The quthli females offered to carry Coir to the slaughter ground, but he declined, saying he wished to remain with Jareen. The quthli hardly glanced at her, but before slipping back into the woods, they told Coir that others would come to see him soon. Now that the fighting was done, the females must butcher.

Oreann, Selu, and the others returned first, and when the quthli males arrived, their long hair matted with blood, the council of the Canaen lined up to receive them. The Findelvien huddled on the far side of the camp. To them, the quthli were horrors from stories, and they looked it. Jareen understood their fear, for she remembered being just as frightened, once. She told them not to flee, for it was safer in the camp than outside.

Jareen was surprised to recognize the great quthli who led the delegation of five victorious males up to the council. The quthli ignored all but Coir, pressing in around him and forcing Oreann to back up. Jareen failed to suppress a smile at his discomfited expression and those of the rest of the council. The leader of the quthli wrapped Coir in an embrace, pressing the old man's face into his bloody hair and leaning back, lifting Coir's feet from off the ground. Coir patted the quthli with both hands, and when he was set back down, he was stained with blood. There was much grunting and huffing. It was obvious Coir was pleased, and Jareen watched their interaction with something like gratification. Despite their uncouth ways, she knew they felt true affection toward him. They gesticulated, often pointing at the blood on their hair.

Coir said something and the group of quthli howled, slapping their shoulders and grunting with such sudden ferocity that Jareen flinched.

"What is it?" she asked when the outcry quieted a little.

"They just found out that the females came to see me first," Coir said. "They had wanted. . ."

"Wanted what?"

"The honor? The luck?" Coir suggested. "I think a literal translation might be 'hitting with shut eyes?"

"They won't hurt them, will they?" Jareen asked.

Coir laughed and waved a hand at her.

"No, no. If anything, there will be more quthli next summer."

Jareen opened her mouth, but she had no words.

"Whose quthli are these?" Liethni asked Coir. "Are they of Elth?"

"No," Coir told her. "These were Vireel's. They are free, now."

"Perhaps we should take them," Selu said. "We could use their protection."

"No." Jareen's tone was adamant. "Leave their minds alone. No child of Vah will dominate another creature."

Selu pressed his lips together but said nothing.

"Can you ask the quthli to let us arm ourselves from the dead?" Oreann asked Coir. "We did not reach the fight in time and the quthli would not let us approach."

"No," Coir said. "It is their kill."

"You have influence with them."

"For a reason," Coir responded. "I don't insult them."

"Daughter of Vah, can you not reason with him?" Oreann asked. "It would not be difficult to influence them. We do not have to subdue them."

The quthli still ignored the others, huddled around Coir, picking at his beard, and getting more blood on his over-sized robe.

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"No," Jareen said. "I have done all that I can."

"But you have not tried!"

"Listen to me!" she raised her voice. Even the quthli hushed at her tone, furrowing their hairy faces. "I do not know the way to Vah'tane. I will not enslave the quthli. I am weak. I cannot keep you safe. The Synod will try again. Go home, wherever that might be. Go home."

"Daughter of Vah—" Liethni said, but Jareen raised her hand.

"I can do no more." She was not sure what would come next. Maybe she would seek shelter in Elth and encourage Coir to live with the quthli. They would look after him. Everyone was staring at her, most avoiding her eyes. The quthli watched her as well, and Coir spoke rapidly in their tongue. The large quthli leader grunted back to Coir.

"You have done so much for so many," Liethni said. "We will not leave you alone."

"We will take you to Elth. I believe they will shelter us," Selu said. "There is food within the embrace there, if we are willing to submit to their ancients."

"Wait," Coir said. "Jareen."

"What?"

Coir pointed to the lead quthli.

"He says he knows the path of the dying vien."

"The what?"

"The path of the dying vien. He asked why you were upset. I told him we could not find the path."

"What is the path of the dead vien?"

Coir looked around and lowered his voice, though he still spoke loudly enough for the whole council to hear.

"I'm not certain, but. . . they call you the dead vien."

"What? Why?"

"They do not think you look well. . . your hair and skin, I mean. They think you look. . . well. . . dead. If it's any comfort, they say 'not-alive.' Ghost-vien might be a better translation? I don't know."

"Are you suggesting what I think?"

Coir turned to the quthli, speaking more. The quthli were excited, talking over each other and repeating the same words.

"Months ago, a hunting party stalked a vien who entered the Mingling alone," Coir said at length. "It led them to the dying vien."

"Coir, have you never asked the quthli about Vah'tane?" Such an oversight on Coir's part was hard for Jareen to fathom.

Coir raised both palms as if to ward off the accusation.

"I've tried, but they only have a few hundred words! Do you know how hard it is to translate a concept like Vah'tane? The most abstract word they have is 'yesterday.' They don't have tenses, Jareen. If something has already happened, they point back over their shoulder while speaking. These quthli lived in Vireel's glade for generations."

"Yes, but. . ." She shook her head.

This whole time, the council watched blankly as Coir and Jareen conversed in animated Noshian.

"Is something amiss, Daughter of Vah?" Liethni asked.

Jareen held up a hand for her to wait.

"How far?" she asked Coir.

Coir translated the question to the quthli.

"It's only one walk east of here," Coir said.

"How long is a walk?"

Coir spoke to the quthli again.

"He says a walk is from one camp to one camp."

Jareen sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"I take that to mean about a day," Coir added.

"That's all?"

"I knew it was around here somewhere."

"Do you think this is it? You're not misunderstanding?"

Coir shrugged.

The great quthli spoke again, and at some length, mixing hand motions with words in the usual quthli fashion. The big quthli pointed at Jareen more than once.

"He says he will take us there if I wish it, but they would rather I stayed with them. He says there is not-seeing there, not-living, and not-coming."

"Why was he pointing at me? What did he say about me?"

"Oh," Coir said. "Nothing related."

"What was it, Coir?"

"Well. . . It is just quthli speaking."

"What was it?" Jareen allowed an edge into her tone; she did not like relying on him to translate. Despite the time she had lived in the quthli's company, she understood next to nothing of their speech.

"He thinks I'm only going because of you. He wants me to stay, but. . ."

"But?"

"He knows that mates are hard to please, and they will take me if I want."

"What?"

"They think you're my mate."

"What? Why!"

"Jareen. . ." Coir shrugged. "We lived in the same house in Forel."

"Why would you let them think that?"

"Because," he said. "They'll protect you."

Jareen stared at him.

"Daughter of Vah?" Liethni asked again.

"Prepare to leave," Jareen said. "We seek Vah'tane for one more day."

"I'd like to stay for the feast tonight," Coir said. "I could use a meal."

Jareen looked at him. His cheekbones protruded, and his chest appeared concave even beneath his layered, tattered robes.

"Prepare to leave in the morning," she said to Liethni.

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