It has been the experience of Your Executor that the warriors of Our Most Revered Defenders possess hitherto unsurpassed proficiency in navigating the deep sands. To Your Executor's deepest reservations, it has been found in the intervening days since previous correspondence with Our Glorious Emperor that individuals in possession of unknown advances in arcane spellcraft have quested further into the deep sands than has been seen of our eastern antagonists. It has been spoken of amongst the Amak'talan leadership that apotheoses have been sensed in distance and direction in accordance with the vicinity of what was once the Imperial City of Shan Alee. In light of these grave findings, Your Executor requests clarification upon the three-thousand and seventy-fourth Canticle of Glory. It is the understanding of Your Executor that treading within the epicenter of Shan Alee's destruction results in immediate and inescapable death, as stated by Our Glorious Emperor in lives past. Upon this point, the Canticles of Glory are absolute, yet it disturbs Your Executor to find empirical evidence that stands in refutation of...

    The brush fell from Ku Ji Min's fingers. They shook and were unable to maintain her delicate grip. She sat motionless in her tent as the brush strands left spatters of ink across the page.

    Refutation. The word itself was blasphemy when directed towards the emperor. Just thinking it placed an aching nausea in her stomach, and she had dared to write it.

    Ji Min snatched at the page and tore it from the book. She crumpled the paper, heedless of the ink stains it left on the sleeves of her white robe. She whispered a holy word of Fire, and the essence obeyed her inner Glory to set the offending page alight. All trace of her blasphemy blackened and turned to ash before even that smoldered into nothing. All, save for what yet lurked in her mind.

    Ji Min had doubt, unthinkable for an executor. This needed to be corrected, because it must have been she who was mistaken. There had to have been an explanation, because the alternative was impossible. The emperor could not be incorrect, because only an imperfect being could be incorrect.

    The spots of black on her sleeves seemed to wail, announcing her impurity of purpose to the world. They stained her robe as her doubt stained her soul. Ji Min rose from her writing desk and scurried to find a clean garment. Not until she was dressed again in pure white and the soiled robe burned did Ji Min emerge from her tent. She'd also burned her book of correspondence, but at least it had been a new one. She wouldn't need to transcribe untarnished passages to another book.

    Sending a book with a missing page to the emperor would be seen as a horrific lapse in her duty. At the least, every Glory she'd earned in her life would be revoked by imperial word. The same would go for missing a day's entry. This, too, would need to be corrected.

    The sun outside her tent was rising to its zenith, dazzling Ji Min's eyes through her veil. It was of paramount importance to never step out of privacy unveiled. Her face bore the likeness of the emperor and the emperors of lives past. Divine by association. None but those who shared in that divine blood had ever looked upon her face.

    She raised an arm to shield herself from the brightness and wished she could similarly protect herself from the anxiety trying to choke the life out of her. A new passage to replace the destroyed one would need to be written before the day's end, one in which she guarded her words more diligently.

    It would be best if she could set down a report that didn't suggest her imperial father was a fraud.

    Ji Min's knees ached as she walked among the Espallan tents within the holdfast. Each slight throb served to remind her that her youth was coming to its end. Pleasant, in its own way. At the end of youth came greater Glory.

    She could feel it rising even now. Ever since passing through World's End Gate, in fact. Ji Min chose to believe that her increasing Glory was a sign that the emperor was pleased with her for her service. At home, she only ever felt Glory steadily rise like this on the rare occasions she was allowed within her father's presence.

    With so much being bestowed upon her, Ji Min found herself whispering the holy words more often than she'd have ever before dared. Not only with the blasphemous page earlier, but even in more mundane and even frivolous tasks. Just that morning, she'd used it to heat her tea.

    It was difficult not to feel twinges of guilt when using magic in such a way, but the Canticles spoke of how Glory was intended to be used and not hoarded like a miserly dragon gathering jewels. In fact, the more Glory one had, the more imperative it was to employ it. Failing to do so was blasphemy. So said the emperor in lives past, his word inviolable.

