When Wasps Make Honey

By Trismegistus Shandy

A sequel to Wine Can't be Pressed Into Grapes

Kazmina has lived in exile for five months, ever since she helped Launuru return home. She's worrying over the safety of her father, a healing wizard in the People's Army of Setuaznu, and over the fate of her country, embroiled for over a year now in a civil war. Now she's figured out a way to free some slaves here in Niluri; she's rescued all the slaves from one estate, and she's planning further rescues -- when she hears bad news about the war back home, and about her friend Launuru, who has been drafted as an acolyte by the temple of Kensaulan, the god of the dead. What can she do, pulled in so many directions?

[Includes two maps, a Cast of Characters and other supplementary material]

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trismegistus Shandy
• Release date: May 25, 2013

Trismegistus Shandy

Trismegistus Shandy lives in the northern hemisphere. They've been writing since childhood and posting stories online since 2007.

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. Feel free to repost or mirror it unmodified in any noncommercial venue. You can also create non-commercial derivative works, including translations or adaptations to other media, or new stories using the same setting, characters and so forth, as long as you mention and point to the original story and release your own adaptations or new stories under this same license.

http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/us/

The cover image is from the public-domain painting The Household Gods (oil on canvas, 103cm x 74cm) by John William Waterhouse (1849-1917).

http://www.johnwilliamwaterhouse.com/pictures/household-gods-1880/

The story so far

In my first book, I recounted the first meeting of those two seminal figures: Kazmina daughter of Znembalan, the great opponent of slavery and popularizer of wizardry, and Launuru daughter of Rusaulan, the first medium of our age. It is now my honor to write of their further adventures, leading up to the great achievements for which they are known. But as some readers may not have ready access to the first book, or may have read it so long ago as to have forgotten many relevant details, I will briefly summarize the events of Launuru’s missing six months, omitted from contemporary records, but reconstructed from oral tradition and written down a few generations later. Those who have read the first book recently, however, may wish to skip ahead.

Launuru, the son of a successful merchant of the Rivergate district of Nilepsan (then the second-largest city in Niluri), fell in love with Tsavila, daughter and heir of the noted psychomancer Psavian. He had first become friends with Tsavila’s brother Verentsu, who, having no wizardly talent, was attending the merchants’ academy along with Launuru and other merchants’ sons. When Psavian arranged a marriage for Tsavila with Itsulanu son of Omutsanu (a competent spatiomancer who would be forgotten by history if not for his connection with Psavian), Tsavila and Launuru plotted to elope. Psavian, learning of this, placed an exile geas on Launuru — a crime for which he was never prosecuted either by the civil or wizardly authorities, for reasons that will soon become clear. Launuru, under the power of the geas, walked hundreds of miles, in the winter of 3088 and the spring and summer of 3089, to the home of Psavian’s friend Znembalan, an enchanter of Vmanashi in northern Setuaznu. However, by the time Launuru arrived, the revolutionaries in Setuaznu had deposed King Sundavu, abolished slavery, canceled debts, and prepared for further reforms in inheritance law and the status of women. In response, several of Sundavu’s nephews and cousins declared themselves King, mustered armies, and attempted to take power; the Setuaznu Civil War had begun. Znembalan had joined the People’s Army as a medic, and his daughter Kazmina was alone when Launuru arrived. On hearing Launuru’s story, she proposed to help him return quickly to Nilepsan and elope with Tsavila. She transformed the two of them into ngava geese, and they migrated south in the course of a few days.

On reaching Nilepsan a handful of days before Tsavila and Itsulanu’s planned wedding, Kazmina (after a great deal of persuasion) transformed Launuru into a young Tuaznu woman, and introduced her to Psavian and his family as her cousin ‘Shalasan’. Their plan was that in this guise Launuru could get close to Tsavila, speak with her privately, and plan another elopement. Psavian easily broke through Launuru’s second-hand mental shields, and discovered her identity, but was unable to penetrate Kazmina’s direct shields on her own mind; when he confronted Kazmina, she pretended that she had transformed Launuru into a woman to punish him for his temerity in wishing to marry a wizard. (In those days there was a strong taboo against wizards marrying non-wizards; a taboo Psavian himself had violated when he was young and impulsive, which he regretted for most of his adult life. Only one of his five children inherited any wizardly power. He was determined that Tsavila, his only wizardly heir, would not repeat his mistake.) Psavian, in turn, placed another geas on Launuru, compelling her to playact as ‘Shalasan’ and preventing her from telling Tsavila or Verentsu who she really was.

However, under the influence of Kazmina’s transformation spell, Launuru’s passionate love for Tsavila became a sisterly amity, while her manly friendship for Verentsu soon became passion. Verentsu as well, though he did not know who ‘Shalasan’ was, quickly became attracted to her. And Launuru soon realized that Tsavila, in the months of her absence, had gotten to know and love Itsulanu. It also seemed that Tsavila was angry and resentful toward Launuru himself; eventually it was revealed that Psavian had concealed his exile geas from his children as well as from the authorities, and that Tsavila thought that Launuru, just after promising to elope with her, had abandoned her and run away instead.

While passing the night in Psavian’s house, Launuru met the ghost of Tsavila’s late mother Terasina. She had seen at least two ghosts before, but had never spoken with one until now. Terasina warned her that Psavian had discovered her true identity, but promised to protect her.

After a few days, Psavian’s family and guests traveled from his house in Nilepsan to his country estate some miles south of the city, where they were soon joined by many other friends and relatives; final preparations for the wedding began.

Tsavila, having been secretly informed of ‘Shalasan’s true identity by Kazmina, confronted her father privately about his exile of Launuru. He agreed to remove the second geas, but only after Tsavila and Itsulanu were wed. After further discussion with Kazmina and Launuru, when Launuru declared her love for Verentsu and promised neither to disrupt Tsavila and Itsulanu’s wedding nor to reveal how Psavian had exiled her, Psavian agreed to modify the geas so Launuru could tell Verentsu who she was.

