Mera stared, blinking, chewing the news as if it were a huge mouthful of dry bread and no glassful of water in sight to wash it down. “What?” she whispered.

“What do you mean, Timos?” Tally asked, and the room fell into graveside quiet. He shrugged with helpless worry.

“Two years or so previous, Yanyan Gedall started grumbling,” he said. “He claimed the ranch wasn’t where he wanted to be anymore. Yanyan Redaun sent me a letter a couple semma later, concerned. He didn’t know what prickled his butt, but something stuck and stung. He wondered if a visit to me would help clear his head. I said sure, and he stayed for a semma. We went sailing and fishing, we hiked up to Harrow Peak. I thought it did some good, gave him time away from Tempest and the family. He seemed happy and more relaxed when he left.”

Mera continued to stare. “I asked after the vow ceremony because he was preoccupied, but he told me not to worry. I still did, because he wasn’t himself.”

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Tally asked, hands on hips, fire lighting her glare. “If you’d taken a letter to a Light temple and told them it was family business, we would have gotten it quick.”

“Yanyan Redaun didn’t want to worry you,” Timos said, wilting. “And truthfully, we thought he’d be back after a sail around the Windtwists. A lot of suburban locals joined up, did a stint, came back, and continued on with their everyday, refreshed. There was no reason to think Yanyan Gedall wouldn’t do the same. Two semma after he disappeared, the neighbors’ gossip claimed that a Wind Revenant ship docked at the Northern Docks, recruiting, and Yanyan Redaun paid a visit, planning to say a few words about wandering off like that and making us worry. No one onboard was from the Windtwists, and they’d never heard of Gedall. He didn’t like the look of them, so didn’t push.”

“But . . . they’re raiding ships,” Mera choked, emphasizing each word with a chop of her hand. “Is that why you were so concerned? That the one the greol sunk had him on board?”

“Yes, but I was worried about you too! I don’t want anything to happen to either my zaza or my yanyan.”

She clenched her hands, her head weaving back and forth. “That . . . that cracked brick!”

“We’re not even sure he boarded with them. His note said he was setting sail with the Revenants, that’s it, no specifics. I looked at the Windhaven and Respite ship logs on the day he disappeared, but there wasn’t a Revenant one listed. The lighthouses didn’t see one flying the flag for another two yilsemma, and it didn’t dock at the harbors but sailed around Little Light and down the shoreline. I nosed about, questioning beings who had taken a trip with them. They know I’m with the IBA, and assumed that’s why I was asking, so weren’t as truthful with me, but a couple mentioned the Ebon Scar.”

“Ebon Scar?” Tally asked. “What’s even there? Nothing but blackened rock.”

“I don’t know. They promise training to new recruits, and the Scar’s enough out of the way, Windhaven authorities won’t bother them if they set up there. But, well, I think they sail from the Scar to whichever island they call a base. Probably in the Wrecks.”

“And you didn’t tell us. Why not?”

“I did what Yanyan Redaun asked,” he said, defensive. “We didn’t want to worry you, if there was nothing to worry about. What’s the point in getting you upset, then he turns up next tide, sheepish and sorry?”

“Obviously there was something to worry about,” Tally seethed, swatting the air. “He wasn’t ambling around on a fishing boat!”

“When did he leave?” Katta asked, his soft voice breaking through the tense confrontation. Timos looked at him, relieved. Vantra thought that premature; the twins would not abandon their anger so readily. It zinged around the room, fiery enough no one wanted to interfere and transfer it to themselves.

“Three semma after Evie and Siv’s vows. I’m not sure about the exact date. You’ll have to ask Yanyan Redaun.”

“And no one told us,” Tally muttered. “Not you, not Redaun, or Gretchie, or Nareh—” She slapped her leg, producing a sharp crack. “His mother! You told her, right?”

“She visited the ranch for your mother’s birthday, and it was obvious her son wasn’t around.”

“But not us.”

“Ozrik said the Isles already knew they raided ships,” Mera seethed. “He knew. He still joined?”

“I know what Ozrik said, but the common folk didn’t see them as raiders because so many had gone on the re-enactment voyages.”

“And you?” She thumped his chest. “You knew who they were. Didn’t you say anything to him?”

“Yes, because, well, I was on an IBA boat that got attacked.” He ruffled the back of his neck. “And I took a break at the ranch afterwards. I . . . needed it. I lost friends.”

“So you told him, and he still joined, knowing they attacked his great-grandson’s ship?” Mera exploded.

Timos opened and closed his mouth in repetition, then shrugged helplessly. “The letter said he wanted to join, but we don’t have any evidence he actually did.”

Mera took his face between her palms, concern melding with her anger. “You didn’t tell us you were attacked, either. You’re OK, sweetie?”

“I’m OK, Zaza.” He covered her hands with his own. “I made it out with a few mental scars, that’s all.”

