The hall was bustling; all the kuan ate together at night. Three tables of bread and four vats of water had been set out. The lines were long, the conversations were loud, and everyone was glad the brutal pre-wedding chores had ceased.

Seem shook her hands and wiggled her fingers. "Writing is crampy," she said. They had finally reached the first table. Most of the plates were bare. Darting between the elbows of older kuan, Divaka snatched the crumbly remains. Seem broke open a roll, eyeing it suspiciously.

"You'll get used to it." Divaka patted his pockets. "Are you going to eat that? I can fit one more." Seem handed him half her roll. "You didn't bite this, did you?"

"Mmmnope. Hey, watch it." She pushed back at her jostling neighbors. "How come nobody notices that you come in really skinny and leave really fat?" Seem poked Divaka's side. "Is this you, or bread?"

"Me! Stop!" Divaka bunched his robes up. "It's not that noticeable. Plus, they don't really care about anyone shorter than them. We're only kuan ones, you know." He glanced around the room and another roll disappeared beneath his hands.

Seem dipped her dented cup into a vat. The metal chilled her fingers. "Where should we sit?"

"No." He nodded at the door. "We're going."

Seem followed Divaka. I wonder if it's okay that I take this cup with me. "Are we eating in our room?"

"Nah. We have to get our prank started." He glanced around one more time and pushed the door open. "Go!"

Seem skipped out, one hand over her cup to prevent spillage. "To the coatroom?"

"Yes." Divaka crammed bread into his mouth. "The best time to sneak out is while everyone is eating and before the metal heads hunt."

Seem nodded. "Um. Are we going to… run into any?"

Divaka shrugged. "Have you ever been in the desert at night?"

"Not really. My mom always had us behind the walls before the sun set." Seem sipped her water. "Sometimes you could still hear them fighting."

The hallways were silent and dark. Divaka crept around the corners, holding his fingers out like a gun. Seem giggled, avoiding the eyes of the shadowy Oracle motifs. "Here we are." The door to the coatroom slid open. Divaka pulled his gear from the hooks. "Make sure you wear all the scarves. Desert nights are very cold."

Seem nodded and set her cup down. She tugged the gritty coat over her robes, strapping each loop into place. "My goggles are really dirty," she said. "The whiteface cements the sand on. Dang it." She scratched at the corners.

"I think you know a better way," said Divaka. "A kuan way."

"Oh. Yeah!" Seem held the goggles out. "Binnastina!" The sand fell to her feet in clumps. "Hey, it worked!"

"You still need to practice more. Binnastina!" Divaka's coat shook once and was clean. He tugged the fasteners. "See those things in the corner? Those are gem torches."

Seem held up a tear-shaped glass lantern by its handle. The inside was striped with faint scorch marks. Black soot glittered along the bottom. She stuck her nose in and coughed. "Smells like hot metal. Isn't this kind of old?"

"Traditional," corrected Divaka. "There are skull gems in the basket over there. Put one in."

The top of the tear had a hole wide enough for a skull gem. Seem held the lantern at arm's length and dropped one in. It hit the soot and sparked. "It's not very bright," she said. "Just embers."

"Needs new silt. Should be in the bucket next to the gems. Only put in a little." Divaka wrapped some extra scarves around his waist. "Get me one, too."

Seem loaded the lanterns and walked carefully across the room. Like the gem bonfire at the wedding, the flames were soundless but very warm. She thought of the Icelanders in the arena. "Does it light up my eyes?" She held one beneath her face.

"Uh… I guess so." Divaka gave her a quizzical look. "Is that one mine? Okay. Let's go."

Seem shivered as they stepped outside. Her breath hovered in the air, a phenomenon she rarely saw. She took several short breaths and tried to connect the clouds of mist. "Hee." Divaka rolled his eyes. Here, the gem torches were brighter. The light splintered over the Precursor insignias engraved on their coat fasteners, as if remembering an old feud.

"Come on."

She followed Divaka through the outer arches of the main entrance and down a path. They searched the endless sky. Seem recognized a few star pictures- there was The Peacemaker, Mar's Belt, and her favorite, The Little Leaper. She liked how the tail of The Little Leaper pointed towards The Big Leaper, as if running away. That's how she thought of it, anyway; everyone knew a mother had to chase her children down the streets of Spargus properly before they would take a bath.

