Waiting just inside the seat of the Nesh was a man who, at first glance, did not resemble the red-skinned Thole at all. His hair was fair, his face weathered, human, if not for the multiple horn-like sprouts jutting from his face in all directions, and his clothes, though marked with the crest of Nesh, were simpler than the fine robes they had seen elsewhere.
He rose from a desk at the entry, where a ledger lay open, when Sonder and Lacuna entered the building.
His smile seemed practiced and not very sincere in Sonder's eyes.
"Outlanders," he said, his voice friendly, but the same as his smile, not sincere. "I bid you welcome. My duty is to receive those from beyond the walls who seek audience or favor with House Nesh."
Lacuna whispered to Sonder, "So they make one of us their doorkeeper."
The horned man heard him and allowed himself a dry chuckle but didn't comment on it. "Tell me, travelers—what business brings you to Nesh?"
Sonder stepped forward, as she wanted to move things along quickly. "I seek entry. I am a sorceress, and I want to join House Nesh. I'd be ready to show them what I can do at this very moment."
The man's brows rose a fraction, though his composure held. He glanced to Lacuna, then back to Sonder, and slowly dipped his quill in ink. "A bold claim. But boldness suits this place. Very well. If you would show them, I will see you passed along."
He wrote a note on a parchment, then called for a messenger. He whispered something to him, and the messenger ran off with the parchment.
They waited nearly an hour before the messenger returned with another parchment.
The horned man read it thoroughly and then looked up at Sonder and Lacuna.
"Follow me," he said.
He led them through the spiraling halls of the building.
At last, he stopped before a set of doors that slanted inward.
He bowed low and stepped aside. "I will announce you."
The doors opened without a sound, and the chamber beyond widened into a circular hall.
Waiting within was a Thole woman.
Her skin was a pale red, smooth and unblemished, and her hair was bound back in raven-dark twin tails, braided but still almost reaching the floor.
Her eyes were narrow and unblinking, and they fixed on Sonder.
She was seated, though the chair looked less crafted than grown, its shape like a cage of ribs.
Her robes were layered in purple and silver, the patterns on them weaving spirals that made the eye follow them.
"Lady Thiliel of Nesh," the horned man said with careful reverence, "this outlander claims sorcery. She asks to be tested."
"Show them in and then leave at once," Thiliel said, her voice just like the other Thole, even for a woman: rough and gravelly.
The horned man did as she commanded.
"Another outlander who thinks they are touched by the Art. Do you know how many have stood where you stand, outlander? But you caught me in a good mood. Any other day I wouldn't even have bothered responding. Do you really think you have the Art?"
"I am what I say I am."
A flicker of interest passed through Thiliel's eyes. She rose, her robe sweeping around her in long folds. "Then show me."