The afflicted vien recovered even faster than the little lad, but Jareen expected it was only because the Malady was fresh upon him. The distention of the veins was gone the next day, and he left the day after. Only a night and day more passed when in the evening Jareen saw a vienu hurrying down the path.

As they often did when the weather was nice, Coir and Jareen were sitting together on chairs in front of their hut, speaking little but enjoying the opportunity to feel the open sky above them. The vienu saw them there as she approached. It was obvious that she had come in a rush, as her breaths came quickly. When she saw Jareen, she rushed up and lowered her head, placing both hands on her chest.

"Daughter of Vah," she said. Jareen saw the signs of the Malady creeping up the fingers of the vienu's left hand.

"Vah's blessing to you," Coir said to the vienu. Both Jareen and the new-come vienu squinted at Coir in surprise. "What can the Daughter of Vah do for you?" he asked.

Jareen already knew what she could do for the vienu, but she stayed quiet, taken off guard by Coir's interjection.

"Liethni sent me," the vienu said, looking back to Jareen. She held up her right hand, spreading the fingers.

Jareen furrowed her brow. Liethni? Who was Liethni?

"How is Liethni's son, the young Telu?" Coir asked.

That was it, Jareen realized. The mother and child. She had already forgotten their names. She was not used to having to remember the names of those she'd cared for. Rather, she preferred to forget them.

"He is healed," the vienu said.

"And what of the enclave? Have they accepted him back?" Coir asked.

"The enclave has not spoken on it," she said. "Not the ancients, anyway. Yet everyone whispers. Oreann returned yesterday, and he is healed as well."

Oreann. That must have been the name of the vien, her second attempt. She had never asked his name.

"May he live long beneath the stars," Coir said.

"Is it true?" the vienu asked. "Can you. . ." She looked over at Coir. "Can she heal. . .can the affliction be healed?" The vienu held her left wrist with her right hand, as if she had to support the blighted fingers.

All this time, Jareen sat in silence. It was actually something of a relief not to have to carry the conversation for herself. Yet now, Coir turned to her.

"Daughter of Vah," he said. "Can the blessing of Vah be extended to this one?"

Jareen sighed, pinching her temples between thumb and fingers. What choice did she have but to play along with Coir's ridiculous mystical posturing. He had saved her before. If the truth were known, she did not doubt that both the Synod and the enclaves would drain every drop of blood from every Insensitive now living, or worse, keep them imprisoned for use. They might talk of respect and honor for Vah's children, but it cost them nothing.

"We can. . ." She caught herself before she said try.

"She can ask," Coir said.

The vienu's eyes widened.

"Ask who?"

Coir leaned forward and rocked himself onto his feet, using a thick cane to steady himself.

"She is a Daughter of Vah," he said. Jareen stood as well, rolling her eyes, a gesture the vienu could not understand.

"Come." She motioned for the vienu to enter the hut with her.

***

It was dark, and the vienu was still asleep from her dose of tincture when a heavy hand rapped at the hut door. Jareen had been dozing in her chair, and this time she reached the door before Coir. She could not see who was outside. There were windows in the hut, but at night they closed shutters and lowered thick woven grass mats to cover them, to keep out bugs and any of the small flying creatures of the Mingling that might flutter near. There was no real lock on the hut door, just a rope latch to keep the wind or some roving beast from opening it. Whoever knocked so aggressively could have broken their way inside if they desired.

Jareen unlooped the rope and cracked the door, peering out. Instead of just one, there was a whole cluster of vien in front of the hut.

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"Daughter of Vah," said the vien who had clearly been the one knocking. He wore a long hauberk of mail, with a curved wooden scabbard tucked in his sash. From his hand hung a glass lamp on a thin chain. "We must look into your hut."

"Why?" Jareen asked.

"Step aside, we are not here to talk." The vien stepped forward, and Jareen moved back to avoid being touched. Only two vien came inside, the other half-dozen waiting beyond the door. Coir had risen from his hammock, and he stood in his night robe leaning on his cane. The vien paid him no heed, but proceeded to pull aside the curtain to the back half of the hut. The one who had spoken stepped over to Jareen's hammock where the vienu slept under the power of the tincture. He held his lamp aloft over the vienu's body. Jareen had folded the vienu's hands on her belly, an old habit. The afflicted hand lay on top. The vien did not linger, but withdrew toward the door.

"You are harboring the afflicted," the vien said. "This is against the command of the ancients."

"Are the Inevien not free?" Coir asked.

"Quiet human," the vien snapped. "The enchantress did not request we harbor your tongue, and I will willingly remove it to end your insult to our language."