Kazmina was disturbed by the way Psavian’s slaves were treated, and schemed at possible ways to help them escape; but not then knowing the language of the country, she could not communicate with the slaves herself. She cautiously sounded out some of the wizard guests for their opinions on slavery, and found them so complacent about the institution that she did not trust them with her plans. Later, she confronted Psavian about the treatment of his slaves, and found him surprisingly amenable to argument; it had made a strong impression on him when Znembalan freed his slaves some years before the Republic abolished slavery in Setuaznu.

When Verentsu and Launuru went for a walk around Psavian’s estate, Launuru was finally able to tell him who she was and declare her love for him. He was at first repulsed by the revelation of her transformation, and thought that she must be under a love-spell as well, though he was uncertain whether his father or Kazmina were to blame for it. Rejected, she ran away from him and hid in Terasina’s tomb, where the ghost spoke to her again, promising her aid.

Later, Verentsu spoke with Tsavila and his father about Launuru’s transformation. They explained the nature of Kazmina’s magic, and how Launuru’s friendship for him naturally became love when she became a woman, but he was not entirely convinced. Launuru told Tsavila and Kazmina about her meetings with Terasina, but they thought her distraught and confused, and did not believe her. (In those days ghosts were thought by most educated people, especially wizards, to be a superstition.)

That night, Terasina joined Launuru’s and Verentsu’s dreams, and assuaged Verentsu’s doubts and fears. The next morning, before Tsavila and Itsulanu’s wedding, Verentsu spoke with Launuru again and ask her pardon for his treatment of her the day before. They privately agreed to marry, but to wait until Launuru was no longer playing the role of ‘Shalasan’ before they made their engagement public.

Twice during the days of the wedding festival, Psavian joined his dreams with those of Kazmina and Znembalan. Znembalan asked Kazmina, having already left Setuaznu, to stay away and be safe until the war was over; he recommended certain friends in Niluri that Kazmina could stay with. During the second of those meetings, Znembalan confessed to them that he was actually Kazmina’s mother, and Psavian her father. Twenty years ago, after being transformed into a woman against her will by a barbarian wizard, she returned to the the civilized lands and attended the conclave of wizards under an assumed name. There she had an affair with Psavian, having fallen in love with her old friend through the same effect that caused Launuru to fall in love with Verentsu. She became pregnant with Kazmina, and eventually discovered the powerful transformation spell that allowed her to become a man again, after which he returned home with his year-old daughter. He had never told Psavian or Kazmina about her true parentage because Psavian’s wife Terasina was still alive until recently, and he didn’t want to further damage their marriage.

The day after Tsavila and Itsulanu’s wedding, Psavian removed the final traces of the second geas, and Launuru and Kazmina left Psavian’s estate with Setsikuno, an old friend of Znembalan. When they stopped for the night at an inn in Nilepsan, Kazmina transformed Launuru again, making her look something like a female version of her old self. Verentsu met with them at the inn, and was about to escort Launuru to her parents’ house when Setsikuno discovered them. After exacting an explanation, she helped them come up with a better cover story for Launuru’s disappearance and transformation — the simplest possible: Launuru would claim to be unable to remember anything since before her disappearance, or how she became a woman. Setsikuno also insisted that she would be a more suitable escort and chaperon for Launuru until she returned to her family, which was done the next day.

Five months passed. Launuru’s father consulted several wizards, who were unable (or claimed to be unable) to explain her disappearance and transformation. After giving up on changing her back into his son, he allowed Verentsu and Launuru to plight their troth, and a date for their wedding was set.

The civil war in Setuaznu continued, the People’s Army supporting the Republic fighting against the armies of three major claimants to the throne of the deposed King Sundavu. Mbavalash, a nephew of Sundavu, was strongest in the west and southwest of the country; Ndivalan, Sundavu’s first cousin, was strongest in the southeast. Vmalanda, another cousin of Sundavu, had initially been strong in the western coastal cities but was rapidly losing ground to Mbavalash. The Republic was strongest in the north, around Vmanashi, but also continued to hold the capital, Zmindashi, near the center of the country. This simplifies the situation enormously, of course; all four factions had supporters in every part of the country. But at the time of which I am about to write, the most intense fighting was taking place in a region around Zmindashi and extending northeast along the Menganash river valley; it was here that the People’s Fifth Army, in which Znembalan served, was then stationed.

The wizards of Nilepsan prepared to host the decennial conclave of wizards from all the civilized lands, which had not been held in Niluri for fifty years, and not in Nilepsan for nearly a hundred. Psavian, being preoccupied with preparations for his son’s wedding and other business, took relatively small part in these preparations, except for promising to host certain friends and relatives in his home during the conclave.

Kazmina resided mostly with Setsikuno and her non-wizard husband Tetsivamo in the coastal city of Nesantsai, though she went to visit Tsavila, Psavian, and Znembalan’s friend Mauksenu as well. She rapidly learned Ksiluri with the help of Psavian and Setsikuno’s psychomancy, and continued to brood on the problem of slavery.

Part One

The slave-barracks on a farm near Nesantsai. Spring 45, not long after midnight

Valsikuno was wakened by Kalutsi crying. She got up and held her baby to her breast, softly shushing her so she hopefully wouldn’t disturb everyone else’s sleep as well. Kalutsi settled down and started to nurse, but then startled and began to cry again when the dogs started barking. Valsikuno cursed under her breath, then started to chant a lullaby. The overseer’s damned dogs were penned in the space between the inner and outer fences around the slaves’ barracks, to keep the slaves from trying to escape at night. No one had tried to escape since Milatsemu had escaped and been recaptured, last year, but two or three times a month the dogs would start barking wildly at a raccoon or possum and wake up many of the slaves. And then the overseer would inspect the barracks in the middle of the night and wake up the rest, and they’d all be exhausted before they even began to work the next day...

