The room inside was cramped and laden with dust. Against the back wall were three straw mattresses that even the monastery wouldn't deem fit to be called beds. In the centre was a cedar table surrounded by four chairs. Caked across the table's surface were stacks of parchment. There were shelves and book cases, stuffed with hundreds of books and scrolls, made visible by the scant light seeping through the yellow-fogged windows.

Outside was a balcony where two people leaned against the balustrade and gazed into the town below. At the sound of Karlar closing the door, they returned inside. Both wore embroidered cloaks of silk, which hid their faces beneath hoods. One figure was of similar size to Shale and Alora, while the other was so tall that their head nearly brushed the ceiling beams.

The shorter one let down their hood and Shale's confusion mounted. It was a girl. Not just any girl either, but perhaps the most striking young woman she'd ever seen. Her eyes were a piercing yellow and her hair was a thick medley of colour, ranging from strands of pitch black, to spun silver, to ivory white.

The taller one let down their hood too and a leaden weight dropped in her stomach. It was a young man, but not the one she'd expected. Of a similar age to Alashar, this boy had short black hair and was as skinny as he was tall. Maybe he was ill, for he did have a slightly greenish hue to his skin.

She could not hide her disappointment. Who, in the name of Bragan, were these people?

Smiling, the girl spoke in an accent as thick as sap, with the words rolling from her tongue musically. "Thank you dearly, Karlar."

"You are quite welcome."

"Come, won't you sit with us, SanMothers?"

Before allowing them a chance to answer, the cloaked boy and girl began clearing the table of its stacks of parchment. When they were out of the way, they lowered themselves down into the cedar chairs. After exchanging a brief glance between each other, Alora and Shale bounded forward and took the opposing chairs. All that was left on the table was a brass pitcher and four goblets.

The yellow-eyed girl grabbed the pitcher and filled her goblet with a blood-red liquid. Upon doing the same for the boy, she eyed the SanMothers. "Would you care for some wine? This Yernish stuff is sweeter than we're used to, but it has its charms."

"I-"

Shale received a sharp kick under the table and an accompanying glare from Alora.

She sighed. "Our vows prohibit us from engaging in any intoxicants or mind-inhibiting substances."

"Inhibiting?" The girl's eyes glimmered with amusement. "Isn't it funny how different cultures interpret things? In our home town of Raiysteil, folk drink, smoke, and taste all manner of teas, plants, and spices, in order to experience the world anew. There are some who even collect the venom of the imrracoddi and thin it, before drinking it, to see visions of the other plains."

The imrracoddi? Shale knew of the snakes. They were said to be as long as carriages, when fully grown. As for cultural differences, she did find it fascinating, almost as much as monsters, magic, and battles. Her favourite part of study time aside from finding great stories, was learning odd quirks of other places.

"Raiysteil?" Alora said. "You are from Orian then?"

"Impressive. Very, very impressive, SanMother. It is only a small city and yet you know of it?"

"I'm quite familiar with Orian."

"Well you are correct. We indeed hail from the southern greatland."

Shale felt a touch intimidated to know she spoke to people from such a rich, historical place, where great heroes had lived and where empires had risen and fallen. Orian folk had visited town before, but she'd never interacted with them directly.

The girl swirled the goblet and inhaled the wine before taking a long gulp. "Tart," she said after smacking her lips. "I must enquire to the vintner on this one. It's the best we've had yet. Has a sort of Zintarroan kick to it." She slid the goblet aside. "Tell me, SanMothers, is it true that your kind are practised in the eight common tongues?"

"I am rusty on Amílb," Alora said. "I can only write in Ongris, but I am almost fluent in all others."

Shale blushed, feeling inadequate, as she often did around someone as clever as Alora. "I know bits and pieces of Zin and Hernishan, but that's it. Of course I know Elrish fluently."

"Well, that goes without saying." The girl smiled and said something in what sounded like Hernishan to the boy, causing him to smirk. "Still it's rather impressive to meet such educated folk. But we shall keep the talk to Elrish, shall we?"

"That'd be for the best," Alora said.

"I suppose I'd better make introductions. You've already met Karlar. I am Ezilorana Ekoarinterana-Panfelia and this is my brother, Bandoragua Ekoarinterana-Panfelia."

Try saying those names ten times fast, Shale thought.

"Beautiful names," Alora said politely.

"Eh, not really. We much prefer the Yernish and Eloronian customs of keeping names short. Saves time, don't you think? No, in this part of the world, we prefer to go by Ezil and Bandor."

Shale eyed Bandor, whose lips were purpled from the wine. He was an odd one. Had yet to utter a single word. Even when he sipped, there was silence.

"Ezil and Bandor," Alora said, trying the names out. "That will do. Well I'm SanMother Alora and this is SanMother-"

"They know my name," Shale said.

At this, something changed in the room. It created a sort of tangible tension. Karlar and Bandor straightened, becoming a touch more alert, while a glimmer of mischief flashed in Ezil's yellow eyes.

"And how is it," Shale said, "That you come to know my name?"

"One more custom that differs in this part of the world." Ezil lifted her goblet, tilted her head back, and pressed it to her lips. She drained it to its final dregs then sat it down with a thump. "You're all such hasty folk. No time for preamble. No time to enjoy the artistry of conversation. Very well, shall we get to the meat of the matter?"