"No signs of a storm," she said. The hand holding the lantern was blissfully warm. She stuck the other in her coat pocket.

"Yup." He made a point to critically inspect the west. "Always a good thing to double check over there. That's where most surprise storms come from."

She smelled the waterfall before they arrived at the bridge. Night-blooming flowers always grew around the oases. Divaka paused, holding his light up. "See that?" The water roared and smashed rainbows into the darkness below.

"Yeah." Seem leaned forward. The air was different here, heavier in her lungs. I wonder if air can be wet like sand.

"Don't fall down there."

"Where does it go?"

Divaka started across the bridge. "I don't know. The ocean, probably."

Seem gripped the railing, watching the old rope flake off as she moved her hand. The fibers floated beyond her circle of light. "So, um." Her voice had a higher pitch than usual. "Where are we going?"

"Across the islands to the desert. Only far enough to find the cacti." Divaka turned. "If you see any metal heads, don't scream. Just follow me."

"Okay," she squeaked. "Won't the metal heads smell our gems?"

"No. I don't think so." He held his light up higher. "Keep the fire away from the bridge. If it burns, we can't get back. I'm pretty sure Meenoch would like that. But we don't want him to be happy, do we?"

"Nope!"

Seem stared at the wooden planks as they made their way down. They were pitted and loose. She didn't remember them being this shaky when she walked to the Temple. Um. Mar, oh Founder of Cities and Slayer of the Dammed... I know you're really busy watching the universe, but could you please make sure we don't fall through? . A few times she stepped on Divaka's trailing robe.

"Stop that!"

"Sorry!" And, just to bug him, she put her hand on his shoulder. "There. Now I can't."

To pass the time, she counted how many bridges they crossed. There were eight connecting the temple to the main desert by small islands. Divaka showed her where they stashed the bridges so that undesirables couldn't pass through. Someone, someone very brave, thought Seem, had dug divots into the cliffsides of the islands. "We roll up the rope and shove them in there. You can't see them from any angle unless you know where to stand. Or if you're in the water. But they're no help there." He grinned. "Finally, the last island." Divaka yanked his coat open a bit and peered around. "What's the first lesson of sneaking around the desert at night?"

"Uh… avoid metal heads?"

"Exactly. And how do you do that?"

Seem spun slowly, taking in the dunes, the sporadic plant life, and towering, distant rock mountains. The desert, outside her tiny circle of green-tinted, shuffling feet, was rendered in shades of silver and gray. Behind her, water lapped softly.

"Erm. You hide."

"Right. Sort of." Divaka squinted and set off. "You can't hide the whole time, or you won't get anything done. The important thing is to always make sure you have a place to hide, if you have to." He pointed. "See? Here's a good place. It has our two goals; cacti and a big wall of rock. We can pick through here, and shelter isn't far."

"Okay. How do you know so much about sneaking around the desert?"

"My family and I lived around oases for a while," said Divaka carefully.

That was simple enough. Seem flopped down and eyed the cacti. "This is the kind we want," she said, pushing fleshy pods aside. "They're short and fat. And not too prickly." She set her lantern to the side and yanked the cactus. "Their roots are short, so they're easy to pull. Do we have a knife?"

Divaka searched his pockets. "Bread, bread, bread, really old bread. Here." He handed it over, a dull butter knife. It said Do not remove from kitchen on the side. He had a feeling that, even though Seem couldn't read it, she could guess what it meant.

"Hold the cactus from the bottom." Seem did so, over her knee. "And cut upwards. These spines aren't very sharp, but we can't use them." Slice, slice; they chimed together as they landed in a neat pile. "Don't break the skin."

Divaka took the knife back and tried it. The smell of oozing sap stung their noses. "This one didn't grow right," he said, tossing it aside. He tried again. "Dang! This must be a bad patch. Let's find another one."

"No, it's fine. You're just doing it wrong."

Divaka glared at her. "I'm probably better at finding them than you. I'll hand them to you and you cut them."

Seem bit down on her smile. I'm better than youuuu are. "Whatever's the fastest way," she said. The old adage hadn't failed a true Spargus citizen yet.

