As it turned out, Lukios had missed out on a great deal of news.

“But for real! Can you believe it? I would've never met Chloe if we’d not gone off lookin’ for you in all that sand.”

“Yeah, we were real damn sure you’d run off n’ had that pretty-boy face all cut to pieces.” Epitus made a little chopping motion and laughed, then drank from his goblet.

“And I still would’ve been a damn sight better than that rat’s ass you call a face.” Lukios gave Epitus a mocking little toast, snickering. His goblet was mostly full still; he was only sipping, though Ba’an noticed he kept his hand over the edge of the bowl. This way, the view was blocked for nearly everyone else.

“Damn straight!” Askles looked at Lukios and toasted him before drinking. “Gods bless your ma’s dainty feet, Lukios. Damn, what a sight for sore eyes after weeks o’ that baboon.”

Epitus rolled his eyes. “Hey, hey, at least I don’t snore like a—”

“That would have been a very Lukios sort of thing to do, true.” Nikias cut in very neatly and both men sat up straight. Lukios only smiled lazily and sipped his wine.

Ba’an noticed that Nikias did not drink from his wine goblet. Instead, he drank a dark beverage that she could not identify, but no one seemed to notice, or if they did, they did not comment.

She glanced at her own wine. Was there something wrong with it? But it was very tasty. Sweet, almost, though it still burned the way wine should. It teased her tongue in a way that was very tantalizing.

“Hey, hey. I’m not always a hot head. I do stop to think sometimes.”

“You’re bright enough when you do, but you need to control that temper. It’ll get you into the sort of trouble you can’t fight out of one day.” Gaios sounded like he had given this lecture more than once.

Lukios sighed. “Yes, so I’ve been told. Many, many times.”

“That’s a sign.” Epitus sounded perfectly cheerful. Ba’an noted he chewed with his mouth open, which was something no one else at the table did. She could not tell if this was considered rude or not, so she went with the crowd and made sure to keep her mouth closed.

“I did not run after Eirenne by myself. I was stabbed. In the belly. It hurt.”

Epitus gave a low whistle. “Damn. That’s doubly lucky. Most men wouldn’t survive somethin' like that. Messy way to go.”

“Well, that’s good to know. There’re rumours, y'know. Stupid ones.” Askles, on the other hand, always finished swallowing before he opened his mouth. This was why he spoke less, though he was more pleasant to watch. “Epitus there nearly got his teeth smashed in last time we went ‘ome.”

“Oh?”

“I did not. I smashed ‘is teeth in. They’re sayin’—get this, it’s so stupid I could spit—that you’d gone and ‘napped her yourself. You’d fallen in love with her, Lukios, so you took her ‘fore her wedding. You. A kidnapper of virgins. Can you even believe—?”

“Huh. Must be bored in L’alfos.”

“That’s why we’ve so many ‘orses.”

“Seriously, Askles. You popped out ‘neath a horse’s ass, too.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I ne’er forget it.” Askles gave a theatrical shudder.

Ba’an ate, listening to the sound of their friendship. She was glad he was well-loved. She had known he would be, despite what he had said. Even so, she felt sad. It was as she had thought. There would be no place for her beside him, no matter how much he wanted her to stay.

She did not understand the Dolkoi’ri, their manners, their customs, their politics. Everything was overwhelmingly foreign. She had thought she had understood their ways from observation, but to sit in the storm itself was another thing from merely watching it.

In the end their fire would burn out and he would regret he had ever asked her to stay.

Ru'talani was often this way. It burned hot, so hot that everything was immolated. Then it burned out, leaving everything an empty ruin.

She put her wine goblet down, knowing she would drink far too freely if she kept it in hand now.

“Lofo-Alfos is famous for their horses. They are rural, so the jokes get…you know.” Lukios had dipped his head low so he could murmur to her in K’Avaari. “They are both from Lofo-Alfos. That is why they make fun of it always.”

Yes, she had thought it was something like this. Ba’an gave him a small smile.

She could feel Gaios watching them.

The servants brought in more food. The smell was buttery, and Ba’an peered eagerly to see what new, delicious thing she would eat next. If there was one good thing about this, it was the food. Not only was there a great deal of it, it was also delightful. There were so many sauces and seasonings that her tongue was rioting—but in a very pleasurable way.

They uncovered the plates.

Ba’an stared.

The thing on her plate was…a creature of some kind. The top of it was bright red, and its undersides were white. It looked like a flattish rock, but it had legs and two arms that ended in pincers. Ba’an could not understand how she was supposed to eat this. The outside was obviously very hard. It would cut her mouth if she bit into it. And yet it was clearly cooked and seasoned in a way that promised to be very tasty. Was she supposed to use her hands to crack it open?

