{"product_id":"nightwatch-on-the-hinterlands-isbn-9780756418496","title":"Nightwatch on the Hinterlands","description":"\u003cb\u003eSet in the universe of Rory Thorne, this new sci-fi mystery follows an unlikely duo who must discover the motive behind an unusual murder.\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTHE TEMPLAR: When Lieutenant Iari hears screams in the night, she expects to interrupt a robbery or break up a fight. Instead she discovers a murder with an impossible suspect: a riev, one of the battle-mecha decommissioned after the end of the last conflict, repurposed for manual labor. Riev don't kill people. And yet, clearly, one has. Iari sets out to find it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTHE SPY: Officially, Gaer is an ambassador from the vakari. Unofficially, he's also a spy, sending information back to his government, unfiltered by diplomatic channels. Unlike Iari, Gaer isn't so sure the riev's behavior is just a malfunction, since the riev were created using an unstable mixture of alchemy and arithmancy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs Gaer and Iari search for the truth, they discover that the murderous riev is just a weapon in the hands of a wielder with wider ambitions than homicide--including releasing horrors not seen since the war, that make a rampaging riev seem insignificant...\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eNightwatch on the Hinterlands\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\"\u003ci\u003eNightwatch\u003c\/i\u003e is a book that, in less capable hands, might collapse under its own inventive worldbuilding. But Eason pulls it off, thanks to \u003cb\u003eperfect pacing\u003c\/b\u003e and the delightfully colorful duo at its core. Splendid stuff!\" —Jason M. Hough, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Eason rips open the barrier between science fiction and fantasy to create \u003cb\u003ean action-packed mystery\u003c\/b\u003e with a distinctive voice, intriguing characters, and incredible worldbuilding.” —Jim C. Hines, author of \u003ci\u003eTerminal Alliance\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Interstellar intrigue, nightmares from the void, killer robots, and the magic of arithmancy. \u003ci\u003eNightwatch on the Hinterlands\u003c\/i\u003e is \u003cb\u003ea perfect blending of sci-fi and fantasy\u003c\/b\u003e with a pair of the most unlikely and enjoyable detectives you'll ever meet.\" —Stephen Blackmoore, author of the Eric Carter novels\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“Readers seeking \u003cb\u003ea genre-blending tale\u003c\/b\u003e will enjoy Eason’s no-nonsense tone as she sets the plot of a thriller within her established world of science fiction and fantasy.” —\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\"Eason has a real talent for building \u003cb\u003eengrossing and intricate worlds\u003c\/b\u003e that feel both whimsical and real at the same time.\" —The Quill to Live\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePraise for K. Eason and the Rory Thorne universe\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Fun and feminist, \u003cb\u003eunique and stylish\u003c\/b\u003e, with a heroine who'll steal your heart. If fairy tales and space opera had a clever baby with a big vocabulary and a rebellious streak, this would be it.” —Delilah S. Dawson, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times-\u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eGalaxy's Edge: Black Spire\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"This is \u003cb\u003ebig,\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cb\u003eimaginative space opera at its best\u003c\/b\u003e. Filled with complex characters and twisty politics, \u003ci\u003eRory Thorne\u003c\/i\u003e is an awesome ride.\" —Michael Mammay, author of \u003ci\u003ePlanetside\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\"Rory Thorne \u003cb\u003eraises the bar for self-rescuing princesses \u003c\/b\u003eeverywhere. This clever fusion of unforgiving fairy tale and fanciful space opera destroyed me emotionally in all the best ways.\" —Curtis C. Chen, author of \u003ci\u003eWaypoint Kangaroo\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Readers will be clamoring for the second installment before Chapter One is over. Told with just enough editorializing from a Dickensian narrator, this story delights from cover to cover. The political intrigue never fails to surprise, each character is layered and compelling, and there’s a perfect balance between science-fiction action and fairy-tale fantasy. \u003cb\u003eDo not, under any circumstances, miss out on this\u003c\/b\u003e.\" —\u003ci\u003eKirkus\u003c\/i\u003e (starred review)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Eason adds a feminist modern twist to fairy tale and sf tropes while presenting an intergalactic adventure that enthralls in its own right, striking that ideal balance between original and familiar.... A delightful start to what promises to be \u003cb\u003ea smart, unique series\u003c\/b\u003e.\" —\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e (starred review)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"\u003cb\u003eBeautifully layered, endlessly entertaining\u003c\/b\u003e....  Using a mixture of hacking skills and hexes, political maneuvering, martial arts, and flirting, Rory manages to destroy the multiverse and control her own fate. How she gets there is a journey well worth the read. Exquisitely written with complex characters, sardonic wit, and immersive worldbuilding. Highly recommended.\" —\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e (starred review)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"\u003cb\u003eJoyfully, delightfully amazing\u003c\/b\u003e.... Definitely one of my favorite books of the year thus far.\" —The Roarbots\u003cb\u003eK. Eason\u003c\/b\u003e lives with her husband and a trio of disreputable cats in Southern California, where she teaches first-year college students about zombies and food (not at the same time!). Her short fiction has appeared in \u003ci\u003eCabinet-des-Fées\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003ePostcards from Hell: The First Thirteen\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eJabberwocky 4\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eCrossed Genres\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eKaleidotrope\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eInk: Queer Sci Fi Anthology\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eShapers of Worlds: Volume III\u003c\/i\u003e. She has written the On the Bones of Gods trilogy, The Thorne Chronicles, and The Weep duology, the second book of which, \u003ci\u003eNightwatch over Windscar\u003c\/i\u003e, is forthcoming from DAW Books in November 2022. When she's not writing or commenting on essays, she's probably playing D\u0026amp;D.