Ishril 25, 4633 AIA

In all my life, I've never left the Amin Duum Exclusion Zone. All I know is this city. You're probably reading all about the pain it causes me to live so close to the Gap, and wonder why I haven't left. Many people do, of course. The Five Nations who agreed to help Isha protect the world from the violence of the Five Empires can't compel their descendents to commit to the oath.

But from what I've seen of life beyond the Barrier, I'd rather stay where I am.

As I think this, I'm sitting at my desk with cushions all around me while Shinika and Naraik plan. In front of me, I've set a list of books, and I've made a fresh copy of the page from Tallat's codex. Opened up, the kata shimmers in the air and the page reforms, so I zoom in on that scratchy image.

It's not quite the same as the real thing, but very close. The moth is small, uneven—it must be so tricky to draw well on papyrus—but it's beautiful in its own way. Tallat's scribbled signs in her own cypher are littered all over the drawing. We've only ever partially translated her writing.

I study the tight lines, the way the moth's wings are spread, their detail picked out in filigree strokes. How would it look in real life? Would I want to touch it, hold it? If everything I've been able to translate of Tallat's codex is true, then it's not just her own bone, it's her whole being.

I don't think I would—

"Can we borrow you a minute?" Naraik leans over. Xir slate up, some kind of documentation on it. Something much more modern than Tallat's codex. "I've gone over your schedule and you have nothing urgent coming up healthwise. Guardian Anarya's suggested we should leave as soon as possible. Would tomorrow work?"

"Tomorrow?" I might faint. I stare into the pale yellow image of the page, heart thudding like a drummer on Harvest night. "Won't it take a while to set up..." I put up my hands and wave my arms, taking in the whole world but meaning my life. All my supports, care routines, bathrooms. Everything I need.

"We've got protocols." Shinika taps on xir slate. "I've got Samik going over the details now."

"But we're going out... there. They don't have bathrooms."

Shinika arches an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure some places do. And we won't be far from the Nas Ashca, either."

I blink, think of all the times I've had a bad day, a bad night.

Naraik raises one finger. "I am going to check on that before we leave. We won't go anywhere until I've confirmed what the situation is. On the way over, we're going to do frequent stops to make sure you're all right. I'm working on a full plan to get you out as safely as possible."

I'm not convinced, but I'm not sure how to say this. In the corner, Ishkrit is doing aggressive administration with a deeply furrowed brow. Head bent slightly to the left, so xe can keep up on the conversation. I don't want to give xem any indication I can't do this, but still. A good bathroom is not a thing to be dismissed lightly.

"Samija is working on it." Shinika's addition, that the Second Servant of the Guardian Anarya will also be working on the bathroom problem, is meant to reassure me. It doesn't.

Naraik pockets xir slate and reaches around for me. "Are you all right to go upstairs now? We should pack."

Xe waits for me to nod assent before helping me up, packing away my slate and books. Now we're on our way back home, a surge of relief hits me. I need space to think about this. Space to figure it all out.

Home is up on a high level, to the north of the Gap Complex. I can still sense it tugging at my bones, but it's not so bad. We have a great view of the city, down into the canyon floor, the river, and then the West Wall, the other side. Step out through rounded windows onto the terrace, and on tip toes you can see overhanging roots from the desert beyond.

It's a long spread of dwellings, built some time not long after the Gap Complex itself. The Builders didn't favour all that nonsense with the vaulted ceilings and statuary, although we do have our small trollhouse, of course, and a tiny votive of Isha, Iyarina, and Talija in the back wall of the main living space. Everyone's gathering for dinner, but all I can think about is that codex, that moth amulet.

I love the smell of the desert but we close up the shutters to keep the sand out and Naraik touches the glass to send it gliding from mullion to mullion to seal us in. By the time we get back, Ajaë is home and needs to know what happened, who we saw. We have five of us humans here, all adults, two cats and a dog who failed his disability support training. I can see why when he shoves his head in my face as soon as we're inside.

Ajaë holds most of the conversation at dinner; xe's such a good talker he does it even when there's nobody else about. Xe wants to hear everything, and my head's still spinning. Naraik explains the plan while I gaze out at the desert and think about Tallat and who might know about the Bone Moth.

I fetch my slate out and study the maps. I find plenty on the Amnet. You can find anything you want, but not what I need right now. My noodles congeal in their bowl as I zoom in on sections then pull out. It's all too vast and empty.

