Dal Salim didn’t resist as I shoved him away.

  “I’m getting him back to the safehouse,” I told the team. “Hey, buddy, Val can hear you. Just tell us how they can get to Phabos. Can you do that?”

  Dal Salim blinked, then nodded. “The course is simple enough. From here, the guide should be the Iron Star, two spearheads’ deviation to the west.”

  He continued with a bunch of nautical jargon, which I didn’t understand, and which Val recited with a kind of casual familiarity that he had to be faking. I grabbed Dal Salim’s hand—which was warm, and extremely calloused—and dragged him through the streets of Ethelios.

  “Hey, commander,” I subvocalized. “So, look. I know Kives keeps pulling shit like this. I know we have no idea what she’s trying to accomplish.”

  “This should be good,” he said, an undercurrent of affection dulling the edge of his words.

  “Oh, fuck off,” I said. “I’m just wondering… when is enough, enough? She’s a pain in the ass, but it’s gotta be better to suffer through it than to condemn this entire to death. I haven’t had Val check the math there, that’s just how it seems to me.”

  The commander chuckled. “Keep that spirit, Lilith. But not so much that you let her indoctrinate you.”

  “Fuck that,” I said.

  “As your commanding officer, I am obligated to remind you that indoctrination isn’t a simple matter of willpower. The more you understand how the enemy thinks, the more those patterns of thought become ingrained inside you. The human brain is a versatile weapon, and it’s particularly adept at picking up new weapons from the world around it. There’s a razor’s edge between learning the enemy’s tricks and joining them in spirit.”

  “You’re not answering my question.”

  “I did,” Aulof said. “This team is the line. If Kives crosses it, the planet burns. But gods are rigid opponents, with static methods and fixed goals. She won’t be able to help trying. You and I have a choice in how we think. That means it’s down to us to keep things moving in spite of Val’s asinine project.”

  “Fuck.” I sighed deeply and glanced back at Dal Salim. His eyes refocused and he gave me a small smile, but didn’t say anything.

  “There’s also the matter that you’re my apprentice and practicing intermediate ak ha var,” Aulof said. “This should be a winnable fight for you. If you do end up indoctrinated, I’m going to be very disappointed.”

  “Can’t have that,” I muttered, but a grin crept over my face.

  If Kives wanted to fight over my convictions, let her try. I was a warrior of Veles, and my will was a blade that would cut heaven and earth.

  “Slay yourself and rise again,” I said, letting myself slip back into some of that meditative mindset. Who did Lilith need to be today to triumph?

  I had no idea what Kives was planning for Dal Salim—but fortunately, all I needed to know was I hated her. If Kives had been planning to send him into that hall and cause a touching reunion with his brother, it was a foregone conclusion that something terrible was going to happen as a direct consequence of that. So I had to think like her, but also not so much like her that it imprinted on my personality.

  I thought back to a time—over a year ago now—where Val had played Go with Markus, systematically explaining how he’d gained control of the board, cutting off possibilities until every move resolved in his favor. If Kives’s whole thing was actualized potential, I had to think in terms of cutting away the potential futures I didn’t want to happen.

  “A curious phrase,” Dal Salim said from behind me. “What does it mean?”

  “It means…” I said, trying to figure out how much I could explain. “Well, you already know we can’t die. But people change a lot over time, you know?”

  Dal Salim nodded seriously, as though I’d said something very wise. I kinda didn’t feel like I had, but I puffed up a little anyway.

  “People act like they’re helpless against time,” I said. “And on some level, you shouldn’t want to avoid changing—it means you’re not learning anything. You should always try to be better. But you need to be a better version of yourself, not someone else. There’s no point in living forever if you’re just going to be someone else in a hundred years. Like, good for them, they get to exist, but if you’re just trying to make other people, you can go have kids.”

  “You are very young to have such thoughts,” Dal Salim said bluntly.

  “Dying sucks,” I said. “I lost my grandmother when I was ten. My parents always acted like it was all okay, and death is just part of God’s plan, but you know what? I’m not stupid. She didn’t want to go. She wasn’t coy about that. And none of the rest of us wanted her to go either. Mom cried for years afterward. She still cries sometimes.”

