“A few words about our common problem.”
“You mean the gadji?” Gitana propped herself up on the elbow of her good arm to look at him better.
“In part,” Tas agreed. “But she’s only a portion of a larger problem—namely, what we’re going to do about Pias.”
“He’s no longer my concern,” Gitana said, rolling petulantly onto her back and staring up at the ceiling. “You heard me tonight—I relinquished all claim to him.”
“You’re still a Newforester, aren’t you?”
“I’m beginning to wonder if I’m anything at all.”
Tas sat down on the edge of the bed, grabbed her by the shoulders and started shaking her. “My father has mottle fever. He could die at any time. By law, then, Pias would be our graf. He’s already told my father he doesn’t want to stay here; he’s perfectly willing to betray our world an