As they worked, Seem told Divaka about her parents' cactus farm. "We had a really neat kind that you had to cover up at night," she said, burying the cut spines. "The flowers tasted real good. And the rockbrush was solid enough to have pebble fights. You hide underneath and pelt the enemy." She smiled.

Divaka grunted. The cactus they needed was harder to find than he first thought. There was another kind that looked just like it. He didn't notice the difference until the spines cut through his sandgloves. "Ow!" He pulled the glove off and stuck his finger in his mouth. "Stupid wrong cactus," he muttered.

Seem giggled. "How come you know all the special languages but nothin' about cacti? They're everywhere. Even men wastelanders know something."

Divaka shot her an unamused look. "There aren't any cacti in Haven."

"Really!"

"It's too wet. And not hot enough."

"So you are from Haven! What's it like there? There's water instead of streets, right?"

"Uh, I guess so. In part of it." Divaka shifted, frowning. "You can't drink that water."

"Oh," said Seem. "Well, it'll grow crops, then. Do they have leapers? What's their queen like?"

"The king is a decent guy, but things are starting to get sort of… weird. And they don't have leapers. And nothing can grow in that water."

"That is weird." Seem wiped the blade on the back of her glove. "Why'd you leave? Everyone in Haven is rich!"

Divaka snorted. "You don't know very much," he said. "You're rich if you have eco there, not water."

"Eco?" Seem rolled that thought around her head. Sure, eco was useful for a few things. Like making ammo or letting the monks deal with. But water was where life was. "So… you didn't have eco?" She rolled the cactus around in one hand, looking for stray spines.

Divaka sighed. "We were kicked out for stealing eco. They said we stole eco."

"Did you?" Seem glanced at his pockets.

"I didn't. What, you think I can hold it in my hands? My mom didn't- she won't do anything she doesn't have to. They said my dad did, but I don't see how. Eco is strictly regulated at construction sites." Divaka put his glove back on and glared at the cactus patch.

"Oh." Seem thought they had got off rather easy: in Spargus, if you stole water, you went to the arena. And after that, if they still weren't convinced, you went to the desert. If you were exiled from Haven and managed to find Spargus, you had a chance. But if you were sent out of Spargus, there was nowhere left to go. "It's a good thing your dad made citizenship, then." She smiled.

Divaka did not. Seem stopped slicing.

After a pause, echoing with a distant hum, Divaka sat up straighter. "My father died in the arena."

"Oh." Seem looked away, embarrassed for him. No wonder Slip said all those things. Divaka's got failure in his family. "Well, you really shouldn't be here, then," she said uneasily. "You should be a wastelander, training to get the honor back. They let Haven people do that. But monks don't fight in the arena."

"As soon as my mother found out people could send their kids to the temple, she did it," spat Divaka. "She didn't understand what saying that at the temple doors meant to the people here. But I'm glad. I didn't need her anymore. She taught me everything I needed to know. Probably the biggest mistake she ever made."

Seem found herself inching away from him. She couldn't help it. Everyone knew family honor was what made Spargus strong. "Um, in Haven." She looked away when Divaka noticed the space between them. "How do you know… who the real citizens are?"

"It doesn't matter," Divaka said. "It's different there. Things aren't about who's stronger than who. It's who's more tricky. Who has connections. Who can put others down far enough to step up. You don't get it."

Seem's jaw dropped.

"Well, okay, there are some people who follow the rules," started Divaka.

A long, low sound echoed across the desert. They snapped their heads to the right.

"What-" Seem cut herself off at Divaka's upraised hand.

The roar came again, closer. Loose sand skittered around Seem's scarves.

"Do we have enough?" asked Divaka, nodding at the cacti.

"No," Seem scooped them together and shoved them into various pockets. "We have half what we need."

"Okay." Divaka hunched down, a look on his face Seem had never seen before. His eyes swept back and forth, as if reading instructions in the outlying dunes. "The bridges are too far," he muttered. The thundering noise came in a pattern now; thud-thud, thud-thud. "They run very fast. Shh."

Seem jumped at the next roar. It rumbled through her legs and made her stomach weak.

Divaka was already crawling over to the rocks. He motioned for her to follow. She abandoned the patch and traced his long tracks. Her elbows dug easily into the rippling sand.

