The boundlessness of consciousness misleads us.

To find yourself, you must simply carve away all that you are not.

When nothing remains to be cut, what is left is who you are.

From there, grow anew.

Then, prune again.

This endless cycle of growth and cutting away will help you rediscover yourself, again and again.

— Except from Flangel's Journal

Cayn and Aybel's

"So let me get this straight," Primrose jabbed a spoon into her breakfast — chilled cactus fruit soup, garnished with mint and dusted with powdered sugar. "The Stewards are competing in some game — dou shui zhan —"

"Duo shui zhan," Molam corrected. "Compete for water, not fight with it."

"Right, duo." Primrose closed her eyes briefly — a habit Molam suspected to be one where she was rolling her eyes but had trained to never show it. He'd never actually seen her roll her eyes. "And the losers all support the winner in getting a private audience with the Lord of Sands?"

"Yes, that's the stakes," Molam confirmed. "The winner gets to speak to the Lord of Sands without the other two trying to interfere. And, with their implicit support for whatever the winning side wants to discuss with the Lord."

"Well isn't that convenient," Kalle chimed in, spreading date syrup over flatbread. "That's exactly what we want." Seemingly happy with the amount of syrup, he then sawed at a wedge of goat cheese with a dull knife. "Well, what Molam keeps on saying is important. Meeting with the Lord of Sands."

The Sun had only just crested the upper reaches of the long panes of glass covering the Lower Tiers, casting long, dappled shadows across the building's courtyard. Pale Sunlight filtered through the cracked awning above, dancing faintly across their dishes, and making the chilled soup shimmer with a light that was, truth be told, honestly glaring in Molam's vision.

The courtyard itself was quiet. Some mursashu were sleeping in; the journey through the Endless Sands had been long and harsh. Others had already gone straight to work; Molam still caught glimpses of mursashu bringing wheelbarrows of goods for sale to the marketplace. The scent of mint and garlic lingered in the dry air.

Primrose sat cross-legged, her fiery hair loosely bundled, punctuating each word with jabs into her soup. Kalle lounged across from her, as confident with his dull knife as he was wrong about its sharpness. Molam, between them, stared into his cracked wheat porridge, untouched except for a few listless stirs.

"Anyone who offers you exactly what you want is baiting you," Primrose muttered, reaching to tap Kalle's hand. "Someone gave you a trash knife. Give it here."

He obliged. She tested the edge with her thumb, frowned, then cracked the cheese wedge in two with a clean, precise motion that looked almost disdainful of the tool itself.

"Impressive as always," Kalle said around a bite. "You almost made it look sharp."

Primrose turned back to Molam while wiping her hands on a napkin. "So. We're entering?"

"You wouldn't be asking if you didn't already know."

"I like to give men a chance to surprise me."

"You'd be disappointed," he said.

"Men do that often. So, will you too?" Primrose batted her eyelashes at him.

Molam smiled at that. "We're backing Steward Ryu in the game, yes. But you're right — someone's setting bait. Steward Ryu came… prepared. She wants this partnership. I can surmise a few guesses as to why." He found himself tapping his chin while he thought aloud, "But… it's unclear as to why the other Stewards agreed to it. No one becomes a Steward without becoming wary of unseen ramifications."

Primrose raised an eyebrow instead of frowning. "Then we're walking into a trap?"

"Not quite," Molam clarified. "It's a risk. But we're not a disadvantage… not yet. The point is, we can't treat this as the only game being played."

Kalle blinked. "There's another Water Game?"

Molam sighed. "Figure of speech. What I mean is, don't get distracted. The real objective hasn't changed: we need to meet the Lord of Sands."

"Then why not just win the dou shui zhan?" Primrose asked.

Molam raised a brow. "I already corrected you once. Your memory is better than that."

"I just like how irritated you get." Primrose smiled sweetly at him. Upon seeing Molam's continued look of I woke up early because the two of you wanted a summary?, she added, "Let loose a little! For once we're not dealing with a life-or-death situation. Just a game."

"Living is a life-or-death situation," Molam replied, grabbing some flatbread. "Most people just don't think about it that way. We're within the Lord of Sand's Domain right now; he could listen in on this conversation if he wanted. He could kill us this instant if he wanted. Danger is everywhere. Not to mention, this game could quickly become a death game if two of the Stewards voted for it."

He reached for some cheese, then for the knife to split it apart. Primrose snatched it first.

"Hold it up," she said, even-keeled and serious, raising the knife. "I will give you some danger."

Molam thought to protest, then thought better of it and obliged, holding the cheese wedge on an open palm. She brought the blade down, cleanly splitting the wedge in his hand. His fingers twitched, but his palm remained intact.

"You flinched," Primrose said, mock-hurt. "Don't you trust me?"