What was this?

Ba’an looked at the other guests, trying to figure out how she was supposed to eat it. Ah, there was a tool for this—she had one too, right beside her plate—and they were cracking the shell open with it and taking out the soft fleshy bits from the inside.

“Here.” Lukios took her plate and began cracking the shell for her. Ba’an watched him curiously, noting that there seemed to be some kind of technique to it.

“…Is this a…’turtle’?”

He looked mildly surprised, as though he had not anticipated the question. “What? Oh, no.” He grinned as he piled the bits of shell into an empty bowl. So that was what that had been for. “This is a crab. They live in the sea, close to the shoreline. Have you ever…?”

She shook her head. She had not. Ba’an had heard about it, but she could scarcely imagine that much water simply existing above ground, under the hot sun. She had heard it was salty, too. How could the water be salty, especially when there was so much of it? What was the point of having salty water? You couldn’t drink it.

“There. All done. Let me know if you want more.” Lukios pushed her plate back to her and jumped back into the conversation without missing a beat.

The conversation continued flowing smoothly. It was a comfortable atmosphere, except Ba’an could still feel Gaios watching them. Of course they had noticed—it was impossible not to—but no one seemed to care. Nikias only smiled at her politely when their eyes happened to meet, and Askles and Epitus seemed eager to explain the sea.

“Right, ‘course you ain’t seen one. You’re from the desert. Worth the trip, really. In fact, L’alfos is right by the sea. We ain’t just got horses.”

Horses by the sea. Ba’an had never touched or ridden a horse, though she could ride the desert strifa that her former tribe used to raise. She had never seen the sea either. Or felt snow. Or eaten a turtle.

There were many things Ba’an had never done, and even more that she did not know could be done.

Her world was so small.

“You get out there on a boat—” Epitus cupped one hand and put it on top of his other one, trying to illustrate a boat floating on water, “—and fish. It’s real nice, and best part’s you eat whate’er you catch for dinner. Bekor fish are th’ best. You can have ‘em roasted over a fire without nothin’ else and they’re still damn tasty.”

A boat. No one in the desert had ever needed a boat. She guessed it was like a cup or bowl sized for people, so that it could float on the surface the same way the scoop of her ladle could in water.

The crab was very, very good. She put more of it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. It was soft and buttery, and the flavour was not something she could describe. It was mild, but still meaty. It was just…good. She swallowed, eying her plate. Ah, she was nearly done…a pity.

“Is the water salty?”

“Sure is! Don’t drink it. It’s the sailor’s curse. Sometimes a man’ll thirst so bad he’ll drink it, but it’ll send him right down the river, real quick. So—pack lots o’ fresh water if you go. You’ll be needin’ it!”

At this, Askles launched into a story about an old fisherman in his village that had survived being stranded on a rocky isle by drinking his own urine.

Well, it was certainly possible, though Ba’an did not think it would be much different than drinking salty water after the second time. She did not think he had lived for a week drinking only his own urine.

“Why did he not cover the water under the sun?”

“Hm? Come again?”

Ba’an tried to find the words in Dolkoi’ri. “The salt water. You can take a bowl and put a cup of water in it. Cover it with something, and fresh water will fall into the bowl.” It was a K’Avaari trick for when water had to be reused. Normally, if the first step was done in a vuti, they would simply boil it to separate the fresh water from the silt. But if one was travelling, the sun would do the work as well.

“Distillation?” Nikias finally looked interested. “Do K’Avaari use distillation techniques when they travel? I don’t think I’ve heard of such a thing. Is it new?”

“Distil-? If that is what you call it, yes. It is for when water must be reused. Water is rare in the desert. It is not…new.” Wasting it was not acceptable. Even with a source of running water, Ba’an did not waste it.

It was strange that he thought this was new. Why would it be? K’Avaari carried portable kits when they travelled overland, though they often did not bother if they were only going short distances.

The shrines that dotted the landscape often doubled as watering stations for as long as the witches of the local tribe maintained their contracts. Some tribes were fortunate enough to be connected through their bir-vuti as well, and in such cases, water was often available in pools or water wells, fastidiously created by the stone-shapers that had moulded the paths through the cave system.

No, only exploration parties needed portable distillation kits. Such ventures had become rare in the last few centuries, and Ba’an had only seen one old kit during her days in the shi-vuti. It was not a surprise that this outlander had not heard of such a thing.

“Truly? I have never seen or heard of such portable kits. Are they quite rare, then?”

“Yes. They are not often used these days.” And that was all he needed to know about that particular topic.

Lukios put more crab meat on her plate, and she ate it with a pleased smile. It was very, very tasty.