Or it is and it isn't. We only have Exclusion Zones and large Amnari settlements where Gaps opened up at the Rending. That's seven cities across six continents, all spread well apart. Between us and the Nas Ashca, the easternmost of all the Exclusion Zones, there's only Rad Ayara, in the middle of a battered peninsula of desert even more lifeless than this one.

At least I'll feel at home.

But beyond the Exclusion Zones, five thousand years of history has unfolded without the need to fear the results of the Rending. So many people, communities, civilisations have risen and fallen—all while we've defended them from the Gaps. Only those who live close to an Exclusion Zone would know much about us.

That's my guess. So staring at these maps with the dotted lines of ethnic groups, countries, nations, shared languages, mapped out, I can't tell whether any of them would share our history.

Could somebody beyond our Barriers know anything about the Bone Moth?

"Tabby? Are you all right?" Ajaë nudges me. "Your noodles are getting cold."

"Hmm?" Everyone's looking at me. Aside from Naraik, we only have one other Watcher Class; Ajaë is the katabase wizard; we have a Seer Class at Senior Duty level, a person whose face is scarred with deep lines from a rogue incident at the Gap when they were training; and me, of course.

"What's going on?" asks Kirat, the Seer. "You've been staring at maps all evening."

Ajaë beams. "Guardian Anarya wants Tabby to investigate this theft from one of the dig shipments. Seems like somebody's interested in our history."

"It's probably nothing." I flick and the map dissipates into the air. I replace it with an image of Tallat's codex. I stare down at the Moth. I'm not sure I'm ready for the whole Zone to know what's going on. Just in case it's nothing. That would build it up for no reason.

Not sure why I don't want to talk about it, but since looking at the codex page again downstairs, a dark prickle has settled at the back of my spine. Trouble is coming, and it's not just bandits. This is why I'd never be a hero. The migraine comes crawling up before I've had a chance to stumble to the bathroom—

That's why I say the bathroom is the most important thing. In here, it's always cool and I can set the lighting low. Naraik and Ajaë follow, but only Naraik comes in. The pain blooms up the back of my spine, roaring into my brain and then my thoughts explode.

I slump into the chair we got just so I could unheap myself when it got bad. Naraik kneals to one side and rests one cool, soft hand on my wrist. This is the true gift of the Watcher Class: they can transfer kata, manipulate it to provide pain relief, heal bones. I twitch, put my head back and shut out what little light surrounds me. Chatter from the dining room is low, but every word batters my brain.

The words flash up in front of my face, a cacophony of sight and sound.

"What's the situation?" Ajaë speaks from the hall. I sigh. Naraik knows not to flood my system; it'll only make it worse. Some tiny thought pops up: Where did this come from? What's going on?

"I'd say a 4.5 kmA." Naraik's fingers stretch, another fine thread of kata. I can see it in my mind, imagine it slipping between the spasming nerve cells, loosening the shocked veins.

"I'll get the bedroom set up."

Naraik hums assent, arranging my legs and settling me better. The chair has little wheels on it, so I won't have to walk and I'm glad because I don't think I could. I shudder, muscles pulsing, tightening. A sudden, blinding image in front of me. The moth.

Fine bone strands of the antennae, the soft glowing nub of the head. Each detail is picked out by bone stretched or carved into long threads. It spins in front of me, around and around. I can even spot the point where Tallat threaded the string to hang it around her neck.

I recoil. Swallow back bile. Shudder again.

Don't get ideas. This isn't a haunting. Visions sometimes with a migraine this intense. Some distant voice—maybe it's Naraik's voice, or Ajaë's—reminds me. This isn't real. It's just another symptom. I keep visualising the kata expanding, the narrow threads becoming a soft, cool ocean I can bathe my tired, sore brain.

"Let's move you into the bedroom."

I don't remember anything more. Then it's Midnight Hour and I hear the distant Hour Bell ring out. I gaze up at the ceiling, taking in the sensation of my body resting on a soft mattress, of the absence of pain. Don't let anyone tell you that that isn't a feeling. I can sense the subtle edges where the agony expanded and pushed the rest of me to the corners of my consciousness.

Naraik was quick and the kata treatment has stolen away most of the pain. My back still tenses, my scalp tightens. The blue threads are there supporting me as an extra protective shield. Beside me, Ajaë breathes, deep and regular. His form is a soothing, heavy weight of familiarity.

In one hand, I can sense the small button that will bring Naraik if I need help. I'm safe. It's okay. There's nothing to worry about.

Except there is. There is because the Bone Moth flutters above my head, hanging from the ceiling.