    Her walk was aimless and without purpose. The Espallans she passed offered reverential bows as always. Ji Min considered stopping to speak with them but decided she would be too embarrassed by her lack of proficiency with their language. She continued on, and it wasn't until she came to an entrance cut into the holdfast's rock that she realized where she'd been unconsciously wandering towards.

    An Amak'talan warrior rose from where he'd been crouching on his heels. He doffed his broad-rimmed hat and pulled down the scarf wrapped around his mouth and nose. The Espallan warrior bowed deeply to her and spoke a short phrase in his native tongue.

    "Seeking Hagen," Ji Min said, and she was reasonably certain she'd made it understandable.

    "Ahim il roh, amah," he replied, bowing again.

    Ji Min heard that phrase often. It was usually said to her, Hagen, or the leaders of the caravans coming and going. She worked through her rudimentary understanding of their language as she followed the warrior through the entrance.

    Roh, meant speech, or more often the act of speaking, while il was a formal objective pronoun. Ji Min nearly gasped when she puzzled out the meaning on her own without aid. Proud of herself, she realized that the Espallans were saying "as you say" in the manner of the east. Remarkable. She hadn't considered that their phrasing would have been influenced by the Althandi tongue. In retrospect, it seemed obvious in light of the holdfasts' proximity to the eastern kingdoms.

    Once through the entrance and inside the permanent structure of the holdfast, Ji Min marveled at how a cave had been expanded to serve as a dwelling worthy of being called a manor. Each wall and floor was carved from the stone with straight lines and perfect right angles. She saw nothing in the way of cracks or flaws, leading her to suspect the Espallans employed arcanists in its creation. It was too flawless, too perfect, to be done by hand.

    Though arcanists were rare in Espalla, it still left Ji Min in awe that they had any at all. She attributed magic to servants of the emperor, because without Glory, magic was impossible. It was clear, not to mention proclaimed in several of the five thousand Canticles of Glory, that the Espallans possessed a font of Glory of their own. Ji Min often found herself tempted to ask of who among their people was deified in such a way to bestow it. Had it not been forbidden by the emperor to ask such a rude and presumptuous question of them, she might have.

    As for the easterners, it was a simple deduction to make that the Glory behind their spellcraft originated from their so-called Highest King. However, they were reckless with how they bestowed an intrinsically finite resource. Almost as if just anyone could be entrusted with divine power. It turned something holy into something profane. Blasphemous, and yet another reason why the east would one day need to fall.

    The warrior led her through corridors of stone, well-lit by oil lanterns and heading downwards at a gentle slope. She grew aware of voices ahead, speaking loudly. Impassioned, as if competing to be the louder. Ji Min held her hands folded in front of her, mindful not to wring them together. In her experience, raised voices meant something dreadful. Possibly fear or anger, or both. What she had learned concerning easterners entering the Imperial City of Shan Alee provided ample reason for either.

    Perhaps it had been unwise to come. Though Hagen always told her that he was at her disposal no matter the hour, Ji Min felt out of her depth. She may be entering into a war council or a tribal conference. Even a meeting with important people from other tribes. With all that was going on between the caravans arriving, rumors of dragons in the east, and the apotheoses being felt south in the ruins of Shan Alee, Hagen might not be in the mood to receive a foreigner.

    Before the walk could be called a long one, the warrior stepped aside, bowed once more, and walked back the way he came. Ji Min bowed to show her thanks as he withdrew, then took a gliding step into the chamber he'd led her to. She braced herself to meet the voices that felt nearer and nearer to a riot the closer she came to them.

    It was Yanla who could be heard most clearly. The water douser had most everyone's attention as she gestured towards Hagen. "Thuleh hara tu il bahak vashata ohruhma. Daha Hagen roh vashata ohrama!"