"Anyone would. That has little to do with trust. You're lucky I put enough confidence in your skills to allow silly things like this," Molam muttered back as he folded the flatbread around the sliced cheese. Don't you trust me? echoed in the back of his head, but he ignored it. "I assume you're done punishing me for correcting you?"

"Maybe," Primrose winked at him. "Sleep with an eye open the next few nights."

"I think she means it," Kalle added helpfully.

Molam tilted his head back and looked up, wondering if some God was punishing him with this specific pair of companions. Perhaps Shurra would have been better? At least Shurra tended to stay silent. He rubbed at his nose, continuing his earlier thought. "I'm somewhat regretting telling the others I'm entering you as a fighter."

"Oh—I'm in?" she asked. Molam caught an upward tilt in the first syllable, a hint she was unexpectedly pleased. "Will you be explaining a strategy to me later? I'm afraid I don't know how the game works."

"We'll deal with that after we have a team to discuss strategies," Molam replied. Seeing Primrose's still-expectant look, he gave in. "Fine. The gist of it is: each side starts at an equal pace away from a central water repository, traditionally a well. Each team also has an empty, unmoveable jar at their starting position. You win by collecting enough water from the center to fill your jar first." Molam saw the next question on Primrose's face. "And yes, you're allowed to fight each other along the way, or even go to an opposing team's jar and steal water directly. It's traditionally fought in teams of three combatants."

"Who are the other two?" Primrose asked, her face deep in thought. "I can't be expected to cooperate well on a team that I've never at least sparred with, I hope?"

"I don't know anything about the last two members yet," Molam admitted. The discussions with the Mursa last night had been productive, but only served to reveal that this was the Stewards' game, not his. "Getting you in was the best I could do. Teams are required by tradition to have a shield bearer, spear wielder, and sword caller, though the allowed weapons for the last one has been expanded slightly in the last few centuries as sword callers have become fewer in number. You'd be taking that position, by the way. Steward Ryu will be finding us the other two."

"And now all we have to do is win." Primrose smiled at him. "Fight over some water. Fill a jar. So on and so forth."

Molam didn't smile back. "Winning is the goal, but we need contingency. What if we lose?"

"Find another path to the Lord of Sands," Kalle offered.

"That's a goal, not a strategy," Molam said. He turned to Primrose. "Ideas?"

"We… force the Stewards?"

"To do what?"

"Facilitate a meeting with the Lord of Sands?"

"You're just saying the same thing now, only with a proposed plan of action," he muttered. "I want both of you to pay attention to anything that can disrupt the flow of water in Oasis. I don't care what it is; but I assume you both spent the time traveling here to get up to speed on how Oasis treats water as money, and how it flows upwards. Look for anything we can exploit to disrupt that. One that would make those at the top squirm."

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They both looked at him with a mixture of expressions; Kalle seemed deep in thought while Primrose was using her look of polite curiosity – a look Molam now associated with mild disapproval she was too eager to hide.

"Water is a dangerous thing to disrupt," she said slowly. "Particularly when it's the foundation of so many power structures here. Some of the mursashu told me stories about Luyi the Lazy. History has shown no one takes kindly to any attempts to diminish their power and influence."

Kalle was nodding along when Molam allowed himself a small smile. At least he never needed to worry these two wouldn't understand what he wanted to accomplish. "Sometimes you have to make your own opportunity. Wars have been fought over less, yes?"

Steward Ryu's Study

The Steward sighed. "Put your efforts into getting prepared instead of avoiding it. You're going to be the shield bearer in my Water Game."

Jyuyan opened his mouth to reject the notion outright, then thought better of it. Instead, he said, "You know I'm… a Rider, right?"

"With shield bearer training, yes."

"I failed the test to make it into the Shield regiment!" Jyuyan bit back the urge to remind her why. The memory still stung — not the shame of the disqualification, but the silence afterward from the garrison. No reassignment. No second chance. Just a polite suggestion that it was a shame he was late because he had been taking care of a sick Ryu the previous night.

Ryu waved her hand dismissively without looking up from the stack of reed slips. "Details. You're the only shield bearer I have. Both Marshals have forbidden any of the soldiers from participating in Water Games between the Stewards, so I'm trying to make do. Now I just need to find an unattached spear wielder of some skill…" she said as she squinted at the registry. "Make yourself useful and help me out."

Her tone made it clear the discussion was over.

The Steward's study was a cramped chamber lined with narrow shelves sagging under the weight of old registries. Reed slips filled trays and baskets on the floor, spilling out like weeds in need of pruning. A small brazier burned somewhere near the door, its thin smoke giving the air a faint scent of citrus and ash. Despite the mess, every surface Ryu touched was immaculately clean.

"You're not going to find any good ones," Jyuyan grumbled as he sat down on a stool far too small for his frame. "Soldiers of the regiments have better gigs than most of us Rider peasants. Any spear wielder worth their salt isn't going to be unattached. Or in the Lower Tiers, for that matter. They all get to live in the Middle Tiers!"