\u003cp\u003eCHAPTER ONE\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe scream sneaked into a gap between a barful of shouted intimate conversations and the Kreeshan Blue cover band. Iari almost missed it. Thought she imagined it. Voidspit band with its two stringy alwar-sibs, guess that by their matching noses, howling like they were on fire-and a wild-haired tenju wrestling with an auto-harp. The auto-harp appeared to be winning. It was a big harp.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThen she heard it again. Or thought she did. Or her ears were ringing. She pitched forward onto her elbows and aimed her voice across the table. \"You hear screaming?\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGaer snorted. Long nostrils clamped almost shut, accompanied by a gusty blast of vakari disapproval that Iari couldn't hear. \"They are terrible,\" he said, eyes stabbing the alwar. \"But he's got talent. The tusky one.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Not a joke.\" Iari shoved her chair back, shoved herself halfway to standing. She strained neck and shoulders to catch an eyeful of the door, which was open to the street-to the alley, really-spilling watery yellow light (not unlike the beer) onto waterslick black pavement. One of the bouncers was frowning, staring into the night, with her head tilted, like, yes, she'd heard something.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNot that she'd stuck a toe out to investigate, though, and why would she? Not her job, to go stomping around B-town at night looking for trouble.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTechnically it was not Iari's job, either. B-town had (civilian) peacekeepers to handle local disturbances. A templar handled Aedian business, Confederate business. And Iari was off duty, in any case. This was time she should've been up in her room, out of the armor, reading, petting a cat (Tinycat, Tatter, maybe Ghost if he'd bothered to stay in). No, here she was, drinking good beer and listening to bad music with the Five Tribes ambassador while someone had an emergency.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIari took one last, regretful swallow of the former and heaved herself fully vertical. Now she drew attention, less for her height and breadth-big, but not outside normal parameters for a tenju-than for the templar armor. This wasn't a real battle-rig, was barely armor at all: no shield, no helmet, no gauntlets, no slagging axe.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIari looked down at Gaer. Only time she could, when he was sitting; vakari were tall. The pigmentation on his cheeks shimmered in the dim overhead lights, bands of happy cerulean against the charcoal dark of his hide. The optic clamped to the bone-and-scale ridges over his left eye caught the light just so and flared an opaque, defiant cyan.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGaer's jaw-plates flared. Flattened. \"You're going to investigate.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Yeah. You can stay here.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis gaze flickered around the pub, gathering up the stares, gauging the attitudes. Reading auras, if she knew him, which she did. He clenched a smile at her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Setat. No, I can't.\" His rise was a more graceful unfolding, vakari legs made longer with that extra central joint.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHeads turned.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTruth was, she'd worn the uniform tonight for this reason (besides feeling naked without it). She was one templar, sure, barely armored at all; but the Aedian crest on the chestplate made people-eh, not think, maybe, but at least stop before they did something stupid. It'd been a generation since the Accords with the vakari Protectorate, and anyway, Gaer was Five Tribes, from the friendly side of the vakari front. There shouldn't be trouble at all, and he shouldn't need her, or any templar, playing escort.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut truth, come on, he was one vakar on a tenju seedworld in the galactic hinterlands. Might as well float a holo-target over his head, walk around saying express your prejudice here.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIari put her hand on her own jacta-to make sure no one else grabbed it, because no way she'd fire a weapon in here-and broke a trail through the bar. Another advantage of that armor: people moved for her, too. Expressions shifted: curiosity for a templar (where was she going?), devolving into a twist of distaste for Gaer (oh Elements, is that a vakar? Really?). A little fear, for her or for Gaer (maybe both). At least one wet-eyed admirer of the Aedis.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd then out, finally, past the bouncer, into a late autumn night wet with late autumn rain.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe couldn't hear any screaming now. Just the gush of full gutters, and the soundbleed out of the club following them into the puddles.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGaer tilted his head one way, then the other. Rain beaded on the long ridges running from his jawline along the length of his skull. Vakari ears were somewhere under that bone.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"You know, if you wanted to leave, you could've just said.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Told you, I heard something.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe kicked into a jog. Slipped in a slick of Ptah-knew-what at the corner, caught herself in the next stride. It was all empty streets out here, but a few streets away, there was a glow on the low-slung clouds that didn't look like streetlamp teslas. Looked almost looked like the flicker of a housefire, but the color was wrong. Fire was orange. This . . . was white. Blue. Looked cold, but Iari knew better.