Isla led Jareen and Coir up a long stair that circled into the reaches of one of the great conifers. The tree split into three massive boughs that stretched out around a house like a natural basket. Clearly, the growth of the tree was intentional, trained over centuries or more. Many other houses rested amid the treetops all around, swaying in the cool wind. These conifers grew near the top of the tir, towering above the forest around. As they reached the carven door of the house, Jareen slowed to take in the view.

The scene was magnificent, but something beyond the sheer height and scope caught her eye. A few miles to the south, the trees appeared to end, and a desolate expanse stretched beyond. In a distant haze on the horizon, she thought she could see the eaves of a second forest. To the west, the great wall of smoke rose high into the sky like a white wall, as if the smoke had piled up against an invisible barrier.

Isla held the door open, waiting for Coir and Jareen to finish taking in their surroundings. Coir clutched the rail of the stair so hard that his knuckles were white. Jareen noticed Isla waiting. He extended his arm for her to enter, and she complied. Even at the point where the branches diverged, the diameter of the tree was at least ten feet. The branches spread far, so that the house cradled in their embrace was spacious. The first room was a great oval. To one side sat a low table surrounded by cushions for reclining. Clear windows let in copious amounts of light. It was strange to Jareen to see clear glass in a home. On the curved back wall, a row of closed doors led to other rooms beyond. On the opposite side of the room from the table, a great loom hung from the ceiling. Near it stood a spinning wheel of an unusual design. Woven baskets hung from carved wooden hooks along along the wall, full of tied bundles of a stripped white plant fiber, carders, and other tools or supplies of the cloth-making trade.

Near one of the windows, two vienu rose from cushions. They approached and bowed with arms extended, their palms forward. It was a gesture unfamiliar to Jareen but which she assumed showed welcome.

"Tase and Yiren will be your hosts," Isla said.

"You are not hosting us?" Coir asked him. Isla shook his head.

"I return to the Mingling. My duty here is ended." He turned to leave but paused in the doorway. "Do not try to flee," he said, back at Coir. "We will not hesitate to slay you." With that, he closed the door behind him.

The two vienu showed no signs of the Change except the faintest violet colorations on the tips of their fingers. Jareen was wondering what that meant when Coir spoke:

"Fair hosts," he said, translating a phrase that would have made much more sense in Noshian. "You do not bear the marks of the Change." He raised his hands and rubbed his thumbs against his finger tips.

The vienu glanced at each other, but they appeared to understand.

"We do not bear that burden," one answered.

"Are only some permitted to grasp the Current?"

The vienu each squinted. It was clear to Jareen that they were closely related, but it was rarely clear whether Vien were of the same generation or wildly separated by age—few clues marked their faces. These could be sisters or grandmother and granddaughter, but it would be rude to pry.

"No one permits or denies," the same vienu answered. "That is not the way of Isecan."

"And what is the purpose in refraining?" Coir asked, but Jareen interrupted.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I am Lovniele. Thank you for receiving us."

"It is our duty to the enclave," the vienu said. The other who had as yet remained quiet placed a hand on her chest and spoke:

"I am Tase, and this is my sister Yiren."

They were so alike, Jareen knew she would have to be careful not to mistake their names. There was a subtle difference in the slopes of their noses and the lines of their jaws, but their hair was the same curled amber, almost identical in shade to their skin.

"Why did the enclave chose you to be our hosts?" Coir asked. Jareen shot him a disapproving look, but he did not react to it. Tase smiled and spoke to Jareen, ignoring him.

"Are all humans thus?"

"No human has ever come to Yellen before," Yiren added.

"They have less time in which to fit all their words," Jareen said.

Tase nodded and looked upward, as if considering the logic of this.

"We humans would be long dead if we waited for the Vien to reveal themselves," Coir cut in. "Are you of some standing in the enclave, to receive guests?"

Yiren laughed, a chiming, musical flight of notes.

"We are barely grown," she said. "Unwed weavers of no import."

Coir tilted his head.

"Our apologies if you were expecting to be hosted by those of greater standing," Tase said. "We are to clothe you, and bathe you, and feed you, and you may stay here until the enclave decides better."

"I apologize," Jareen said. "He means no offense."

Tase looked Jareen up and down, frowning at the stained silks. She reached out and pinched the robe between two fingers, rubbing the silk together.

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"What do you wish for first, to eat and drink or to bathe?" Yiren asked.

"Bathe," Jareen answered.

With that, Yiren ushered her into one of the back rooms, where a great oval wooden tub nearly three feet high and wide enough to crouch in was filled with water and scented with oil. There, Jareen disrobed and Yiren assisted her to wash the days of travel out of her hair. Yiren couldn't help but comment on the translucence of her freshly washed hair and skin, but Jareen was too tired to care. It felt luxurious to be clean again, and Yiren clothed her in a long gown of fine pale linen, smooth and warm, with a shawl woven of a smooth dyed fiber she did not recognize.

When it was his turn to bathe, Coir protested until Tase left the room and allowed him to look after himself. The vienu appeared a little nonplussed at this, but she left clothes behind for him to change into. When Coir emerged, he had cuffed the arms of his long shirt, and the bottom hem fell below his knees. His pants were likewise rolled, and he had used his filthy sash to tie them up. Yiren smirked and looked at her sister.

"It is the smallest we had on hand," Tase said. "We will make you new." She brought out a length of cloth from a basket and forced him to discard the dirty sash.