"This is important, Jyuyan. Find me one, or you're going to need to tell me which Rider can be trusted with a spear," Ryu snapped, shoving a pile of registries to him without looking up.

He caught them before they could tip to the ground. None of the Riders were capable spear wielders, or they would be spear wielders, he wanted to say. But Ryu would easily overrule him and berate him for complaining about important work, so he changed tactics.

"Isn't this Yanar's job?" Jyuyan sighed as he scanned the first reed slip. Names of people with spear training, where they lived, their current status, and more stared back at him. The text shimmered slightly — it always did when he tried to read. Something Ryu teased about since their younger days. He blinked, rubbing his eyes. "What about the sword caller?"

"Yanar is currently dealing with something else for me. I've been informed that a member of the Dao will be acting as the third."

A quiet knock at the door interrupted them before Jyuyan could make further inquiries. Ryu didn't look up. "What is it?"

Her attendant Yanar stepped inside, bowing quickly. The lighter skin of his Oasian face betrayed his flushed cheeks, and a thin sheen of sweat clung to his forehead — either from running or nerves. "Apologies for the interruption, Steward Ryu, but it regards the interruption in the middle of the night. The person of interest given the recent… attempted water heist incident has turned herself in. She came to us injured, and I took the liberty of summoning a healer after ensuring she was disarmed and detained. She requests a meeting with you."

"That would be… Aliyah. The twin sister of that man the SpearMarshal captured in WellWardyn's reservoir?" Ryu pressed her lips together, a sign Jyuyan associated with polite confusion. "A meeting with me?"

Her attendant seemed to hesitate about what to say in front of Jyuyan. Yanar blinked, then said, "I think she's looking for protection in exchange for testimony."

That made Ryu pause. She finally set the reed slip down. "You can speak freely in front of Jyuyan."

Yanar bowed. "Yes, Steward. Then, this Aliyah has allegedly seen the inside of WellWardyn's reservoir, and is willing to speak about what she saw."

Jyuyan caught Ryu's look of urgent triumph, though he retained a more cautious outlook. Testimony didn't necessarily mean anything. If this Aliyah was willing to talk, she either knew something damning or was desperate enough to bluff.

Jyuyan didn't say anything, but his mind was already racing. Ryu had spent the past three years trying to piece together an understanding of the banks' hidden water reservoirs — even small rumors or unconfirmed leaks had sent her scrambling. She'd been repeatedly stymied by the banks' rejections for her to make a full tour, or only given extremely guided visits that proved the banks had more than enough water to back up the amount of banknotes they were printing. To get testimony from an unaffiliated person who'd seen the inside of a bank's reservoir was something Ryu had been after for a long time; a key reason why she was currently unhappy with Steward Jyori for having claimed custody of the other captured water thief, Ayden.

Ryu leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing. She tapped her fingers once against the registry, thoughtful. "Bring her to the high chamber. Let it be known she's currently my guest. Officially, mind, Yanar. Make sure the paperwork is done properly, with eye witnesses. I don't care what excuses the other Stewards come with; I can't lose this one too."

The attendant bowed again and disappeared, footsteps quick against the stone.

"Jyuyan, please keep looking for any useful names," Ryu said as she stood, brushing her hands. "I'm sure I don't need to explain why I'm going to prioritize speaking to this person right now."

"This shouldn't be my job," Jyuyan muttered. The words danced in his sight again, forcing him to press the heels of his palms to his eyes. Yanar's entrance had shattered what little focus he'd built. "I'm a Rider."

"Most of my people are working with the ones who lost their jobs overnight, so I'm light on help right now," Ryu replied, already at the door. She looked back just long enough to let her voice drop into something teasing. "Do it for me? Then you can show me how much of a Rider you are tonight, handsome. I promise."

"I know exactly what you're doing," Jyuyan grumbled at her fading footsteps. His hand lingered on the registry, eyes drifting past the names without reading them.

I promise.

The casual way she used the phrase stung in ways he could never tell her. The door clicked shut before he could say his next sentence into an empty room.

"You promised me children ten years ago."

Office of the Steward of the Middle Tiers

"Expand the bounty. Hmm, and offer a guarantee just for participating," Steward Jyori instructed her attendants, her voice even and melodic in the marble chamber. "One hundred thousand buckets of water just to participate should do. Four hundred thousand buckets should our side win."

She inspected her nails as her aides scurried to record her words, the rhythmic scratching of inked quills on reed paper filling the silence. The faint scent of sandalwood and satem petals drifted from a nearby brazier. Both were expensive imports, but Jyori loved the scent.

Chaya, her chief attendant, glanced up from her notes, brow furrowed. "Permission to expand our search into the Upper Tiers? This is an amount that would sway even some of them."

