Chapter Five

Anise smelled the food before she saw it, and the sight of it was even more pleasurable than the scent. Flame-seared ribs and steaks, dressed with greens; rich purple fruits with large leaves sprouting from the stems; loaves of steaming hot bread with a sweet aroma, and a jug of dark drink, all brought out to her by a small Naephran man who did not meet her gaze. She and Jarko sat alone at a long table, in an exquisite dining room at what must have been, she thought, the peak of the great tree. At first she wondered if the food was safe to eat, but she could not argue against her stomach--it had been far too long since she had last eaten, and she knew that even if she refused the meal, she would still need to eat soon.

Anise did not know Naephran eating customs, and she did not care to learn. She pushed away the empty plate in front of her and pulled the tray of meats over to her edge of the table, then began tearing off chunks and eating them as quickly as she could. She knew she must have looked ridiculous, but she did not care. The food was different than what she was accustomed to, but not unpleasant, although her standards at that moment were particularly low. She had to remind herself to chew thoroughly to keep from choking. When she had her fill of the meats she took from the plate of fruits, and bit into the bread. She took the jug in both hands and raised it to her lips, suspecting that the black liquid would surely taste horrible, but too thirsty to care.

The drink burned in her throat and mouth, and her tongue went numb from the heat. Jarko laughed as Anise spit the hot liquid onto the floor. The serving man appeared again, carrying another jug, and set it down in front of Anise. She saw that it was filled with water, and drank, relishing the coolness of it. The other drink, what little she could taste of it, had been bitter and strong.

"Why would you drink that?" Anise asked.

"I do not," Jarko said, and she smiled.

"Right," Anise said. "Are we done now?"

"The cow would like more food?"

"I mean with everything. I played along with you. You tried to kill me, put me in your little torture chamber. That worked out well. So am I allowed to ask some questions now?" Anise took another drink from the water jug, then wiped her mouth with her wrist.

"If you have finished eating, then we must go."

"Where?" Anise asked.

"There is someone you must meet. Come, stand up."

Anise did as she was told. For now, she was as tired of asking questions as having her questions go unanswered. She knew she could not afford to upset anyone, no matter how frustrated she felt, until she knew what they wanted from her. "And they must want something," she thought. Jarko was clearly curious about how she survived the woodsore, and despite her earlier questioning, Anise realized that the Naephra still knew almost nothing about her. Once she found out what they wanted, she could form a plan around it.

As they exited the dining room, Anise kept returning in her mind to that wooden room. Although the pain had dissipated, it had left a coarse feeling behind, like grit and sand under her skin. But she would never forget that pain, and the closeness of death, which she had come to know well.

Even with their great size, each hollowed-out level of the great trees did not hold much space, and they were soon outside again, climbing stairs built onto a rising branch. Anise planted each footfall carefully while trying to ignore the alarming gap between each stair-step. At this height, a sea of leaves blocked out any view of the ground far beneath them and the sky above. They continued upward along the tree branch as it reached higher, until it finally broke out past the tops of the other branches, into the open air. The peaks of trees rolled out to the green horizon like hills in a grassy meadow. A fast wind pressed into Anise's face and ruffled her sleeves, and the white clouds glided low overhead. The stairs came to an end as the branch thinned out, but the path continued in the form of a long walkway strung out between the last step and the top of the next branch, which reached out even higher--the highest point in sight. At its top, the branch held a small platform, its crooked wooden fingers growing up and around it, like a wooden hand stretching up through the leaves.

Jarko led, her boots clapping against the slats in the rope walkway. Anise tentatively placed her own foot down and felt the bridge sag under her weight. Ahead, the bridge curved slightly to the left in the middle, pushed by the wind, and as it swayed the wood slats clacked against each other. The sound was almost musical, but it did not comfort her. Gripping the rope guides tightly on either side of her, Anise continued up the walkway. She thought of how tall the trees had seemed from the ground, when she could not even see their upper reaches. Now she was above them. But she made her steps, and finally stepped onto the platform of the wooden hand.

