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there.”
    Gripping the young woman’s chin, Malja inspected her face. “How’s this possible? She was a child only a few hours ago.”
    “Unhand her,” Stray said, standing with his hands resting on the hilts of his swords.
    Malja let go. Not from fear, but from Stray’s reaction — he left no doubt in her mind that this woman was, indeed, the Artisoll. “I don’t understand this. Is she going to keep rapidly aging and then die?”
    “No.” Stray settled back in the corner. “The Artisoll doesn’t age like that. She manifests her outward appearance based on her own needs and the needs of those around her. Being a child benefited her for all the years I have known her, and in the normal events of our home, she would have remained a child until the day of her rising. But our situation has drastically changed, and so, she has as well. I never thought I’d see such a thing. I’d only been taught that it could happen. This is a rare and privileged experience.”
    Fawbry poked his head over Malja’s shoulder. “Looks like Tommy and her have something going.”
    She elbowed him lightly in the gut. “Don’t you have to be Sheriff? Go watch the Carsites set up.” To Stray, she asked, “Is this anything to be concerned about?”
    “It is a miraculous event. The Artisoll’s magic at work before her rising. She honors us all by allowing us to be present.”
    “I don’t like being honored.”
    “But isn’t that the point of this evening — to honor you?”
    “Just because it’s the point of the party, doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.” She snapped her fingers at the two young people. “Tommy. Time to go get ready for the party. Let the Artisoll be. I’m sure you’ll see her again tonight.”
    He hesitated. Then, to her shock, he grinned at the Artisoll and the Artisoll blushed. After he left, Malja slammed the door closed and stormed off to her room. She threw her own door shut and kicked a hole into the wall.
    All she had been trying to do was save the life of a child in need. Like she had done for Tommy long ago. Yet the sensation churning inside told her well enough that things were spiraling out of her control. This girl, this Artisoll, had a lot more underneath the surface than simply being able to shift her appearance, and Malja wanted nothing to do with it.
    But I saved her life. I’m responsible.
    Except maybe she hadn’t saved the girl at all. Stray seemed to indicate that the street war she had interrupted was part of normal political maneuvers. Maybe so. But Malja had encountered enough politicians in her life to know that none of them were any good.
    Even Canto.
    Through the war with the Scarites, she had seen much good in the man, but she could not forget her first meeting with him. He had been engaged to the daughter of the head of town, and he knew what privilege came with that. He exploited it as long as possible.
    And now, when she returned in need of his help, he had to be pushed in order to give his consent. She had to parade herself about at this ridiculous festival just so he could maintain control. The Artisoll’s life was in her hands, and she had to bargain with Canto for it.
    Ridiculous.
    Malja peered out the window at the activities below. At least, after concluding whatever uncomfortable pageantry Canto had planned, she’d be able to get drunk. Maybe even find a man to lie with for the night. It had been a long time since she last enjoyed such an evening. If it had to be forced on her, she might as well find some pleasure in it, too.
    Rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands, she tried to push away all thoughts of the Artisoll, her magic, and all Stray had implied about what had happened. They had a party to enjoy. Besides, even if she could solve this squabble tomorrow, the next day would be engaged in some other fight. That was the way of her life.
    On the bedside table, she noticed a wide-toothed comb clearly made from the sun-bleached bones of a local