    The room exploded with laughter. Men and women, children also, held their sides and wiped mirthful tears from their eyes. Akar lost a good portion of his drink as he snorted into his mug, and Ibi about dropped her tray of date and walnut pies. They were all smiling. All except Hagen, who seemed to be doing his best to look severe at being the butt of a joke. His face turned a darker shade as he held back laughter of his own, which just made those around him laugh even harder.

    Plates of sausages and bowls of roasted barley sat steaming on tables. A group of men and older boys worked together to tap a keg of mead. Toddlers and young children scampered between adults, uncaring of where their parents were so long as they were being held. They all spoke to one another, voices raised to be heard over the din of so many in a space that was almost too small for the gathering. Not in fear or anger, but unbridled joy.

    Ji Min stood in the entryway, covered hand on her breast, as she gaped at them. The extended family mingled with no consideration for age, position, or gender. It was scandalously unseemly, but Ji Min felt herself smiling under her veil regardless.

    It clicked in place inside her head. Seeing this, a web of co-husbands, co-wives, and their children all sharing food and laughter, Ji Min understood. This, more than anything else, was what the Most Revered Defenders defended.

    Yanla winked at Hagen and Akar, making her husbands blush, then she noticed Ji Min standing there. Her beautiful smile grew wide, her silver eyes sparkled, and she hurried over to take Ji Min by the hand. "Nishai. You bring us sun's blessings, amah," she said before calling out to the family gathering. "Hagen, och ara executor!"

    It was like their laughter had been a flame, and someone threw a bucket of sand over it. The room fell quiet, and Ji Min found herself at the center of attention. The children's large eyes went wide as they looked at her with awe. The men scrambled to their feet, and women dipped low curtsies.

    Hagen approached and gave a formal bow before addressing her in the Tongue of Jade. "Forgive us, imé. This isn't how an honored imperial guest should be received. Nishai."

    Ji Min couldn't speak. How could she even articulate what she was feeling through the language barriers that separated them? How could he apologize as if he and his loved ones had done something wrong? She was the intruder here. Unannounced and clearly unexpected. It was imperative that she rectify this error. Ji Min needed to show them all the same warmth they'd never failed to give her.

    There was really only one thing she could think of to do. Terrifying, for many reasons, but for these people she'd come to love, she felt she could. Ji Min reached up to her face. Hands trembling, she undid the ties behind her head and removed her veil and head coverings.

    Hagen's eyes widened. Several others gave startled gasps. The children watched with curiosity while their elders were more likely to avert their eyes. Ji Min revealed her face for the first time.

    "There can be," she said haltingly in Espallese, "no better way to be received."

    Their heads raised, and the smiles began to return.

    Yanla's grip on Ji Min's hand tightened. "It is week's day of rest for our sortha, our family. You will join us, amah?"

    Ji Min hesitated, then nodded.

    The gathered sortha of the hallah'ha raised their cups to Ji Min and called out together. "Nishai."

    Be welcome here.

    Yanla and Hagen escorted Ji Min to a chair she could sit in. Before Ji Min could blink, she was seated in the midst of them with a clay plate of flatbread and goat cheese in one hand and an adventurous two-year-old in the other. The little girl stared unabashedly at Ji Min's face and poked a tiny finger against the epicanthic fold of Ji Min's right eye.

    "Is different than you?" Ji Min asked her.

    The girl hummed agreement and snitched a wedge of cheese from the plate.

    "Is that I am from far away. Different lands have different people."

    The child nodded sagely while she chewed. Solemn, as if she were receiving one of the great truths of the world. The girl swallowed and began a close inspection of Ji Min's pale skin, comparing it to the deep brown of her own. "Steam men," she said, annunciating the Espallan term for the Althandi with care.

    Oh dear, Ji Min thought. I suppose she would see the similarity.

    "Na hera shalkha, Ashé." Hagen came and picked the little girl up from Ji Min's lap. He twirled her about, eliciting delighted squeals. After handing the child off to an older girl, Hagen knuckled his forehead as he crouched at Ji Min's elbow and switched to the Tongue of Jade. "Sorry, imé. Ashé didn't mean any harm by it."

