Isla shifted on her bed. Whatever Sir Edric and Noi had agreed to tell Haana about her future, she should not be the one to divulge it – nor did she want to. She was saved, fortunately, by the creak of the front door, followed by Noi calling them to the sitting room.

The handmaid was laying out their plates when they entered. When she spoke, it was in both her and Haana's more comfortable tongue. 'Marinated beef from the inn. Today we will celebrate, I think, with something a little fancy. But first, you must wake you stomach. This is Surikh tea; herbs from our south-eastern mountains.'

Tea. Noi's answer to everything. Isla noticed she had also added a bit of whiskey.

Haana took a sip. 'You have many things from Surikhand?'

'A shipment to Ayresmoor comes every few turns of the month. That is a port town not far from your father's holding. We try to go there with every new batch.' Noi's chair scraped the floor as she sat. 'I hope the wagon ride was not too uncomfortable?'

'I survived weeks in the belly of a ship. Two days in a wooden box is nothing.'

Isla had passed her own voyage in more luxurious cabins, all thanks to Sir Edric's patronage; though she would have traded her meal and bed for a full turn with her family.

'Even so,' said Noi, 'you should rest these coming days. How do you like the beef?'

'Not as tasteless as all else in this realm.'

Noi chuckled. 'Of all Surikhand's wonders, it's her food I miss the most.'

'And the least?'

'Ah ... well that –'

'For me, it is the mosquitoes. Ants, as well.'

Noi smiled. 'I remember, though it has been so long. They get into everything.'

Haana drained her cup and poured another. 'How long have you been gone?'

'Eleven years. Close to twelve.' It was Isla who answered.

'You would have been a child, then. What made you leave?'

She was more inquisitive than Isla thought. Perhaps speaking in Srikh made her only more so. Or perhaps she quickly softens with drink. Likely both. 'My father made me leave.'

'The fisherman?'

'Even a fisherman could tell the realm was headed for the gutters.'

That got her attention. Haana's eyebrows lifted along with another cup of laced tea. 'Much has since changed. No longer is it the place you would've remembered. Where did you say this tea came from?'

What did she remember? Very little. Isla had been too young to trouble herself with anything beyond the goings-on of her own little town. Everything she learnt about Surikhand had been much later through her father's books, and through talk the traders would bring to Ayresmoor along with their wares.

'Our south-eastern mountains,' answered Noi. 'From the valleys of Mount Mrabu.'

'Tastes odd.'

Noi cleared her throat. 'They are known for more bold, bitter flavours. We, ah ... we hear the Maha Rama has taken another consort?'

'Fishwives' gossip. He's not wed again since Rajini Amarin.'

'For the better. Four wives is more than enough. It is about time Maha Rama Judhistir outlived the cravings of his flesh.'

'Ev'rybody knows that's not the reason for his consorts.' Haana stabbed into a piece of meat, though her progressively slurring words lessened the effect. 'Surikhand is not so depraved as you'd make it.'

'If that were true, they'd be rid of the conscription by now,' said Isla, ignoring Noi's swiftly upending smile.

Haana frowned. 'The conscription's designed for all our safety.'

Someone's been drinking too much from the royal cup. Isla held her tongue, silencing it with a slice of beef. What matter did it make? She no longer had to concern herself with the Maha Rama's regime.

'You mean to tell me the Eling ... haven't such law?'

'Elingar enlists all theurgy as is typical, but that is where it stops. They do not send women away here, no matter their rank.'

'Issat not a danger? Letting women with theurgy above standard go unchecked?'

'No more a danger than allowing men go unchecked.'

'But ... women'll always be impassioned creatures. Erratic ... dangerous. 'Specially them with stronger theurgy. Men haven't even got moons!'

'Yet are somehow still capable of waging wars.'

'Pity.' Haana mulled over another cup. 'The conscription raises many a woman up. From poor and nameless ... into to hon'rable servants of the realm.'

That's one way to look at it. One believed by most Surikh. Isla was grateful her parents did not share the same view. She was only too familiar with the conscription. Every woman of third-rank and above were carted off to the palace. Like cows for the milking.

Her father had paid dearly to keep her away from it. She had gone through the bloodings when her theurgy manifested ... three times she had been bled; each resulting in a rank higher. Her father had made sure she was gone before her fourth blooding.

'What other news have you?' Noi's foot found Isla's under the table. 'We heard talk of plague.'

'An outbreak across our northern-east sugarcane plantations. It's what's caused our price inf ... inflammation.'

'Inflation.' Isla reached for the teapot, but Haana was already pouring herself another drink.

Noi lifted her cup. 'My prayers, then, for those poor farmers and their family.'

'Why? All's resolved. Maha Rama Judhistir sent his best dhraokin to cleanse the lands.'

'You mean burn them down.' Isla could not toast to that.

'Only ones good as gone. Even then he's decreed them to be recom'sated.'

'So he is capable of some good deed.' Isla shrugged. 'I was beginning to worry. All we seem to hear is one bad decree after another.'

'Here, across the Ters Altum? Anything you hear's bound to be a game of chainstring whispers.'

'You're right about that. Our tea merchant tried to convince us once that the Maha Rani remains beautiful by drinking blood of newly manifested theurgists.'

Haana snorted. 'I don't think it's working.'

'She also mentioned something about a ...' The word eluded her, though the supposed law itself did not. 'Something to do with a law of coupling.'

'You mean the you ... eugeneic coupling.' Even Haana stumbled on the word – or especially Haana, considering how many cups she had downed. 'Well that one's no tale. D'you know, the term was coined by a Cor Regnant philophoser who –'

'You're saying the decree is real?' Isla's dropped her knife. 'What ... taking young girls, and ...'

