Satau was filled with disappointment as he stood before the wayward shrine. It only had three prayer branches—more shrub than tree—and those three stone tendrils were almost bare. In his impatience, Satau counted only seven prayer vines. Just seven!

"This is why I am such a lousy servant of the Ten," Satau said aloud, though not loud enough to be overheard. "All of you are so damn unreliable. All Ten of you!"

Closer inspection of the vines revealed their owners.

Dilara, the Velvet Mew.

Nergis, the One Who Stands.

And Serkan, the Rusted Needle of Fate.

Satau circled the shrine two more times in disbelief. He nearly tripped over one of its silver roots, so rapt was his attention. A shame he had not fallen. He very well may have cracked open his skull and died.

"What is wrong with this veritable piece of human feces shrine?" Satau asked the air. His voice cracked and wavered from a mixture of malice and doom.

"Why is there no vine for Yildiz, the Mother of All? What is wrong with this shrine? What are you even doing here? Why?"

Dilara, Nergis, and Serkan held their silence as their prayer vines swayed in the wind.

In the distance, the early morning sounds of Khaemu could be heard. The mew of neglected sheep, the hammering of repairs, the soft gaggle of womenfolk at the communal ovens. Quiet, but not silent. Most men were still out in the fields, others with their paltry herds of goat and sheep.

The sheep-sniffing bastards. They were the reason Satau had been forced to visit this out-of-the-way sheep-shit shrine.

He could not allow his prayers to be overheard.

"Forget it. Just forget it!"

It was a terrible situation. A miserable situation. But it was the situation, and Satau had to deal with it.

The nearest home was a stone's throw away. Teos' home. It made sense the drunk would live beside such a lousy shrine. No small wonder the man's fortunes were so dour. The home was ramshackle. A hut, really.

And Satau squinted, staring at the roof. It was largely flat. Nowhere for a catlyn to hide.

To the left of the shrine was a tree. A real one. Not a silver statue of a tree like the shrine.

The tree stood taller than the shrine with at least half a dozen branches full with life. No vines, though. Its leaves were green instead of the shrine's metallic gray, its trunk brown instead of silver.

Satau circled it twice, squinting into its canopy. He could see nothing, but still...

"Begone!" he shouted.

He received no answer. He doubted a catlyn was lounging on one of its branches, but still...

Satau picked up a rock and chucked it towards the maw of green. A few leaves flew downwards. He picked up another rock. He picked up three and chucked all of them at the various branches and bushels of green leaf. They rang against the bark, felling the tip of some small branch. But no catlyn.

"Better safe than sorry," Satau said to himself.

He did not want any of his neighbors to overhear his prayers. The same went double for any catlyn. The mischievous overkin had a bad habit of eavesdropping on the faithful.

Satisfied with his search, but still dissatisfied with his options, Satau took hold of the nearest vine. A thousand needles pricked and pressed against his hands. Each cut was so fine that no blood dirtied the vine. A look at the plaque revealed it to be Nergis' prayer vine.

Satau shrugged.

"Blessed be Nergis, He Who Stands," Satau began, "I stand before your shrine, Satau of Khaemu, son of Bakaa of Sematennu. Accept my blood. May it nourish you and yours."

He shook the vine and the tree came to life with sound. With each pull of the vine, the shrine shook and chimed. The air filled with a paltry and quiet melody.

"I face trying times, Nergis," Satau continued. "I am meek. I am weak. I struggle. But I persevere. I have had two wives. Two terrible, miserable wives. Lead me to success. I beg of you. Let the third wife stand above the others."

And he let go of the vine.

Satau grunted with pain as a thousand needles were torn from his flesh. He looked down at his hands, but found no blood. The greedy bastards. Not a drop would be allowed to spill on the Isle or stain Satau's hands.

With some apprehension, he turned to another vine.

If it had been Yildiz, Mother of All, he would have been satisfied with the one prayer, but Nergis was not well known to care for the troubles of bachelors. Instead, he looked for Dilara's plaque.

When he had found it, he took hold of her vine and once more suppressed the urge to cry out in pain.