The platform was enclosed on three sides by the branch's smaller offshoots, all naked of leaves. The platform itself was indeed small--only a few strides at its widest. A Naephra sat on the floor at its center, legs crossed, with a small musical instrument in his lap. Even sitting, Anise could tell that the man was tall. His eyes were squinted shut in concentration as his fingers plucked the strings of his instrument, but the wind stole his music; only when she had reached the platform could she hear the soft and lilting notes of the song. Jarko said nothing, and Anise waited with her. The man's skin was wrinkled around his eyes, and dark even for a Naephra, except for the characteristic specks of white over his cheekbones, which matched his close white hair.

The song ended, and Jarko spoke in her native tongue, but the man shook his head to stop her.

"Forgive my daughter," he said, speaking directly to Anise. "It is impolite to speak in private language around a guest." He smiled.

"I am sorry," Jarko said. "This is the one I found. She is Anise."

"Ah-nise," the man said, slowly, the smile still on his lips. "You are lovely. Is she lovely, daughter? I cannot describe to you, Anise, my excitement at this meeting." Jarko's father set down his instrument and pointed a finger to two places on the floor in front of him. Jarko sat down.

"Who are you?" Anise asked.

"Please, sit down," the man said.

"No! Just someone tell me who they are, or what I'm doing here, or what just happened. Anything. Just tell me. Now." Anise had wanted to keep calm, to steel herself for whatever would happen next, but she could restrain herself no longer. The longer they kept information from her, the stranger she felt. If they expected her to follow along quietly and do as they said, they were wrong. She would not abide any more pleasantries and avoidances.

"Sit, now, and do not address the king with such anger. He is gracious to see you," Jarko said.

Anise looked over the man again. She would certainly not have mistaken him for royalty, in his dim robe and sandals. Still that infuriating smile lit his face, but Anise would not repeat her mistake.

"I'm sorry," she said. Jarko glared at her as they both sat down.

"King is not a proper translation. You would say I am the Lord of the city Tamryod. My name is Irel Joraan. There is no king in the Thornwood, just as there is no king in your country."

Anise felt that she needed to offer something helpful. If she were to escape from the Thornwood, it would only be by their permission. And she had to remember that they wanted something from her. She had to find a way to be useful to them.

"My name is Anise Eckley. My parents are Fellis and Hurdy Eckley," she said. It seemed the proper thing to mention one's parentage when introduced to nobility, even if she knew her parents were not impressive.

"I am glad to meet you, Anise," Irel said. "And you have already met my daughter, Jarko Joraan. While you were in the listening room she told me how she found you."

"Sir, I told you my name. My dad is a nobody. I'm nobody. I'm a failed cadet from the Academy. I did everything you asked, followed your daughter here, so please, just tell me what is happening, or what I can do. I just want to leave, that's all."

"You cannot leave," Jarko said.

"Wait, Jarko," Irel said. "Anise, as a trespasser, your punishment was to hang in the wood until death. And Jarko carried out your punishment, did she?"

"I did," Jarko said.

"However, that punishment is only for humans. Jarko could not know what you are, so she is blameless. I apologize for your discomfort during that unnecessary ordeal."

"What do you mean 'Only for humans?' I am a human!"

"She is stupid like a human," Jarko said.

"You are not Naephra. And you are not human," Irel said. "When did you last see your father?"

"Years ago," she said. "When he took me to the Academy."

"What has your father told you of your mother, Anise?"

"He--no, that's not possible. If a human goes with a Naephra, the mother dies. She dies, the baby dies, that's it. This has to be something else. My mother was not a Naephra."

"You are not the first," Jarko said.

"The first what?"

"The mother always dies, but sometimes the child lives, if they are born outside the Thornwood," Jarko continued. "The child always appears like the father. Your father was human, so you appear human."

"No, my mother was not a Naephra. That's not possible," said Anise. Of course she would not believe it. Of all the strange things she had experienced, she knew there must be a different explanation. Part of her wondered if the woodsore would take her after all--if it had spread more slowly than normal, but nevertheless was consuming her insides, and would soon leave her a blackened husk like the ones hanging in the forest. Anything would be easier for her to believe than the idea that her mother had been a Naephra. She was not some half-breed, she thought; she had been born a human woman. She knew this to be true. There could be no other way. Against her will, the thought came to her of her father with a Naephran woman, leering at her, with his hand around her neck. She shook the image from her mind. Her father was not that kind of man, and he was not a liar. They had no secrets from each other.

