Mleni had fallen asleep in Jareen's hammock. Jareen sat in a chair watching him, her arms folded. She had imagined what it would be like to meet another Insensitive, but it had never looked like this. The little vien's presence had vivified her pain over Faro, a pain that had settled over months into a constant low ache, sapping her energy and leaving her feeling as if she watched life happening from a distance. This little child opened the wound afresh. He looked nothing like Faro. Faro was dark of feature, and this child's veins shone through his clear skin, but he was a child, and Jareen's child was gone.

She felt a deep sense of mercy toward the little one, but she could not have him staying with her. She would find someone in the camp to care for him; she could not tolerate the pain of his presence.

Someone knocked at the door. Jareen stood and peered out the hole. It was Folen of Elnwé, one of the sentinels. She had healed him early in the winter. His was one of the few names that stuck in her mind. She saw two other sentinels standing behind Folen, facing outward toward the camp. One was Folen's brother, who had carried Folen the last miles when the Malady had so weakened his legs. The council had set a guard on her house, to shield and not confine.

"Enter," she said. The latch shook. "Oh," Jareen said. She had forgotten. She lifted the branch and set it aside.

"Daughter of Vah," Folen said, opening the door. He bowed and pressed a hand to his chest. "I come with a message from the Servant of Vah."

That was what they had taken to calling Coir.

"Go ahead," Jareen said. But instead of speaking, the vien reached to his belt and drew out a thin slip of paper. He handed it to her and stepped back. Jareen unfolded it. The note was written in Noshian script in Coir's shaky hand.

They wish to kill them. Come quickly.

She stared at the note, keeping her expression flat, for the sentinel still stood facing her. Nothing would hide the flush creeping up her neck, though. What did she care if the council killed them? It was their decision. Forane and her accomplices were spies, liars, and maybe even kidnappers. Why was it important to Coir?

Because Coir thought about the future. Jareen had always thought of only the next step, the next Departing, the next afflicted, the next flight for safety and survival. For such a short lived people, the humans always planned ahead, thinking not of the present but of days yet to come. . . At least for Coir it was true. What did he think would happen if they killed these spies?

Revenge and reprisal. Surely the rest of the council could see that? Jareen glanced at Folen, and he hurriedly averted his gaze, bowing again. There was much zeal in this camp. It made her uncomfortable—the constant salutations, the deference. Zeal could cloud judgment. She thought of Silesh and hoped that the novice had not suffered in the end. She had hoped it thousands of times before.

"Have they caught the seventh yet?" Jareen asked.

"No," Folen answered. "The whole camp has searched. He must have slipped away in the Mingling. The sentinels are tripled and hunters dispersed."

"Take me to the council," she said. "Make sure this house is protected."

"There are seven sentinels here, already."

"Very well."

With a shallow bow, Folen led Jareen away. As she passed Folen's brother, she paused: "Comfort him if he wakes and cries."

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"Yes, Daughter of Vah," he answered, lowering his head but keeping his eyes on the approach to the house. His fingers rested around the nock of an arrow.

The council met under one of the open pavilions where work could be done out of the rain, for their little embrace could not keep out the Mingling weather entirely. The council sat cross-legged in a circle—all except Coir, who sat on a wooden stool, leaning forward on his cane. Not far away, Jareen saw the cluster of spies under heavy guard. All eyes turned to her as she approached, and the five members of the counsel arose out of respect.

"Welcome, Daughter of Vah," Liethni said with a bow of her head.

"Thank you," Jareen replied, stepping beneath the pavilion. She looked at the spies. Forane was watching, but Jareen ignored her, sizing up each of the others. One of the vien had removed his outer robe from his shoulders, tying the upper portion around his waist. His arms were bare, and they were strong, the muscles relaxed but defined. Alone of the spies, he stood rather than sat.

"Bring me the standing one." She pointed at him. It did not take long before the vien was marched before them, flanked by two sentinels. He stared at her without flinching, more than a little defiance in his posture.

"I will ask a question. Answer me truthfully and I will let you go safely without delay."

The vien's expression remained blank, except for the slightest twitch of a muscle in his cheek.

"Did his mother give him freely, or did you threaten?"

The vien tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. That did not appear to be the sort of question he was expecting.

"Such matters were not my domain."

"Take him back," Jareen told the sentinels. They turned the vien roughly and started him back toward the others. After a few paces, the vien pulled to a stop and twisted toward Jareen.

"What greater purpose for a fleeting life than to serve his people?" he asked. "His parents knew that."

"Never return unless you are afflicted, or you will die," Jareen replied. "When you reach your enclave, tell your ancients to mix the fungus that grows in the quthli's hair into your food and drink. It will prevent the Malady." As the vien wrinkled his face in a look of disgust, she addressed herself to the sentinels: "Take them all a mile into the Mingling, give them back their weapons, and let them go."

"Daughter of Vah." Oreann stood up as he spoke. "They are spies and evildoers. They have profaned this place."

"A strong message should be sent to the enclave," Sela said.

"We had thought to order their deaths," Liethni added.

"No." Jareen motioned to the sentinels. "Go ahead." They obeyed. The vien spy stared back at Jareen as he walked away, not hiding his confusion. Jareen turned to the council. Their faces showed concern and distress. Oreann looked as if he would argue, but he was ever the angriest of them.

"Findel would have killed them," she said before he could begin. "Perhaps Isecan would have as well. But not Vah."

A smile turned the corners of Coir's mouth, and he lifted his head from where his hands clutched the end of his stick.

"They disrespected the Children of Vah," Oreann said. "Should we not remind them of our traditions with blood?"

"Did Vah seek respect?" Jareen asked. "To this day, is he not called the Simple Seer?"

"But we know now," Liethni said. "The blessing of Vah has saved us."

Jareen could not hide her flinch. The cure was no mystical power—it was blood, and nothing more. She hated the deception and the zeal.

Yet even so, she doubted. Was the Current mystical, or was it simply yet to be explained? Whatever it was, it did not touch the Insensitives. Perhaps Coir was right. Perhaps the cure could be both at once, physical and mystical. Perhaps they were even the same.

"You may have just learned," Jareen said, "but didn't Vah know, and yet he endured mockery?"

Jareen had no idea what Vah actually knew. How much of the stories could be true?

Her words appeared to have an effect, regardless. Liethni lowered her head. Even Oreann's expression softened.

"I want to thank you all for your service to these people," Jareen said. "It is a burden, and you carry it well." She tried to smile.

"Thank you, Daughter of Vah," Liethni said.

"Liethni, please take the child Mleni to be with your Telu," she said. "They look close in age. Ensure they are guarded."

Liethni bowed.

Feeling unsure of what she should do next, she nodded, said "thank you," and left, heading back to her house. Two sentinels fell into step on either side of her.

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