But now the dogs quieted after a few barks. A few of the other women stirred in their sleep, but only one or two seemed to have woken; good. Valsikuno shifted Kalutsi to her other breast and yawned.

She heard a mouse or rat scurrying along the floor, and picked up her feet, tucking them under her on the bed. Then suddenly there was a woman standing near her, naked and tall, her body illuminated by moonlight from the window. It seemed that she had grown in a couple of heartbeats from a speck on the floor — or from the mouse?

I’m a wizard, the woman said. And I’m here to get you out. Let’s wake up the others as quietly as we can, and I’ll explain.

The temple of Kensaulan in Nilepsan. Spring 45, early morning

Masikuno, high priestess of Kensaulan, god of the dead, rose before dawn to begin the day’s divination. It was the forty-fifth day of Spring in the year 3090 by the civil calendar, and the fifteenth day of the first month by the temple calendar. The particular divinations to be done on this day, and the actions to be taken in response, she never delegated to the other priestesses.

She rolled dice carved from the bones of her predecessors in office to select a sheep from the sacrificial pens; then, with the aid of her most experienced acolyte, she slit its throat and cut open its belly just as the sun appeared over the outer wall of the temple. By the dawn light she studied the entrails, noting the shape of the liver and pancreas, the twists of the intestines. She cleansed her hands and rolled the vertebral dice again to resolve certain ambiguities, then put off her sacrificial vestments, bathed, put on her outside dress, and set out into the streets of Nilepsan, accompanied by two temple servants and the acolyte.

There is something strange about her, she said to the acolyte. But there is nothing unclear about where we will find her. She led the way through the streets, never hesitating for a moment about a turn, until they reached a tall house in a neighborhood favored by wealthy merchants.

This is the place, she said. Ring the bell. The younger temple servant complied.

Fifty heartbeats later a manservant opened the door and greeted them.

Who lives here? Masikuno asked.

It is the home of the merchant Rusaulan, the servant said. Do you...?

I am the high priestess of Kensaulan, and I have business with the women of the household. Summon them all together in a suitable room, both the merchant’s wife and daughters, and the female servants.

The servant gaped at her for a moment, and said: Yes, your grace. At once. Let me show you into the parlor...

An inn at Piali’s Ferry, in southwestern Harafra. Spring 45, morning

Kenitsu had inherited this inn in the village of Piali’s Ferry, three hundred miles northeast of Nesantsai and a hundred miles upriver from the sea, from his father. As boy and man he had seen strange guests stop here, and seen some of them do strange things. The wizard who had stopped in for dinner some days ago had been out of the ordinary, but not the strangest guest ever by a large margin. Even his insistence on paying in advance for some friends of his, and his refusal to identify them further or say exactly when he expected them to arrive, was not so unusual as to rank among Kenitsu’s five strangest experiences as innkeeper.

That was reserved for today. He had just sent last night’s guests on their way toward the ferry, after serving them breakfast, and was relaxing with a mug of beer in his parlor, when he heard shouts and screams from the yard. Moments later, Telupsan the stable-boy came running in.

Master! he cried, there’s a great crowd of naked people, and they say they’re expected!

Oh? Kenitsu rose and went to the door.

There was a flock of geese, and they landed in the yard, and then they all started growing and twisting around and turning into people —

Now Kenitsu could see them. Indeed, there were about thirty of them, men, women, and children, all naked. The oldest looked no more than twenty-five or thirty, and the youngest children were perhaps three or four. I think I know what this is, he said to Telupsan. You recall the trunks of clothes we’ve been laying in — go open them and let’s find things that fit these people.

Just then he recognized one of them, who was walking towards him. It was the wizard who’d paid generously in advance for a night’s lodging, clothes, and three meals for a large party, with no exact number of guests or date of arrival. He was as naked as the rest.

Kenitsu, he said in Ksiluri with a thick Tuaznu accent, these are the guests I paid you in advance for. Take good care of them, and I will send you more business. Also — I know that so many people arriving with no clothes will make people in the village gossip, but if you could ensure that you and your servants do not say anything...? Thank you.

The wizard then turned to his guests, who were talking excitedly among themselves — from what little the innkeeper could overhear, it seemed some of them knew each other but perhaps hadn’t seen each other in years and didn’t recognize one another at first. The wizard called out, I must go now — Kenitsu the innkeeper will see to your needs until tomorrow. Remember everything I told you and you should be fine. With that, the wizard transformed into a bird, rose into the air, and flew away to the south.

People! called Kenitsu, after staring after the wizard for a moment. Come on inside. I have clothes for you, and will soon have food ready. I don’t have beds enough for all of you, but I have blankets to make up pallets on the floor...

Rusaulan’s house, in the Rivergate district of Nilepsan. Spring 45, morning

Launuru was eating a late, leisurely breakfast with her mother and sisters — her father and her older brother Sapsaulan had already left the house for the day — when Otsuvian, their porter, came in looking flustered. He spoke to Launuru’s mother:

The high priestess of Kensaulan is here, madam — she wishes to speak with you and the young ladies and... ah... she said all the women of the house. She asked me to summon the maidservants as well.

Her mother’s eyes opened wide. I see. Well, do as she told you. Is she in the front parlor?

Yes, madam.

Send the female servants there. Inform me when they are all gathered, and my daughters and I will join them.

Yes, madam. The porter left by the other door, into the kitchen; a couple of minutes later the cook and scullery maid passed through the dining room, curtsying to the ladies of the house as they went.

What’s it about? asked Lisikuno, Launuru’s youngest sister.

I don’t know, their mother said. Let’s let the high priestess explain herself.

Launuru was afraid she knew what the high priestess’ business there was, but she said nothing. Her oldest sister Tsainala, however, wasn’t so cautious.

I bet she wants one of us for an acolyte, she said.

Perhaps, their mother said. We shall soon learn. Finish eating, girls.

But they hadn’t quite time to finish their breakfast before Otsuvian returned and said that all the other women were assembled in the parlor.

Let us join them, said Launuru’s mother.

