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me."
    There was a little stir of surprise at her words, and Isabeau's cousin made an impatient gesture of disbelief. Isabeau turned to her and said sternly, "You, though, who share the blue eyes like the summer sky and the red hair like flame that all kin of the Firemaker share, you do not speak truth."
    Consternation and outrage flashed across the Khan'cohban woman's face, echoed in more subtle ways by the listening crowd. Isabeau went on steadily. "To understand why, you must know the story of my birth. I am the daughter of Khan'gharad Dragon-Lord, grandson of the Firemaker. It is known to you all how he traveled away from the Spine of the World to study with the wise ones among the humans. He met there a human woman and loved her and conceived with her twins."
    Again there was a little shift and murmurs of shock and outrage. Isabeau looked around at their stern faces and said, "Evil had cast its shadow over the lives of the humans and there was much war and bloodshed. My mother fled to the mountains in search of my father's people but was overcome with the birth pangs. She would have died if it had not been for the intervention of the queen-dragon, who was in geas to my father for the saving of her daughter's life. She bore my mother to the palace of the dragons in her claws and there my sister and I were born.
    "Knowing that twins were forbidden among the People of the Spine of the World, the queen-dragon bade one of her sons carry my twin sister to the north where she was left for the Firemaker to find. Another of her sons was told to carry me to the south, where a wise woman and Soul-Sage of the humans found me and raised me to adulthood. It was not until I met my twin sister that I knew I was kin to the Children of the White Gods and I came to the Spine of the World to learn the history and wisdom of my father's people."
    Isabeau paused for a long moment, letting her words sink in. "I and my twin sister are as alike in face and form as the Firemaker and her sister must have been. Thus you could mistake me for her, and an honest mistake it is, though not the truth. So I tell you again, although it is true I am of the Firemaker's get, I have no desire to challenge you for the godhead. I wish only to travel unhindered upon my naming-quest."
    She looked back at the Old Mother, whose face was expressionless, her eyes hooded. The First of the Scarred Warriors made a series of swift gestures to her and she nodded slowly. He turned back to Isabeau and said, "You have answered fully, though we have no way to judge the truth of what you are saying. How are we to know that you are indeed the twin of the one we know as the Firemaker's kin and not herself?"
    Isabeau peeled off her glove to show them her left hand. The two smallest fingers were missing, ugly scars where they had once been. Involuntarily the Khan'cohbans recoiled, disgusted by her deformity. Isabeau pressed her lips together but said nothing, lifting one finger to stroke the triangular scar between her brows.
    "My sister had won two of her Scarred Warrior scars," she said softly. "You can see I have not been so honored. Yet I am scarred in my own way. They say it is the scratch of the White Gods' claw."
    The Khan'cohbans glanced at the scar and then glanced away immediately, too polite to stare. Only one man dared to examine her face intently, an old man with seven triangular scars on his cheeks and forehead. Dressed in the heavy furs of a bear, he wore an eagle's talon around his neck and at his waist was a pouch of skin that clattered slightly as he moved. Isabeau made a low gesture of respect and he reached out one long bony finger and touched her gently between her brows. "The stranger speaks truth," he said and turned to shuffle into the shadows.
    "So be it," the Old Mother said. "You are under the protection of the Gods of White and may travel through our lands freely."
    "Thank you," Isabeau said and bowed.
    Her cousin was tense still, her hands clenched on her