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“How are you, truly?”
    “Truly?” I tilted my head, considering. “All right, I think. Strange. I feel strange. Like myself, only more. I’ve made a vessel of myself, and the Name weighs heavy within me. It’s better, now, than at first. I can learn to carry it.”
    He nodded. “Can you tell me what happened inside the temple?”
    I opened my mouth and closed it, shaking my head. “No. It’s too close.”
    “I didn’t think it would be so frightening. I thought the worst of it transpired outside. I may have been wrong.” Joscelin gave his faint, deprecating smile. “Funny, isn’t it? You setting out to wrestle the Name of God from the Lord of Hosts, and I didn’t have any idea.”
    “Nor did I.” I thought of how nearly I’d failed. “It was a gift, you know.”
    “Was it?” He eyed me. “Well, we’d best use it wisely.”
    “Wisdom, yes.” I made a face. “I spoke bold words about the nature of fear today. Do me a favor, will you, and remind me of them when it comes time.”
    “To face Rahab?”
    I nodded.
    “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together,” he said, taking my blistered hands in his bandaged ones. “You know that, at least.”
    I glanced toward the back of the house, where the bathing-room was. “All of us?”
    “You think we could manage to leave him? You nearly gave your life for his today, Phèdre. If he belongs anywhere, it is with us.” Joscelin drew a long, shuddering breath, his fingers tightening on mine. “Bold words, I know. Remind me of them when it comes time.”
    “To face Ysandre?” I asked.
    “Mm-hmm.”
    And that was all we said, then, for Yevuneh returned, looking tired and drawn, but satisfied. “The lad’s asleep, if you don’t mind; the bath put him fair under, and I ordered him upstairs. Ah, child! ’Tis a dangerous course you set him, for one so young.”
    “I know, my lady Yevuneh,” I said. “Believe me, the matter is not simple.”
    “No, I thought not.” Her kind gaze was shrewd. “He’s not your own, is he?”
    “No.” I shook my head. “He is another’s.”
    “I thought so.” The widow nodded to herself. “He calls you by name, not mother and father. It took me a while to hear it, but tonight I did, when he asked after you. Whose is he, then?”
    “It doesn’t matter,” Joscelin said softly. “Not here. Leave him that.”
    “Born of sin and folly, was he?”
    “He was born,” I said. “His nature is his own.”
    “Like Ardath,” Yevuneh murmured. “Like all our children, when they are grown. Ah, child, I do not mean to press. It was a kindness, what you did for Ardath. You have the right of it. As often as not, we forge our own chains. And from those, not even Adonai Himself can free us. We must do it ourselves. You are kind, to encourage her.”
    With that, she told us to avail ourselves of the bathing-room and bid us good evening, and we spoke no more that night, bone-weary as we were.
    Nonetheless, I lay awake for a long time that night, listening to the quiet breathing of Joscelin beside me and Imriel in the next pallet , mercifully too tired for nightmares. My muscles ached and my blisters stung. If it was only that, I could have slept; I have known worse. I lay awake listening to the Name of God, pulsing in my mind with each throb of blood in my veins, hearing the web of debate that spread itself through sleepless Tisaar.
    Some chains are forged for us. Those are the hardest to bear.

Seventy-Nine
    IN THE morning, Tifari Amu and his companions were freed from imprisonment. They were a little battered, but not the much worse for wear. Tifari grinned in unwonted high spirits when I embraced him.
    “Kaneka warned me it would be foolish to desert you,” he said, returning my embrace. “Lucky for me Bizan and the others agreed! Shall we go home now, lady?”
    Home.
    He was thinking of Meroë, I knew; but I thought of Terre d’Ange. “Home,” I agreed fervently. “Yes, my lord Tifari. Let us go home.”
    As always, ’twas a matter more easily said than done. All our goods-our mounts, our donkeys, our gear and supplies-had been seized by Sabaean forces when they took the Jebeans. It was a matter of a day to arrange for their return, effected by shamefaced soldiers under the direction of Eshkol ben Avidan. And it was another day before everything could be inspected, the horses decreed sound, water-skins tight and our stores sufficient.
    In Tisaar, the mood was uncertain, fraught with optimism and fear.