Korbyn squeezed Liyana’s hand. “Bayla.” He stared into Liyana’s eyes. “Please. If you love me . . . do not harm Liyana. We will find a way to be together.”

Bayla was silent for a long while. At last she said to Liyana, You do not kiss him again.

Liyana started. I wouldn’t . . . I mean, I . . . She stared at Korbyn’s lips and remembered how safe and warm she had felt in his arms—how right it had felt and how wrong it was. Never again, she promised her goddess.

By midday the next day Maara had lost control to Raan. Liyana and Korbyn carried Raan into the tent. She’d woken as herself while they rode but had been unable to move. They laid her down onto the blankets.

“I still cannot feel my legs,” Raan said.

“What can you feel?” Liyana asked.

“Hands, but not so much fingers. It’s tough to turn my head.”

“How about your lungs? Any trouble breathing?”

“I can feel myself breathe, but not deeply,” Raan said. Tears leaked out of her eyes. Liyana wiped her cheeks for her. “I think I am slipping away, Liyana. I can feel her, nesting in my body. She has more control, doesn’t she?”

“Can you hear her?” Liyana asked. “Does she talk to you?”

“She’s never spoken to me. I didn’t think . . . I never thought my goddess would hate me. Why does she hate me? Is it so wrong to want to live?”

Korbyn knelt next to her. “Concentrate on your breathing. Let’s see if we can regain some control. Inhale, and feel the air expand your lungs.”

As Korbyn worked with Raan, Liyana slipped out of the tent. She needed to fetch both food and water so Korbyn wouldn’t have to. She scanned the desert around them. Away from the border, the land was desolate. Still, a few stubborn plants gripped the dry earth.

Maara does not hate Raan, Bayla said quietly. I do not hate you.

Liyana did not know how to reply to that. She wasn’t certain she believed her. Locating a tuber plant, she sat beside it. She touched the brittle stalklike leaves. I’m ready for the magic.

She waited while Bayla’s presence receded. Since Liyana didn’t need to be in a trance while Bayla fetched the magic, her thoughts drifted to Korbyn. He didn’t want her dead—he’d made that clear—but she wished she knew what he was thinking when he looked at her, and who he saw.

The power flooded into her. She shut off her thoughts and worries, and focused instead on the tasks at hand. Fattening, the tuber ripened. She shifted her awareness to the next tuber. It plumped. And another. She then dug the ripe tubers out of the sand and carted them back to the tent. Silently she poked her head in. Korbyn was deep in concentration, and Raan lay still, either sleeping or unconscious again. Liyana entered and stretched out beside her.

Raan’s eyes opened.

“Maara or Raan?” Liyana asked.

“Korbyn helps the vessel. Why?”

Maara. Sitting up, Liyana wrapped her arms around her knees. She studied Raan’s face, trying to see a hint of her friend within. “The vessel’s name is Raan. And why don’t you ask her? She says you haven’t spoken to her.”

“She is a body,” Maara said.

“She’s a person,” Liyana said. She spoke softly so she wouldn’t disturb Korbyn, though she wanted to shout. A thought occurred to her. “I think . . . perhaps you are afraid of discovering that.” Inside, she felt Bayla listening. “If you admit she deserves to stay in her body, then you have to admit that all those deaths of all those vessels in all the generations before were unnecessary.”

“I act for the good of my clan,” Maara said.

“I am proof—”

“You are an abomination!” Maara sat up, and Liyana scooted backward. She hadn’t imagined that the goddess had so much control over the body already.

Korbyn’s eyes snapped open. He sagged and then caught himself. Leaving Maara, Liyana helped him lie back on the blankets. He clutched her arm, but she hastily withdrew as if his touch burned. “Are you all right?” she asked. “What were you doing?”

“Contacting the deity of the Dog Clan,” he said.

“You can do that?” Liyana asked.

“It is similar to the summoning chant,” Korbyn said. “I fill words with magic and send them across the desert. It is an awkward way to converse but sufficient for emergencies.”

“And did he reply?” Maara asked.

“He’s in his vessel with his clan, but he refuses to join us. Once again my reputation precedes me. He believes it’s a trick.”

Stubborn idiot, Bayla said. We do not have time for this. The clans need to mobilize now! Let me send words to the imbecile. Her tone left no question as to what kind of words they would be. Vessel, you will aid me. Liyana repeated Bayla’s offer.

Korbyn shook his head. “They won’t trust you either. Apologies for tarnishing your good name, my love.” He smiled wanly at her, and Liyana knew he was smiling at Bayla. She tried not to feel a pang at the word “love.”

“They would trust me,” Maara said. “But I cannot use magic while the vessel remains. For though I control the limbs, she retains primacy.” She slapped her thighs hard enough to bruise them.

“Yet another reason you should talk to Raan,” Liyana said.

“Yet another reason she should vacate this body,” Maara said.

Liyana felt Bayla sigh. Tell Maara she needs to work with her vessel. Stumbling over the words, Liyana repeated this. She didn’t dare ask what this meant for herself.

Maara narrowed her eyes. “Was that truly Bayla?”

Does she want me to share about the time the scorpion became besotted with the butterfly? Liyana repeated this as well. Once, in the days when death was new—

“Very well,” Maara interrupted. “I will speak with the vessel.” She closed her eyes.

The tent fell silent.

Liyana wanted to talk to Bayla. She searched for the words and failed. She glanced at Korbyn, wishing he would speak and break the silence. She tried to remember the last thing he’d said to her, not Bayla. She wished she could hear him laugh again. “Your clan will be happy to see you,” Liyana ventured. It wasn’t much of a conversation starter, but at least it was something.

Korbyn shrugged. “Perhaps. They were fond of this vessel.”

“Oh.” Liyana lowered her eyes and watched Maara, who lay silently in her blankets with her eyes closed. “But you didn’t know.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Korbyn said.

After waiting another half hour, they tied the unresponsive Maara to a horse and continued on. There were still several more days of travel ahead of them before they would reach the oasis where Liyana had first met Korbyn. From there it would be several more days to Yubay—if her clan was even there.

Would you like to see where they are? Bayla asked softly. If you wish, I will feed you the magic.

For a moment Liyana was robbed of a reply. She never expected such a kind offer from Bayla.

They are my clan as well.

After a moment Liyana felt the magic fill her. She let her awareness spill outward. She felt Gray Luck moving in a steady stride beneath her. She felt the sand and the wind and the heat. She felt the plants scattered across the sand, and the insects that hid in their centers. She touched the birds of prey and the rodents. She brushed past the sky serpents as they soared above. She shied away from the sandstorms with their howling hearts. Fueled by the goddess’s magic, she reached much further than ever before. All the while, the tether to her body continued to stretch.

As she spread, she became aware of the people: their souls pulsing all over the desert, grouped in areas where she also felt water. She touched the oasis where her family had camped and where she had left the silver bells—and she touched the souls of hundreds of people. Her clan!

Retreating back to her body, she felt Gray Luck still plodding along beneath her, and the sun battering her skin again. That was the oasis where I was left behind. Only my clan uses that oasis. She’d see them soon!