The high priestess was a woman of perhaps fifty years of age, wearing a plain white dress and a silver necklace. She was the only person in the parlor who was seated; the cook, the housekeeper, the scullery maid, and the housemaids were all standing around behind the divans and chairs, and a younger woman in a similar white dress, holding a wooden box, was standing beside the chair the high priestess had taken. The high priestess gestured for the ladies of the house to sit down, as though they were visiting at the temple and not she at their home.

Madam, she said, I am Masikuno, high priestess of Kensaulan. This is my acolyte Pselana. Would you please introduce yourself and the women of your house?

I am Launasila, wife of Rusaulan the merchant. These are my daughters Launuru, Tsainala, Vanritsi, and Lisikuno. To my left is my cook, Vimutsala; my housekeeper, Kapsikala...

When she had finished introducing all of servants, the high priestess raised her hand and blessed them. "I greet you all in the name of Kensaulan. May you die courageously, at the most fitting time and place, and may Kensaulan lodge you safely.

Now. Which of you are unmarried?

Launuru and her sisters raised their hands, as did most of the younger servants.

But I’m betrothed, Launuru said. I’m supposed to be married in fourteen days.

That may be, said the priestess. You are Launasila’s eldest daughter?

Well... it’s complicated, she began. Tsainala interrupted:

Launuru can’t be your acolyte. He wasn’t even a girl two years ago.

Oho, said the high priestess, as Launuru blushed and glared at her sister. How did that happen?

I don’t know, Launuru lied. There’s a great gap in my memories, the better part of a year. I was a young man, at the merchants’ academy, and the next thing I know, six months have passed and I’m a woman, walking down a street in a neighborhood not far from here. Father hired several wizards to figure out what happened to me, but none of them could give us an answer.

Privately, Launuru suspected that Psavian or Kazmina or both had suborned some or all of those wizards, warning them not to reveal anything they learned about Launuru’s real history. Or perhaps those wizards had looked through her memories and seen how Psavian was involved, and did not think Launuru’s father was paying them enough to make an enemy of Psavian.

It was also possible that some of them were simply too incompetent to figure it out.

I see, said the priestess. And are you a true woman now, or a man given the semblance of a woman?

Your grace, Launasila said, may we send away the servants while we discuss my daughter’s history?

Let us — you and your eldest daughter and I — withdraw to another room and speak privately. The rest of you, wait for us here. Except the married servants — you may go.

Launasila and Launuru rose and went upstairs, the high priestess close behind them. They entered Launasila’s bedroom and she closed the door behind them.

As far as all tests can determine, my daughter is a true woman, she said to the priestess. The wizards say there is no sign that she was ever a boy or man, except in her memories. And she bleeds each month like a born woman.

The wizards had no theories to account for it?

One of them supposed that I may have been taken by the Silent Ones, Launuru said. But if so, I have no memory of it. He says that usually people taken by the Silent Ones have no memory, or only vague dreamlike memories of their time in their country.

I have never heard of the Silent Ones changing a man into a woman, however.

Neither had I — nor had the wizard, I think — but he said there was a first time for everything. He said that often people who are taken by the Silent Ones return left-handed, or are changed in some other subtle way.

When Kazmina came to visit not long after the third wizard her father hired had examined her and come up with this theory, Launuru had asked her why she and Tsavila hadn’t suggested the idea of her being abducted by the Silent Ones as a cover story for her mysterious disappearance and change of sex. Kazmina had laughed herself breathless, and said that the Silent Ones were a superstition, and she hadn’t supposed any reputable wizard believed in them. Well, perhaps; but there were other things Kazmina thought mere superstition that Launuru had seen with her own eyes.

Madam, the priestess said, turning back to Launasila, would you describe your daughter as feminine? Or does she seem like a young man abruptly given a woman’s body?

You may judge for yourself, Launasila said. I can recognize her as the same person as my son, whom I last saw going off to his final year at the merchants’ academy. But she is quite as womanly as her sisters; she is in love with a young man —

You said that you were betrothed, the priestess said to Launuru. Is it a love-match?

Yes, Launuru said. He — we were friends before. We were both students at the academy. But since I changed, we have become more than friends.

I see. Please return to the parlor with me. Madam, you may return with me or not; if you come, please do not speak unless you are spoken to.

Mother and daughter followed the priestess downstairs and to the parlor — she didn’t seem at all confused by the floor plan of this house she had never been in. Just before they reached the parlor, Launuru’s mother embraced and kissed her.

I love you, she whispered. Whatever happens.

The priestess spoke quietly to her acolyte, who set the wooden box she had been carrying on the table. She opened its lid just far enough to let her remove several long strips of cloth, without giving any of the women a chance to see what else was in the box.

My acolyte will blindfold each of the unmarried women, the priestess said. Including your elder sister, Tsainala. I judge that she is a true woman and may justly take part in this rite. Once you are all blindfolded, my servant will open the box again and present it to each of you in turn; you will reach in and remove one single object. When I give the signal, you will all remove your blindfolds and we will see what you have taken. Madam, you must be blindfolded as well, but you will not take anything from the box. Is this all clear?

It was.

Launuru felt a tingling in her spine as the acolyte blindfolded her. Was this a rite for the selection of a new acolyte, as she suspected? And if she was selected, for how long must her marriage to Verentsu be postponed? They had waited five months already, while her father hired those wizards and finally gave up on changing her back into his son, and allowed them to plight their troth. Could she avoid being chosen as acolyte by picking some unimportant object from the box? Perhaps, if she knew which of the things in the box were and were not important...

And now the acolyte was taking her hand, thrusting it into the box. She felt a number of small objects of various irregular shapes. Despairing of deducing their nature or importance from their shape, she grabbed one at random and picked it up. She stood there, fingering whatever it was, while her sisters and the servants made their choices — if one could call it choice.

It was a bit smaller than the palm of her hand, and oddly but symmetrically shaped, with a large hole in the middle and a couple of smaller ones in a protrusion on each side.