    Ji Min shook her head, not at all insulted. The old ties between the empire and the far east weren't something to be ashamed of. "She is not in the wrong. Before the Empire of Scales, their people and mine were one. Is she your daughter?"

    "Ashé?" Hagen laughed. "My sortha-daughter. She's Yanla and Akar's. That butterball over there, though..." Hagen gestured towards where a green-eyed and particularly round three-year-old laughed at the antics of the other children with a surprisingly loud voice. "He's mine with Ohnri. Tachi's napping below, my first with Yanla."

    "Is it at all difficult to know?" Ji Min asked. "How do you decide who gets to have children with whom?"

    Hagen blinked, then furrowed his brow as he thought the question over. "Never much looked at it like that. I guess... Hmm."

    "You do not draw lots, do you?"

    Hagen snorted. "No, no. It's... Sun's light, but I never sat down and thought it through before. It's each amah's call, but there are guidelines, I guess you'd call them. Which husband has how many children, how many spouses each in the sortha has, that all factors in. But when it's close... maybe they flip a coin to decide?"

    Yanla walked by carrying a tray of sweet pastries for the children. She swatted Hagen upside the head as she passed. "Stop filling the executor's head with that nakhurha. The co-wives work it out among ourselves, thank you."

    "Ahim il roh," Hagen muttered under his breath.

    Ji Min covered her mouth with the enveloping sleeves of her robe to hide an unseemly display of mirth. How curious, that the Espallans could interact with such casual affection. A complete lack of barriers. It was chaotic. No order whatsoever. It was so much different from home, but so beautiful.

    As Yanla knelt to distribute pastries to the children, she looked back to Hagen to give him a pretty smile to soothe his pride. Hagen blushed and mumbled something further in Espallese.

    "I would not think the first warrior to be defeated so handily," Ji Min said.

    Hagen gave her a wry look. "Now don't you start, too. I'll warn you that the wives use getting the best of me as a measure of who to marry into our sortha."

    Ji Min nearly choked on her bite of flatbread.

    "Bad move, imé," Hagen said, clucking his tongue. "Showing us all how pretty you are. Not a soul here won't be willing to join hands before Ruhali."

    "You are teasing me," Ji Min said, blushing. "Your goddess would not approve."

    Hagen winked and rose to his feet. "The Celestial Maiden shines brightest for light hearts, imé. Come walk. You can tell me what brought you."

    Of course, Ji Min thought. Hagen has keen eyes and is wiser than he allows others to see. He knows something weighs upon me.

    Ji Min handed her half-finished plate of cheese and flatbread to little Ashé before leaving the room with Hagen. They took a short hallway to something of an armory. Espallan spears and cestas hung on racks beside wicker and hide shields.

    Sitting on a plinth in the center of the armory was a sword, the cutting edge along a half-moon curve like a sickle. Aleesh khopesh were swords most effectively used by riders, of horses or of dragons. This one was not forged from steel, but from blue-hued orichalcum, giving the weapon an unparalleled ability to sheer through Althandi plate armor.

    Hagen kissed his fingertips as he entered the armory and pressed them against the blade. He treated the ancestral weapon of the Amak'talan with reverence.

    Ji Min bowed to the sword, showing Sapphire's Fury her own form of respect. She knew of the weapon but had never lain eyes on her before now.

    "She is as wondrous as the stories say," Ji Min said.

    Hagen smiled at Ji Min. "They speak of her in your homeland?"

    Ji Min nodded. "She and her sisters are remembered in our songs. The world was diminished when the Espallan elder magic was lost, and the making of such blades with it."

    "You are kind," He removed his fingers from Sapphire's Fury and let out a slow breath. "But, as one who has wielded her, I think the world may be better off with the sword sages gone. You are worried, imé, by the apotheoses the priests have sensed?"

    Ji Min nodded. "Even the Althandi shun the Imperial City. As they should. Why would they go there now? How is it even possible? Could your priests be mistaken?"