"Jarko doubted you as well. That is why she brought you to the listening room. Stepping into that room would kill a normal human in one beat of your heart. But you listened. You heard the anima, and let it pass through you."

"You're speaking nonsense. How can I believe any of this? I grew up as a human. I am a human. Everyone I've ever known was human."

"You are already beginning to doubt yourself. I can hear it," Irel said. "You wonder why the woodsore has not killed you yet. You wonder why we have not killed you yet. But you have no woodsore. You do not bear the black scars on your skin from it. But you felt its pain in the listening room. Your body is still adjusting. With time, you will hear and feel anima just like a Naephra."

"This is impossible," Anise said. Her voice was rising now. How did this woodsy expect her to go along with all this? She wanted to get off this tree branch, down to solid ground, and start walking home. If they wanted her so badly, they could try to stop her. But before she could get up, Jarko pressed her hand down against Anise's shoulder, stopping her.

"Be silent. Listen," she said.

"Impossible things do not happen," Irel said. "You are here now. Alive. This is the only explanation."

"I don't accept that. My father would have told me. Something like that, he would have told me."

"Why would he tell you?" Irel said. "Because of him, your mother is dead."

"You're lying. Whatever you're trying to do, it won't work. You've toyed with me enough."

Irel smiled and looked up at the sky. The clouds had gone, and the first stars were starting to appear in the east, while the blaze of the sun stained the west. "I am not toying with you," he said. "We have a name for you. Kavi. Demon child. My wife saw one born here, during the war. The mother had been raped. When the child comes, we can only comfort her. She knew this. The time came, and my wife was there with her, and they pulled the child out as the mother died, and he screamed, as if he knew his mother was dead. She said blood came from its eyes and mouth as it died in her arms.

"When you first came here, you experienced pain, as all humans do in the forest. Because of that pain, you nearly died. In a certain way, you did die. That child felt the same pain that you did, but it was small and weak. You were not born here. That is why you survived."

"During the war, your soldiers took our women," Jarko said. "Kavi are a curse from them."

"My father would never--"

"He did. You are blind to it," Jarko said.

Anise had tried to picture her mother many times in the past. Even though she knew she would never know what she had really looked like, over time an image had developed: a young woman, beautiful, with long dark hair and eyes of deep green, like her own. Now that image shifted to that of a Naephra, gray-skinned with eyes that glimmered in the dark in that same emerald hue. A face similar to her own, but older, and stranger. She heard the woman speak her name softly, again and again. And she opened her arms to embrace her daughter, but could not reach her.

"I don't care," Anise said. "You didn't bring me up here to tell me all this. What do you want from me?"

Jarko scowled at her, but Irel answered calmly. "Forgive me, then, Anise. With truth, I do wish to help you. But you would be suspicious of charity, and so it may be preferable if we are able to help each other," he said.

This was the moment Anise had expected would come. Regardless of their theories on her survival, the Naephra did have a use for her, or so it seemed, but she could not guess what it would be.

"If I am a curse, then why do you want to help me?" she said, glancing at Jarko as she did.

"You are a curse, and I do not want to help you," Jarko said.

"Be kind, Jarko," Irel said. "It is more important that she help us. This opportunity is precious. We may have little time to act. The humans have been bringing many men to a small city at our border: Orreck. I wish to know the reason for this, for our safety and for theirs."

"You want me to spy on my own people?" Anise asked.

"She cannot be trusted," Jarko continued. "Iva and Tonn are dead because of her."

"She did what any human would," Irel said. "You would have done the same, Jarko. Anise, I understand your fears."

"I'm not going to betray them," Anise said.

"You will betray no one," Irel said. "You will find out if one of the terms of the peace treaty is still kept: that there are no soldiers gathered at the border. If it is not kept, you will learn why. You will investigate this city and return. That is all."

"And why would I help you?" Anise said. "I lost people too, back there. Because of her, the only two friends I had are dead. And you tried to kill me. Didn't work, but you tried, and you expect me to forget that?"

"You know that you yourself are the one responsible for the deaths of your friends, but you blame me," Jarko said. "Without you, they would still be alive."

"Shut your reeking mouth!" Anise said.

