“And there were no tribesmen with you?"

“No.”

Nikias only raised an eyebrow at her, but he wrote it down, nonetheless.

“I see. You hauled him off the road. All eighteen hands of him. Alone.” It sounded perfectly ludicrous, which was why she and Lukios had prepared a lie ahead of time.

“No.”

“No? But you said you were alone.”

“No. You asked me about tribesmen.”

Nikias’ smile was very thin. “Please elaborate.”

“I had my strifa. I wrapped Lukios in my cloak and tied him to Amanayasu’ra—” Nikias’ pen paused at the name, then continued, “—then dragged him off the road.” She paused. “It ruined my cloak.”

“I…see.” He wrote it down. “And where did you take him?”

“To my home.”

“Which is?”

“Not your business.”

Nikias paused. “Lady Ba’an. I ask so I may follow-up with your tribesmen—”

“I do not have tribesmen. That is why I was alone.”

Ba’an heard the scratching of the pens behind her cease. Hm. Was this truly so interesting?

The silence stretched on and on, and when it became apparent Ba’an would not speak first, Nikias did so.

“You are nur-vaa’ri?”

“Yes. For many years now.”

There was a long pause.

“I see,” he said, finally. “In that case, I must ask you to sign with your former name chain later as well. So we may…verify.” Nikias glanced at the witnesses. “You can make a note of that too. We need to verify an identity.”

One of them, the one with freckles and a head full of brown curls, raised his hand. At Nikias’ nod, he spoke. “What is a ‘nu-bary’?”

“Nur-vaa’ri means she is no longer Sander. You can confirm my report and sign off on it. Don’t bother writing it in that." Nikias nodded toward the tablet the man was holding in his hand. "It’ll get more complicated if you botch the spelling and we don’t match.”

The curly-haired man blinked in confusion. “What? How can she stop being Sander? Is there some kind of Sander law?”

“Yes. If you want the details, I suggest you read some Pausanias. Anything else?”

The man quickly shook his head and returned to his own notes.

“Thank you, lady Ba’an. I understand this is a…difficult…topic.”

“It is well.”

Nikias’ dark eyes settled on her very briefly, and she could not quite make out his expression before he looked back down.

“So your home is not within a saa-vuti vur?”

“No.”

“But you will not divulge its location?”

“No.”

“May I know the reason?”

“I do not like nosy outlanders.”

The other witness—the quiet one—coughed. It sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

“That is fair, but it will make verifying your identity much harder.”

“It will not. I live alone. There is no one to verify with.” She fixed Nikias with a flat stare. “You do not need to know where I live. If you wish to know me, then you may ask merchants here. I trade in Kyros for coin and food.”

Nikias looked taken aback—finally. Ha.

“That is…a very good point. Very well. Can you tell me which merchants you trade with?”

Ba’an rattled off the names of the merchants who knew her but were not at all friendly. There. Let him chase dust in the wind.

They continued.

“What became of your strifa? I don’t believe you rode in on it.”

“We did not.” Ba’an thought of Kulva’rin, Thu’rin’s old mount, so that she showed the right feelings. “We ate her. There was not enough food.”

“My condolences.”

“Yes.” She paused, then added, “Thank you. She was a good strifa.” That was as mannerly as she could be, all things considered.

“You mentioned that sir Lukios was unconscious when you approached him. Can you describe his injuries?”

Well, that was easy enough, except…

“I cannot describe it in Dolkoi’ri.”

“I ask that you try, then give me a translation in K’Avaari.” Ah, again for the witnesses. What use were they now? They clearly could not understand K’Avaari. Well, this entire testimony was a sham, so why not?

Ba’an struggled through it in Dolkoi’ri, then gave it again in K’Avaari. It was a relief to do so; though the two men sitting behind her said nothing, she could feel their thinning patience as she struggled to describe complex medical concepts in their wretched tongue.

Nikias continued writing without comment.

Hm. Did he actually understand advanced K’Avaari? Or was he merely transcribing it phonetically?

Ba’an attempted to peer over the lip of his tablet, but he simply tilted it toward himself to thwart her.

The little dis-tat.

“Those injuries sound lethal. How did you tend to him?”

“I am skilled in…what you call physic, I believe. It was not easy, but I…”

And on and on it went, until her teacup was empty and her belly cold.

---

Ba’an stared down at the horrendous blotch of ink seeping into the parchment.

Oh no. She had not meant to do that.

