The staff swung out of nowhere and hit Tsu in the face.
"Ow!" She dropped her own staff and staggered backwards. The girl she'd been fighting clapped her hands over her mouth.
"Oh gods - Tsu - I'm so sorry - I didn't mean-"
"No, you did well," Tsu spat out the blood and forced a smile. "That was very…painful."
She looked around and swore under her breath. All along the tiny beach, the entire class was staring.
"See that, girls?" Masa, the warrior-mistress, pointed. "A novice can beat an experienced fighter if she lets her guard down. Suki would have killed Tsu in a real battle situation."
Masa loved reminding them about real battle situations. Since the last invasion of the Islands had been over a century ago, courtesy of the Octan army, the chances of them ever seeing a real battle situation were slim. Besides, Tsu thought as she wiped her mouth, this felt real enough.
"Suki, pair up with Nuala," she said. "I'll just go and sort this out."
She went to the edge of the sea, crouched down and splashed some water over her face. She wasn't angry with Suki. If anything, she was a little proud. Anyway, being beaten by someone three years younger than you didn't feel as bad when they had two heads' height advantage. Tsu had barely grown since the age of eleven, and she wasn't above exploiting the fact.
Yes, Suki had done well. It was her own fault her mouth was bleeding. She just hadn't been able to concentrate lately.
Tsu stared down at her reflection. Apart from her split lip, nothing had changed. Still the same heart-shaped face, still the same warm brown eyes, still the same complicated cornrows and the same knowing smile. Still the same old Tsunami. So what, then? Was everything else different?
Angrily, she shook her head. Being hit in the mouth should be enough of a warning. She was too busy to start thinking about all that again.
Half an hour later, when the lesson ended and the girls drifted back towards the village, Masa caught Tsu's arm. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'll just put some ointment on it."
"I didn't mean that."
"I know."
The older woman squeezed her shoulder and walked away. Tsu watched her go, then turned and began to wander along the beach, kicking at the sand. It was a perfect day. The sun poured down in a steady stream, washing across her face and shoulder and down her arms. The sand was hot under her feet the sky above was flawlessly blue, the sea glittered all around.
This was where she'd been born, where she'd grown up; Nhintyi, one of the eight Firebound Islands, a tiny cluster of volcano-spit in the middle of the ocean. The Islands were remote, and the community very close-knit. Everyone knew everyone else. The Islanders were good people; cheerful, tough, loving. They were Tsu's family, and she was proud to be one of them. They were also driving her slowly insane. In all her seventeen years, the only new people she'd met had been screaming babies. She'd never been more than ten miles away from this spot.
It wasn't that she was bored, exactly. She didn't have time. If she wasn't helping Masa with lessons, she was being taught herself. If she wasn't learning, there were nets to mend, messages to deliver, children to watch, meals to cook and men to order about. Even when the day was over and the village was sitting around the campfire, someone would always ask for one of her stories. Not that she objected, but she was beginning to understand why every fairytale happened in a kingdom far far away. Home was home, but you'd heard it already.
And it wasn't as if no-one ever left. In Tsu's lifetime alone, three people had hitched rides on trade ships to exotic places like Terrane or the Lowlands. They always came back. There was no reason why she shouldn't do the same, as she'd told her father this morning. His expression still hurt like…well, like a quarterstaff to the face.
"Dreaming again?"
Tsu blinked and looked up. She'd reached the fishing boats. Omar, Masa's eldest son, was mending a net under the shade of a palm tree.
"Very picturesque."
"I try," He gave her a dazzling smile. Tsu grinned and sat down.
"Good day?"
"Not bad," Omar looked at her. "I heard you lost to Suki."
"You know, for once I'd like to get to you before the gossip does," said Tsu. "What else did you hear?"
"That you asked your dad."
"What did he say?"
Omar paused. "You already know."
"I know I know, but I'd like to know what you know."
"What?"
"Forget it," Tsu put her hands behind her head and sighed. "He's going to do everything in his power to stop me going, anyway, so you're winning for now."
"Don't be like that."
"You don't want me to go, do you?"
