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He looks at the priest, at the veil. The fingers of his free hand twitch. How easy it would be, to reach out and lift it.

When Xan hears a scream, he is startled for a moment to think that perhaps he has done so. But the scream is not from Jemel and the veil is not lifted.

Xan turns, jumping back from Jemel, the sounds came from behind him. He puts his body between Jemel and whatever made that sound — as a wild looking woman comes racing out of some of the dense greenery. She is yelling the word demon. In Plumian. A dagger flashes in her hand.

She swerves Xan, heading straight for Jemel. Xan hears the priest cry out. Xan whirls and grabs hold of her, turning her around and bringing her down. She lands on her back on the ground, Xan dropping to pin her. He’s breathing heavy as he looks back over his shoulder to Jemel. Jemel is sitting staring at him. The dagger is sunk into his thigh, blood blooms on his robes.

He looks back to the woman under him. She is young. Slight with dark skin. Her black eyes are big and wild. “You are her,” Xan says in Plumian. “Embel. Pershel’s servant. You did not hide the dagger in the garden. You hid in the garden.”

Is he really so bad at reading Plumian glyphs? I hid it in the garden. I hid in the garden. They’d almost be the same.

The woman says nothing. She just stares up at Xan.

“You have been hiding down here. In this magic soaked place for moons?” How long did Jemel say it had been since the Zai Mother died? Over a year’s turn. He looks into the woman’s wild staring eyes. Her mind is half broken. How could it not be? After so long here in the dark. What could she be so afraid of?

“Plumian,” the woman says, voice raspy. “You are with the demon.”

“What? What demon?”

The woman spits up at Xan and says, “Pershel told me. The demon king is coming. She read the writings. Ancient writings in ancient books. He will claim a vessel. It could be any man. Any man could be that demon. I hide here to be safe. I kill any man who comes here with her own sacred blade.”

Xan looks at her. Poor scared thing. But he is aware of Jemel, lying injured behind him. Tightly he says, “You are a Plumian, and that is the only thing that saves you now. You know I am of the same blood.”

Embel stares up at him.

“I am Xan, versun of Pluma, envoy to Azuria. I will let you go but I charge you as your kinsman. You will leave this place. Do you know these hidden passages? A way out.”

“You?” the woman says, “you are a versun?”

“I am.”

“If you are versun, then why should I do as you command?” she says.

“Xan,” Jemel says behind him. His voice sounds weak. Xan does not have time for this. If she believes Jemel to be a demon, then he must use that. He says, “There is a Plumian ship at the docks. Mother of Men. You must leave this place and go there. They will protect you. I will deal with the demon, but you cannot remain here. A demon has found this place. It is not safe.”

She starts to fight again. So hard that Xan thinks he will be unable to hold her down without hurting her.

So he doesn’t. He shifts. Letting her up. She slides out from under his body and flees from the garden. “Go to my ship,” he shouts after her.

Dreading what he will find behind him, Xan stands and turns back to the priest. He’s lying on the ground. The dagger is still stuck in his thigh. He is holding the wound with both hands, blood covers them. For a moment, Xan just stares at him. Could he be a demon? The demon Embel spoke of. Is that why he veils his face?

“Xan?” Jemel says weakly.

Xan checks himself at the sound of the soft voice. He has been in enough battles to know when he needs to put questions aside and act.

He has crossed to Jemel before he has even given it thought. He crouches and reaches out, pushing Jemel’s hands out of the way so he can take the hilt of the dagger. He pulls it free. Jemel cries out in pain and shock, but Xan is more concerned by the blood, coming more quickly from the wound now the blade is out, soaking through the fabric of Jemel’s robes. Xan expected that but it still demands fast action.

He pushes up the robes. Jemel sobs, “No,” as Xan bares the priest’s thin, pale thighs.

“Quiet, priest. I must see to this.”

The wound is a tear about two thumb widths in length. A dagger going in and ripping out. Its size and depth are not as concerning as the place. High on Jemel’s thigh.

He needs something to stop the blood. A leather cord, a rope, even some thin fabric would do.

“I need to…” Xan reaches up and pulls Jemel’s veil off. Looking away as he does so.

Jemel claps both his bloody hands over his face with a cry.