"Blessed be Dilara, the Velvet Mew," Satau began, "I stand before your shrine, Satau of Khaemu, son of Bakaa of Sematennu. Accept my blood. May it nourish you and yours."

He shook the vine and the air was once more filled with the sound of prayer. It was an entirely inhuman melody. When Satau had lived in Sematennu, he had known of not just one musician who had tried to emulate its tune.

And not just one musician had turned to Aylin, the Mad Fool Who Sings, in search of this impossible task. The mad bastards.

"Dilara, the Velvet Mew," Satau continued. "I am but a humble, lonely man.

"Two of my wives have been taken from me. My heart yearns for the warmth of another. And so I ask of you, Dilara, for the comfort of my soul, which bleeds with a lonely ache, let my third wife- "

"Prayin' hard there, Mastara Tinkerer?"

Satau let go of the vine, his heart in his throat, as Teos slapped him on the back.

"You son of a whore!" Satau shouted as his hands burned white hot. The cuts of two separate prayer vines had torn up much of the flesh, leaving it almost stark white.

"Watch you mouth!" Teos said with fire in his belly. "I'll knock you silly, tinkerer."

Satau turned around and beheld the glum and dour fellow.

Teos was poorly shaven, with blotches of smooth undisturbed skin against lines of gruff brown whiskers. His robes were so terribly stained with foodstuff and dirt they almost seemed to make a pattern.

"Not you," Satau said, rubbing his hands. "Talking about my hands. I can never get used to it. The burning."

"Oh. That," Teos said, and he laughed a good-natured laugh. Doing so revealed a row of brown and crooked teeth.

Satau had never met a uglier man. Ten Above, the man was sordid.

"I do 'int do much prayer myself. What the gods have to give a man like me, eh? But you don't care. None of you care. But what you doing here? Nobody comes here. Doubt even the gods do. Never listened to me none, no."

A cold sweat broke out across Satau's neck. The last thing he wanted was this drunken buffoon spreading drunken lies about him. Well, not that it would matter if the afternoon's business went well. Teos would most likely sleep until nightfall. But still...

"I'm more interested in what you were doing over yonder," Satau said.

"Over yonder, huh?" Teos repeated the words with a toothy smile. "You and your funny words. Don't think I don't know. You think I'm a dumb, but I know. I know."

"Know what?" Satau asked as violence crept into his thoughts.

"That you don't want me to know, of course. I saw it all. Yes, I did. Mastara Tinkerer. Very embarrassing. You messed up."

A large rock caught Satau's attention. It sat to the side of the road and seemed as good a tool as any to silence the man. But could he? Did he have the strength?

But this was all madness. No doubt Aylin, the Mad Fool Who Sings, was whispering such thoughts into his ear.

"You messed up!" Teos said once more, practically jubilant. "Twice!"

"Twice?"

"I saw you shakin' the first vine and then the other. You messed up, didn't you? I did that once. Meant to ask Dilara for the... Well, for something to go away. But it was Serkan's vine I was holding."

Satau stared blankly at the drunk, the rock forgotten.

"Felt rightly stupid for it, and I don't think Serkan cared much for the mistake. I mean it didn't go... Well, I don't want to talk about that. Itched forever, it did!"

A moment's disbelief and then admonishment washed over Satau.

"Well, I don't want to keep you," Satau said, eager to quit the man's company.

He did not feel especially blessed, but he had done all that he could. In hindsight, he should have made the pilgrimage to Sematennu and visited Yildiz's Pleasure House. That was what he had done with his first two wives. But to do so a third time... It seemed repetitive.

"Keep me from what?" Teos said. He showed no interest in letting Satau leave. "Come on, Mastara Tinkerer. We'll have a drink. Come, come."

Utter revulsion washed over Satau at first, but then he quickly warmed to the idea. Better to see Teos fall asleep. And a drink or two would certainly lessen his nerves. Satau did not want to be overtly nervous when he met with Haker later in the day to discuss his daughter.

"I think I'll take you up on that offer," Satau said, only some small part of him regretting the words. The weaker half, which could not see the full picture.

The two men made the short trek over to Teos' grimy hovel, full of smiles and wanton cheer.