"Usually," Alora said, "We'll start confessions with a prayer to Gurk-"

"I don't think they're here for confession," Shale said.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Quite astute, SanMother Shale," Ezil said. "Indeed, we have come to discuss other matters."

Alora leaned back and folded her arms, clearly unhappy at the deception.

"What do you want from me?" Shale asked.

Her answer came from across the room. "To bring you home," Karlar said.

"What?" She was stunned. She had not expected that.

"We've been sent here to bring you back to Elorona," Ezil said.

"Bring me back? I've never been to Elorona in my life."

"Not from what you'd remember." Ezil shrugged. "It's understandable. From what we were told, it was a long time ago. You would've been very young."

Shale felt a dizzying ache at the back of her head. It was as if she'd been injected with some of that imrracoddi venom herself. The world was spinning. She pinched the bridge of her nose, in an effort to control something. Of all the conversations she'd imagined having today, this had not entered even her wildest fancies. "You were sent here? By whom?"

"By your uncle."

The ache became a throb, pulsating and making her body weak. "No, that can't be. I have no family."

"But you do. He left you here, thirteen-years-ago, with a satchel containing a book and an amulet. He told me to ensure you brought those along too."

Now the throb grew into a pounding, so loud she could barely hear her own thoughts to get them straight. How did they know about the satchel? First they knew her name and now this. Shale needed air. She needed time to get this all clear. Was it possible that these people were telling the truth? Was it possible this uncle really did exist? After all, someone had to have left her on the monastery steps. Maybe it was him.

"She cannot leave," Alora said, "We are sworn to serve the Hekkari for life."

"I see, and what's the punishment for forsaking one's vows?" Ezil asked.

"Excommunication."

Were they talking in hushed tones or was everything just drowned out by the storm in her mind?

"Banished from the Hekkari," Ezil said, pursing her lips. "Very serious. However, I do believe there are circumstances where one may be pardoned. Am I correct, Karlar?"

"You are indeed, Mistress Ezil. Lifetime vows can be dissolved either by a boon from the Haeryn, or if one is swept into a higher calling."

"So you see?" Ezil held her empty chalice aloft. "There you have it, SanMother."

"You think that wins you the debate? I'm well aware of such conditions. But I highly doubt you know the Haeryn well enough to ask for a boon, so are you claiming you'll lead Shale into a higher calling?"

"Perhaps."

"Please. Don't paint yourself as Ferimucus the Prophet, hearing whispers sent from the Eleven."

"Goodness, these Yernish references go right over my head."

"Let me simplify my point. She cannot go."

"But she must."

"No, she-"

Shale pushed herself to her feet, flinging her chair back. "And I suppose I have no say in this whatsoever?"

Her voice had been louder than intended. It brought the room to an abrupt halt. The other occupants were staring at her, waiting. Shale took a moment to arrange some semblance of order to her thoughts.

"Eleven above... an uncle. It sounds ridiculous, but you know so much about me that I'm led to believe it must be true. That means I had a family member, a living family member, who abandoned me here with nothing but a book and an amulet." After all the years of frustration, she finally had someone to blame.

"SanMother Shale," Karlar said, "You should know-"

"Not even a letter of explanation," she said, chest heaving. "Not a single visit in thirteen years and now he expects me to just jump on the next ship and sail out to him without warning?"

"There are many things you have yet to understand." Ezil glanced at Alora. "Things not so easily explained over a cup of wine."

"Then why isn't my uncle here to tell me himself? Instead he sends three strangers to collect me like I'm a bag of old grain."

"Your uncle is a busy man," Ezil said. "He has arrangements to make in Elorona."

"If I was at all important to him, he'd find the time."

"That's the thing. There is no time. Do you know how long a voyage across the Arinoa takes? Even in good conditions, you're talking a month. With the sea favouring us, that means a journey back there, back here, and back there again would turn one month into three. That's just unfeasible."

"That's your trouble."

"And yours. Why do you think we've come here now of all times when you've heard nought for thirteen years. You are in danger."

"Danger?" Shale laughed. "Don't try to scare me. I can take care of myself."

Ezil's nose wrinkled. For the first time, her expression portrayed the beginnings of a temper. "Your uncle assured us we must not return without you."

"Well, you'll have to drag me out of here, kicking and screaming, because that's the only way I'm getting on that ship."

All warmth seemed to leave the room. It became so quiet that they could hear the floorboards settling. Shale regretted the words as soon as she'd said them. Karlar stood by the door. The two Orians remained at the other side of the table. The three of them could likely overpower the two SanMothers with little trouble. Neither Shale nor Alora knew what these people were capable of. Maybe they actually would drag her away.

Perhaps, she'd pushed too far.

But the ferocity had fallen from Ezil's face. Her tone became quiet. "We will not drag you against your will."

At this, Karlar eased the door open. Together, Shale and Alora retreated toward it, both trying to hide their relief.

"But nor will we be leaving without you," Ezil called after them. "Until you come around and see sense, we will remain here."

"Then I hope you brought your winter furs, because it'll be a long time before that happens."

"Shale..." Alora said.

"I know what I said!"

And with that, the pair hurried through the doorway.