"As you said, your friends are dead. We are all you have," Irel said. "Let us work together."

"I don't need your help. Just let me leave. You won't have to see me ever again. You can forget your curse was ever here."

"Do you think of your father often?" Irel asked.

Anise was sick of these questions, trying to provoke her emotions. She did not answer. She did not say that she thought of him every night, and wondered where he was or what he was doing every morning. She did not say how often she wondered if he still remembered her.

"There is a way to find him," Irel said.

"How?" she asked.

"Help us, and I will show you."

Anise did not know how they would be able to find her father, or if Irel was lying to her, but she could not refuse the offer. She had to see her father again, or her questions would never be answered. Even now, Anise could not make herself believe that her mother had been a Naephra--she needed to hear it from her father, to hear him tell her what he had done. Although she did not like the idea of spying for the Naephra, she saw no way out of it if she ever wanted the chance to leave.

"If I do this, I can leave the Thornwood to see him?" Anise asked.

"Yes," Irel said.

"Father, she cannot be trusted," Jarko said once more.

"Can she?" Irel asked. "Anise, why did you first enter the Thornwood?"

Anise thought for a moment. Jarko was right to distrust her. If she were to go to this city for them, they would have no way to verify any information she gave them. It would be her word against their suspicion, and she did not want to put herself in that position. Irel did seem kind, she admitted, and less harsh than his daughter, but she could not parse his true motives.

"I had a mission," Anise answered.

"You did. But most students would abandon such a mission before venturing into the forest. You did not. Why?"

"I wasn't afraid of it," Anise said.

"Yes. Yes, that is the truth. You were not afraid. You were curious. I think a part of you knew what would happen. That you were different."

"I don't think so," Anise said.

"I wish you knew what it is like to see you here. A kavi," Irel said, and he smiled again. "You are not one of us, but you are not human. I have no right to keep you here, or punish you."

"Father!" Jarko said.

"I will not prevent you from leaving here. If you wish, you may find your own way out of the forest, alone."

Anise could hardly believe what he said. After all they had done, she thought, how could they let her go? She wanted to leave right away--to go back down the endless steps to the forest floor and travel west until she came to the end of the Thornwood and the grasses and hills spilled out for miles around her again.

But then what would she do? She had no home, no money, and no horse. She did not even have her coat or her bow. She could not return to the Academy. She would have to avoid meeting any knights for the rest of her life. And she had no way to find her father.

Jarko did not offer any further rebuttal to her father's offer, but Irel seemed to sense Anise's hesitation.

"Eat with us tonight," he said. "Rest, and leave in the morning if you decide."

Anise did not want to accept the lord's offer. He was right, she was suspicious of charity. If she allowed him to treat her as anything more than a prisoner or an enemy, it invalidated her resistance. She would much prefer to dislike him. However, she felt hunger clawing at her stomach again, even though she had just eaten, and she longed for a restful sleep. She was exhausted, physically and mentally. The voice urging her to run away, to escape as quickly as possible, had grown weaker. She sensed no malice or dishonesty from Irel. Although she knew Jarko did not care for her, she did not seem willing to go against her father. A small, cautious hope emerged inside her heart, that she may not be in danger, at least for the moment, and though she did not fully trust it, she was too tired to tear it down.

"Tomorrow, then," Anise said.

Again darkness fell amid the trees, and glowing fungi awoke with green-gold light. In the high altitude of the canopy district, Anise marveled at the swarming clouds of fire insects spreading a haze of white light through the dense leaves above.

After her meeting with Irel, Anise was briskly escorted off to a guest room inside one of the great trees and told to prepare for dinner. The chamber was cold and dark, with a large, low bed in one corner and a high-backed sofa near the oval window carved into the trunk. But most inviting was the wash basin and cloth in the center of the room. Seeing it made Anise aware of how dirty she felt; her hair was greasy and clumped with sticker seeds. Taking her boots off felt wonderful. She stretched her toes and the joints popped. She tipped one boot upside-down and a stream of dirt fell out and scattered over the floor. When she did the same to her other boot, she held it outside the window to keep the floor from getting too dirty.