"Of course I don't," Omar said patiently. But you will anyway. This island isn't big enough for you."
"I'm not even five feet tall."
"You know what I mean. Your thoughts are too big. It'll drive you mad if you stay."
Tsu snuggled against his shoulder. "You're much cleverer than usual."
"Watch it," Omar grinned. "I know you, Tsu. You never used to daydream quite this much, or argue with your dad. You're getting restless. It happens."
He was so…honest. There was no other word for it. Omar saw the simple answers to everything, and although he knew that simple didn't always mean easy, that didn't seem to matter. If she wanted to go, then, as far as he was concerned, she should go. How much he would miss her wasn't important.
She slipped an arm around his waist. "Do you worry that I won't come back?"
"Yes."
"And?"
Omar shrugged. "I think about something else."
"You really believe I'd do that?"
"Why not? You never leave anything undone. How are you ever going to finish anything?"
Tsu put a hand on his forehead. "You know, I think you've caught the sun…"
"Stop that."
She poked him in the side. "Stop what? This?"
"Yes, that."
"Make me."
Omar chuckled. "I might have caught the sun, but I'm not crazy."
"I wouldn't hurt you," She pinched his ear. "Not enough to show…"
"Leave him alone, Tsu," someone called from a nearby house. Tsu and Omar froze.
"Gods, what I wouldn't give to live somewhere large and unfriendly," Tsu muttered.
"Want to go for a sail?"
"Anything."
Thanks to a lifetime of practice, it only took them a few minutes to get the boat ready. "Your dad'll get used to the idea," said Omar as they pushed it towards the water. "Give him time."
"Give my dad time and he'll use it to sulk."
"He can't sulk forever."
"Don't underestimate him. He's still cross about you."
"Really?"
"Haven't you noticed him scowling at you?"
"I thought he just looked like that."
Tsu trailed her hand in the water as Omar steered around the southern part of Nhintyi. Sailing always reminded her how small the Islands were. The beaches of Kaiis and Surai were literally a stone's throw away. If she shouted hello, at least a dozen people would reply.
"I'll miss you, though," Omar said eventually.
" 'Course you will. I'm the only ray of sunshine in your empty little life."
"Careful, your ego might sink us."
"If this boat can carry you, my ego shouldn't be a problem," said Tsu. "Where did you learn that word, anyway?"
"Probably from you."
"Sounds like I'm getting to be a bad influence."
She waved at the people on the nearest beach. Something about what Omar had said had unsettled her. He'd been too honest. She hadn't admitted it to herself, but she was as afraid as he was that she wouldn't come back. She wanted to, but plans made here in the Islands might not be so foolproof when she reached the mainland.
He was acting strangely, too. Maybe he minded more than he was telling. A year was a long time. Maybe he thought she'd meet someone else.
"Gods, how much further?" she exclaimed. The Islands were well behind them. They were heading out to sea.
"Not far now."
"Where are we going, Octa?"
"Funny you should say that…" Omar let go of the tiller and reached for the oars.
"Omar, what's going on?"
He shrugged. "I'm not myself today."
"Yeah, I can see that."
"Not yet, you can't," He smiled a sharp, strange smile that Tsu had never seen before. "See, Tsu, I was being ironic."
Tsu looked at him and went cold.
Omar's skin was paling from deep brown to bone white. His eyes darkened, his hair unwound and slithered down to brush the tips of his ears. The bones under his skin rippled, his cheeks hollowed, his lips thinned and his nose clawed outwards into a hook. He was still smiling.
"Now you see," he said, and swung the oar. Tsu barely had time to blink before he knocked her out.

Golden sunlight slid down the golden columns that edged the courtyard, washing across the golden flagstones and gleaming in the golden skin, hair and eyes of the guests. Rift di Finri gulped down his wine and scowled. At times like this, being flayed alive had a certain appeal.
The dinner was going like every other Golden Octan social gathering. The richest, most powerful people in the country met, wearing their most expensive clothes and jewels, for a meal even more extravagant than the last. Now, over the fourth course - roast swan, probably hand-fed on corn by temple virgins, slaughtered with a jewel-encrusted axe and served with a sauce made of unicorn breath and onions gathered by the light of the new moon - the Goldens talked, laughed, gossiped and backstabbed. All with absolute decency and taste, naturally.
