The five of us spent the next hour over plates filled with roast cavy and vegetables, catching up, and admiring the roses.

“I recruited Stef and Sarit’s help. I didn’t think you’d mind them wandering around the parlor.” Cris’s plate was empty, but he eyed mine, which was still half-full. He couldn’t still be growing, as tall as he was. Surely he couldn’t. But when I surrendered my leftovers, he seized them as though he hadn’t eaten in days.

“I don’t mind at all.” Sam grinned and found my hand under the table. “Stef lives here part-time anyway, and lately we have Sarit more often than not, too.”

“To be completely honest,” Sarit said, “I must admit that my increased presence since another musician moved in is not a coincidence.” She winked at me. “In fact, didn’t you miss your practice this morning? You should probably play for us now. Call it payment for all the work we did arranging these roses.”

Before I could come up with a response, her SED chirped and she excused herself, vanishing around the corner to the other end of the parlor. Cheerfulness drained from her tone as she spoke, and when she returned, she almost looked her age.

“That was Lidea. Someone smashed a window in Anid’s room. Lots of his things were taken. He wasn’t there, but the threat was clear. Lidea is a wreck, and Wend doesn’t know what to do.” She pressed her mouth in a line. “I’m not sure Wend is handling the stress well. Everyone he lost during Templedark, and now this? It isn’t the first time they’ve received threats, but it’s certainly the worst.”

I couldn’t think around the rushing in my head. Someone had tried to hurt Anid.

As much as I wanted to be shocked that anyone would do this…I knew how I’d grown up, how Li had always treated me, and how people still leered at me. They would keep trying to hurt Anid.

“This will only escalate,” I whispered, and everyone faced me.

“Ana, dear.” Stef’s tone turned comforting. “Lidea is strong. She’ll make sure Anid is safe. You shouldn’t worry about it.”

“No.” My voice broke as I lurched to my feet. “I must worry about it. Newsouls will keep coming, and they’ll all face this kind of hatred. If I don’t stand up for them, who will?”

“We all will,” Cris said. “We’re your friends. We want to help.”

Sam gazed at me, waiting. He looked proud, which made my heart flutter.

“I know what to do,” I said after a moment, and counted days in my head. Less than a week, but maybe… “I have an idea, but I need to speak to people. Tonight.”

Part of me was ready for them to try talking me out of it. A smaller part expected laughter and placation. But Stef’s expression grew serious, focused, and she pulled out her SED. “All right. Who do you want?”

Relief poured through me. “Trustworthy people. You guys. Lidea and Wend. Orrin and Whit. Armande.”

“What about Sine?” Cris asked.

I shook my head. “I think this would conflict with her office too much.” She’d been different toward me lately, anyway. Probably because she was the Speaker now and the Council pressured her more than ever, but her being the Council Speaker made the decision easier.

I listed off a few more people, and everyone was on their SEDs, sending messages. Warmth replaced the horror of Sarit’s announcement. I could do something. I might not be able to do anything for the souls inside the temple, but I would convince the Council that newsouls deserved to be treated like real people.

Even though I’d invited them, everyone’s arrival still surprised me.

Some, like Moriah and Lorin, were Sam’s friends who’d given me lessons in various subjects. But Whit and Orrin were my friends, and liked to tease me about how much time I spent in the library. More than a few times, they’d tried to convince me to become an archivist with them.

Lidea, Wend, and Anid arrived last, the baby bundled in a hundred blankets. Wend hauled a small nursery in a bag, shooting me a strange look as he followed Lidea inside.

Armande appropriated the kitchen to make coffee and tea, and after everyone had a turn cooing at Anid and admiring the roses, they settled on chairs, music benches, and the sofa, waiting to find out why I’d asked them here.

Well, there was no way I could see everyone from the floor, and Sam wouldn’t appreciate it if I stood on top of the piano. I climbed up the first few stairs, leaning my elbows on the rail so I could look at everyone.

From his place beside Stef, Sam gave me an encouraging smile. He made me feel strong.

I gathered my thoughts and cleared my throat, and everyone looked up. “I want to start by reminding you what happened the night Anid was born.

“It was, from what I understand, a normal rebirthing. Lots of people were present, hoping a friend would be reincarnated. But when the Soul Tellers announced Anid was new, everything changed. Some of you were there. You remember how people yelled, threatened him, even though he hadn’t done anything except be born.”

People nodded, and Lidea held Anid to her chest as though she relived those minutes, not knowing whether the crowd would hurt her child. Her eyes shone with tears, and Wend sat stiffly next to her, his expression hard.

“The fact is, more newsouls are going to be born, and there shouldn’t be a need to guard the birthing room. I know people are afraid of what this means, or angry that some souls aren’t coming back. Those both are perfectly reasonable reactions, but—”

I stopped myself before getting into the same discussion Sam and I had after the Council pulled him aside. I thought it was better that newsouls were being born—rather than no one being born—but for others, newsouls would be a constant reminder of Templedark and the souls who’d been lost.