Then she heard a voice, far off — not someone she recognized. Certainly not her mother or one of her sisters or the servants, and not the high priestess either. The voice spoke again, a little clearer: Who is that? What did you wake me for? It was a woman’s voice, but Launuru still didn’t recognize it. Her heart sank.

Shh, she muttered under her breath, hoping that her mother and sisters wouldn’t hear her — and especially not the priestess or her acolyte. Go back to sleep.

There was silence, then the voice spoke again, a little clearer: I know I heard you that time — Whoever it was seemed to go on speaking, but the much louder voice of the high priestess prevented Launuru from hearing the rest.

Remove your blindfolds now.

Launuru awkwardly removed her blindfold with one hand, holding onto the thing she’d taken from the box with the other. She looked around. Her sisters and the servant girls were each holding something small and white, each of them shaped a little differently. She examined the thing in her hand; yes, there were the holes she’d felt, and the small protrusions on each side... The distant voice was still talking, but Launuru couldn’t distinguish the words.

The first cervical vertebra, the high priestess said. Very impressive. Let’s see what your sisters have... Yes, the third lumbar vertebra, the second metacarpal, and the sixth thoracic vertebra. And the servants: the scaphoid, the fourth metacarpal, and the first lumbar vertebra. Well, that’s clear enough. You may all put the bone you took back in the box.

The acolyte moved among them proffering the box, and they hastily dropped the various small bones into it. Launuru saw that there were a number of other bones in it, mostly vertebrae.

Launuru daughter of Launasila, you are hereby summoned to a year of service in the temple of Kensaulan. At the end of that time, you may join the temple permanently, or return to your family. You must leave this house by noon with no more than you can carry; all your needs will be provided for by the temple.

Launuru let the blindfold she was still holding drop to the floor, and burst into tears. As she wept, she heard the distant voice again:

Launuru! Oh, I’ve heard them talking about you. I was wondering when you’d come.

A house in the palace district of Nesantsai. Spring 45, afternoon

It was late afternoon in Nesantsai; a small bird came flying over the city wall and the rooftops from the northeast, and landed on the sill of a third-storey window in a tall house near the embassies and the palace. The shutters of the window were closed, however, and the bird seemed nonplussed at this. It fluttered around the house to land on several other windowsills, all shuttered, and then landed in the back garden of the house, where it grew to nearly ten times its size, becoming a young woman with pale skin and dark hair. Seemingly unconcerned by her nudity, she walked up to the back door and tried it, then, finding it locked, knocked loudly.

A middle-aged woman in a long-sleeved plain dress opened it. Kazmina! Where have you been all day?

Out flying, the younger woman said. Is it all right if I walk up to my room like this, or should I change into a cat and dash up there, or do you want to send some clothes down here for me...?

Stay right here and keep quiet, the older woman said. If someone besides me comes, turn into a cat or something... On second thought, go ahead and turn into a cat now, and don’t become human again until I bring you something to wear.

All right. The young woman shrank and shifted again, growing tawny fur and a tail. She rubbed against the older woman’s legs once and disappeared among the shrubberies.

A few minutes later, the older woman emerged from the back door again, holding a dress and a pair of sandals. Kazmina! Where are you?

The cat emerged from the bushes and grew, becoming the dark-haired young woman again. Thanks, she said, taking the dress from the older woman and putting it over her head. Can you please ask the other servants not to close my shutters when I’m out flying?

Mistress doesn’t like you to go out without telling her like that, the older woman said, or to leave the shutters open all day in this weather. She ordered us to close the shutters and lock the garden door.

Did she.

You’ll have to speak with her, Kazmina, but not just now. She’s entertaining the ambassador from Mezinakh’s wife.

I’ll slip up the back stairs to my room, then. Can you send up something to eat?

Very well, miss.

Kazmina was lying in bed eating bread and cheese when her hostess knocked on the door. Come in, she called in Rekhim.

Where were you, Kazmina? Setsikuno asked in Ksiluri. I asked you not to go out without telling me —!

I thought I did, Kazmina said, in Rekhim again. I said a couple of days ago that I might go flying today.

Please, you need more practice speaking Ksiluri. You’re more fluent than a mundane would be after five months’ study, but you still have a strong accent. — And I said Lady Tirukhal would be lunching with us, and could you please go flying another time... She wanted to speak with you about your magic; I had to make excuses for you.

I’m sorry; I forgot. She spoke in Ksiluri, which took some effort when she was this tired.

And she had important news — I wish you could have heard it directly, you could have asked more pertinent questions than I could. Mezinakh has entered the war.

What! The revolution in Setuaznu?

None other.

On what side? Kazmina asked, with a feeling of dread.

They are supporting — ah — the lordling who calls himself King Ndivalan.

Of course they would support one of the tyrants... And late last year, ‘King’ Mbavalash brought in barbarian mercenaries from the steppes; the People’s Army is now the only faction with no foreign allies.

I don’t know how bad it is — perhaps Mezinakh cannot contribute many troops. They are a small country...

True, but I understand they’re rich for their size. And all our factions are growing exhausted from fighting, so it might not take much foreign help to swing the balance... I must go home soon; they need everyone’s help, especially the wizards.

Your father wanted you to stay here for the duration of the war.

That was when we were winning! My help wasn’t needed so desperately —

If your side is losing, it is all the more important that one member of your family survive to carry on your name.

Perhaps...

And it is also important that your nation, and your father’s faction, have a representative at the conclave. Most if not all of the older wizards from your country are at home fighting; you may be the only Tuaznu wizard present, and if not, probably the only supporter of the revolutionaries. Promise me you will wait until after the conclave before you make any such weighty decision.

I will consider it. And I would very much like to see Launuru and Verentsu married before I leave your country; and the conclave is not long after that...

Good. We will leave for Nilepsan in seven or eight days, and stay at an inn near Psavian’s house during the wedding festival. After Psavian’s kin have departed after the wedding, he will have room to guest us in his house until the end of the conclave.