Rift hated these dinners, or dances, or parties, or anything that involved spending time with people of his own class. The food was all right, but the conversation made him sick.
"What those damn-fool anarchists don't understand," the Low Senator was telling Rift's father "is that we have a state-funded education system. All our sons were taught on taxpayers' money."
"Indeed," said Junipus di Finri in a flat voice.
"And why on earth do the lower classes need schooling, that's what I want to know? You don't need any learning to build a wall, so far as I can see, you just build the damn thing," di Latti rambled on. "I don't want to hear my footman quoting poetry at me, for gods' sakes."
His father was in a foul mood, something that cheered Rift up immensely. The Emperor and the High Senator di Madici had turned down their invitations, claiming that the current social unrest in Octa left them no time for idle amusement (their words). This did nothing for Junipus' temper. Rift could tell that his father would have snapped had protocol not demanded that he treat his guests with the utmost courtesy.
Protocol demanded, and Octa complied. Rift wished it didn't. According to protocol, he had to sit near the head of the table with his father and his older brother Matrius. This meant he was stuck with the politicians and their sons, in the middle of conversations either so boring he could have fallen asleep or so infuriating that it was only Junipus' constant presence that made him keep his mouth shut. There was no escape to the other side, either - to his left sat his mother Fiella, who was smiling blandly and playing with her food.
"Besides, you'd think they'd see it as an investment," di Latti added. "They're bred to work, we're bred to rule. I'd far sooner trust Matrius' judgement than any of those Amber plebs."
Rift couldn't hold back his snort of laughter. Matrius' education had cost more than the new viaduct, and he still hadn't read beyond the title page of Niccolus' Statesmanship. Matrius liked hunting, fishing and going for long walks with his dogs, and anything else that didn't involve too much thinking. No amount of education could twist his placid mind into the kind a politician needed.
Junipus looked at him. Suddenly it didn't seem so amusing. "Sorry," Rift said, holding up his glass. "Went down the wrong way."
"You should be more careful, Rift," His older sister Tianchi leaned around their mother, smiling. "You might choke to death."
Rift glared at her and downed his wine. One of the servants, a plump, pretty girl wearing a hideous tunic in the di Finri colours of silver and blue, came over with a decanter.
"More wine, my Lord?"
"Please," Rift held out his glass.
Solly leaned forward to pour the wine. "Temple after dinner," she whispered. "And for gods' sakes don't get drunk."
"Thank you," Rift said loudly. The other Goldens exchanged glances of faint disgust. One didn't talk to the help.
The conversation turned back to the state of the lower classes. "Of course, the Ambers are all very well for manual labour," Lord Flavius d'Incendi was saying. "And the Coppers are useful for paperwork and things. But none of them have the mental capacity to rule, it's as simple as that."
Seething, Rift stabbed at the slice of swan, which was nauseatingly perfect. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tianchi glance at Artus di Madici, who had come in his father's place. Rift had decided long ago that he could only be happy in the same room as Artus if the older boy arrived and left in a box. They'd been tutored together, along with the other Senators' sons. Tradition again. The founding fathers of Octa thought that school was the perfect training ground for the cut-throat world of politics. In Rift's opinion, it was the only time they'd been right.
Artus grinned. "I couldn't agree more, d'Incendi. Some people are born leaders, others are born followers. We're just lucky that in our country it's nicely colour-coded."
The men laughed, the women tittered, and Rift sat in silence, staring at his glass. He knew Tianchi was watching, with that smile sliding across her perfect little face. He knew she was wondering what he'd do. Well, she wasn't going to win, not this time. Solly wanted to talk to him.
"Didn't you read something to me the other day, Artus?" Tianchi prompted.
Artus looked blank. Tianchi gave him a girlish smile. "I can't remember who wrote it. Fleany? Bleany?"
"Ah, Pleany!" Artus said with relief. Rift rolled his eyes, but yet again, everyone else had swallowed it. After all, her question sounded perfectly reasonable. This was Octa. Gels didn't read.
