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do not normally study in Jeds. Only Yuri and I, and Dina now, because Ilya did, and he thought it would be—” Her grin was as much full of mischief as laughter. “—good for us. Poor Yuri. I suppose he was miserable the entire time, though he will never say so much to me, even if I am his sister. And never ever would he say it to Ilya.”
    “Who is Ilya, and why was he studying in Jeds?”
    “Ilya Bakhtiian? He is my cousin, first, and also the dyan of our tribe’s jahar… You would say in Rhuian, perhaps, the leader of our riders. Why he went to Jeds? You will have to ask him. He’s the one who found you, if Yuri did not say.”
    Tess, remembering that dark, aloof, censorious man, and their ride together, flushed a furious red.
    Sonia merely laid a soft but entirely reassuring hand on Tess’s arm, guiding her, supporting her. “Come, you’re tired. Eat and sleep first. Then we can talk.”
    So Tess did as she was told, and was relieved to be treated both kindly and firmly. Sonia took her to a huge, round tent, gave her warm stew and hot tea to drink, chased four inquisitive children out of the curtained back alcove of the tent, and helped Tess out of her boots and clothing. Then, giving Tess a yellow silk shift to wear, she pointed to a pile of furs and left, returning once with a small bronze oven filled with hot coals. Tess lay down. The furs were soft enough, but they smelled—not bad, precisely, but musky, an exotic, overpowering scent. Outside, children laughed and called in some game. A woman chuckled. Pots chimed against each other in the breeze. More distantly, a man shouted, and animals bleated and cried in soothing unison. A bird’s looping whistle trilled over and over and over again. Tess slept.
    Charles Soerensen sat at his desk, staring out at the mud flats of Odys Massif that stretched for endless miles, as far as one could see from this tower and farther yet. While his companion spoke, Soerensen sat perfectly still, engrossed in the scene beyond. But Marco Burckhardt knew that Charles Soerensen listened closely and keenly to everything he had to report.
    “…and while I was in Jeds, Dr. Hierakis isolated another of the antigenic enzymes in the native population that has been puzzling her. Which reminds me, this lingering illness that the Prince of Jeds is suffering is either going to have to get better or you’re going to have to kill yourself off and let your sister take over, or some invented son, once she can be fetched back from whichever damned place overseas you supposedly sent her to study. It’s been over two years since you’ve appeared publicly in Jeds, or even been downside at all.”
    Charles reached out and with one finger rotated the globe of Earth suspended to the right of his desk a quarter-turn, revealing the Pacific Ocean. “Eighteen months. And in any case, I just inherited twenty years ago. We’ve got a while before we need a new prince down there.”
    “If you say so. I think I’ll sail the coast up north from Jeds next. Northeast, that is, up the inland sea.”
    A soft click sounded, barely audible, but both men stilled, and Marco turned expectantly toward the tiled wall opposite the huge open balcony that looked out over the tidal flats. A seam opened. A woman dressed in an approximation of Chapalii steward’s garb appeared.
    “Visitors,” she said, low, and quickly. “The Oshaki, in from Earth. Hao Yakii Tarimin.”
    Charles nodded. He did not stand, but Marco did. The woman backed out of the room. A moment later, Hao Yakii entered and paused on the threshold. Marco gestured for him to enter, and Yakii came forward and with a precise, deep bow, presented himself to Charles.
    “Tai Charles,” he said in formal Chapalii. “I am thrice honored to be allowed into your presence, and I beg leave to thank you again for your generosity in letting my ship transport cargo and passengers through your demesne.”
    Charles inclined his head the merest degree. He folded