Grinsa shrugged. "I can tell you that Cresenne and I never meant to give offense. We were looking for a home and found you first. I'm still not sure that we belong among the Fal'Borna. But that wasn't really your point. And looking at it as you would, I can see that you're right. You made us part of your sept, and we told you that we wanted to leave. If I were in your position, I'd be angry, too."

The frown lingered on E'Menua's thin, tapered face. Clearly he hadn't expected Grinsa to say any of this.

"And I suppose I can understand that you didn't want to give up your woman," he finally said.

"Thank you for that, A'Laq."

E'Menua nodded, though he still looked unnerved by their exchange.

It seemed to Grinsa, though, that something had shifted between them. He remained wary of the man-he didn't think that he could ever be around E'Menua without keeping at least a light hold on his magic, just in case. But despite his pledge to fight on behalf of the Fal'Borna, only now did he begin to think that perhaps they could work together and face the Eandi as allies, if it came to that.

"You mentioned the Mettai before," he said after a lengthy silence. "Regardless of what other Mettai have done, I'm certain that we can trust Besh and Sirj. They want to help us. They believe that the witch's plague is to blame for this war, and so rather than returning to the safety of Mettai lands, they chose to come here with Q'Daer and me."

"They also found a way to defeat the plague and make us all immune," E'Menua said, surprising him. "Isn't that so?"

"Yes, it is."

"Doesn't that strike you as odd?"

Grinsa's heart sank. He'd actually allowed himself to believe that he and the a'laq had reached an understanding of a sort, that he might be able to reason with the man.

"You believe that this is all part of a Mettai plan to win your trust?" he asked wearily.

"Or yours. They've already succeeded at that."

"I don't believe that they're capable of anything so… insidious, A'Laq. But I'd suggest that if you're suspicious of them, you speak to them yourself. I have no doubt that they'd be willing to answer any questions you ask them. I can arrange such an audience, if you'd like."

E'Menua appeared disappointed, as if he'd hoped that Grinsa would respond in anger to his doubts about the Mettai. "Yes, all right," he said, sounding bored with their conversation.

Grinsa rose. "Thank you, A'Laq."

He turned, intending to leave, and immediately sensed that E'Menua was drawing upon his magic, as he had the day before. Instantly, Grinsa reached out with his own power and took control of the a'laq's. He wasn't convinced that E'Menua actually intended to harm him-the a'laq made no attempt to free himself from Grinsa's hold on his power. But the Forelander knew that he could never show any signs of weakness in his dealings with this man.

Grinsa glanced back over his shoulder, his eyebrows raised.

"Before, when you spoke of the two Mettai, you said that 'we' could trust them, that they wanted to help 'us.' Do you consider yourself Fal'Borna now?"

"There's a war coming," Grinsa said with a grin. "Do you think I'd choose this day to count myself as part of any other clan?"

E'Menua laughed. "If you'd been horn in the Southlands, you would have been Fal'Borna. I'm sure of it."

"I'll take that as a compliment, A'Laq."

"There will he food for you by midday. Enough for two. And wood, as well."

Grinsa inclined his head. "Thank you." He released E'Menua's magic and left the z'kal.

Cresenne's late arrival at the tanning circle drew the notice of several of the Fal'Borna women, though none of them said anything to her. Even before Cresenne started eating her meals with L'Norr, she had been an outcast in the village. Many of the women who tanned with her had believed T'Lisha, L'Norr's concubine, when she told them that Cresenne was trying to steal L'Norr from her. T'Lisha no longer believed this, but several of the women still eyed Cresenne with open hostility. You may have been innocent this time, they seemed to be telling her with their glares, but that doesn't mean we trust you.

Through all of this, though, F'Solya remained her good friend. As usual, the woman had saved Cresenne a space beside her, and seeing Cresenne approach, she smiled slyly.

"I didn't think I'd see you here at all," she said, as Cresenne lowered herself to the ground and pulled out the skin she'd scraped clean the day before. "I'm not that late," Cresenne said, smiling.

"I know! That's what I mean. If I'Joled had been away as long as your man has been, I'd still be beneath a blanket." She grinned. "And so would he."

Cresenne felt her cheeks coloring, though if anything her smile broadened.

"I don't think I've ever seen you look so happy," F'Solya said. "I'm glad for you."

"Thank you."

Cresenne reached for the foul tannin that the Fal'Borna used to soften and preserve their rilda hides, and for some time the two women worked without speaking.

"What do you know about the Mettai your man brought back with him?" F'Solya asked, abruptly breaking the silence.

Cresenne paused in her work to look at the woman, surprised by the question. "Not a lot. Grinsa said that they killed the witch who first spread the plague. And he also said that they found a way to defeat the curse; if they hadn't, Grinsa and Q'Daer would both be dead, and none of us would be safe."

F'Solya nodded thoughtfully, but she wore a frown on her pretty face. "I'Joled says it's dangerous to have them here."

Cresenne felt herself tense, knowing that they had crossed into hazardous terrain. I'Joled, F'Solya's husband, struck her as a decent man. From what she'd seen of the two of them together, she had no doubt that he loved his wife and boys. But she didn't like him, and she had the sense that he didn't like her, either. They had met only once-the night F'Solya invited her and Bryntelle to eat with them at their z'kal. At the time, she hadn't yet spoken to E'Menua about her need for food. F'Solya and I'Joled generously shared their meal with her-she had no right to think ill of him.

But she believed he was a typical Fal'Borna man: proud, stubborn, distrustful of outsiders, and disdainful of women who didn't behave the way Fal'Borna women were expected to behave. It didn't surprise her to learn that he was suspicious of the Mettai. This was how a Fal'Borna warrior thought: If one group of Mettai had declared themselves enemies of the Fal'Borna, then every Mettai in the Southlands was an enemy. Never mind all the good that Besh and Sirj had done.

Clearly Cresenne couldn't say any of this without angering her friend. "Why does he think it's dangerous?" she asked instead, hoping her voice wouldn't betray her thoughts.

F'Solya let out a small, breathless laugh, though she didn't look at all amused. "Well, because we're going to war against the Mettai, of course."

"Right. Of course. I just…" She shook her head, wishing she hadn't spoken at all. "I don't know if Besh and Sirj know the Mettai who are marching with the Eandi."

"That doesn't matter," F'Solya said. "They're Mettai."

Cresenne thought it best not to answer.

If only it had been that easy.

Her friend looked at her for a long time, the skin she was working lying forgotten in her lap. Cresenne tried to keep working, but in the end she had little choice but to look F'Solya in the eye.

"You disagree," the woman said.

"I'm not sure we should talk about this, F'Solya."

"I believe we should. You've lived among the Fal'Borna for more than two turns now. You're learning our ways, you speak of being our friends. You also know that we're under attack by the Eandi and the Mettai." Her voice rose as she spoke, and her cheeks were flushed. "You've known these two Mettai men for a day. And yet you're willing to trust them. You're willing to discount our fears of them. I want to know why."