[Lauchenoiria]

Princess Leila waited until her brother had been in a meeting for at least twenty minutes before she snuck out. She slipped into a servants’ staircase and made her way to the loose stone she’d hidden her disguise in, changing with the quickness of frequent practice. Then, dressed as a common boy, she slipped out of the Palace into the surrounding city.

Castle Zargo now spread far beyond the ancient city walls, of course, but the Palace was still situated at the exact centre. The capital was rather small for its status, being built around a desert oasis and still surrounded by a considerable quantity of sand. Once she made it away from the wealthier districts, the sand spread everywhere, over the unpaved roads, onto the people, into the meagre food. On her disguised excursions, she rarely ventured this far out, but she would never find what she sought in the heavily-policed upper-class districts.

The Princess made her way to the Peasants’ Temple on the outskirts of the city, sneaking inside just as the service was beginning. In the local calendar used in Zargothrax, this was the first day of a new month – and therefore the day when local couples would have their engagements blessed by a priest. This was not in any of the religious texts, and the nobility did not perform such a ritual. It was a peasant tradition. It was also the reason Leila was here.

After people had said prayers, the men wishing to announce their engagement lined up. They were not who Leila was interested in. As they made their announcements, Leila watched each of the women who went up to join them. Girls, really. Older than her – but some of them were her sister’s age. Leila suppressed her disgust and kept watching, looking at their faces to see who was happy, indifferent, angry, scared. Fear was what she sought, and find it she did.

There was a girl, no older than her sister, who was shaking and had to practically be dragged in front of the priest. She had clearly been crying. Leila kept watching her for the rest of the service. When it was over, she followed the girl from a distance, looking out for who was also following. She trailed the girl all the way to her home – a single room dwelling which looked like it would topple over at any second – and hid outside while her father screamed at her, itching to get involved but knowing it would be a bad idea.

“Why are you following that girl?” came a voice, accent foreign, behind Leila. She jumped, turning around. “If you mean her harm, leave now.”

This must be who Leila sought. She scanned the woman head-to-toe, noting the slightly paler skin, the patch of sunburn on her neck, and the better-quality clothing than one would expect from an adult woman hanging out in the peasant district. The fact that this was an adult woman alone confirmed it, more or less.

“Looking for you,” Leila said, pulling off her hat and allowing her hair to fall out. “Or, well, someone like you anyway.”

“Ah,” the woman smiled, her frosty expression turning to pleased surprise. “Come, come, we mustn’t speak in the open like this.”

The woman led her into another dwelling, abandoned, roof half-collapsed. Leila checked her knife was still in its concealed location, just in case, and then followed. The woman sat down on top of a blanket next to a portable stovetop.

“Just to be clear,” the woman asked her, “who do you think I am?”

Princess Leila, eleven years old, looked the woman directly in the eyes and answered: “A Kerlian.”