Oren’s eyes closed, and he tried to conceal his frustrations. Mother Ziotea thought he knew any more than she? Certainly, he had had the benefit of Mother Indira’s tutelage, but her lessons had always been on keeping your head down, appearing devout, and its kind. Yet of his history? His people? What the Omestrians had not destroyed, Varyans did. He knew no more than Ziotea.

“I am no more one of them than you are.” he murmured, barely loud enough for even his own ears. Ziotea certainly wouldn’t have been able to.

He opened his eyes slightly, and looked at the wall with an empty gaze.

“They may not even be there when we return. If Mother Lyessa speaks the truth, then their purpose has been carried out. If she lied... well, I certainly expect that we are going to stand in precarious places.”