"No matter," Coir said, coming to recline with Jareen at the table which was spread with an array of fruits both dried and fresh, as well as baked vegetables and a pitcher of cider. He chose the cushion next to Jareen, and in Noshian he muttered:

"What I wouldn't give for a hot bath and a pork steak."

Tase frowned.

"What did the human say?" she asked Jareen as the two sisters stood nearby, hands folded at their waists. It occurred to Jareen that they did not want to recline at table, likely because of Coir's presence.

"Humans love to take hot baths," she answered. "It is a luxury of the powerful there."

"Hot?" Tase asked, looking at Yirren with alarm.

"And they keep fires in their homes."

"I have heard tales of this," Tase said. "Of the fire people who dig in the earth."

"No," Yirren interjected, laying a hand on her sister's elbow. "You are thinking of the stunted ones."

"Oh," Tase said, shrugging.

"So," Coir said, chewing on a slice of dried apple. "How many enclaves are there in Isecan?"

"Right now—" Yirren frowned. "Only fourteen. . . Fourteen of any size."

"So many?" Coir asked.

"There have been more, and there have been fewer."

"How are they governed?"

Yirren squinted at him again.

"They govern themselves, each in their way. Some by council, some by orve."

Jareen wasn't sure what she meant by that word; it must be used differently by the Canaen. In the Embrace, it was merely a respectful title appropriate to any mature Vien.

"But who is in charge of the Canaen army?" Coir asked.

"Those enclaves along the border defend themselves, along with the brave from other enclaves who seek to uphold Isecan's legacy."

"You are a border enclave, are you not?"

"Yes, and a small one after the attacks." Yirren's tone had lost some of its music, and Tase stared down at the table in silence.

"The attacks?"

"Have you been in the Nethec and don't know?"

"It is hard to get news of the Mingling in the Nethec," Coir said.

"Your people always press us," Yirren said, glancing at Jareen. "Your Synod is not satisfied with the slaves they have and seek to make more. They threw their whole strength against us, and the fighting was fierce in the Meadow. Few of our quth survived, and many of our vien fell with them. It was the same all along the border."

"That may be why you are with us," Yiren said to Coir. "We are one of the only houses in Yellen not in mourning. We have no brothers, and our parents live in the east."

"I was surprised to hear the ancients showed you such mercy, considering," Tase said. "If you were not a Daughter of Vah. . ." She trailed off.

"If your parents live in the east, how come you here?" Coir asked.

"To seek mates and to spin and weave cloth," Tase said. "There were many fair and brave vien here. Now we may need to go elsewhere, for the vien are dead."

"What about Yelti?" Coir asked. "He seems noble."

Yiren's forehead rose in shock, and Tase opened her mouth in wordless surprise. Jareen stopped chewing. Thankfully, she wasn't swallowing when Coir said it, or she might have choked. How uncouth could Coir be? Jareen had been eating and drinking with relish during this exchange, letting others talk. Whether or not she was a captive, she would take advantage of the rest and provision, even as she wondered what to do about it.

Coir's questioning was clearly beyond anything the vienu were used to. It was easy to forget that the man was more clever than he let on. Whether or not he was being intentionally brash, she was thankful for the glimpse into the Canaen circumstances he was was drawing out of the sisters. One never knew what knowledge might be of aid.

"How is it that only a few enclaves on the border can repulse the strength of the whole Nethec?" Coir asked, as if he had forgotten the whole topic of courtship.

"It would not be possible but for the qutheli."

"Qutheli," he responded, trying out the word. "And where are they?"

"They live along the margins of the enclave. Any who would attack us must go through them."

"And they are your slaves like the Vien of the Nethec are slaves to the Synod?"

Yiren glanced at her sister. It was clear the question made them uncomfortable.

"It is better for them than death."

"And better for you," Coir said, smiling.

"It has ever been thus. They are not Vien."

"Surely. And do the quth—qutheli—live on the eastern edge of your Enclave?"

Tase narrowed her eyes.

"Why do you ask that?"

"I did not see qutheli on the way here from the west, so I wondered if they live in the east."

"They live all around us, but many fell in the fighting. Do not seek to run. They would tear you apart if commanded."

"So you are worried about attacks from the east as well?" Coir asked, ignoring the threat.

Jareen stopped chewing.

"Every enclave must defend itself."

"Yes, but the Findelvien are to the west, are they not?"

The sisters stiffened. Tase watched her sister, waiting for her to respond.

"The Nethec is ever our greatest foe," Yirren said. Coir smiled.

"Of course."

"When I stood at the top of this tree," Jareen said, making an attempt to break the tension. "I was amazed at the beauty of your land."

"It is a fair land," Tase agreed, obviously grateful for the change. "The orchards are blessed, though the fruits must be kept well away from the Mingling."

"When I looked to the south, I saw what appeared to be the end of the forest, and a great space."

"It is the gap," Tase said.

"I'm sorry, I do not understand."

"Is it true that all of the Nethec is warm and full of life?" Tase asked.

"Yes," Jareen said.

"It is not the natural state of this land," Tase said. "Without the working of the Current, this land would be desolate and barren."

"So the gaps. . . They are left desolate?" Coir asked.

"Even so. The working takes great sacrifice."

Yirren put a hand on her sister's arm.

"We must return to our labor," she said, and then motioned to the table. "Please, finish your repast, and we will be here if you have any need."

With that, the sisters crossed the room to ply the tools of their arts.

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