"They're almost here," Divaka whispered when they had reached the formation. Seem gripped his arm. Another roar. Divaka jammed the gem torches into the sand upside-down. They sputtered and went out. He and Seem peeked around the corner.

An enormous metal head rolled down the dune, arms flailing. Eyes wide, Seem shrank back. The creature was bigger than any she had ever seen. But that wasn't all… when it moved, she felt it. When it moved, a thousand glittering shades of purple followed. Inside it. She frowned. It was like the time her sister had accidentally poured clothing dye in the family water bucket. Terrified, they'd dumped it behind the house. The dye moved inside the water, but with it, too.

Yes, there it was. It flicked its tail, and the eco-y sense went with it. She shut her eyes, and felt, very faintly, that it had raised its right claw. She opened her eyes. The arm was there, in the air. What? "Do you feel that?"

Divaka patted the shifting sand. "Yeah, who can't?"

"No, the metal head. It's got… eco… in it."

"Huh?"

"Eco bones. Or something. You can't feel them?"

"Shh."

The metal head dug its claws into the desert floor and twisted upright, its skull gem glowing up by the stars. It smashed the cacti into a vehicle-sized footprint. With a triumphant bellow, another appeared at the crest of the dune. The first one spat and grunted. They faced each other, tails whipping through the air.

Divaka shook her. "Breathe," he whispered.

She sucked in a breath. "Holy Mar," she whispered back. "What if they smell us?"

"Then we greet the Precursors with big, happy smiles." Divaka dug a shallow depression in the sand. "Get down, flat against the ground." Seem pushed sand aside and lay on her stomach. "Watch them. Watch how they fight."

Seem nodded, too scared to question the gruesome order. The metal heads circled, rushed headfirst, and tore at each other. The chilly smell of dark eco wafted over. Scales cracked, tiny metallic sounds almost lost in the roars. When they moved quickly, Seem caught just a sense of blurry eco. The sense wove in and out of tangibility.

Maybe I'm a little crazy. Or it's just cuz I'm scared. Yeah. Scared. Eek!

The slightly smaller metal head was hell-bent on wedging its claws beneath the larger one's skull gem. So far, it had not succeeded. The large one stamped impatiently and impaled the small one's left eye.

"I hope I never have to fight a metal head," Seem whispered.

"Huh? Of course you will. That's why we're watching."

"What?"

Divaka slapped a hand over her mouth. "Shh!" One of the metal heads glanced in their direction, costing it a blow to the head. "Of course you'll face one. Year nine. That's why the kuan nine have green paint on their foreheads. Haven't you heard of the Jedicht Hora Quan?"

"No!" Seem's hands shook. She pulled her scarf around her chin.

"In order to advance to kuan ten, you have to fight a metal head."

Her teeth chattered. "Are you crazy? I can't fight one of those! You mean a small one, right? There are small ones called stingers- you mean one of those, right?"

Divaka shook his head. "No. A big one. Like these." He inched down deeper in the sand. The metal heads roared, one much louder than the other. Blood, sparking with eco, rained down on them. Divaka wiped his sleeve on the rock. The drops streaked and burned the cloth. "Jedicht means 'face.' You have to face a metal head. You have to fight it and win."

"What if you don't win?"

"If you're in real danger, a higher up kuan will save you. But that means you never advance. You have to leave."

That made sense. I guess he does understand honor. Maybe. "What if you get killed?"

Divaka scoffed. "You don't get killed. There are rules in place. In the old days, the rules said that you had to kill or be killed. Now it's kill or be exiled. Slightly better, don't you think?"

Seem shivered. A new, more directed wave of eco showered down and something hissed through the air. It slammed into the sand next to Seem. She jumped and pressed herself closer to Divaka. They stared at the thing. Seem prayed it wouldn't start moving. She tried to make sense of the shape. It looked like an uprooted tree crossed with a plumbing pipe that had burst towards the top.

"It's a claw," whispered Divaka. Sizzling metal tubes poked out of the segmented wrist. Its nails dug deep into the sand. Dark eco bubbled from the frayed ends and pooled around it.

Seem squeaked. "When we fight, do we get guns?" She kicked at the sand, creating a small hill between her feet and the eco puddle.

"Nope."

