“Your artist is a master,” I said.

“Artists. The art of making these masks isn’t purely a Darre thing. The Mencheyev make them, too, and the Tok — and all of our lands got the seed of it from a race called the Ginij. You may remember them.”

I did. It had been a standard Arameri extermination. Zhakkarn, via her many selves, had hunted down every last mortal of the race. Kurue erased all mention of them from books, scrolls, stories, and songs, attributing their accomplishments to others. And I? I had set the whole thing in motion by tricking the Ginij king into offending the Arameri so that they had a pretext to attack.

She nodded. “They called this art dimyi. I don’t know what the word means in their tongue. We call it dimming.” She shifted to Senmite to make the pun. The word was meaningless in itself, though its root suggested the mask’s purpose: to diminish its wearer, reduce them to nothing more than the archetype that the mask represented.

And if that="0he pun. Th archetype was Death … I thought of Nevra and Criscina Arameri, and understood.

“It started as a joke,” she continued, “but over time the word has stuck. We lost many of the Ginij techniques when they were destroyed, but I think our dimmers — the artists who make the masks — have done a good job of making up the difference.”

I nodded, still staring at Childhood. “There are many of these artists?”

“Enough.” She shrugged. Not wholly forthcoming, then.

“Perhaps you should call these artists assassins instead.” I turned to look at Usein as I said this.

Usein regarded me steadily. “If I wanted to kill Arameri,” she said, slowly and precisely, “I wouldn’t kill just one, or even a few. And I wouldn’t take my time about it.”

She wasn’t lying. I lowered my hands and frowned, trying to understand. How could she not be lying? “But you can do magic with these things.” I nodded toward Childhood. “Somehow.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t know these people you work for, Lord Sieh. I don’t know your aims. Why should I share my secrets with you?”

“We can make it worth your while.”

The look she threw me was scornful. I had to admit, it had been a bit clichéd.

“There is nothing you can offer me,” she said, getting to her feet with pregnant-woman awkwardness. “Nothing I want or need from anyone, god or mortal —”

“Usein.”

A man’s voice. I turned, startled. The gallery’s open doorway framed a man, standing between the flickering torch sconces. How long had he been there? My sense of the world was fading already. I thought at first it was a trick of the light that he seemed to waver; then I realized what I was seeing: a godling, in the last stages of configuring his form for the mortal realm. But when his face had taken its final shape —

I blinked. Frowned.

He stepped farther into the light. The features he’d chosen certainly hadn’t been meant to help him blend in. He was short, about my height. Brown skin, brown eyes, deep brown lips — these were the only things about him that fit any mortal mold. The rest was a jumble. Teman sharpfolds with orangey red islander hair and high, angular High Northern cheekbones. Was he an idiot? None of those things fit together. Just because we could look like anything didn’t mean we should.

But that was not the biggest problem.

“Hail, Brother,” I said uncertainly.

“Do you know me?” He stopped, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“No …” I licked my lips, confused by the niggling sense that I did know him, somehow. His face was unfamiliar, but that meant nothing; none of us took l r

Then I remembered. The dream I’d had a few nights before. I’d forgotten it thanks to Shahar’s betrayal. Are you afraid? he’d asked me.

“Yes,” I amended, and he inclined his head.

Usein folded her arms. “Why are you here, Kahl?”

Kahl. The name wasn’t familiar, either.

“I won’t be staying long, Usein. I came only to suggest that you show Sieh the most interesting of your masks, since he’s so curious.” His eyes never left mine as he spoke to her.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a muscle in Usein’s jaw flex. “That mask isn’t complete.”

“He asked you how far you were willing to go. Let him see.”

She shook her head sharply. “How far you are willing to go, Kahl. We have nothing to do with your schemes.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it nothing, Usein. Your people were eager enough for my help when I offered it, and some of you likely guessed what that help would cost. I never deceived you. You were the one who chose to renege on our agreement.”