“At least we won’t be fighting enemies on either side,” the blue maiden said. Suddenly, she let go of her skirts, allowing the fine silk to fall into the pool. She leaned down to the water and cupped something in her hands. “Poor thing!” she said, and I squinted to make out the little scorpion that she had rescued from the water. Sol recoiled in disgust. But the maid simply carried the drowning scorpion to the edge and placed it in safety. “There!” she said, wiping her hands on her now-sodden silk robe.
“Be careful, Neen,” Sol admonished. “Those are venomous.”
“So are men,” said the blue maiden—Neen.
Sol just laughed. “That’s true enough,” she replied. “And men can sting worse than insects.”
“I’d rather have the scorpion,” Neen said seriously. “Perhaps the war will distract my father e