The claw flexed, an occasional eco spark invigorating the severed axons. She jumped. "How are we supposed to kill them without guns?"

"Spells, prayer, wit," recited Divaka. He peered around the rock again. The smaller metal head, limping and bleeding, turned and ran back the way it came. The larger one roared and took off after it. "Okay." Divaka shut his eyes. "I… really don't know how we take one of those down with just sand spells. Remind me to start researching battle moves in year six, okay?"

"Kay," squeaked Seem.

They waited until the roars had quieted enough to stop shifting sand and picked up the lanterns. "Mine doesn't have enough silt left," said Seem, shaking hers. Or maybe her arm was shaking on its own. She wasn't really sure.

"Mine either. Maybe if we pour both into one, it'll be enough." Divaka tipped his lantern over hers. Seem watched the dark eco pool around the severed metal head claw. "There, it's working."

"Do you think if we add some eco, it'll be brighter?"

Divaka shrugged. "I wouldn't touch it. But you, yeah, feel free."

Seem stuck her tongue out at him. "Do you think any more will come back?"

"Probably not. No use fighting in a place already slippery with eco." Divaka glanced at the former cactus patch. "Uh. Let's find another."

They gathered another few handfuls of cacti as fast as they could. "What were they fighting about?" asked Seem.

"Who knows? Maybe one's skull gem was insultingly bright, or something. Hurry up."

Seem bowed her head and scraped the cacti faster. Now I remember. Meenoch asked, on the first day, how a woman could do the Jedicht Hora Quan. Of course a woman can do it. But can I? Will I?

"I think that's enough," said Seem. "Put those in your pockets."

Divaka did so, then heaved her off the ground. "C'mon." He didn't argue when she looped her arm around his waist. They ran back to the temple. Divaka paused once to pull out a piece of bread.

"You're eating now!"

"Danger makes me hungry." He offered her a bite. She shook her head.

Once they had slammed the door to the coatroom shut, Seem finally took a deep breath. "I really, really don't want to do that ever again."

Divaka considered. "I don't know. It wasn't that bad." He hung up his gear and shook his boots, one by one.

"Not that bad?" Seem squinted at him. "I don't want to see a bad night for you, then." She set the lanterns down with the others.

"No, put them towards the back, so it takes a while for someone to figure out they've been used."

Seem inched them with her foot. "Do you think the kitchens are empty?"

"Yeah. They should be." Divaka took out another roll and chomped down. "Even if they're not, we won't be noticed." With a quick Binnastina, his and Seem's sandgear looked cleaner than it had been before they left.

"Take the gloves," said Seem. "We don't want to get it on us."

Divaka tucked two pairs in a pocket and led the way. The halls were darker than at dinner, only every third torch lit. Seem ventured no further than his shadow. She passed him the knife. "What do we need?" he asked.

"A sharper knife."

Divaka paused, then pushed the kitchen door with a finger. It swung open noisily; they winced. He poked his head in. "No one's here, c'mon." They darted through the doorway and locked it shut. "What else do we need?"

"A hot stove, a big pot, some water, and some salt. And a big spoon."

Divaka grinned. He loaded the bottom of a small oven with wood, cranked the handle, and stepped back as the flames crackled. "Pots are over there. Water is here. I'll get the spoon."

Seem hefted the pot into the sink and pumped. Water squeaked out eventually; her arm ached. She found that the pot was too heavy to pick up when full. "Uh. Divaka?"

"Yeah?" He brandished the spoon. "Hath thee not finished? Defend thy honor!"

Ha. Ha. "Help me get this outta the sink."

"Easy." Divaka strutted over.

And found he could not lift it. And neither could both of them, when working together. "Dang," said Seem. "Maybe if it's only half full." She yawned.

"Try it." Divaka shrugged. He wandered off to find the salt.

So Seem, wincing at the terrible waste, ladled half the water down the drain and pulled the pot out. "Oomph," she said, as Divaka helped her place it on the oven. They pulled up some wooden stools so they could stand over the pot.

"How much salt?" He held up a container, lid abandoned in some corner.

"Two handfuls."

Divaka tilted the container over the pot and, bracing one side against his leg, wobbled. Every grain fell in. "Oops," he said, watching it swirl and disappear.

"That's too much!"