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePtah had many facets, all of the Elements did. The fire that warmed also burned; the plasma that powered the voidships and made the stars could also liquefy metal and sublimate flesh. And when you took that plasma and bound it with arithmantic hexes and shoved it into a weapon, you got whitefire, which didn't stop for rain or void, burned blue, and was entirely illegal except for templars and Confederate troops and very special permits.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe size of the glow and the brightness (and experience with both) told Iari its origin was maybe a block ahead, sharp right at the corner, and they were rapidly covering that distance. Probably where the screams had come from. No. Definitely.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGaer pulled up beside her, those long vakari legs finding a path over puddles. \"That's whitefire.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Yeah. I know.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"There are peacekeepers to handle this.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"People down here don't always call. PKs won't always answer. You're armed, right?\" She knew he was. Treaty-legal monofil and sidearm jacta fully visible, where treaty said they should be. Arithmancy, less visible, more dangerous.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Sss.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Take that as yes. Stay behind me.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIari wished for her shield and her helmet and her axe, and then charged the rest of the way up the street: into the acrid breeze and the whitefire glow.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNo one was shooting now. Someone had been, with a whitefire projectile; there were hotspots on the walls where stone still glowed. Big holes. Big weapon. This was an old part of the city, where they used Chaama's bones for building. Everything since the Accords was plascrete and polysteel, hexed against arson and accident.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHexes might not stop whitefire. Not much did.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA single lump of something burned in the street. Pavement had softened around it, cupping what appeared to be part of an . . . arm, maybe. A very small arm.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was hard to see much detail in full night, without moons or stars or much more illumination than the tesla street lights. Gaer would see more, with that optic. Gaer would see, oh, all manner of things with it. Hexes. Glyphs. Maybe an aura, if the arm hadn't been too long detached.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhat she could see was a conspicuously empty street, and doors conspicuously shut. Every window shuttered. It was that kind of neighborhood.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOne exception: the house right there, that had no door. Windows smashed out. Most of the front wall spilled into the street where whatever had done for the front door had taken part of the building with it. Probably the origin of the arm.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"We are very much being observed,\" Gaer said calmly, clearly. \"Every setatir window.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Copy that.\" Iari dragged her handcomm from its pouch behind her chestplate. A battle-rig kept its comms in the helmet. Blessed Four, she looked like a civ making a call, except her handcomm linked straight to Dispatch with a murmured command.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Dispatch, got a situation. One person down, presumed dead in Midtown. Looks like there might be a whitefire weapon involved. I'm on site with the Five Tribes ambassador. Please advise. Over.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDispatch said nothing. Iari guessed the comms were out again. The quantum hexes had been skiffy since the Weep, some explanation involving dimensional rifts and dense arithmantic theory. Knight-Marshal Tobin had a report, scrolled thick as Iari's forearm, about why long-range comms couldn't be trusted. He used it to prop his window open on nice days for a breeze. Said he might hear his templars calling for backup that way. Truth was, comms usually did fine over short distances unless there was Brood around.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhich there were not, in the middle of B-town. Not if there was anyone left alive in the neighborhood.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGaer made one of those little hisses and pointed at a wedge of fallen wall. \"Your screamer's back there, I think. Down to heavy breathing. You could go coax them out.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOh, ungentle Ptah. Almost her whole life spent in the Aedis, first as war-orphan, then templar. What hadn't been either of those had been spent in the army. She wasn't good with civilians. Wasn't good with panic.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOr people, Gaer would have said. She flicked a glance at him, where he squatted beside the corpse and made long-fingered gestures that were probably arithmancy and might be just show for the watchers in the windows. He was an ambassador. He could talk down a panicky civ.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOr make it worse, being a vakar.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIari hung the jacta back on her hip-scared civs were afraid of weapons, right? right-and pitched her voice toward the tumbled wall.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Hey. You, hiding back there. You hurt?\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe waited a beat, then went around the edge of the wall, left forearm raised as if she had a shield gauntlet ready to deploy. The person back there might have a rock, a stick, something.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe person had none of those things. Did have a pair of wide eyes, moon round and moon pale, match to the nimbus of wispy hair fluffing off a very small, round head.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eElements defend. A wichu. In this neighborhood.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"My name's Lieutenant Iari. I'm a templar.\" That should be slagging obvious, with the chestplate, but panic made people stupid.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe wichu blinked. Kinda unnerving, the whole monochromatic eyeball thing. Impossible to tell where the attention was.