“’These days’? Were they more common in the past? How curious. Why have they fallen out of use?”

Ba’an felt a trickle of unease.

During the war they had learned K’Avaari ways and used the knowledge against them.

“I am not a chanter of histories. My apologies.” This was technically true. Ba’an had never been a chanter of histories, though she knew perfectly well why portable kits were no longer produced in large number.

“Oh, pardon. I was not trying to make you uncomfortable. I was only curious.” He smiled again, then said, in K’Avaari, “My mother was Nur-Ta’ya na Vur’Na salu-Tii’ka. I am curious, Ba’an, what is your name chain?”

Ba’an froze.

“Harmonia’s ti—teeth, Nik.” Lukios leaned his face against his hand. “That’s not fair to the rest of us, busting out Sander like that.”

Nikias’ gaze flicked to Lukios, and he leaned back to put his hands on the seat of his dining couch. “True. My apologies. My K’Avaari isn’t very good, anyway.”

He wasn’t wrong. No K’Avaari would mistake him for one of them, not with an accent like that. But he spoke it better than Lukios, if only for the natural way the words flowed from his mouth. It was disorienting, hearing good K’Avaari with a thick outlander accent.

Ba’an’s seat was next to Lukios’. There was no cover, so she could not reach out and clutch at his hand even though she desperately wanted to. Lukios only put more crab on her plate with a smile that clearly said, I’ll take care of this. Relax.

Ba’an forced herself to do so. Of course she could give him her real family chain. It was not likely he would recognize it. Ba’an was not a common personal name, but it was not that rare, either.

There was no way he could guess she was Ba’an salu-Ba’an, the Stormcrow. He was still an outlander. Why would any K’Avaari tell him their business?

Epitus snorted. “Well, ain’t that shiny. You never ‘pologize when you spook us.”

Nikias raised an eyebrow and Epitus went red. “Uh, not that I’m complainin’ or nuthin’, sir.”

Lukios had already explained that House Astros was very important, but now she guessed that Lofos-Alfos must be very unimportant. Judging by Gaios’ extended silence on nearly everything, she thought this dinner must be highly unusual, like bringing a gatherer or cleaner to a council of witches.

Sometimes saying nothing was the polite thing to do.

“Didn’t mean nuthin’ by it, neither. Just uh, sometimes…the spooky Sander stuff is…spooky.” He seemed to catch himself, glancing at Ba’an apologetically. “Sorry, lady Ba’an. Not sayin’ you’re spooky. Just Sander magic n’ their witches n’ all their…” Epitus flushed, clearly realizing that he was steadily walking himself closer and closer to the pyre.

Lukios slapped his hand over his forehead. “Seriously, Epitus? You like the taste of your foot that much? How about mine—want some of that?”

And now they were back to good-natured squabbling.

Hm. Spooky, was he? Was Nikias a weaver too? It would be easier to check if she touched him, but Ba’an was Ba’an. She could tell even at this distance if she focused, just like with Salu’ka’s baby.

His threads were woven very tightly. He felt cool, like water running beneath the ground. There was no indication that he knew how to weave, or even that he was aware there was anything to—

Very slowly, very naturally, Nikias turned his head and looked at her. His expression was still genial and pleasant, but his stare was disturbingly intense.

Oh no.

Lukios leaned over so his torso was between Ba’an and Nikias, ostensibly to reach for another plate. “Here, Pitie, try this one. Tastes better than sandal-leather, promise.” He tossed the entire bowl to Epitus, who somehow caught it without letting anything fall to the ground.

The red-haired man caught Ba’an’s eye and winked, seemingly unaware of her distress. He made loud noises of enjoyment as he pitted the snails from their shells straight into his mouth. “I knew ya loved me best!”

Askles rolled his single eye. “’Help!’” he mocked, “’Sanders are so spooky!’ Dropped your balls, you have, and there ain’t no man who don’t like himself some pus—” he glanced over at Ba’an and abruptly cut himself off. “Uh, beggin’ your pardon, lady Ba’an.” He floundered for a moment, then added, “We’re just funnin’. Don’t mind us none.”

Epitus waggled his eyebrows. “Or mind us lots. I don’t mind at—”

Lukios’ expression went from cheerful to thunderous in the space of a breath.

“Epilektoi Epitus.” Gaios’ tone was perfectly even, but there was no mistaking his meaning.

“Uh, I mean, don’t mind us none, lady Ba’an.” Epitus tipped back his wine glass, presumably to avoid speaking again. His flush looked red and painful, as if he’d spent too long in the sun.

“She’s the guest of honour,” Lukios snapped, and Epitus somehow coloured further. Gaios looked at Lukios and raised an eyebrow but did not comment.

