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Aysta let the men lead her into the ritual room, Lwennas holding one hand and Zozo the other. Beyond, it was body-warm, drenched with colour (brighter still to their jiunggar-heightened senses), and everything resonated with a low hum from some unnameable source. The air was heavy with incense and sweat. On couches, cots, cushions, bodies twined together in twos or threes or fours, the light pulsing off their flesh in time to the beat of Aysta’s heart.