And I can ask Psavian to let me speak with my father in a dream again... On second thought, I won’t wait that long. I’ll fly to his house tomorrow and speak with him, and then visit with Launuru for a while.

How long did you fly today? You were gone before anyone else woke —

Yes, I left while it was still dark; I couldn’t sleep. But I stopped and rested several times. After getting a good night’s rest tonight I can certainly fly as far as Nilepsan tomorrow.

She made herself sound more confident than she was. She had not only flown hundreds of kilometers in different bird forms, and transformed herself several times, but had transformed all thirty-one of Seneksan’s slaves into geese, and then into people again once they were over the river into Harafra. She was nearly exhausted; she might be able to fly to Nilepsan as early as tomorrow, but she would need to rest several times en route, and then she wasn’t sure she would have the energy to go from Psavian’s house to Launuru’s until after a night’s rest.

The inn at Piali’s Ferry. Spring 45, morning

Psiama took a couple of the children by the hand and led them after the innkeeper, who showed them into the inn’s common room, where a boy and a woman were spreading bundles of clothes on the tables.

Take whatever you can find that fits you, the innkeeper said. Your friend the wizard paid for the clothes, and for a night’s lodging, and for meals today and tomorrow morning. I understand you’ll be on your way after that?

Probably so, said a man who had preceded Psiama into the inn. Psiama didn’t recognize him, but he didn’t recognize anyone here, even himself. The wizard had said she would change their appearance so no one hunting escaped slaves would recognize them, but she hadn’t warned them that it would be so drastic! Psiama glanced at his arm, unnerved by the size and strength of it as well as by the absence of the owner’s-mark tattoo.

Let’s get you something to wear, Psiama said to the children. Up you go... He lifted one, then the other, onto a bench beside one of the tables spread with clothes, then started rummaging through them. He pulled a tunic over his head, then pulled it off when he found it was too small, and tried another one. One of the children clung to Psiama; the other started digging through the clothes. Is this all for us? she asked in a whisper.

Yes, anything you like, Psiama said.

I’m Laitsuvian, said another man, approaching the table. He was a few inches shorter than he’d been before, and than Psiama was now; and he didn’t look anything like he’d looked before. But at least he was still the same sex.

I’m Psiama. This is very strange, isn’t it?

Oho! You too? I was talking to some of the others out in the stableyard — Salentsan has become a woman, and Valsikuno has become a man... He pointed to a woman and man looking through the clothes on the other table. What does it feel like?

I’m not sure yet, Psiama said, trying on a skirt and looking for a belt to tie around it. It doesn’t feel so strange or wrong as I would have expected.

The wizard didn’t tell us everything, that’s for sure, Laitsuvian said, and added in a low voice, after looking around, But I hope freedom will be worth all this.

I’m sure of it. — Here, let’s see if this is the right size, he said to the smaller child on the bench beside him. Raise your arms. The child complied, and Psiama put a small tunic over her head.

It’s a little big, but it will do for now, he said. Have you found anything, sweetie? he asked the older girl.

Or apparently older. Many of the adults were younger than before — Psiama himself had lost twenty years or more — and at least some of the children were older than before. There had been two babies too young to walk before the wizard changed them all into geese, and now the youngest children looked at least three years old.

I’m Iapsalan, the girl said indignantly. I don’t like being so small. And a girl! She finally picked a tunic that looked about the right size and pulled it over her head.

Oh, dear. Iapsalan had been just on the verge of manhood; he’d lost five or six years of growth. I’m sorry, dear. We’ve all got strange new selves to get used to.

It’s all right for you, Iapsalan said. You’re a man now. That’s better than being a woman.

But being a free girl is better than being a slave boy, Psiama said, after checking to see that neither the innkeeper nor his servants were nearby. Everything will be better now, you’ll see.

Psiama hoped he was telling the truth. She had never been more than ten miles from the place she was born, and hadn’t left Seneksan’s estate since she was eleven years old; now he was hundreds of miles away, in another country, having flown — flown! — over all the places between.

Flying was fun, said the smaller girl. I liked being a bird.

So did I, Psiama agreed, though the memories of flying were already fading into a dreamlike haze.

After everyone was dressed — very few in especially well-fitting clothes, but all covered in more than they were used to wear as slaves, for whom anything more than a skirt was illegal except in rare cold weather — one of the men said in a loud voice: We have much to discuss. I’ve asked the innkeeper and his servants to leave us alone for a time so we can speak privately —

Let’s eat first, Laitsuvian called.

The children are especially hungry, said a woman.

All right, said the first man. I’ll go find the innkeeper and ask him how soon he can have food on the tables. We’ll postpone our talk until after he serves us.

After he serves us. What a strange idea! A free man, working to give food to other free men, because a third free man — a wizard — had given him money some time ago... Psiama could scarcely get used to all the strangeness.

Rusaulan’s house, in the Rivergate district of Nilepsan. Spring 45, afternoon

After she pulled herself together, Launuru spent nearly all of the time she was allowed writing a letter to Verentsu. She had just a few minutes left to write much shorter notes to Tsavila, Kazmina, and a couple of other friends, and entrust them to her mother for posting; she took nothing with her except a locket containing the strand of Terasina’s hair which the ghost had entrusted to her last Autumn. Terasina had not appeared to her or spoken to her since her betrothal to Verentsu was made public, but when she slept with the locket her dreams were safe and comforting, though she only vaguely remembered them.

I’m ready, she said to the high priestess as she returned to the parlor. The servants had returned to their duties; her mother and sisters were there to see her off.

Then let us be going, the high priestess said. Launasila, you may visit Launuru on the twenty-third and forty-sixth days of each month. I vow that we will take good care of your daughter, and if she wishes to return to you after her year of service, she may.

We’ll come see you on the twenty-third, her mother said, and hugged and kissed her. Be good. Make us proud of you.