“Didn’t mean none by it,” he muttered into his cup, but his shoulders were hunched in Ba’an could only assume was embarrassment.

Soothingly, she murmured, “It is well. We are celebrating.” She put her hand on Lukios’ arm until the tension left his frame.

“Right we are!” Askles took the opportunity to stand and start an impromptu toast. “To our Lucky Lion and his saviour, lady Ba’an!”

Lucky Lion? Outlanders were consistently strange, though…had not the merchant at the square mentioned something about a lion as well?

The conversation rolled forward as Ba’an ruminated on her mistake. Nikias was not looking at her now, but she knew: he had noticed.

But how?

Even if his mother was K’Avaari, it was clear from his manner and speech that he had been raised here. Natural talent for witchery did not supplant training. Even Ba’an, a prodigy who had made her first spirit-deal at five, had needed Ul’ma’s guidance.

Was Ba’an simply losing her touch? Was she really so out of practice with the more delicate things that some untrained outlander could tell what she’d been up to?

She had relied on her coat for too long. The power of the thing was immense, but it was hardly subtle.

Lukios was looking at her, expression faintly concerned. She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way. There was no way Lukios had understood her mistake, but he could feel that she was tense. They both knew it would be dangerous if she were outed as the Stormcrow, especially here.

She wondered if Gaios had noticed anything. He probably had. The man had not gotten where he was by being stupid, after all.

“Lukios,” said Gaios, “I’ve taken the liberty of writing my family with news of your return. I’m sure Areta will be very happy to receive it.”

“Oh…yes, of course. How is your family, Gaios? I hope your wife and children are well.”

“They are. Areta was much grieved to hear you had died, I must say. She was still in mourning last time I was home.”

“She…was? My apologies for the trouble, then.” Lukios did not wear his discomfort openly, but she knew him enough by now to see this was not welcome news.

“Would you feel up to a visit? I’m sure she’d be ecstatic. She was inconsolable, you know.”

Lukios was trapped, and they both knew it.

“Of course. Once everything gets handled here, I will…visit before I leave.”

“For Heliopolis?”

“Eventually, yes.” Lukios had been talking about Ba’an’s not-vuti, she could tell.

Now his stares made sense. The man had a daughter he wished to pair with Lukios, though Lukios did not wish the same.

Ba’an focused on eating. Lukios refilled her wine glass and put it on the table, and Gaios’ eyes followed the movement. Ba’an stifled the urge to kick Lukios in the ankle. Was it not obvious that Gaios was taking exception to his behavior toward Ba’an? They were guests. It would become awkward if they offended him their first night here.

Lukios caught her eye and grinned unrepentantly. He brushed her hand with his the next time he filled her plate.

Stubborn man.

“Well, take your time. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” Gaios looked at her. “Both of you, of course.”

Well, such was courtesy. Ba’an doubted he wanted her to linger around Lukios indefinitely.

“My thanks.” She inclined her head. “But I must return to the desert soon.” It was not a matter of must, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Really? That’s too bad. Well then, how ‘bout you meet Chloe? Not tomorrow, but the day after? I think you’d get along.” Askles was grinning widely. “Oi, Lukios, you’re comin’ to my wedding. No gettin’ stabbed ‘til I’m safely married. Got it?”

“Isn’t this backwards? I’m supposed to order you around.”

“We’re both retired, sir. Well, your loss. Lady Ba’an’ll come, won’t you?”

What? What kind of man invited a woman he’d just met to his wedding? Was this yet another strange Dolkoi’ri custom?

Ba’an caught the sly look Askles tossed Lukios and understood. He thought if she agreed to go, Lukios would also. He was wilier than he looked. She felt her mouth twitch upwards.

“Of course. It is rude to refuse an invitation to a wedding.”

Lukios raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. Fine. I’ll go to your wedding, and I won’t get stabbed again before then. Happy?”

“Oh, very.” Askles grinned at her. “My thanks.”

Dishes clinked. The servants brought some more food. It was something sweet, which they called a ‘dessert.’ Ba’an could not complain; it was a kind of bread with sweet sticky syrup inside it. The outside was crisp, the inside soft. If given the option, she would have eaten some everyday.

“Want mine?”

“No. Eat your ‘dessert’, Lukios.” She did want his, but that would just be greedy. She had eaten all his crab.

Ba’an did not miss the look his friends exchanged over her head. Had she said something rude? But…she had left him his dessert. Was it not more polite to give than to take?

Gaios gestured to a servant. “Bring her another serving.”

“Oh. Thank you.” It really was very good. She did not want to refuse.

Glasses clinked and conversation moved on. Ba’an ate, and the evening darkened.