“You must think me too fastidious, listing an asha’s hua in such detail every time I talk about one,” she said. “Some people assume that asha care only about their appearances, when that is the furthest thing from the truth. A hua collection is as personal and as private as toiletries or underclothes and as distinctive as a face or a voice. We can identify a particular asha simply by looking at her dress, for no one would think of wearing the same hua. To put on someone else’s would be an invasion of her privacy, like stealing into her house or secretly assuming her identity. Lady Mykaela was born near the Swiftsea, and so she wears water motifs on her hua to remind her of home. Lady Shadi is fond of peach and coral, and her father raised birds for a living, hence her preference for doves and the like. Mistress Parmina wears fortune runes on hers for luck. And as for me—”

The cauldron before us belched foul smoke. I stood downwind, but it did little to ease the fumes. She stoked the flames underneath it and added more wood to encourage the fires.

She ran a hand down her own dress, fingers stroking at the head of the dragon embroidered on her waist like it was a favored pet. Its body was still concealed underneath her waist wrap, but I fancied I could see the head of another dragon there.

She dipped a wooden ladle into the black concoction and spooned out the topaz-colored bezoar.

When she spoke again, her voice sounded far away.

“And that is why what I did was such a violation of Lady Shadi’s trust.”