I will, she said, starting to cry again. She kissed each of her sisters. Tell Father and Sapsaulan I’m sorry I didn’t get to see them before I went, and I love them. And be sure to post those letters as soon as you can.

It’s not fair, Tsainala said fiercely to the high priestess. You should take me instead. Why are you messing up Launuru’s wedding? She didn’t do anything to you —

Hush, their mother said. The god has chosen Launuru; I don’t know why, but Verentsu will wait for her until she has served her year.

Be patient, the high priestess said. A year seems like much to you now, but when you are my age you will realize how short it is.

That was not much comfort. Launuru tried to hide her tears as she followed the priestess and acolyte from the house; she forced herself not to look back. As they left the house, two male temple servants joined them, apparently having been waiting in the servants’ quarters during the selection rite.

I’m Pselana, the acolyte said. I’ll show you around when we get to the temple.

How long have you been serving the god? Launuru asked.

Three years.

Did you volunteer, or were you chosen by lot like me?

I was chosen out of my household the same way you were. I was a servant — my mother was a cook, I’d grown up in the house along with the master and mistress’s children, and started waiting at table when I was ten. The mistress’ daughter was ever so jealous when I picked the third cervical vertebra from the box and she only got the coccyx!

I suppose she wasn’t betrothed at the time.

She was, but her wedding wasn’t to be for a couple of years yet... I’m sorry. Do you think your young man will wait for you?

I’m sure he will. But it’s so long!

They continued on foot through the streets all the way to the temple of Kensaulan, which was north of the river, near the western wall of the city — far from Temple Square, where the temple of Psunavan and several smaller shrines stood not far from the mayoral palace. Everyone respected Kensaulan, but few loved him as they did Psunavan, Tsaumala, Kalotse, the more obviously benevolent gods; the neighborhood around the temple was home to poor dock-workers and riverboatmen, not to the lords, wizards and merchants who built their homes near Temple Square. It became obvious as they passed through this quarter why the priestess had brought the escort of temple servants. Dirty, naked children playing in the street ran and hid behind their mothers’ skirts as the priestesses of Kensaulan passed; men and women crossed their eyes and made signs of warding.

And here we are, Pselana said cheerfully as they passed the gates of the temple. Home again.

Launuru doubted the temple would ever feel like home; even her parents’ house no longer felt quite like home, since her long months of exile and her return as no longer quite the same person. She longed for the time when she could settle down with Verentsu in a place that would really be home for them. But now it was at least a year further away — if something didn’t go wrong and separate them entirely in that time...

Masikuno spoke quietly with Pselana for a few moments, and then said to Launuru: Pselana will show you the temple and grounds — all that an uninitiated acolyte may see. I will see you at breakfast tomorrow. Good day, and welcome.

Launuru pressed her hands together in respect as the priestess left them.

I’ve got to put old Kentsina’s bones away in the tomb first, Pselana said. Come on.

Kentsina? Launuru asked, following her through the courtyard to a door in one of the larger outbuildings.

She was one of Masikuno’s predecessors — the high priestess before last. We use her smaller bones in the selection rite, as you saw.

Yes. Saw and handled, and, unless Launuru was greatly mistaken, heard as well.

The tomb was two storeys high above ground, and as many below ground; the lowest storey was flooded with water, Pselana said, and no one went there anymore. It used to be above the water table, but it’s sunk over the centuries. The people entombed there died ages ago. Here, upstairs, are the priests and priestesses and acolytes who died in service for the last few hundred years — not just high priestesses but everybody...

There they were indeed. Launuru had never seen so many ghosts in one place, even in other cemeteries and tombs; indeed until now she’d never seen or heard two ghosts in one day. She hesitated to say anything about them to Pselana, however; recent experience had taught her that most people couldn’t see or hear them. They ranged from almost opaque to almost completely transparent, and most were more clearly visible on one side than the other, but it was as though they were each illuminated by different light source coming from a different direction, not by Pselana’s lamp.

The ghosts gathered around and followed them as they climbed the stairs and went down a long hall to a room full of shelves packed with wooden boxes like the one Pselana had been carrying. Here we go, she said, fitting the box into an empty space. Let’s go somewhere cheerier.

Yes, let’s, Launuru said, looking around nervously. So far the ghosts were just following them around; they hadn’t said anything, or made a move to touch them. As they returned to the hall and descended the stairs, the ghosts started whispering among themselves; Launuru couldn’t hear much of what they said, but she thought she heard her own name a couple of times.

An army camp 350 kilometers north of Zmindashi, in Setuaznu. Spring 45, evening

General Vmandushu had called a general staff meeting for sunset. Znembalan, chief medical officer of the People’s Fifth Army, went straight from the infirmary to the staff tent as soon as the sun reached the horizon, without stopping to eat anything. He hadn’t had to work many transformations in the last few days — no emergency healings, only disguises for a few spies and scouts. But he’d had to cast a number of lesser spells, and he’d been plenty busy with ordinary work to leave him exhausted at the end of the day; just now he’d been supervising — and helping — his staff as they packed up the infirmary for tomorrow’s march. Probably the general would reveal where they were marching, and why, at this meeting.

We’ve just had bad news, the general began. "The would-be tyrant Ndivalan has made an alliance with the king of Mezinakh, and a large Mezinakh army is crossing the Znalda mountains to rendezvous with Ndivalan’s army. We’ve been ordered, along with the Third Army, to march as quickly as possible to intercept them and prevent them from joining forces. If this goes well, we may break off this foreign alliance before it gets well cemented; if not — we could get pinned between two enemy armies, having to fight both of them at once.

So we’ll march at dawn, east to Taznem’s Ford, across the river, and nearly due east from there. Convey the orders to the men under your command; have everything and everyone ready to move as soon as we wake and eat.

After further instructions and logistical discussion, the general dismissed everyone except for the wizards.

Now. Major Znembalan, Major Kevmulan: with this worsening of the strategic situation I think we need to reconsider some tactics that we previously rejected as too desperate or impractical.