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Lieutenant,\" the wichu-she? he? maybe one of the other genders-said in unaccented Comspek. Hoarsely. They, she, he, whatever, pushed carefully upright, using what remained of the wall for balance. \"No, no. I'm not hurt.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"You have a name?\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Yinal'i'ljat.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTwo glottal stops: that meant a female. \"You want to say what happened? Did you see who did this?\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGaer made a noise from behind her. One of those gravel-click-in-the-throat vakari laughs. Meant the opposite of funny, and also that Gaer had thought of a cleverness he really wanted to say out loud, and would not, being a diplomat. The wichu stared at Iari like drowning people cling to shipwrecks. \"I-there was a riev. I came to see my cousin, Pinjat, and there was a riev inside, and it killed him. Then it ran out, and I thought it was going to kill me, but it didn't. People were screaming and running and I just hid.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"A riev?\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLeave off the obvious objection: riev didn't kill wichu. If Pinjat had been a Protectorate vakar thirty years ago, okay, maybe; but the wichu had artificed the riev to be shock troops for the Confederation. There were safeguards, both hexed and hardwired, that made riev as reliable as sunrise (more reliable, in systems too close to the Weep). They didn't just go . . . doing this. Any of it.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYinal'i'ljat sniffed. \"You don't believe me.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Didn't say that.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"But you don't.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Not my job, rendering judgment.\" Not her job, playing local PK, either. Murders were out of her jurisdiction. Templars belonged to the Aedis, and the Aedis defended the Confederation against its enemies, external or internal or interdimensional. Since the Accords, when the Protectorate vakari took themselves off that list, the Aedis only worried about Brood surges.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eRiev murders, though, were impossible. That might just qualify as templar jurisdiction.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIari prodded her handcomm. This time it clicked, very faintly. She felt the hexes try to engage, felt them fizzle.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eKnight-Marshal Tobin would say, use your judgment, Lieutenant. He would mean, Damn right, get involved.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Yinal'i'ljat.\" Her tongue tripped only a little bit. \"Any idea why a riev would go after your cousin?\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe wichu pinched a smile. Tiny little pearls for teeth. \"My cousin is-was-an artificer during the Expansion, Lieutenant.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA lot of wichu had been. That was no revelation.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"He worked on riev maintenance.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAh. Well.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"That's why the riev came to him. They have, you know, problems sometimes. Need repairs.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"You also an artificer?\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Me? No. I'm a linguist. I'm visiting from Windscar.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"That's a long way for a visit.\" Not inexpensive, either: a half-day by aethership. \"Fond of your cousin?\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"I am. I was.\" The wichu clasped her hands together, stiff-armed, and stared down at them. She might've sniffled.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOh, ungentle Ptah.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Did you see what happened?\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Not exactly. I was coming down the street. I heard noises coming from the house, so I started running, and then there was this flash-\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"What kind of noises?\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Ah.\" Yinal'i'ljat blinked. It was like watching two moons go through a sudden, simultaneous eclipse. \"Banging. Crashing. Then I saw the riev run out of the house. It dropped something, and-\" She was ramping up again. Mouth working. Eyes all moist and panicky. \"I saw it was an arm and-\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"All right.\" Iari made what she hoped was a calm-down gesture. She could hear Gaer approaching. Deliberate boot-scuff, so she could track him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe saw the glint of his optic reflected in the wichu's eyes. \"Lieutenant. The arm belonged to a wichu.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYinal'i'ljat made a tiny sound, like she had no air left in her lungs. Another small sound, this one an inhale. Her eyes got even wider, which Iari wouldn't have guessed was possible. \"That's a vakar.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIari grimaced. \"Ambassador Gaer i'vakat'i Tarsik. This is-\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Yinal'i'ljat. Yes. I heard.\" Gaer bowed, very slightly, and bared a smile. Vakari teeth were etched and dyed with tribe, mothers, local district. Gaer's dye was blue, ranging from cerulean to cyan and all of it black in this light. He'd tried to teach her to read the code once. Lost her at the incisors.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYinal'i'ljat appeared to be fascinated. Wide-eyed, anyway, though that might be her standard expression.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Ambassador,\" she said, and followed his name with a stream of chopped-up Sisstish syllables that sounded a lot like her cousin's house looked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYinal'i'ljat had said she was a linguist. Right.\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"DAW","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304456147173,"sku":"NP9780756418496","price":18.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780756418496.jpg?v=1767733742","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/nightwatch-on-the-hinterlands-isbn-9780756418496","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}