“We may,” Meoraq said, because he could see no other way out of this house within the hour save to appear to consider. And knowing that Amber may indeed be amenable to a night or three out of the wildlands, he grudgingly added, “She will not be what you expect.”

“Oh yes, someone told me she didn’t have a proper face,” she said, waving one hand dismissively. At a sharp glance from her husband, she vaguely added, “I don’t recall who. Certainly none of the servants of this House would ever engage in gossip, but one…one hears things, you know. Through the wind-ways. One hears such dreadful gossip through the wind-ways. They let anyone at all wander out in the streets.”

Lord Uyane grunted and glared at her while she packed Amber’s things fastidiously away again and pretended not to notice.

“We may stop in,” Meoraq said, and this time, he meant it. “But now I will demand the gates open to me.”

“I have a carriage to take you as far as the Prophet’s Gate,” Lord Uyane said, opening the inner doors himself. “I’ll make you the offer of my table before you go, but I know you’ll refuse so I put a hot bit of something in your pack, there.”

Meoraq acknowledged this with a grunt, taking his pack and the second, holding Amber’s things. “Thank you.”

“Never heard thanks from a Sheulek before,” Uyane remarked, nodding at the watchmen outside who ran ahead to open the gates. “I’ll tell you something, son, which you’d find out on your own soon enough anyway. Women are like handfuls of sand. They all rub up under your scales now and then, but the finest ones do put a polish on a man. That’s far enough,” he said once they’d reached the other gate, and to the watchmen posted there—one of them, none other than Onahi—he brusquely added, “Leave us.”

Meoraq waited restlessly by the gate as the reception courtyard was cleared. Lord Uyane shut the inner doors, held his open hand on the latchplate a moment more, then turned around and faced him.

“I don’t listen at wind-ways,” he said. “I went to the governor’s seat and asked my questions there. Am I to understand that your woman is one of these…humans?”

“Yes.”

Uyane grunted and rubbed at his throat, inspecting the lamp that hung over Meoraq’s shoulder. “I saw a lot of things in my striding years that no other man would believe, and I think that may be the only reason I can believe what they told me you said about the creatures you brought with you out of Praxas. And it is speaking to you as the Sheulek I was that I ask you now to tell me His truth.” Uyane looked directly at him and leaned close. “If you do not, I will judge you for it.”

“I hear you,” Meoraq said mildly.

Uyane sent a swift, brooding glance over his shoulder at the sealed doors of his House…and above it at the vented wind-way. He took Meoraq by the shoulder, moved him right up against the gate and leaned in so close it put Meoraq uncomfortably in mind of humans kissing. In a low voice, low enough that a man could not overhear it if he were hanging out the nearest wind-way by his ankles, Uyane calmly said, “Are there others?”

It was not the question he expected. With the word ‘creatures’ spoken and the city of Praxas named, Meoraq had been preparing himself to make a defense of the humans as a true race of people and as children of Sheul, not this.

“There are a few,” he said, shrugging. “I’ll not call them untroublesome, but I know them and they are, for the moment, grateful so I can keep them easily in hand.”

“You do not mark me. You told the tribunal that these creatures came on a ship from another land. You may be able to keep your handful penned up and well-behaved all the rest of their lives, but I ask again, will there be more?”

“They didn’t intend to come here. That was Sheul’s will and if it is His will, there will be other ships.”

The steward of Uyane-Chalh uttered a caustic laugh and leaned back. “You’d best pray there are not, son. By your account, there are twelve of these things, these humans, and still the tribunal set three Sheulteb against you. If there were a thousand—ha! If there were even only fifty, you would see no end to battle, and while our Father moved in you in the arena, I do believe the tribunal’s men would be putting their blades in human necks just as fast as they could.”

“You don’t believe this.”

“Don’t I, eh?” Uyane eyed him, thinly smiling. “When even the true and natural children of Sheul are capable of such evil as you and I have seen, you can’t present the world with a real, breathing monster and expect it to be embraced.”

“They are people.”

“They may well be, but with no face, no scales, fur in thatches all over and Gann alone knows what else, they are monstrous people.” Uyane looked at him, head canted but spines all the way forward. “And you married one. Why?”

“I had to,” Meoraq said.

Lord Uyane snorted. “There had to be other ways to prove these things were children of Sheul. You’re a young man. You have the fame of your bloodline, the favor of God and the face of your father. Why bind yourself to a…a creature?”

“I had to,” Meoraq said again. “We were married before I even met her. We were married before I was ever born.”

Uyane took the tilt out of his stare and leaned back a little. The sense of judgment was again very strong, stronger even than it had been in the arena.

At the end of it, Uyane reached out and pressed his palm to Meoraq’s chest. Meoraq returned the touch. Their hearts came into rhythm.

“You’re a bit of a fool, but I’m proud to call you kin,” said Uyane, dropping his arm. “Bring her by, son. My Nraqi will probably chatter a hole in her scale-less head, but love her all the same. She hasn’t had anyone to coddle over in eight years. So.” He opened the gate and stood aside. The carriage was just without, two masked bulls harnessed and pecking at the street, the young boy who drove them waiting by the open door. “Go in the sight of Sheul and serve him well.”

“I release you, steward. Await my return and be ready to receive my wife.”

“It won’t be this easy when it’s your own House,” Uyane called as Meoraq boarded. “I hope you know that.”

“Then our Father has prepared me well,” Meoraq replied as the carriage lurched forward. “Nothing is ever easy with that woman, but the worst is behind us now.”

Rash words, but perhaps he could be forgiven for them. He was Sheulek. Not a prophet.

4

It was harder than she thought it would be, being left behind. Even at the worst of times, before they’d ever been physical, Meoraq had been an anchor to a sense of stability she found nowhere else on this world. Without him, weird noises in the night belonged to creatures without names and any plant she saw might be poisonous. Suddenly, Amber was lost again.

She wished Meoraq would get back or at least that she had some idea of when to expect him. She didn’t even have anything to do while she waited. Oh, there were always fires to tend and water to carry, but it still left her with a lot of time to sit with Nicci and pretend she didn’t care what Scott was muttering about on his side of the fire.

She let him talk. Not everyone was in his corner, but she was still outnumbered and Meoraq wasn’t here to scare them off. Basic mathematics, as Crandall would say. One loud-mouthed dick plus five or six true believers minus one badass lizardman equaled a very quiet Amber Bierce. She made some of Meoraq’s tea whenever anyone asked. She let them help themselves to the meat that was supposed to last until he got back. She shared everything except Meoraq’s tent and his sword, and because they were so obviously his, no one but Scott even asked.

Too cold, not enough tents, Scott passing out the food. It was all the same old shit on a smaller scale, with the added fun of Praxas perched on the horizon like a tombstone and the threat of raiders in every shadow at night. And just to put the frosting on the shit-cake, Amber didn’t feel well—tired and oddly disoriented, as if she were running a low fever, heavy and achy and oh yes, nauseous.