    "One of them, certainly. Two, possibly. But all of them? Haven't you felt the apotheoses also?"

    Ji Min's breath caught and she desperately wished she was back beneath her veil. She didn't think Hagen had known she was a whisperer. With no purpose in denying her arcane training, Ji Min nodded. "I have. To sense them from such a distance, they must be powerful of a magnitude I have never witnessed before. And the essences are unknown to me."

    "Lost magic," Hagen agreed. "Our priests believe they're being done with shuhrkahl. I don't know what your people call this, but the steam men call it unison link. That's our hope."

    Ji Min pursed her lips. "Hope? Why hope such a thing?"

    "The alternative is that it's blood magic," Hagen said, his voice grave. "You and I both know what happened the last time the Imperial City saw blood magic."

    Shoen's Sin. The first mortal empire died with the last Dragon Emperor, his final spell fueled by lifeblood cut from his own throat.

    Ji Min clenched her fists inside her sleeves. The blasphemous doubts returned, impure and profane. "How can this be?" she whispered. "The emperor spoke that it cannot be done. None can walk the Opalescent Road and live."

    Hagen watched her. A sad glimmer in his eyes made it seem that he wished to say something, but he was holding himself back. "Your people have scrolls of his words, yes? Irrefutable?"

    Ji Min wiped at her eyes with a sleeve and nodded. "The five thousand Canticles of Glory."

    Hagen spoke slowly. It was like he was choosing his words with the utmost care. "The tribes also say the deep sands are cursed, but we don't have an emperor to tell us for certain. We take your word on it, because we got no reason to go there. What exactly do your Canticles say?"

    "The emperor proclaimed death is certain to all who tread there. The power of Shoen's Sin stains the deep sands."

    Hagen chewed his lip. He looked to be mustering his courage to speak and said his next words gently. "For how long?"

    "For all..." Ji Min balked. She looked to the side, her mind racing. She'd memorized each and every one of the Canticles. The emperor's words through all his lives had been ingrained in her since she was a child. "The power of Shoen's Sin stains the deep sands," she quoted. "All who walk the Opalescent Road shall perish. All who gaze upon the Imperial City or stand beneath the sentinel spires shall suffer the fate of those who came before. So it shall be for all the days to come in which the Empire of Scales is no more."

    "It is no more no longer," Hagen said, "if the sendings from my friend in the White City are true. Dragons, imé. They're gathering again like the days of old."

    Ji Min turned away from Hagen. Unveiled, her face would betray her terror. "Which is worse? A new Dragon Emperor, or my father being wrong?"

    She covered her mouth, too late to stop the blasphemy from passing her lips. Ji Min sobbed, horrified by her own words and even more so because they might be true.

    Hagen lay his hand on her shoulder. It was a comforting gesture, one Ji Min was grateful for. "Dragon Empress, imé, and she is growing powerful. My friend watches from near to her side, and she is fearful of what the young empress will become. Her sendings say Empress Enfri has knights. Shan Alee is returning."

    Ji Min needed to send word of this to her father. Of this and the apotheoses both. She had more than enough Glory that it could be done by sending, and she trusted that the emperor would forgive a woman contacting him direct without proper authorization if it was for news of this importance. And, Ji Min need not present the emperor with a refutation of his inviolable Canticles.

    A reinterpretation.

    The event that he had surely foreseen in lives past had come. The Dragon Empress he must have predicted had arisen. And the way into the Imperial City was now open. His wisdom boundless, his executors diligent, the emperor revealed the true path.

    Ji Min turned to face Hagen. He saw the resolve in her face and gave her a confident smile.

    "What will Our Most Revered Defenders now do?" Ji Min asked him.

    "As we have always done, imé." Hagen turned and clasped the hilt of Sapphire's Fury. A spell echo pulsed through the armory. The sword, spellwrought by elder magic, awoke and shone with holy light. "We remind the steam men they are not welcome here."