“I—I am sorry. I did not mean to…ruin the page.”

Ba’an was unused to Dolkoi’ri ink pens. She had tilted her hand while writing her name, and all the ink had simply flowed out of the hollow metal rod and onto the page and desk beneath.

Nikias was already blotting the ink off the wood. “No need for apologies, lady Ba’an. The error was mine. I should have used the metal sheets instead and had you inscribe your name.” He raised his head and spoke to one of his servants. “Medoros. A tablet and metal sheets.”

What a mess. Ba’an knew her cheeks must be bright red; they burned furiously.

Someone behind her sighed. The other one murmured, very quietly; Ba'an could not make out the words, but it did not sound complimentary.

Stupid, barbaric Sanders. That’s what they were thinking, that she could not write because she was some idiot desert savage.

Nikias did not glance up when he spoke. “Scipio. Letus. Did either of you have something you wish to say?”

“W—what? No, no, of course not. Just…” The freckled man who had sighed cleared his throat. “…A bit fatigued. It's this wretched weather.”

“Ah. I wish you a restful evening, then."

“Thank you, sir Nikias.” The two men looked down at their own tablets and refrained from...fidgeting.

The man Nikias had addressed as Medoros returned with a tablet and metal sheets, which were thin enough to inscribe but thick enough to last. She watched as Nikias affixed a sheet to the tablet. He began to rapidly copy the contents of the parchment onto the metal sheet instead. “If you will pardon me for a moment, lady Ba’an.”

“Of course.” What else could she say? It had been her fault that he was doing this now. Ba’an tried her best to relax, wishing there was more tea.

It would be foolish to allow this to…bother her. It did not matter what anyone thought. Well, it mattered what Nikias thought, which was why she was here, but it would be her advantage if he thought her stupid and ignorant. Then he would not think her a threat. Surely?

“I will read this out loud to you so you may verify its contents.” Nikias had finished copying her account of the bandit attack. Ba’an listened as he spoke her own testimony back to her, word-for-word. She was hearing it for the second time now, and it was the same as the first: perfectly precise, written exactly the way she had told it.

“Yes, that is right.”

“If you can sign your name here.”

She took the metal stylus and inscribed it in udic. Ba’an could not write Dolkoi’ri.

She handed it back to him, and he glanced at it then turned it back to her. “Your pardon, lady Ba’an, but I will need your former name chain to verify your identity. As we discussed.”

Ba’an had not agreed, but what was the point in arguing? Vala-Tu’rin would not tell him why she had been banished. At best they would pretend she had never existed, and at worst they would only tell him what she had: Ba’an salu-Ba’an was nur-vaa’ri, and no longer their problem.

She reached over and signed beneath it with her former name chain. Ba’an stared down at the neat udic spelling out the familiar curves of her father’s name. Her mother’s.

Then hers.

Now they were all together again, a complete name chain.

It had been a very long time since she had seen her—no. Their names were no longer hers to carry. Not out loud.

“Your udic flows well.” Nikias’ tone was kind and complimentary, but she knew what he really meant: I know you were a witch.

Only those of the high-vuti wrote in udic.

“Yes.” It was true. Her udic was beautiful; Ba’an had practiced for hours every day as a child.

Ba’an thought she saw his mouth twitch upward again before he ducked his head down. Was he laughing at her now too? Over what, exactly?

Ba’an watched Nikias take in her name and place her on a list in his head. He did not look over-eager—Ba’an did not think she would have noticed anything at all unusual if she had not known he had plotted this the night before—and he very casually inscribed his own name beside hers.

Then he took something that must have been some kind of seal of office and stamped it so the metal was permanently marked. He did the same with the witness statements, which testified that her testimony had really happened.

It was all very complicated and strange. The Dolkoi’ri were all madmen.

Well, no matter. They were done now, and Nikias was speaking to her again.

“Vala-Tur'in? Hm, still led by Chief Tsu’kos, I believe.” He began rolling up the report, gesturing at one of the servants to come take it.

Ba’an shrugged. “Yes. Unless he is dead. I do not know.”

Nikias paused. “I have not heard that he is.” He addressed the servant. “I want three copies of this.”

Ba’an looked at him curiously. “Why?”

“I like to keep records when I can.”

Yes, he did seem like that sort of man.

Letus and Scipio were quick to leave. Ba’an thought their goodbyes were rather curt, but Nikias did not seem at all bothered; he had been perfunctory too, distracted by the sheets on the table.