Anise removed the rest of her clothes and stepped into the wooden basin, lowering herself down until she was sitting. The cold water drew bumps on her arms. She removed the makeshift bandage on her palm. The gash left by the thorn looked much better now, and had stopped bleeding. The worst pain was in her legs and on her side, where she had fallen from the rope. She reached behind her head, noting a sore reluctance in her arm muscles, and touched the back of her neck--the tingly place. The tenderness and swelling had lessened since her first time noticing it, and now the rhythmic sensations in her neck and up her spine had reduced to a distant vibration. When she tried to focus on the vibration, like she had in the "listening room," as Irel had called it, the feeling receded. She was grateful for the respite--the ever-present voices and patterns still felt alien to her. And although she found herself more accustomed to them now, their presence only raised more questions. She was not in the mood for questions now.

A small pile of folded garments sat on the foot of the bed. Anise held them up to look at them. The long dress unfurled and touched the ground, its fabric a bright and fiery orange. Under the dress was a pair of ornately decorated sandals.

"I suppose they expect me to wear this," she thought. She slipped it over her head and put her feet into the sandals. Anise had never worn anything so feminine before--not while traveling with her father as a child and certainly not while at the Academy. The thought came to her that her mother may have worn a dress much like this one. It was a sad thought, but it made her happy still.

Anise felt the tingling in her neck pick up again, then heard knocking at the door. "Come in," she said, forgetting that the person waiting would probably not understand her. She went to the door and opened it, and a young Naephran girl entered, no more than twelve years old, Anise guessed, with short brown hair and bright blue-green eyes. The girl straightened a crease in Anise's dress with quick fingers and spoke a few words in Naephran with an approving tone, then pushed her toward the bed and made her sit. The girl produced a small comb from her pocket and began to brush Anise's hair.

"Ow!" Anise said, as the girl pulled out a knot. "Let me do that." She tried to take the comb from the Naephra's hand, but she held it away from her and frowned. Anise decided it was not worth the struggle and sat back to let the girl do her brushing. She strained to keep her head straight as the comb pulled at her hair.

Once the girl was satisfied with her work, she took Anise's hand and led her outside and onto a walkway built on top of the interlocking branches from numerous nearby trees. The two women walked side by side until they came to a large platform, with a long table stretching from one end to the other. Men and women in sparkling silks sat there talking in excited voices. A cloth canopy hung over the platform, decorated with brightly colored lanterns underneath it and long ribbons that twisted and swayed in the evening breeze.

Anise had not expected to see other guests. Meeting the girl was surprising enough; she had thought Irel would want to keep her existence a secret, and this new openness made her hesitant. But the Naephra at the table had already seen her, and so she resigned herself to joining them. The young Naephran girl led Anise to an empty chair at a far corner of the table, . The others at the table fell silent one by one as they saw her approach, and they stared at her while she sat down and smoothed her dress over her knees. To her immediate left, the head chair stood empty. When she had seated herself, the Naephra looked away again and resumed their conversations.

Anise was fascinated to hear the Naephra speaking their native language. Growing up in Saerath, she had only heard people speaking Saeran. Although she did not understand their words, each rhythm created by the tingling and pulsing at the back of her neck was deeply suggestive of their emotions--evocative in a way that no music had felt to her before. Each layer was filled with meaning that spilled uninhibited into her consciousness, without requiring translation: excitement, happiness, anxiety, concern, even hunger; all of this was communicated to Anise just through the sensations in the back of her neck. They were the same sensations she had felt while following Jarko in the forest and when she had first entered Tamryod, but clearer now. But before she could ponder this, the Naephran man sitting to her right turned to speak to her.

"Zhe tumu a ebennek kavi?" he asked. He was a stout, middle-aged Naephra with light blond hair and a beard running long and straight down from his chin. The white markings on his face spread from his cheeks back to his ears. Anise recognized the word kavi and noted his questioning tone. He did not seem hostile, but merely curious. She noticed some of the other guests sneaking glances at her. She knew everyone must be thinking about her now. Even though she sat at the end of the long table, she felt as though she was surrounded. The woman seated next to the stout, talkative man spoke to him in a disapproving voice, and Anise relaxed a little, assuming that she had reproached him for disturbing the human in their midst. But the man was not dissuaded.