"Let me see…what was he talking about?"
"Wasn't it the different social characteristics?" Tianchi pressed.
"Ah, yes. What was it…? 'The strength of the Octan Empire is founded on the solidity of its class system. Every man has his place and works solely for the good of society. The ruling class, Golden Octans, are distinguished by their golden skin, hair, eyes and their natural governing ability. Below them are the Copper Octans, who carry out administrative duties and are generally of a pale tan complexion with red-blond hair. The labouring class, Amber Octans, are the most numerous and can be identified by their straw-coloured hair and jaundiced skin'," He smiled at Rift. "I think it's a credit to our nation that that's as true today as it was five centuries ago."
"Hear hear," boomed the Low Senator. Rift gritted his teeth.
"Sometimes I feel so sorry for the barbarians," Tianchi twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "It must be horrid not knowing what you're meant to do. We've never had to worry about that, have we? Matrius knows he's going to be Middle Senator, just like Daddy…"
"You know you're going to marry whoever you're told to, just like Mummy," The words were out before Rift could stop himself.
Tianchi smiled. "And you know you're going into the army. You'll be just like Daddy too."
Rift had to bite his tongue to stop the first retort that came to mind.
"Aren't you so glad you know that, Rift?" Tianchi went on.
"Oh yes," Rift growled. "Overjoyed."
"Just think - if those revolutionaries are ever stupid enough to try anything, you might be commanding the legion that stops them. Won't that be exciting? You might actually be the one who gives the order to cut them to pieces-"
"What makes you think we'd win?"
Silence fell. The shockwaves of what he'd just said rolled to the end of the table, hushing every conversation, then swept back to hit Rift like a stone dropping. Too far. Line crossed.
"We're Octan, Rift," said Artus silkily. "We have the best army in the world."
"Made up of Amber Octans," Rift snapped. Now that he'd broken the rules he might as well make the most of it. "There are a hundred Ambers to every Golden in the city alone, and it's not just weight of numbers they've got on their side, is it? Goldens are always the cavalry, and since we've been fighting Eirasi you've been training the Ambers with spears and glaives. You've taken the people you've been oppressing for centuries and taught us the best way to kill people on horses!" He laughed darkly. "Born leaders? It's hard to lead when you can't turn your back on the people following you."
This time there wasn't a silence. No-one spoke, but Rift could still hear his own words hanging in the air.
He looked around. For a few terrible moments he thought he was going to laugh. Everyone was staring. Di Latti had paused with a fork halfway to his mouth. Artus was grinning like an idiot. Tianchi had hidden her face in her hands. To everyone but Rift she looked appalled.
Maybe there was some hope. Fiella had blinked around for a few seconds and then gone back to fiddling with her food. True, it took a lot to get his mother's attention, but if she hadn't noticed then maybe it wasn't as bad as he'd thought…
He looked at his father's face and any flicker of hope went out. It was bad.
"Get down," Junipus said quietly.
" 'Us'?" Artus drawled. "You're Golden too, Rift. Surely you mean 'them'?"
Before Rift could answer Junipus' chair screeched against the marble floor. The Middle Senator looked murderously at his younger son.
"I must apologise," he growled. "My son has clearly had too much to drink. He will leave immediately."
On the other side of the room, Solly put her head in her hands.
"I just-"
"Do as you are told!" Junipus hissed.
Slowly, Rift got up. His footsteps echoed around the courtyard as he headed towards the house. The whispers began, swelling into a murmur the further he got from the table.
"…obviously drunk. It's a curse in that family."
"…takes more than a little wine to give someone those kinds of ideas. I'd say he was on the dust, myself."
"Do you think so?"
"I'd heard he was…well…a liberal."
"Good gods!"
"I suppose it's only to be expected. Remember his uncle?"
"But surely Junipus would have stamped out something like that?"
"He tries, poor man, but there's only so much he can do. The boy talks to the servants, you know. Actually talks!"
Rift could feel his father's eyes burning into the back of his head as he opened the door.
He could just keep walking. He didn't have to stay.
Sighing, he headed for the temple.