“That’s all? That’s plenty.” Mera tapped their foreheads together, stepped back, and slammed her fist into her thigh, her anger rushing back. “I’m radioing Redaun.”

“We are radioing Redaun,” Tally corrected, smacking her arm with the back of her hand. “Timos, we’re using your caster.”

“Whatever happens, we’ll be here for you.” Qira rolled onto his shoulder and looked blearily at them.

“We shouldn’t have woken you,” Tally fretted, guilt flashing across her face.

“Gedall disappearing is more important,” he told her. “The Light-blessed are with me, so you won’t have to worry about leaving me without guards. Find out what’s going on, report back.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m missing the afternoon events, so return here, tell us what you discovered.”

“Before you leave.” Katta held up a hand, and red-beaded necklaces appeared, dangling from his index and third fingers. The pendants were soft white sea cookies with a flower imprint, the ancient breeze symbols representing Weather etched in the center. “Take Nem Hala’s badge. The palace acolytes know about us, but the Bluewind Harbor watch doesn’t. These will waylay confrontations.”

Tally accepted them and handed one to Mera and another to Timos before settling hers around her neck. “It feels odd, wearing her favor,” she admitted.

“We’ll all be doing so, even me and Qira,” Katta said with a smile.

“Let’s go, before the Windwave Dance starts. We don’t want to disappoint Weather.” Timos nervously touched the cookie, and Vantra wondered what, exactly, he expected from the badge. The two Light acolytes triggered Ether Touch and soared through the ceiling; with a belated squawk, he followed.

“Qira, you were right,” Katta said softly, regarding his friend.

“Right?” Jare asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Evie and Siv invited us to the vow renewal, too. Mera asked us to bless it, which we did, and everyone seemed to have a good time—except Gedall. Qira thought something was off, but he didn’t mention it because we don’t know him as well as Mera and Tally do. But that visit, he was sullen.”

Qira sighed. “It struck me, because he, up to that point, was a jovial man with a sharp wit. He could get angry, but at extraneous things that would infuriate me, too, like the neighbors claiming the western stream even when the maps explicitly placed it on Redaun’s land. Mera immediately noticed something was wrong when she saw him, but he told her there was nothing to be concerned about.

“Everything about that day struck me as fake, though. A fake smile, fake congratulations, fake kindness. He was holding in anger so tight, he shut down.”

“Kjaelle thought he was upset that Mera refused the renewal ceremony,” Katta said.

Kjaelle raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “It seems plausible, since Evie and Stiv could not help but remind him and Redaun that their living wives had yet to recommit in the Evenacht.”

“Recommit?” Kenosera asked. “But Mera said they were married.”

“Bondings on Talis last through the living years, but there’s no expectation for them to continue in the afterlife,” Qira said, adjusting the blanket around his shoulders. “Some religions try to make living covenants last beyond the mortal body, but Death is insistent that everyone, no matter their status, has the opportunity for a fresh start. All commitments are null and void once you reach the Judgement.

“Some want the same bonds they had while alive. That means acolytes can renew their temple vows or a couple can recommit to their marriage. That’s what Evie and Siv did.” He hmphed. “I always caution against it, because too many living relationships, especially the ancient ones, ended up trapping both in unwanted arrangements. There’s no reason to continue the misery after death. But when you meet them, you’ll know recommitment is exactly what Evie and Siv wanted, and it’s good for them. And you’ll understand exactly why it isn’t for Mera and Gedall, and Tally and Redaun.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard them talk about their decision,” Katta said. “They raised children and grandchildren and lived to see great-grandchildren before they passed. They want something different in the afterlife. There’s nothing wrong with that. The evening lands are a promise, that ghosts can do in death what eluded them in life. In their case, it was to become warriors so they could protect Light.

“But that doesn’t mean their living spouses want the same thing. Initially, it was a shock to everyone but them, when they announced they would tour the Evenacht with Light when he was in residence. Qira thinks Gedall took the rejection harder than he admitted, even to himself.”

“Did he ask to renew vows?” Vantra asked quietly.

“No, because he knew what the answer would be,” Qira said. “That doesn’t mean he didn’t want a renewal, and resents the fact he will never get one.”

“So he joined the Wind Revenants to get back at her?”

The group blinked at Vantra, and she fought not to shrivel at their intensity.

“Maybe,” Katta murmured reluctantly. “But it seems an extreme way to do so. He’s risking a trip to the Fields by joining them, and he never struck me as someone who would chance it.”

“Speculation’s moot,” Qira said with a yawn. “We just don’t know enough about what happened to make assumptions.” He pulled the blanket up past his ear. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Get some rest,” Katta told him. “Light-blessed will stay as guards, and I’ll take everyone else down to the beach. When you’re ready, join us.”

“There better be some elfine leafcakes left,” he murmured, though Vantra did not think he realized what he said.