Vessia
In the morning, Vessia thought Vio would send her back to the cage with the other prisoners.
Instead, he ordered breakfast—savory rabbit, vegetables roasted with herbs, and soft corn mash. He shared the meal with her.
The sweet onion bulbs were especially good, and she ate all of them without shame.
Vio ate in silence. He focused on each bite, as if eating was a serious task, like making an arrowhead or aiming a bow. When he finished, he licked the last bit of sauce from his bowl, not wasting even a drop.
Only then did he wipe his mouth, sit back, and smile at her.
"I have a deal to offer you," he said.
She waited.
"If you can get something for me, I'll set you free. I won't take you to the Bone Whistler."
"What about Danumoro?" she asked.
"I need him," Vio said.
"Then I'm not interested in your deal."
Vio waved a hand. "If he agrees to work with me, I'll free him too."
"I don't think he will agree. He hates you."
"I'm sure he does. But I have a bargain for him too. He can choose. Isn't that fair?"
Smoke from the hearth rose through a hole in the tent. Morning light shone in through the same hole, and made moving shapes on the leather walls, like sunlight on water.
Vessia looked at the light. If Danumoro were here, he would know if this was a good idea or not. She wasn't sure. Still, her curiosity grew too strong.
"What do you want me to get? And how do you think I can get anything? I'm not good at making people give me things."
Vio grinned, pleased. He picked up the looking bowl he had shown her the night before.
"You won't need to talk anyone into anything. Just take this bowl. Hide it under your clothes. I'll send you to Nangi's tent. She is dancing today and needs help. You'll brush her hair and help her dress. When she's not looking, switch this bowl for the one in her tent. Then you come back. That's all."
"That's all?" she repeated. "So simple. Then why don't you do it? Why not just ask her to trade bowls?"
"Because I don't want her to know they've been switched. My bowl is fake. Hers is real. I need the real one. And I need her to think it's still there."
Vessia frowned. "A bowl is a bowl. How can one be fake?"
Vio made a rude noise with his mouth. "Vessia, I've told you what to do. Don't ask questions. Just do it. Or don't. But if you refuse, Danumoro will die."
She stiffened. "I don't like your threats."
"I never said I would kill him," Vio said smoothly. He handed her the bowl. "Will you do it?"
She didn't want to. Maybe Danumoro would tell her not to do it, even if it risked his life. But she couldn't let him die. The choice wasn't as hard as she thought it would be.
So why did her stomach twist? Why did she want to smash the bowl over Vio's head?
Then he smiled—like a boy caught stealing apples. He looked at her as if he knew what she was thinking, and didn't blame her.
Her stomach twisted again. But this time, the feeling wasn't fear. It wasn't anger either. She didn't know what it was.
She nodded.
Vio helped her tie the bowl under her shawl. It rested at her hip. The folds of her blanket covered the shape, making her look bulky, but not strange.
Warriors took her to another tent. This one was painted with orange patterns. Skulls topped the poles holding it up.
Inside, the tent looked much like Vio's. Furs and cushions lay around a small fire.
Nangi sat on a cushion with her back to the door. Vessia had seen her before—very ugly, with a twisted face. She stared into the looking bowl on a stone table.
When Nangi turned to look at her, she scowled.
"So you're the new prize," Nangi growled. "You don't look special. What's wrong with men? They always want something new. Fine. Help me with my hair."
She handed Vessia a comb.
Vessia stood behind her and began to comb her hair. As she worked, she kept looking at the bowl.
Nangi snickered. "You won't see anything in there. It's not a normal bowl."
But Nangi was wrong.
Vessia did see something. A reflection. And in that reflection, Nangi was beautiful.
No—more than beautiful. The word wasn't strong enough. In the bowl, Nangi looked perfect, the way humans described their most lovely women.
Vessia said nothing. But she kept wondering about it. Why did Nangi look so different in the bowl?
Was this bowl making an illusion? Or showing the truth?
Did the bowl show Nangi as she really was… or only as she wished to be?
*
Dindi
The light shattered.
Dindi blinked. Her head spun. She saw Zumo hitting and clawing at the air, like he wanted to grab the Vision before it vanished.
"Bring it back!" he shouted. "I need to see more!"
Dindi didn't wait.
She ran.
She didn't look back. She ran and ran, through the forest, across the hills, all the way to the river. Back to where the other maidens worked. Back to Jensi.
That day, the maidens sang songs as they sifted grain. Each girl held a wide, flat basket and tossed the grain into the air again and again. The breeze blew the husks away.
The song was cheerful and a little rude. It was about a maiden who borrowed a warrior's spear to skin a rabbit. There were many sly jokes in the song. Dindi didn't understand them all, but they made her blush anyway.
Jensi saw her and spoke at once, as if they had already been talking.
"So I arranged for you to meet with him," Jensi said. "You should bring a gift. But nothing too obvious. You don't want to seem too eager."
Dindi froze. She had no idea what Jensi was talking about.
"Wha…? A gift? For who?"
Jensi rolled her eyes and gave Dindi a light smack on the arm with her grain basket.
"Dindi! Who else would I be talking about?"
Dindi's heart jumped. Kavio's face flashed in her mind, but that made no sense. Jensi couldn't mean him. Could she?
Zumo? Had Jensi somehow found out about the meeting in the woods?
The man in black—the Deathsworn?
"Yodigo, of course!" Jensi cried. "Gramma Sullana thinks Full Basket clan might agree to a match if he likes you. So this is your chance! Now is the time to cast your net if you want to catch him before we go home."
Jensi was already planning.
"Let's decide what you'll give him," she said. "Maybe a jug shaped like a trout? Or a fur ribbon? It has to look like an accident. You won't tell him it's a gift. You'll leave it behind 'by mistake,' and it'll make him think of you…"
As Jensi talked, Dindi didn't listen. She kept thinking about what happened in the woods.
If the Deathsworn knew what she had done, they would punish her. The punishment would be worse than anything she could imagine.
But night came. No one said anything. No one asked where she had been. No one raised an alarm. Maybe Zumo hadn't told anyone. Maybe he didn't even understand what she was doing.
He had acted so strange.
Like he cared more about hiding his secrets than finding out hers.
And what had he meant, that she had "stolen" his Vision?
Could the Corn Cob Doll belong to Zumo?
That seemed impossible. Didn't it?
Dindi knew what she should do.
She should stop. She should stay away from the Tavaedies. She should stop dancing.
But she also knew the truth.
She wouldn't stop.