'I don't know what you heard, but only early-blooming girls are summoned.'

Summoned. 'That does not make it any better.'

'Their futures and that of their families are all set for life.'

At the cost of being wedded to men at least twice their age. Perhaps Haana would not mind, but Isla's stomach churned at the thought. Her father had done right by her, in more ways than he could have ever foreseen. Isla took Haana's lead and drowned her discomfort in more tea.

'T'was issued long ago,' continued Haana, as though that made any difference. 'Five years. It's for the good of all, we know that now, though some first objected.'

Not enough of them. Only early-blooming girls were the target of the decree ... and early-bloomers were a rarity like no other. There would not have been enough affected by it to care. Even Isla could not bring herself to care beyond perfunctory disgust – and she would have been one of the very victims herself.

But she was out of Surikhand's reach, and there were more urgent matters to concern herself with. Dangers closer to home, such as that watcher ...

What was he? What did he want?

Bandits roamed the land in groups; thieves stayed within city- or town walls. The Eastern Islander that had followed them had been neither.

A loud rapping interrupted from the window.

Noi had sent Whitebill home the previous night, to report their run with the watcher in the woods. Now the great bird was perched on the ledge outside, a scroll in his beak. The handmaid sighed in relief as she rose to admit the erne.

'Sir Edric sends his regards.' She read. 'He did not take well our news of the ... er, ah ... incident ... in the woods. Whitebill will stay until they can send men to keep guard.'

Haana looked at the mantle, where the bird shook the rain off his wings. Isla tapped the girl's hand reasurringly. 'He'll rip anyone who comes near. Especially when he's hungry.'

'That reminds me!' Noi gave a squeal of delight. 'I know just what we need before bed.' She hurried to their kitchen cabinets and pulled out a plate of soft, pastel-green cake.

'You've pandan cakes?' Haana's eyes bulged as Noi served them each a piece.

'I did promise something from home. Now. Enough worrying talk –'

'These are wonderful!'

Noi beamed. 'You like it? It is an old, family recipe.'

'You made these yourself? These belong in the royal kitchen!'

'Only if it's poisoned.' Isla muttered.

Noi quickly interrupted. 'Is there any word on the ascendancy, now that you mention them?'

'There's been a small change, but ...' Haana paused to drain her cup. '... no plans yet for a cor'nation.'

Isla considered taking Haana's drink away, but the girl was already helping herself to another fill. As long as she does not retch in my bedchamber. Whitebill swept onto her armrest and took a strip of beef from Isla's unattended bowl.

Noi smiled into her own cup. 'If I could only live to see a Surikh coronation ...'

'Would you return for it?'

'I would if it means seeing Kiet on the throne!'

Haana snorted. 'For that, you'll be long a-waiting. Mah'raj Kiet won't be ascending.'

Isla never managed to memorise the members of the royal family – the Maha Rama had four wives and a slew of descendants between them – but she knew enough to recognise their crown prince's name. 'Why? Has he been murdered?'

'Ha! I'd like see som'n try.' Whitebill hunted the table for more meat and pecked one off Haana's fork. The girl leaned as far from him as possible. 'He's been renegated to second in line for the throne.'

'Relegated?' Noi choked on her cake. 'Why? He was a great favourite amongst our people!'

'Is a great favourite.' Haana's drawl only emphasised her defensiveness. 'But he ... he always understood his place. One of the reasons e'rryone loves him s'much. As the son of a rajini, he'd always be ... ruled out in favour for one of the Maha Rani's descendants.'

Isla's head started to spin. She looked down at her empty cup and decided the whiskey infusion had finally begun to take hold. 'Son of a queen consort or no, between his brothers and cousins and nephews, Maharaj Kiet is the only first-ranking heir. That trumps maternal pedigree every time.'

'Was the only first-ranking heir. Maharaj Khaisan's theurgy finally settled last year ... also at first-rank.'

Isla kneaded her temple. 'I'll be damned if I knew who that was.'

'A grandson of the Maha Rama's ... through Her Highness ... the Hon'rable Maha Rani.'

'Mm, of course.' Noi nodded sagely.

'S'prised everyone, being a late-bloomer yet ... still settling at first-rank ...'

'Incredible,' agreed Noi, pouring herself another cup.

'So late last year, Maharaj Khaisan was 'fficially titled new Rama-in-Waiting.'

'What a shame.'

'Is good news! The royal lineage has been ... tainted ... their Grace waning. They're thankful f'rall the first-ranks they can beget.'

'Oh, do not misunderstand.' Noi corrected herself. 'I only mean – I liked Kiet. Handsome, that one. Judging by the grand paintings I have seen.'

'He is handsome!' Haana giggled. 'More so from up close. The stubbles on his face ... smell of his perfume ... and when he smiles –'

Haana affected a swoon and Isla broke into laughter. Their conversation dissolved into small talk and petty gossip; even Noi was soon reduced into a giggling schoolgirl. At the end of the night, only Isla was left with enough sobriety to escort Haana – half conscious – into bed.

Having lain the girl on her pallet, she lurched to the window and lifted it open for Whitebill to come and go as he pleased. The bird roosted on its sill. Isla tapped him lightly on the beak before collapsing onto her bed. Her head was warm and giddy, vaguely conscious that she should be worrying about something ... or someone ... and now she wondered what it was, or if Noi managed to find her own bedchamber, or how in the deepest trenches of the epperstrom Haana knew what a maharaj looked from up close.

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