian's expression shifted marginally towards serious. "Yes, you are right. It's just..."

"Spit it out."

He sighed. "Fine. For something so cute and diminutive, you can manage a terribly imperious attitude."

My throat rumbled in annoyance, but instead of any intimidating growl, I let out only a ridiculous petulant groan. He considered me cute. My fragile self-esteem couldn't quite figure out whether that was demeaning or altogether wonderful.

I needed a moment to understand myself, so it was best to play it off as a joke. I placed my hands on my waist. "Imperious, eh? Well, you must become accustomed to that, if you are to continue cohabiting with a Jaan matrician."

The rest of the remaining tension melted off Vesija's features. "I apologise, madam, for insinuating there was anything awry in your character."

"Splendid", I said with a genuine enough smile. Even if the unresolved argument hovered around us like a restless spectre, for the time being we were free to put it aside. In any case, Vesija would do what was necessary. There was no gain to be had in pestering him with my ignorance.