  “Is she immortal like you?”

  I snorted. “No. If a resurrection team made her the offer, she’d probably say they were working for the Devil.”

  Dal Salim hummed. “What does she think of what you’ve become?”

  I winced guiltily at that. “She probably thinks I’m dead too. I hope she does, anyway.”

  Dal Salim said nothing, but I felt the curiosity in his silence.

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  “I was injured,” I said. “The only way to save me was to take me back to Veles—the, uh, people I’m from. They would have done some memory work to erase direct evidence of their involvement, but I didn’t leave a body behind. So officially I’m just a missing person. My family’s never going to get closure. They might think I’m still out there.”

  I huffed an ironic laugh. “Guess I’ll never know whether they stopped looking, either.”

  Dal Salim squeezed my shoulder. I didn’t shrug him off.

  “So—slay yourself and rise again,” I said, partly to bring us back on track, and partly to reign in my own emotions. “I get to choose how I think about them. They messed me up pretty bad, then they messed me up worse trying to fix me. I wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place if they hadn’t shoved me into the worst possible solution. And that sucks, and they’re shitty people for it. That’s one part of me. There’s another part that knows they loved me, and I was difficult for them, and they had the best intentions. That part feels a little guilty about leaving them without a goodbye. Which part gets to stay?”

  “The love, I think,” Dal Salim said. “I would not wish to carry anger for eternity.”

  “Well, maybe you’re just not suited for it,” I said with a confident smile. “Personally, anger is good for me. Keeps me focused. And you know what? Fuck ‘em. They screwed me up, so call it justice. My dad was always going on about people reaping what they sow—maybe he can live it for once.”

  Dal Salim’s face softened affectionately. “I remember those thoughts. You’re right. I wasn’t suited to carry them for long.”

  “Right,” I said. “About that. Spill.”

  “Spill?” Dal Salim asked.

  “Uhhh,” I said. “Never mind, it’s an idiom. Tell me about your family. Kives is actively interested in you and your situation, so I need to know everything you can tell me about your brother and why you left.”

  I paused. “Also, gonna be honest, I’ve been super curious this whole time, but it seemed like you didn’t want to share details, and there was never a non-awkward moment to press you on it.”

  That got a genuine laugh out of him. He rubbed the fuzz on his head, eyes unfocusing in recollection.

  “I am a cobbler’s son,” he said. “I did not lie, the day our paths crossed. But in Parmad, a cobbler may become a quartermaster; a quartermaster, a scholar; and a scholar, a prince. The Golden Law says that each clan is a pillar. The sturdiest among them cleave to the earth, bringing stability, and the strongest cleave to heaven, bearing its weight. My father is Kul Sendim Zelekhir, Prince Among Princes, Cupbearer to Oru, and Steward of the Golden Law. My brother and I took icon/oath/aspiration to him at our majorities.”

  I had my comm replay the untranslated word—dal.

  “Wait,” I said. “I thought Dal was, like, part of your name.”

  “It is,” he said. “I could have been Zet Salim, had I wished to pursue manhood in the footsteps of my mother’s womanhood. Or Fari Salim, if I chose to pursue womanhood myself.” He paused, assessing me. “I don’t know your people’s ways, but in some lands—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know about trans people,” I said. “What about Kul Salim?”

  Dal Salim shook his head. “Kul is not for those born male.”

  “Huh.” I scrunched up my brain for a moment, trying to figure out how that worked, like, genetically. There was probably adoption involved. “Okay, so when you said you fought with your clan elders, you meant you were beefing with the literal government of Parmad?”

  “I had a rival,” Dal Salim said. “The colors of my memory have been sun-bleached in years. They were never important anyway. For us, what matters is that he was a prince’s son, and that it came to blades. I slew him. It was only with his life running down my blade that I realized I had broken the Golden Law, and that my own life was forfeit.”

  “Shit,” I said. “So you ran away?”

  “I should have,” Dal Salim said. “I threw myself at my father’s feet, begging for forgiveness and berating him for allowing that fool to bluster. He is a compassionate man, wise to the roots, but he is still a prince. The Golden Law forbids that the blood of a prince be shed on Parmad’s holy soil, so he sent me to the Isle of Tears to face execution.”