The Steward rested her chin on her palm, the golden bangles around her wrist chiming softly as she turned the thought over. "Why not?" she murmured after a pause. "I'd rather have more to choose from than none to work with."

"Understood," said Chaya, bowing her head. Her hair flopped comically forward; the girl was clearly trying to imitate Jyori's hairstyle, but hadn't fully grasped the intricacies of using a ring and liberal application of firming oils to hold the shape. "Then to confirm — sword caller, shield bearer, and spear wielder, all to be recruited with immediate readiness."

"Yes." Jyori's gaze drifted toward the glass ceiling, where faint ripples of light shimmered down from the Upper Tier pools above. This must be done correctly, she mused to herself. Winning this Water Game represents a rare opportunity to obtain a support consensus among the Stewards, and she simply couldn't pass it up. There would be no better chance to push for their Lord to outlaw unequal wages between men and women. "Tell the potential recruits we are not interested in mediocre performances. I'm only looking for the best."

"Yes, Steward," Chaya said. She hesitated, then added, "But if I may — finding a good spear wielder will be… difficult."

Jyori's attention snapped back from the ceiling. "Difficult? There's a small fortune in it for them. And a Steward's favorable gratitude."

"That is true," Chaya conceded. "I'm certain that this can be easily resolved."

Jyori knew whenever her aide was not being too forthcoming. "Out with it, Chaya."

"Steward, I…" Chaya bit her lip, but Jyori's tone gave her aide little room for argument. "I simply believe that only desperate spear wielders would be interested. Any spear wielders unattached with the spear regiment are…" she paused, saw Jyori's gaze, then continued, "... often offered comfortable roles working for those in the Upper Tiers. It's a simple job. Protect the client, occasionally dirty your spear, things of that sort. They get to drink their fill of water and eat with the Upper Tiers, not to mention occasionally obtain some amount of processed jade."

"So you're saying that a small fortune isn't enough considering the good ones are already living a life of luxury," Jyori mused in response.

Her aide nodded. "Yes, Steward. And that means this amount will only attract the unattached spear wielders who couldn't receive this level of compensation for their skills. We would be choosing from the best of the … well, worst."

Jyori paused to give this some consideration. Chaya's observation made sense. "Now, we can't have that," Jyori began slowly, contemplating her options. "What have you to suggest then, Chaya?"

Her aide's eyes widened, and Jyori sighed at the girl's lack of preparation. "What have I always said, Chaya?" she admonished slowly, opening a small jar of bright red paint on her desk. "Anyone can point out problems. What distinguishes the capable from the rest is the ability to come up with solutions. Even if it was a poor one, you should have given me an answer so we can explore why your idea doesn't work. Understand?"

"Yes, Steward." Chaya bowed her head, seemingly relieved that it was merely a light chastisement.

Jyori considered admonishing the girl for being more concerned about the consequences than the opportunity to learn, but decided against it. She dipped a brush into the jar and began repainting her nails again, continuing her talk.

"People are always moved by two things: incentives, or consequences." Jyori twirled the brush between her fingers, the scent of sandalwood thick in the air as she coated the edge of one nail with care. "We could increase incentives, but it's hard to compete with their existing incentives. That leaves consequences."

Chaya shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "Steward Jyori, do you mean compulsion?"

"Perhaps, but compelling a spear wielder will be a difficult task on its own." Jyori painted another nail, musing over her options. She would need Chaya and the other aides to find a list of highly capable spear wielders serving in the Upper Tiers, then compile a shortlist of the easily compelled. Time was slipping away like grains of sand in an hourglass; the Water Game was soon, and she had so little time to prepare. "What is your current capacity, Chaya? What happens if I tasked you and, say, four other girls to a task in the next two days?"

Before Chaya could respond, a series of three knocks sounded through the great bronze doors at the end of Jyori's office chamber.

"Enter." Jyori barely looked up, shifting in her seat as she continued painting her nails. Two of her enforcers entered, their heavy steps echoing against the marble walls. They dragged an older woman between them; dust-caked feet, plain line garments still damp from not-quite dried blood. She carried herself stiffly; knotted hands, wiry hair, stubborn eyes.

"Ah, Kaylah, Kaylah." Seeing the woman reminded Jyori of a solution to her present predicament, and so she greeted the cook with a smile. "Is it time for my cooking lessons again?"

When the woman did not respond, Jyori gave her enforcers a brief glance. One nodded with a bare dip of his chin, confirming what Jyori suspected. Kaylah's second daughter, the last water thief, had made a visit to Kaylah's Kitchen.

But they failed to bring me Aliyah.

Their failure should be vexing, but it did not deter her at all. Instead, Jyori affixed a slow smile on Kaylah as she contemplated whether she had everything necessary to compel a certain spear wielder.

"I believe you're here to see your son again."

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