"I am helping her. I am helping your people," Jareen said. "Do your ancients call that a crime?"

"You risk the whole enclave. The affliction must be removed from our midst."

"And what of the ones she has healed?" Coir asked. Obviously, he did not think highly of the vien's threat.

"We have heard this rumor. That is why the elders have commanded me to bring you before them."

"I do not wish to see your ancients," Jareen answered. What had she done in life but help people, and such fools never stopped threatening and hindering her.

"It is not a choice."

"We are under Vireel's protection," she said. She hated to use that witch's name, but she would use whatever she could to avoid going along. Nothing good came from such summons.

"You are under the enclave's protection, and the enchantress' favor is thin. We have allowed this encampment on our borders by our goodwill, but that does not give you the right to circumvent our law. You will be examined by the ancients, and this afflicted will be put out into the Mingling."

"I will not," Jareen said.

The vien actually laughed. He leaned out the door.

"Come and get her," he said.

At that moment, Coir raised his voice in a loud, hacking, croaking shout that Jareen knew was in the quth tongue. The vien warrior turned to him and frowned.

"What is your human doing?" he asked Jareen, his brow knit in confusion, yet even as he asked, Jareen heard the answering cries of the quth in the camp.

"Telvaer," one of the vien at the door called, drawing an arrow and nocking it to the string of his bow.

The vien rushed outside and looked toward the quth camp.

"What did you tell them?" Jareen asked in Noshian.

"I told them they're trying to take us," Coir said. "You should pack your things. I'm already packed."

Coir motioned to two large bags leaning against the wall. When had he done that? He had never completely settled into the hut, but now he had everything prepared for flight, as if he knew this was coming.

"Are they going to fight?" Jareen asked. "Do not have them shed blood."

"There will be no blood if the Canaen do not wish it," Coir said, shrugging.

Outside the door, Telvaer and the other vien had formed a tight knot, blocking the door to the hut. She could see the quth moving beyond them, circling around. The vien were outnumbered by far. Telvaer looked back into the hut.

"Call them off!" he commanded.

"They do not serve us," Coir answered. "These are the quthli of Vireel. But I am sure they will let you pass if you go peacefully."

"I was sent to bring the Daughter of Vah," Telvaer said, motioning to Jareen.

"I suppose you can make the attempt," Coir answered, his tones flat. Even his posture spoke of bland nonchalance, leaning against his stick. Was it that the old man had little left to fear, or had the years worked hard lessons on him just as much as upon her?

"I cannot adjure them," one of the vien said.

"You promise they will not attack us if we leave in peace?" Telvaer asked Coir.

Coir raised his voice and called out again in quthli. Grunts and single-worded responses rose from the dark.

"You may go," Coir said. "You and yours."

Telvaer's jaw flexed. He called for his vien to follow and jogged off along the trail back to the enclave. The wide frame of a quth appeared in the doorway, staring inside and huffing the air. It held a heavy axe, and it spoke something in their incomprehensible manner.

"You should really pack," Coir said. "We will not have long."

"Where are we going?"

"The Mingling."

The Mingling, again. Coir reached out, holding an empty waxed sack. She took it and hurried to the far side of the hut.

"What about her?" she asked as she carefully placed her tinctures, bottles, and other supplies in the bag.

"I will have a quthli carry her. I fear if we leave her, they will send her into the Mingling alone."

"I have already treated her."

"Even so. If she wishes to return to the enclave, we can send her back."

Jareen did not have enough possessions to fill even the single bag, and soon she was outside. Quthli carried Coir's burdens for him, and they had kept the litter-chair upon which they had first born the old man to the enclave. Coir took his place upon it, and the quthli lifted him. They laid the unconscious vienu upon the litter that had brought Jareen, and despite Jareen's protests one of the quthli females kept trying to take Jareen's bag.

"Let her carry it," Coir said, and Jareen relented. Within minutes from the departure of Telvaer and his vien, the whole herd of quthli loped toward the Mingling. Jareen marveled at how quickly they had gathered their belongings upon their backs, leaving their rough structures behind. Had they also prepared ahead of time? She didn't like Coir hiding things from her. Then again, what had she expected would happen? That they would act reasonably? With her heart pounding in her chest, she hurried to keep pace, jogging next to Coir's litter in the midst of the quthli throng. She felt the strain on her body; she had grown too old for sudden exertions. Thankfully, they only held the pace for a few miles, until they reached the edge of the true Mingling and proceeded in single-file along a narrow trail, the loud calls of the birds and beasts filling the night.

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