In her absence from the Islands of her birth, Valve gave much thought to the future. With Maslakhat as her traveling companion for the past two years, she and him developed a balance that kept the world from tilting too far. Güneş ve Ay. With Yusuf presumed dead, they were the last of their bloodline and there was something intimate about the awareness of their own mortality.

Valve was no longer a young mare, and yet her age somehow made her seem even more abominable. Not many of her kind had killed in cold blood, as she had. More terrifying still, her actions did not haunt her. When she stuck down the blind seer, the black mare felt only a sense of finality. Most she knew believed in some sort of afterlife, yet Valve did not cloud her mind with such delusions. The gods created the world they knew, yes, and they alone inhabited the next world. How foolish would it be for mere mortals to believe that they were worthy of walking among them? Their hubris weakens them, she thinks, and then she hears her name aloud.

Gabbar had always been talkative, but this quality served her well in the past so she would not admonish him for it. The more she listened to the words of others the more leverage she possessed over them; the more information she had to do with what she pleased.

“Yes,” she confirmed quietly, lending Gabbar the satisfaction of truth. It was good to see him again too.

As the moment settled like grains of sand after their arrival, Valve spoke again, interested in hearing more.

“Tell me, Gabbar. How have our Dunes fared under your protection?”

VALVE
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