Ba’an put her hand beneath her chin and watched him. Nikias raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yes?”

“You are very Dolkoi’ri.”

He looked amused. “That is because I am Illosian.”

“Yes.”

His look of amusement intensified. “I will take that as a compliment.”

It hadn’t been, and they both knew it.

“Yes.”

His lips quirked upward, but he refrained from further commentary.

“There is one other thing,” he started, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“If possible, I would like you to stay in Kyros until I have verified your story. It won’t take long for me to confirm you trade here.”

Ah.

Ba’an gave him a hard stare, but Nikias only met her gaze with his usual genial expression.

“No. I will stay until I must go. Then I will go. If you cannot confirm my identity within that time, then it is not my problem.”

“True. But it will render your testimony null and void. All this work will have been for nothing.” He sipped his tea, then added, “And I will be forced to assume that you lied. Which is illegal, if you will recall.” He smiled.

“You will not whip me.”

“Well, I won’t, no. I believe the gaoler does that.”

“He will not, either.”

“Of course not. Because you have no reason to refuse. It is only another day or two, and I’m sure Gaios will be most hospitable.” He gave her a very mild look of rebuke, as if he could not fathom why she was refusing.

“I do not understand how you and Lukios are friends.” It was astounding.

Nikias choked on his tea and coughed, and Ba’an felt at least a little bit smug.

“We are,” he managed, finally, “and I would appreciate it if you cooperated a little longer.” He blinked at her. “Unless there is some other issue?”

“I have duties.”

“You do? I thought you lived alone. In the desert.”

The little dis-tat. She would…ugh.

“That does not mean I do not have responsibilities.”

“Oh. I see. Such as?”

She remained silent. The only things she could think of were her plants and Salu’ka, but the latter was a secret, and the former was simply too embarrassing to mention. They were plants. Desert plants.

Nikias sighed. “I would not have really had you hauled off, lady Ba’an. I must apologize for my sense of humour. It is very uncouth.”

“Yes.”

He seemed amused again. “You are very K’Avaari, lady Ba’an.”

“Yes.”

“I will take that as agreement. I will notify you once I’ve verified with your merchant friends.”

She stifled the urge to reach over and strangle him. Instead, she relaxed in her chair and let her gaze sweep over the maps pinned to the walls. There was no real intelligence marked on them that she could see, though there was one particular map of interest.

It was of the outer region, and she could see that whoever had drawn the map had been meticulous. There was the Red Maze; there was the box canyon that held her not-vuti, though it had been marked as a small-standing cliff. She spotted Kyros, and then further up…

There was a fort. It was the only fort in the area.

She had a good guess as to what that was, especially because someone had circled it in ink.

“Have you an interest in maps?”

Ba’an turned her attention back to Nikias. He was seated in a very relaxed way as well, seemingly very satisfied with the outcome. Well, why wouldn’t he be?

Ugh.

“Yes. I have not seen many, and I have spent my life in the desert. I am curious.”

He looked mildly surprised by her answer, but the expression was fleeting. He had very good control over his face and body. Ba’an did not think she would have noticed anything at all if she had not been trained to sit in the shi-vuti.

He stood and walked to one of the shelves and pulled out a rolled piece of parchment. It was wide, and likely to be long when rolled out.

“I think you might find this one more interesting, then.” He shuffled some papers to the side and unfurled it on the desk.

It was a map. Ba’an understood what it was, intellectually, but she could not orient herself in the shapes that stared up at her. She recognized nothing.

“This is north.” He tapped her end of the map. “And this is south. We are…here.” Now that Nikias had placed his finger on their location, Ba’an could begin to see where the mountains were. She could not spot the Red Maze, which had not been specifically marked, but she could see the shape of the desert beginning to flow north.

It was so big. She did not recognize anything beyond a circle the size of her palm from where Nikias had placed his finger. She leaned over the desk eagerly, forgetting her ire. She traced the outline of what must have been a shoreline.

“Is this…the sea?”

“Yes. One of them. That one is the Erythros. We call it “The Teeth,” because of the rocks. Crossing it is dangerous. This one’s the Bukáli. If you go further south, you reach Eir—”

Eir. Ba’an traced her fingers over the jagged shape that lay south, across the Bukáli. Lukios had been born there. Was it full of people who looked like him? They were rare colours here, blond hair and amber eyes. What foods did the eat? What did their towns look like, their houses? Was the weather warm?