“My point is—” I smoothed the shaking from my voice, needing to sound stronger. “Unless we do something, people will continue acting out against newsouls. I’m sure you’ve all heard Merton and his friends in the market field, yelling about me.”

“Anid, too,” Lorin added.

At least Merton had a reason to yell about me. The way sylph behaved around me was suspicious. But Anid hadn’t done anything.

“I want to tell you what it was like growing up. Not just because of Li”—people hissed at her name—“but being different, and understanding how different and hated I was before I could even speak. You need to understand what it means to be a newsoul: knowing everyone wishes you were the darksoul you replaced.”

Haltingly, I spoke about the previous Soul Night, now nearly a quindec ago. I tried not to pay attention to the winces and mutters as I recounted how the revelers had stared at me from across the campfire. I told them how I’d needed to teach myself to read and do chores. How I’d always known nothing I did was new or innovative; someone else had already accomplished it, or figured out a better way.

“It’s humiliating to be new. To be the only one.” My voice dipped low as I found Anid cradled in Lidea’s arms. “And now there are all these new people coming. They could be anything. Scientists, explorers, musicians, warriors. But they’re going to feel out of place and confused, always knowing what happened to allow them to have a life. They might feel guilty for something they had no control over. They might feel like a mistake.”

Sam tensed, his unease a silent reminder of all the times he urged me to know I wasn’t responsible for Ciana’s absence. But knowing didn’t mean it was easy to believe; the people who threw rocks at me knew I hadn’t done anything to Ciana. So did Merton, but he still ranted about me at every opportunity.

“I want to talk to people who are pregnant,” I said. “Any of them could give birth to a newsoul, and don’t you think most of them will want basic rights and protection for their children?” Surely they weren’t all like Li. Lidea wasn’t; she gave me hope. “I wasn’t even allowed into the city without a lot of bargaining with the Council and many of you agreeing to help. I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that kind of fight, just to be allowed to live with the rest of civilization.

“We need to make people understand that the newsoul they give birth to will—” My voice caught like I didn’t know how to say the word. Maybe I hadn’t until now. “Their child will love them no matter what. And they’ll need to be loved, too.”

Sam sat up straighter, this time at the word. It felt strange in my mouth.

He probably wondered if I’d loved Li in spite of everything. Her death had upset me, but I’d never loved her.

“If more people knew, it might help.” My voice faltered. I tried to look anywhere but others’ eyes. The harp or honeycomb shelf. Maybe they’d all think I was making eye contact with everyone, just hadn’t reached them yet. “What I mean to say is, it’s worth discussing newsoul rights. The break-in at Lidea’s is inexcusable. What were they going to do to him? Kill him?”

Across the room, Lidea shuddered and held Anid close. Next to her, Wend shifted and stared at me, as though surprised I could consider such awful things happening.

“Anid—and the others who will be here soon—are worthy of a champion. They’ll bring new ideas and insights into the world, but right now there are no laws to protect them. How can they ever feel like part of the community if no one will stand up for them?”

“I agree.” Cris flashed a wide smile from the back of the crowd. “We’ve been so consumed with the loss after Templedark, we haven’t thought of what we’re about to gain. Nearly a hundred new people.”

“They’ve talked about it in Council meetings,” Stef said, “but of course they don’t come up with solutions or anything concrete. They keep circling the issue like there’s all the time in the world.”

I nodded. “I guess it’s easy to forget that time is different for us. You do have time. Newsouls…we don’t know yet.” And probably wouldn’t until I died.

“And like Ana said,” Armande added, “the newsouls will have their own talents and ideas. We should be ready to embrace that, to encourage it.”

Lidea glanced at her baby. “We weren’t ready for Ana, and in spite of knowing he was a possibility, we weren’t ready for Anid. But they won’t be the last.”

“There’s still time for him,” I said. “To him, every second will count. Days will seem like years, and years will seem like centuries.”

And for everyone else, those days and years went by as fast as heartbeats.

Sam dropped his gaze, and Stef watched him from the corner of her eye. For a moment, she looked softer.

“I’ll talk to anyone who wants to know what it’s like to be a newsoul. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” My mouth had a mind of its own. I hadn’t meant to make such a huge offer—tell strangers about Li laughing the first time I menstruated?—but as soon as the words came out, I decided to stick with them. This was for Anid, and those not yet born. For those who would never be born.

“That’s very generous of you,” said Lidea. “I actually had a few questions, but I was hesitant to ask.”

“I’ll help however I can.” I forced myself to move on to the next step, the reason I’d actually brought them all here. “The first thing I want you to do is meet up with friends and figure out whether they would be open to supporting newsouls. I expect most won’t be, but we have to try.”

Orrin lifted his eyebrows. “I don’t think you’ll have as much trouble as you’re imagining.”

“And that’s where the rest of us become necessary?” Moriah guessed.

“Exactly.” I relaxed as everyone said they’d help. My idea wasn’t stupid after all. Orrin thought people would be receptive. “I made a list of pregnant women I know”—minus a couple I knew about through Sarit’s gossip but wasn’t supposed to—“and thought we could start with them.”