"Eh, well." Divaka tossed the container aside. "The more salt, the better."

Seem scowled. "It might not be the right color now."

"It doesn't matter what color it turns out, just as long as it's not white."

"Hmmph." Seem chopped the cacti and handed them to Divaka. He dropped them in. "My sister and I always made sure it was bright red," said Seem. "As if you were sunburned. Cuz only an idiot gets sunburned in Spargus."

Divaka shrugged.

"Put on the gloves. I wanna stir." Seem took the spoon from him. "Until it's cloudy. Then we'll test it."

"It's not changing colors," said Divaka, leaning away from the steam.

"That's okay. It only changes when it touches skin." Seem stirred, occasionally wiping her forehead. The kitchen was a drastic change from outside. She yawned again. "How are we gonna get this in his room?"

Divaka snickered. He jumped down and rummaged in a cupboard. "See this?" He held up a small, white box.

"Yeah. That's a whiteface block."

"We'll take out half, mix the cactus stuff with it, and put it back. It dries white, right?"

Seem held the spoon up to eye level. Almost cloudy. "It dries sorta clear. It'll turn white with the paint, I guess. Can you turn down the fire?"

Divaka cranked the handle back; a few logs dropped from the bottom of the oven into a bucket of dirty water. The fire shrank. He cut the whiteface block in half. "Guess I'll keep this half," he said, pocketing it. He put the other in a bowl.

"Done!" said Seem. Divaka handed her the empty salt container. She ladled some liquid in and hopped down. "Cool," she said, blowing over the liquid. It turned clearer.

Divaka yawned and shifted his weight. "How do we test it?"

"Pull up your sleeve." Seem swiped a bit on a gloved finger and rubbed it on his upper arm.

"Hey!"

"Oh, shush. It'll take about five minutes." Seem stirred, trying hard not to think about metal heads and if they could jump islands.

"Look!" As they watched, his skin turned a bright orange.

"Aww, kangarats," said Seem. "I wanted red. You put too much salt in!"

"No, no," said Divaka, his eyes gleaming. "Orange is much better. If a kuan one was wearing all orange on his face, can you just imagine the trouble he'd be in?"

"Oh. Oh! Hehe!"

"And he won't notice 'til it's too late, cuz it takes a while to kick in." Divaka pulled his sleeve down and got some more whiteblocks. "Let's do a whole bunch, then we'll have some for later."

Giggling, and enacting scenes of the kuan sumna finding Slip with an orange face, they melted and squared off a set of tainted blocks. Divaka nicked the corners with a knife, so they wouldn't mix up the "orangeface" with the real stuff. "I'll keep this at the bottom of the closet, under my really gross boots," he said.

"Mmmyup, that will stop anyone from searching," said Seem. "How will we make him use these?"

Divaka poured the excess cactus juice into a container and sealed it shut. "I'll sneak it into his room. I know where he leaves his whiteface."

"How?"

"Believe it or not." Divaka lugged the pot to the sink. "We used to be friends."

Seem yawned. "He's gonna be in such big trouble." She blew out a torch. "Can we go now?"

"You go, I'll finish here. And, for Mar's sake, don't make any noise in the halls."

Seem mumbled and left. In their room, she collapsed onto her pile of blankets. Then, without warning, started laughing. She buried her face in a pillow.

A few minutes later, she felt calm enough to roll over and relax.

The door creaked open; Divaka ducked inside. "He's metal toast," said Divaka.

"Hehe!"

"I replaced all his boxes. There's no way he can avoid it."

"I wonder." Seem tucked the blanket around her chin. "If he'll find out it was us."

"Oh, probably. He'll suspect it. But he can't prove it." Muffled noises came from the closet. "Okay, all hidden. See ya later." He vaulted over her and crawled under the covers.

Seem stifled another giggle. But, when she finally fell asleep, she didn't dream of Slip's orange face and Divaka's laughter. Nor did she dream of towering metal heads and severed limbs. She dreamed of a place where warriors didn't live the way honor dictated; they didn't go from rise to fall, from birth to arena. They shrank down small and changed their paths, lying at every turn, sending other people the wrong way. These paths branched and split, like the language tree, until the people at the end were so different from what they were at the beginning, they shot each other in streets of water.