  “Sounds like a cheerful place,” I said.

  “Surprisingly, it is,” Dal Salim said. “I visited later. Good people. But as for this journey, pirates it short—pirates sailing for the Lord of Tempests. I blazed with righteous anger. Was I not, even in shame, a princeling of Parmad? I stood tall, and refused to die. I won respect, if not the battle. And now I belong to the wind.”

  “Got it,” I said. “Shit, man, I’m sorry. That sucks. Your dad sounds like a piece of work.”

  “We all acted according to our natures,” Dal Salim demurred.

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek for a second, then decided not to press it. “Sure. Okay, so how does your brother fit into all of this?”

  “The news of my survival will shame my family greatly,” Dal Salim said. “I have offended their honor enough. The tale of Clan Zelekhir’s ill-fated son must end with a pirate raid and a sunken ship. Dal Kalim couldn’t bring himself even to look at me when I was marched off for execution. If we meet again, it will be my blood on his scimitar.”

  “You sure this isn’t one of those cases where they could bend the rules and welcome you home as their inscrutable new advisor?” I asked. “It was thirty years ago. Maybe your father’s mellowed out by now.”

  He laughed. “No, Lilindi. The arrow has flown. Thirty years ago, a furious young man cut me away from that life. There is no return, except to mutual pain.”

  We’d reached the safehouse. I checked around the area for anyone who noticed us, taking a moment of concentration to check for onlookers of the invisible variety.

  “So what I’m hearing is, if your brother finds you, he’s basically honor-bound to kill you.” I leaned heavily against the wall. “He didn’t look like he’d heard the name of his long-lost brother he’s been trying to kill for years.”

  “He was always circumspect,” Dal Salim said.

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “Well, I guess this is it, then. I know you did that whole thing about seeing this out to the end, but if Kives is after you, I can’t bring you on this mission. One of us is going to be sailing with Dal Kalim. The odds are near certain you’ll come into contact with him, and we might not be in a position to prevent whatever happens when you do. There’s a couple billion souls on the line. I love you to death, man, but if things go bad, the commander’s going to order me to watch you die and I’ll have to smile the whole time.”

  Dal Salim laughed. “He’s a serious one. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be.” There was a wistful look in his eyes. “Goodbye, Lilindi. Walk the golden path.”

  I clasped arms with him, flashing my eyes yellow with a smirk.

  “We’re not leaving just yet,” I said. “I was thinking we’d drop you off with the local Dancer group. Last time we had someone who needed to disappear, they were happy to help out.”

  Dal Salim hummed. “I know Tijal. Your plan is good, I think.”

  “Mmm, I love the sound of that. People should say that more often.” I wrapped my free arm around him in a hug.

  We separated, and I waved goodbye to my friend.

  “Back in a bit,” I said casually. “Gotta save the world!”

  Dal Salim bowed slightly. “If you’ll grant a request—save my brother, should it come to that.”

  My cocky expression slipped.

  “I’ll do what I can,” I said more seriously. “It’s going to be a battle, and I can’t be everywhere at once. If I do save him, though, I’m telling him to forgive you. It’s never over ’til you’re dead.”

  “I am dead,” said Dal Salim. “Please let me pass into memory.”

  I heaved a sigh, but there was nothing I could do.

  “Lilith, we need you back at the operations area,” the commander said.

  “Great timing,” I replied. I nodded to Dal Salim—this wasn’t over—then took off running. “On my way.”

  “Do you still have that medical translator?”

  “Must have forgotten to put it back,” I lied.

  “Great. We’re putting you back on Erid’s ship. I hope you’re ready to mingle.”

  social science fiction, and that this would inevitably mean the story touches on political topics, and that therefore I am obligating all of you to be nice in my comment section. That request stands. Do not take shots at marginalized groups. Do not take shots at each other. Take shots at me if you must, I guess, but keep in mind that I was trained as a social scientist and most of the things I put in this story are real details I found interesting during my studies.

  here.