"Ah-nise, ka-vi?" the man asked, drawing out each syllable and leaning toward her slightly. Among the roughly twenty guests seated at the table, all pretense of obliviousness was gone. Everyone waited eagerly for her to speak.

"Of course I am, idiot. Do you see any other humans at this table?" Anise said, smiling.

She had assumed no one at the table understood Saeran, but immediately upon opening her mouth she realized that this may not be the case. The stout man was stunned, and she winced, prepared to be thrown off the edge of the platform at the next moment.

Then he laughed. The Naephra threw his head back and squealed in a pitch far too high for someone his size. The woman next to him started to laugh as well, and then the entire table was overcome. It was a kind laughter, and Anise gave up a nervous smile. The moment had passed, and the guests resumed talking to each other. The stout man paid her no more attention, and Anise went back to feeling sorely out of place. Several times, she resolved to push her chair back, stand up, and scurry away from the table, back to her room, but each time she stayed in her seat, unable to move.

Finally, Irel and Jarko arrived, approaching the two empty seats at Anise's end of the table. The guests stood in unison, raised their cups, and shouted "Shasa Irel!" Anise mimicked their actions, and everyone drank from their cups. The drink was a strong spiced wine that tickled her throat. With the royal greeting complete, Irel sat down at the head of the table to Anise's left, and Jarko directly across from her. Jarko had replaced her rough hunting garb with a sky-blue dress styled much like the one Anise wore, with flecks of shimmering white in the cloth that matched the spots on her cheeks. The difference it made in her appearance was startling.

"Hello kavi," Jarko said. "Do you like your dress?"

"It's very orange," Anise said.

"Better than your human rags?"

"For hanging by my feet, I prefer pants," she said. Jarko let out a small laugh, which surprised Anise.

"Asu, morva timlatku feszhy," Irel said, addressing the table in a kingly voice, with a smile for every word.

"He's welcoming the guests," Jarko whispered. "Different words, but same speech as always. Traditional."

"Are we going to eat eventually?" Anise asked.

"Whining demon girls will only get half servings," Jarko said, then grinned and took a sip of her wine. Irel's speech went on, and even though she could not understand it, Anise enjoyed hearing the melody in his words as he spoke. His voice had the richness of a much younger man, with a song-like cadence, as if he were reciting a poem.

"Anise Eckley," Irel said. "Tonight, you are our guest, and we are honored to see you. I hope that we may be friends."

"Thank you," Anise said, unsure of what else to say, or if she should speak at all. Irel raised his glass, and the guests did the same, then everyone drank from their cups again, and the meal began. Anise ate with enthusiasm, filling her plate with bread and chicken and roasted whole vegetables. She took a liking to the wine, and poured herself more after emptying her glass. As she ate she realized briefly that she was not worrying about what would happen next, or what the Naephra might do to her, but she let this thought pass. If she were to die, at least she would not die hungry.

The Naephran man beside Anise spoke to her again.

"Guest Cafor wishes to tell you that you are very beautiful," Irel said.

"His eyes are old and weak," Jarko said.

"What have you told them about me?" Anise asked. "They don't understand Saeran language, do they?"

"No, only Jarko and I can know it," Irel said.

"Why is that?"

"Naephran lords are required to learn it. For others, it is forbidden. To your other question, I only told my friends that you were my guest, and that you were found in the woods. This is an...exciting time for us, to see a kavi. I hoped to stop rumors."

"I thought you would want to keep all this secret," Anise said.

"That would be impossible," Irel said. "I heard your anima as soon as you reached the city, and so did others. It was clear you were not Naephra."

Anise realized that by "anima," Irel could only mean the pulsing feeling at the back of her neck. If she could feel the vibrations from other Naephra, she thought, then they could feel hers, too. It seemed strange to think of it so plainly, this strange sensation that connected her and everyone around her, but it was ingrained now, as if it had always been there. She had never known this about the Naephra--just days ago she could not have even imagined it. She wanted to know more, but felt afraid to ask.

"Do you like your dress?"

"I...do," Anise answered.

A Naephran woman leaned close to Jarko and spoke to her in the Naephran tongue.

"Lady Eddeen wishes to know more about you," Jarko said. "She asks if you are married."

"No, I'm not married," Anise said.

