What you must understand is that it hurt. In a way, she was wounded to death in the maze of glass; it might have been better if she had been stabbed through the gut and slain by the jealous spirit that claimed it. Shyreza knew, when she was focused upon a task, that being so dramatic was foolish, but in the dark just before dawn, as she sat before the tent, it was hard not to turn her thoughts down such dark paths.

The horrible joke was that she was Gamesha Tekeza. At least, she half-hoped she was like him, for he had grown since the battle where they had died - in a matter of speaking. He was capable of confident strength and some measure of Saven's gentleness, and his muscles glowed in the forge's light when the three went traveling. Traveling - that was a thing that they had not done enough, ever since the battle. Only twice, and both times, they had all felt worried for Fayruz, and their journeys through the villages of the Fayheran had ended before their time, as they came back to the Olm in fear that Fayruz had sealed her tent or fallen into deeper despair.

(Some whisper that if Fayruz ever sewed the entrance of her tent shut, then the sun would fail to rise in the mornings until she was coaxed out again.)

But this was the joke, you see, this was the horrible joke: both of them, even as she'd hated him when she met him, had been saved by Fayruz, had been treated with mercy and with kindness, and had fallen in love with her. It wasn't her fault! Who wouldn't? Fayruz cared, Fayruz gave of herself, Fayruz was beautiful and her voice was wonderful to hear, and they both had realized that they never wanted to leave her side.

But Gamesha was scarred and his boyish face was marred, and a barbarian's spear had ruined his thigh, as they said. And Shyreza, she was scarred, too. Her new eye was beautiful on its own, but the scar from her first loss still marred the side of her face, and who would love an ageless maiden with a dark eye and an eye of brightest blue, Fayruz most of all?

It was then that Shyreza turned her head, and looked out across the desert in the glow before dawn, in the soothing not-light and the cold wind, and she saw the storm with one eye, a dark eye. With her other, she saw what came swiftly at its heart.

For a moment, she was torn between her desire to get help and her desire to stay by Fayruz's side, no matter the cost, but reason won out - at the speed it was coming across the sand, she would have just enough time to awaken Gamesha and Saven. Shyreza silently thanked whichever of Fayruz's siblings wove the loom that held the destiny of all men as she ran, that she had seen and that her companions slept so close.

The only problem, of course, was one that she realized only as she shook Gamesha awake. His sin had indeed come.

***

That was a lovely dream.

At least, compared to the ones she'd had before she'd left the Olm. Those were filled with shadows, mists and... other things. But climbing again? She could endure that. She had endured that, while trying to get to the Phoenix's nest.

Fayruz rose silently, discarding the pale silk sash that she had worn about her shoulders. She preferred heavier clothing, but she'd left her fool's robes by the Riverfane. But, then again, she was Sonata's twin, she reasoned...

A few moments after dawn, Fayruz was running a simple wooden comb through her hair, dressed in the colorful robes that her twin had preferred while living like one of the Fayheran. Green and blue were perfect colors for Sonata, even though Fayruz deserved simple white. She almost looked like one of the fine maidens of the Fayheran, even. But she'd return to her normal robes once she left to go to the Riverfane-

At that moment, a young woman wearing leather-and-copper armor burst into the tent, wide-eyed. Her spear had been discarded, but a sling and a long sliver of glass still hung by her side. "Fayruz," she gasped, before clumsily falling into a kneeling bow. "My lady, please, the Heroes need- there's a, a great big, it's like the sea came to us, they need you and, and..."

Fayruz, concerned, touched her shoulder. "At ease," she said, soothingly, and the sentry relaxed, breathing more easily. She moved on by, without a word to Sonata, and moved as quickly as possible to the edge of the Olm, to the small painted walls that were being built by the stonemasons of the Forgesquare, which would run around the Olm's border.

And what she saw was this: a vast dragon, serpentine and stretched out before the Olm, by the farms of the Hallar. And her three beloved servants standing on the gate, with other members of the Council of the Olm coming down from the second wall to join them.

And Gamesha challenging it. Oh, dear.

Fayruz began making her way down to the gate, as quickly as possible.