“—and here, if you go even further, you reach the Outlands.”

“Do the Outlands have ‘snow’?”

“They do. You’ve heard of it?”

“Yes. Lukios told me. It is water, but…white. Solid. I cannot imagine it.”

“Hm…How can I describe snow? Normally it looks like a very light white powder. If you look closely, each speck of it has a sort of…pattern. It has shapes. It melts quickly if you touch it.”

“You have seen it?”

“Yes. I was sent there once. It was…very cold. Very, very cold. When you breathe you can see it in the air, like steam.”

“And the people?”

“The people? They speak a language called Hwīt. They are very…different.”

“Different?”

“It is difficult to explain. The climate is too cold, and the land is very mountainous. They are largely tribal, though they have some urban development around their ports. They are very…cautious…of outsiders. It was an interesting experience, though I am not eager to repeat it.”

“Why did you go there?”

“That, I cannot answer. My apologies for any disappointment.”

“No, there is no need. I was only…curious.”

Ba’an looked at the map again.

“What is beyond the Outlands?”

“That we do not know.” He paused, and she could tell he was trying to decide if he should tell her something or not. “The people there claim their land touches the roof of the world, where a god lies sleeping beneath the ice. It is a very interesting legend, though I can only report hearsay. I did not travel that far myself.”

Ba’an felt a chill. A sleeping god. Such gods were often the most frightening. They were not small gods, the sleeping ones. They were…

“It is best to leave the sleeping gods sleeping.”

He tilted his head to the side so he could look at her properly. Nikias was also much taller than Ba’an, so it was somewhat awkward.

“You believe the legends are true?”

“Belief does not matter. There is risk. Risk is…” She struggled to put her thoughts into words. Why was it sometimes so difficult? Dolkoi’ri was a miserable tongue. She switched to K’Avaari.

“You must consider the risk of the legend being true. The sleeping gods sleep for a reason. They must remain sleeping. If you are cautious and there is no god, then there is no harm. If you are cautious and there is a god, you have done well. If you are not cautious and there is no god, then there is no harm, either. But if you are not cautious and there is a god, he will wake and swallow the world.”

“You said ‘gods.’ Do K’Avaari believe there are sleeping gods, more than one? How can you share a legend when your people live so far apart?” Nikias had responded in K’Avaari, without missing a single step.

Dangerous. He was a very dangerous man, though not for the same reasons as Lukios. Ba’an had been too careless already.

She looked him in the eye. “That, I cannot answer. My apologies for any disappointment.”

Nikias laughed. He looked startled, as startled as she felt.

Someone knocked on the door. “Are you two done? I think the witnesses left a while a…go.” Ba’an jumped. Now that she was no longer absorbed in the map she could hear Lukios’ clear, bright soul from where she stood. She could hear others too, walking down the corridors and going about their business. Had she truly been so distracted?

Nikias only smiled genially. “You’re rather tardy.”

Lukios stood in the doorway, looking at them.

Ba’an suddenly felt guilty, as though she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t. But she hadn’t, had she? She had only been looking at a map. Was there a Dolkoi’ri rule about women looking at maps with men? Surely not. That was far too ridiculous, even for outlanders.

Besides, the only thing she felt for Nikias was a slowly growing urge to throttle him, maps or no.

“Lukios! Yes, we are finished.” Ba’an straightened. “Nikias was showing me a map. It is very big. You can see all the way to the Outlands.” She pointed.

Lukios grinned, though it came half a beat late. “Oh, a map. Here I was worried he was seducing you with something slightly more exciting,” he said dryly. “Try harder, Nikias.”

Nikias made an exasperated noise, one that sounded completely sincere. “That’s not even close to funny. We were waiting for you to get here. You couldn’t have been expecting me to let her wander through the streets alone. Not in Kyros, of all places.” He gave Lukios a very pointed look.

Lukios held up his hands in surrender. “You’re right, you’re right. I was late. My bad.” He sauntered to her and put his arm around her waist. “All sorted then?”

Oh, Lukios was still very annoyed. This was too bad, because she had just remembered something important.

“Yes. Though…Lukios…” Ba’an hesitated, glancing between him and Nikias. Nikias raised an eyebrow. “Nikias said…that Terutus…filed a report.”

Lukios groaned. Nikias gave her a look that clearly said, I asked you to handle this.

Well, too bad. If Nikias wanted to stick his nose in everyone’s business, he could deal with the smell, too.