“Yes,” said Ramina with a heavy sigh, “Shevir has already explained this. Scrivening merely approximates the gods’ power, and poorly.ustand poorl It can only capture concepts that are communicated via simple written words. Spoken magic works better, when it works.”

“The only reason it doesn’t work is because mortals don’t say it right.” The bench was surprisingly comfortable. I would try sleeping up here some night, in the open air, beneath the waning moon. It would feel like resting in Nahadoth’s arms. “You get the pronunciation right, and the syntax, but you never master the context. You say the words at night when you should only say them by day. You speak them when we’re on this side of the sun, not that side — all you have to do is consider the seasons, for gods’ sake! But you don’t. You say gevvirh when you really mean das-ankalae, and you take the breviranaenoket out of the …” I glanced at them and realized they weren’t following me at all. “… You say it wrong.”

“There’s no way to say it better,” said Shahar. “There’s no way for a mortal to understand all that … context. You know there isn’t.”

“There’s no way for you to speak as we do, no. But there are other ways to convey information besides speech and writing. Hand signs, body language” — they glanced at each other and I pointed at them —“meaningful looks! What do you think magic is? Communication. We gods call to reality, and reality responds. Some of that is because we made it and it is like limbs, the outflow of our souls, we and existence are one and the same, but the rest …”

I was losing them again. Stupid, padlock-brained creatures. They were smart enough to understand; Enefa had made certain of that. They were just being stubborn. I gave up and sighed, tired of trying to talk to them. If only some of my siblings would come to visit me … but I dared not risk word getting out about my condition. As Nahadoth had said, I had enemies.

“Would you consent to work with Shevir, Lord Sieh?” asked Ramina. “To help him figure out this new magic?”

“No.”

Shahar made a harsh, irritated sound. “Oh, of course not. We’re only giving you a roof over your head and food and —”

“You have given me nothing,” I snapped, turning my head to glare at her. “In case you’ve forgotten, I built the roof. If we’re going to get particular about obligations, Lady Shahar, how about you tell your mother I want two thousand years of back wages? Or offerings, if she prefers; either will keep me in food for the rest of my mortal life.” Her mouth fell open in pure affront. “No? Then shut the hells up!”

Shahar stood so fast that on another world she would have shot into the sky. “I don’t have to take this.” In a flurry of fur and smolder, she went down the steps. I heard the click of her shoes along the library’s floors, and then she was gone.

Feeling rather pleased with myself, I folded my arms beneath my head.

“You enjoyed that,” said Ramina.

“Whatever gave you that impression?” I laughed.

He sighed, sounding bored rather than frustrated. “It might aaboIt mightmuse you to bicker with her — in fact, I’m sure it does amuse you — but you have no idea of the pressure she’s under, Lord Sieh. My sister has not been kind to her in the years since you almost killed her and caused her brother to be sent away.”

I flinched, reminded of the debt I owed to Shahar — a reminder that Ramina had no doubt meant to deliver. Uncomfortable now, I took my feet off the column and turned onto my belly, propping myself up on my elbows to face him.

“I understand why Remath sent the boy away,” I said, “though I’m still surprised that she did it. Usually, when there’s more than one prospective heir, the family head pits them against each other.”

“That wasn’t possible in this case,” Ramina said. He had turned his gaze away again, this time toward the vast open landscape on the palace’s other side. I followed his eyes, though I had seen the view a million times myself: patchwork farmland and the sparkling blot of the Eyeglass, a local lake. “Dekarta has no chance of inheriting. He’s safer away from Sky, quite frankly.”

“Because he’s not fully Amn?” I gave him a hard look. “And how, exactly, did that happen, Uncle Ramina?”

He turned back to me, his eyes narrowing, and then he sighed. “Demonshit.”

I grinned. “Did you really lie with your own sister, or did a scrivener handle the fine details with vials and squeeze bulbs?”