"No one in Saerath yearns for your return, kavi?" Jarko asked. She grinned.

The question burned in Anise's mind, and she struggled to keep her features calm. Jarko knew exactly why there was no one who missed her back home, and could probably feel the anger bubbling beneath Anise's skin. But she would not give Jarko the pleasure of seeing her lash out.

"No one," Anise said.

"Enough questions," Irel said calmly.

"Excuse me," Anise said. "I'm very tired, I think I'll go to bed."

"Let me send for someone to show you back to your room," Irel said.

"I'll find my own way. Thanks."

Anise plodded off down the walkway while the other guests murmured behind her. Her sandals made a loud slapping sound with each heavy step against the slats. She pulled them off her feet and threw them, watching as they fell down and down into the dark air between herself and the invisible ground far below. The wood planks of the walkways were cold against the soles of her feet. She felt the humming rhythm still from the table behind her, and felt notes of concern and even pity from the other guests. Anise wondered what it would be like to feel the thoughts of the other knights at the Academy--wondered if humans even made patterns for her to feel. And then came the inevitable thought that she would probably never see the Academy again. The place she had wanted to leave more than anything just a few days ago, was not another memory to cherish or forget.

"It is rude to leave before dinner is finished," Jarko said. Anise turned around to see her approaching in the darkness, her body lit orange by the burning lanterns.

"What do you want from me?" Anise asked.

"Nothing," Jarko said.

"Then leave me alone."

"But you amuse me." Jarko smiled.

"Did you kill that horse?" Anise asked.

"What?" said Jarko.

"The horse I stole, from one of your men. You said you would have to kill it."

"No, we did not," Jarko said. "I decided to let it live."

"Like me?"

"I have no sympathy for you. You are here only because my father wishes it. You look like a human, you speak like a human, and you smell like a human, and I will treat you so."

"And that amuses you?" Anise said.

"Yes," Jarko said, smiling. "Although when you leave here tomorrow I will not be sad."

"I'm not going back yet."

Jarko displayed such a look of confusion that it almost made Anise laugh.

"I'm going to do the job," Anise said.

"You will not," Jarko said. "I will convince my father against it. He trusts you too much."

"He knows I want to find my father. And if he really knows how to find him, then I have to do it."

"Your father is dead, or he does not care about you. Why else would he be gone? You are...what word is it...an orphan."

Anise did not feel anger. All she felt was the intense desire to hurt this woman. To humiliate her. She let that desire overtake her, lunging forward. Jarko let out a strange, surprised shriek at the sudden attack, a ridiculous sound to come from such a hardened fighter, and Anise cherished it. She collided with Jarko, pushing her onto her back on the floor and wedging her forearm under her chin, pressed hard against her neck. Jarko's lapse in concentration ended quickly, and she brought her knee up in a blow to Anise's stomach while reaching up to claw at her face. Anise felt the pain in the distance but did not let it in. She struck Jarko's nose and cheek with her fist, then punched her again. Before the third, Jarko managed to twist out of Anise's grip, but Anise was prepared. She locked her leg around Jarko's thigh and pinned her arm back, twisting it as she did so, and heard her yelp in pain.

"Yield!" Anise said. She heard the ripping of fabric as they struggled--proof that their dresses were not made for fighting. Jarko thrashed her body and clawed at Anise's hair, but could not free herself. Then Anise felt a familiar rush of noise, overflowing her ears and grinding into every bone in her spine as it made its way up her back before exploding at the base of her skull. Just like the first night she spent in the Thornwood, the sensation was overwhelming, although the pain was dull this time, not sharp and burning like before. It was from Jarko--she could feel that. But it was not anger. The deep, rumbling echo running through her body was sadness. Something was missing from Jarko's life. Someone. It was all too clear now. Irel was right, of course. How could she feel this if she were human? How could she be alive? Anise let go of Jarko, and she quickly rolled away and rose to her feet.

"Your mother..." Anise said. She felt tears in her eyes.

"You ruined my dress," Jarko answered, holding the hem of the dress to show where it had ripped up to her knee.

"I'm sorry," Anise said.

"Get your sleep, kavi. We leave in the morning."

"Where are you going?"

"I am taking you to Orreck," Jarko said.