What do you mean, sir? asked Kevmulan, the head of the Fifth Army’s combat wizards.

Several things. I suggested setting magical traps for our enemies in places we expect them, as an aid to ambush — I know you can cast spells with delayed effects to be triggered by some later event. You had some reasons not to — reconsider them now. Znembalan, I had an idea for how to enable the army or an advance force to move faster with the aid of your magic, which you rejected as impractical. Reconsider, in light of tomorrow’s march and its importance.

No, I cannot turn half of the infantry into horses and let the other half ride them. In spite of the training sessions I’ve been running, none of my staff has learned my total transformation spell well enough to cast it reliably; and I can’t transform even a tenth of the infantry without exhausting myself, much less turn another tenth of the infantry into good cavalrymen without training them the hard way. If you want to move a small advance force quickly, it’s not impossible to change them into birds. But we’ll be naked when we reach our destination; we’d have to meet up with another division of the army who are ready to re-equip us, or retrieve equipment from a previously hidden cache, perhaps.

I may need you to do this. I’ll remain in communication with General Ndavla and track the Third Army’s movements — they’re nearer the rendezvous than we are — and we’ll see if we can send an advance force with you to reinforce them just before they meet Ndivalan’s army. Kevmulan? What about you?

The Compact, sir, forbids us to use hostile magic against unarmed civilians. If we set magical traps such as you suggest, and they are not all triggered by the enemy, it might be impossible to ensure that they are all safely dispelled in the confusion following the battle. They could remain for years or even centuries, ready to spring on any civilian who wanders within range in future years.

Well, put a time limit on the spell, to diffuse harmlessly after three days. Or make it only activate the curse if an armed man loyal to Ndivalan comes within range. Think!

Determining who a man is loyal to is not easy, even in person; I cannot work that into a trigger for a delayed spell. And I am unsure of my ability to define a ‘weapon’ in spell language so precisely that it would affect most or all enemy soldiers but never affect a farmer carrying a sickle. As for the time limit, I would of course work that in, but it is imperfectly reliable — seven or eight such spells out of a hundred will remain active past their intended limit, perhaps, as I said, for centuries.

So clean up after the battle, look for leftover trap spells and dispel them yourself.

If we win control of the disputed ground, of course. But if the enemy holds it — or in the worst case, if I and my staff are all killed — no one would know about all the traps, and no one could safely dispel them.

So you’re unwilling because of a very slight chance that one or two of these traps could remain after the war and kill a farmer a hundred years from now!

We have all sworn to the Compact, sir; both the wizards loyal to the Republic and those loyal to one of the would-be kings. There are things we cannot do with war-magic, and attacking civilians is one of them. And we must take all reasonable precautions to ensure that spells aimed at soldiers do not misfire and curse civilians instead.

Exactly so, sir, Znembalan added. Just as I can transform a few enemy soldiers in battle, but never their camp followers or the farmers who supply them with provisions.

Aha! Suppose your trap spell does something that renders a man useless for combat, but doesn’t kill him or even endanger his life — nothing irreversible. If one of our men trips one of them accidentally, you can undo the spell at your leisure, giving priority to the men who were truly injured in battle; if a civilian accidentally trips over one of those traps years from now and there’s no wizard handy to reverse it, it would be an inconvenience to them but not real harm.

In theory, that would be permissible, Znembalan admitted. I question the usefulness of expending the time and labor of skilled wizards on trap spells that would merely inconvenience the enemy, however.

Your own transformation spell could be just the thing we need there. I remember when you first proposed to transform some of our scouts into women, the fuss they made, and the questions I asked — and you assured me it would do them no harm.

Ah. I see... Despite common belief, it is not impossible for women to fight effectively, although they are less strong than men on average. Among certain barbarian tribes of the steppes, women fight alongside men — we may even encounter some among Mbavalash’s mercenaries sooner or later.

Then have your trap turn armed men into little boys — as young as you can make them without inherently endangering a civilian who might be affected by the trap. Or better, little girls — that would be more demoralizing, strike more fear into the rest. Make them afraid to advance another step, perhaps rebelling against their commanders next time they’re ordered to march through some narrow pass we might have trapped...

Znembalan thought. It was feasible, if he and Kevmulan worked together to make a delayed version of his transformation spell. And if he didn’t make the products of the transformation too young, it would be technically harmless to civilians. After the war, in the unlikely event some of the traps remained around and sometimes transformed a farmer or tinker or whatever, there would be a number of wizards besides himself who knew how to reverse the transformation — at least if any of the person’s original hair or fingernails could be found, and if not into their exact former semblance, then at least into some decent approximation. And even if not, under the Compact men and women were officially equal. In practice, only male and female wizards were equal in power, but it would be hard to argue from the Compact that changing a person’s sex was inherently harmful; and as for making them younger, well, rich patrons paid huge sums for rejuvenation spells less effective than his total transformation.

I am willing if Kevmulan is, he said.

The inn at Piali’s Ferry. Spring 45, afternoon

Salentsan took a large spoonful of the stew the innkeeper and his wife had prepared. It was the best food she’d ever tasted. So there were already some benefits to freedom. And yet —

The wizard had lied to them. At least, that’s what Salentsan considered it, to leave out information so crucial as this, that the disguises which would make it impossible for slave-takers to recognize them would make half of them of the opposite sex. Not that being a woman was as bad as Salentsan would have expected. It had been terribly disorienting at first, when she grew and twisted from bird-shape into woman-shape, but half an hour later, it was already starting to feel less strange, if not quite natural. As she took another spoonful of stew, she slid her left hand under her skirt. Nothing there, of course; but it no longer felt like something was missing.

The innkeeper and his wife brought in another large pot of stew and set it on the next table, along with several bowls. The freed slaves at that table started serving themselves from the pot. The innkeeper spoke with one of the men, then nodded, and he and his wife left the common room. The man the innkeeper had spoken to — the same one who’d spoken aloud before — then stood up