“Want some fruit on it, Shashi? Cousin Mikil, you know, the one that bonded into Yiswayo Clan, anyway she was saying her malbond was caught by a seven mal phela out looking for ablebodies, they wanted to make up to nine and they wouldn’t listen when he said his anyabond was bedbound and needed him, Da11, you be careful when you go out, I don’t know what… what was I saying.” She spooned fruit in thickened juice over the kaslik and moved around the table to Thann. “Oh. Yes. He slipped his leash after they’d been on the river a couple of days, he knew they wouldn’t chase after him because there was this Pixa phela that was coming to river and they meant to ambush it and they didn’t have a lot of time to get ready, anyway he came across this peddler on his way back here.” She smoothed her hand along Thann’s shoulder, smiled when Thann signed that xe didn’t want any fruit; xe didn’t like sweet things. “Peddler was telling him about the Holy City,, said even the Pixa don’t bother folk there. Said the peace was something you wouldn’t believe.” She finished serving Mandall, rubbed the back of her hand against his cheek, and carried the platter to her own place. “If you’ll pour the tea, Dall.”

Thann kept an eye on Isaho while xe listened to xe’s bondmates chattering on about the day, playing dream-games about Linojin. Xe could see no way of crossing the whole continent to get there, not with Impix and Pixa phelas roaming about, hunting each other and killing anything that moved. But dreams were all they had right now and would have any time ahead as far as xe could see-xe and Bazekiyl and Mandall and Isaho and the nameless egg in xe’s pouch.

And it was the same for all the Impix who lived out the wrecks of their lives in this wreck of a city. Whole families and broken families, traders twisting a dangerous living as they scurried through the shadows of war, Brothers of God who were supposed to be untouchable, but who died, too, even when they came to bless, as did the fem Sisters in Godbond who tried to mediate between the clans and the Anyas of Mercy who cared for the orphans and tended the sick and dying. Xe looked at the blue ribbon tied in Bazekiyl’s fine black hair and sighed. Small pleasures. Maybe they’re enough.