“From weariness, Boldirinthe. Only weariness.”

“It makes you sad to think of leaving here, eh, Torlyri? We were happy in Vengiboneeza, weren’t we?”

“The gods decree. The gods provide.”

“If I could be of any comfort to you—”

“To comfort the comforter? No, Boldirinthe. Please.” Torlyri laughed. “You misunderstand what you see. There’s no sadness in me. I’m very tired, that’s all.”

Tonight Torlyri worked by herself. She felt the tears pressing close behind her eyes and knew that they would flow freely at the slightest spur; and she could not bear to be the recipient of Boldirinthe’s compassion, or anyone’s. If she broke down, she must do it alone.

With trembling fingers she wrapped the sacred things in bits of fur or woven containers and laid them away in the baskets that would be carried with the tribe on the trek. Sometimes she kissed one before she put it away. These were the things that had been the tools of her trade throughout her life, by which Torlyri had ensured the continued kindness of the gods. They were only little objects of stone or bone or wood or metal, but they had godliness in them, and power. And more than that: she had lavished her love upon them. They were as familiar to her as her own hands. Now, one by one, they disappeared into their baskets.

As the shelves emptied she could feel her fate rushing headlong toward her. Time was growing very short.

She heard footsteps outside the sanctuary. She looked up, frowning.

“Torlyri?”

Boldirinthe’s voice. She has come anyway, Torlyri thought in irritation. Going to the door, she thrust her head out and said, “I told you, I had to work alone tonight. Some of these talismans only I may behold, Boldirinthe.”

“I know,” said Boldirinthe gently. “It’s not my wish to trouble you at your work, Torlyri. But I bring a message for you, and I thought you would want to have it.”

“From whom?”

“Your Helmet Man. He is here and wishes to see you.”

“Here?”

“Just outside the temple. In the shadows.”

“No Beng may enter this building,” said Torlyri, growing flustered. “Tell him to wait. I’ll come out to him. No, no, I don’t want anyone to see us together tonight.” She knotted her hands tensely and moistened her lips. “You know where the storehouse is, on the other side of the building, where Hresh keeps the things he’s dug up in the city? See if there’s anyone in there now, and if it’s free, take him there. Then come back and let me know.”

Boldirinthe nodded and disappeared.

Torlyri attempted to return to her work, but it was hopeless; she fumbled things, she nearly dropped them, she could not remember the blessings she was supposed to utter as she lifted them from their places. After a few minutes she gave up entirely and knelt at her little altar, elbows forward on its edge, head downward, praying for calmness.

“He’s waiting for you,” Boldirinthe said softly behind her.

Torlyri closed the cabinet of holies and snuffed the candle. In the darkness she paused to give Boldirinthe a tender embrace and a light kiss, and to whisper her thanks. Then she stepped through the passageway that led to the plaza, and went around the side of the many-angled building to Hresh’s storeroom.

It was a warm mild night, with no breeze stirring, and bands of bright-edged clouds lying across the moon. Yet Torlyri shivered. She felt a tightness in her belly.

Trei Husathirn, a single glowberry cluster in his hand to light his way, was pacing like a caged creature in the storeroom when Torlyri entered. He was wearing his helmet, and he seemed bigger than Torlyri remembered. She had not seen him for some days now; there was simply too much work to do at the settlement. He prowled about, poking here and there at the collection of devices that Hresh and his Seekers had assembled. Hearing Torlyri, he whirled and threw up his arms as if to defend himself.

“It’s only me,” she said, smiling.

They rushed toward each other. His arms encircled her and he pulled her tight, nearly crushing the breath from her. She felt his body quivering. After a moment they parted. His face looked drawn and tense.

“What are these machines?” he asked.

Torlyri said, shrugging, “You’d have to ask Hresh. He uncovered them all over the city. They’re Great World things.”

“Do they work?”

“How would I know?”

“And will he take them with him when you leave?”

“As many as he can, if I know Hresh.” Torlyri wondered if it had been wrong to allow Trei Husathirn to enter here. Perhaps he should not see these things. He was her mate, yes, or something like her mate, but still he was a Beng, and these were secret things of the tribe.

His voice, hard and anxious, troubled her also. He seemed almost frightened.

She reached for his hand and held it.

“Do you know how much I’ve missed you?” she asked.

“You could have come to me.”

“No. No. It was impossible. Everything must be properly packed — there are blessings to say — it’s a job that should take weeks and weeks. I don’t know how I can ever finish it in time. You shouldn’t have come tonight, Trei Husathirn.”

“I had to talk to you.”

That sounded wrong. He should have said, I had to see you, I wanted to see you, I couldn’t stay away from you. But he had to talk to her? About what?

She released his hand and drew back, uncertain, uneasy.

“What is it?” she asked.

He was silent a moment. Then he said, “Has there been any change in the day of departure?”

“None.”

“So it is just a few more days.”

“Yes,” Torlyri said.

“What shall we do?”

She wanted to look away, but she kept her eyes steadily on him. “What do you want to do, Trei Husathirn?”

“You know what I want. To come with you.”

“How could you?”

“Yes,” he said. “How could I? What do I know of your ways, your gods, your language, your anything? All I know of your people is you. I would never fit in.”

“In time you might,” she said.

“Do you think so?”

Now she did look away.

“No,” she told him, barely able to make the single word emerge from her lips.

“So I conclude, after asking myself the question a thousand times. I have no place with Koshmar’s tribe. I would always be a stranger. An enemy, even.”

“Surely not an enemy!”

“An enemy, to Koshmar, and to others, I think.” Suddenly he crushed the glowberry cluster in his hand and threw it to the floor. In the darkness Torlyri felt unexpected fear of him. What did he have in mind? To kill them both, out of thwarted love? But all he did was take her hands in his and draw her close again, and hold her in a tight embrace. Then he said, in a hollow, distant voice, “And also I would have to leave my helmet-brothers, my chieftain, my gods. I would have to leave Nakhaba!” He was shivering. “I would leave everything. I would no longer know myself. I would be lost.”

Her hand stroked his ear, his cheek, the bare scarred place along his shoulder. By some strand of fugitive light she saw his face, and a track of tears glistening on it. She thought that the sight would make her own tears flow, but no, no, she had no tears at all any longer.

“What shall we do?” he asked again.

Torlyri caught hold of his hand and pressed it to her breast. “Here. Lie down with me. On the floor, in front of all these preposterous machines. That is what we will do. Lie down. Here, Trei Husathirn. With me. With me.”

Morning had come. Hresh looked down lovingly at Taniane, who lay sleeping deeply, exhausted by their night’s foraging. Quietly he went from their room into the open. All was still. There was a rich heavy sweetness in the air, as if some night-blooming flower had opened just a little while before.

It had been a night of wonder. The last barriers to the departure from Vengiboneeza had fallen. The little ball of golden-bronze metal ensured that.