When the sun was beginning to fall in the evening and the women were beginning to cook their suppers, the elders liked to gather around a fire and chat about golden days that were long gone. Outside of the circle of elders around the fire, Indar leaned against an oak tree, tapping an empty pipe against his lips.

Nahia was his <I>biki</I>, and therefore, his other half. When Nahia was happy, Indar was happy. When Nahia was in trouble, Indar weaseled her out of it. When Indar was in trouble, Nahia rescued him, but let him have an earful about it. That was okay—the closest Nahia ever got to saying ‘I love you’ was kicking him in the head.

It troubled him when she disappeared like this. He didn’t know where she was—that wasn’t the problem. Nahia was well liked within the Zerui. It was Who. Damn girl, she was still fascinated by the interlopers. She had managed to not get herself hurt, but war was too close now. She was going to be captured by the people she obsessed over, and they’d do… things to her.

But if he left suddenly, someone would come follow him, and then find Nahia dealing with the interlopers. Indar couldn’t protect her from that. What would the punishment be? Indar chose not to think about that.

There was nothing to be done. Indar couldn’t even smoke; he wanted to be sober when Nahia arrived, just in case something had happened. He had already smoked several times in just as many days. That wasn’t a healthy habit to get into.