All the Wandering Light

by Heather Fawcett

  I went to the window. The view of the Three Cities was breathtaking, almost too much to comprehend. The place was alive, streets filled with the bustle of figures too small to discern. The lake was a distant pool of silver that seemed to melt into the clouded sky.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  I jumped. River was leaning against the doorway, an unreadable expression on his face.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “This is your—I didn’t—”

  “It’s all right.” A smile flickered. “This isn’t really mine. At least, I never thought so.”

  I swallowed, regretting the whim that had driven me to explore River’s rooms. He seemed at ease with my presence, however, strolling over to the cabinet and opening a drawer, as if having girls simply wander into his bedroom was a commonplace occurrence.

  I flushed, wishing I hadn’t had that thought.

  “The emperor wants to meet you,” River said, his back turned. “He’s holding a banquet this evening.”

  “A banquet?” I felt a moment of panic. “I’m not attending a royal banquet.”

  “It’s not exactly optional,” River said apologetically. “The emperor has extended you an invitation. He will be . . . upset if you refuse.”

  This didn’t help matters. “Why is the emperor holding a banquet when the Empire is under attack?”

  “He’s been absent from court for over a fortnight. That always puts him in a terrible mood. None of his advisors will have his ear until he’s had some wine, listened to a few songs, and flirted with a courtier or two.”

  I made a scornful sound. “Is he the emperor or a child?”

  River glanced at me. “He is ancient.”

  I swallowed. “What do you plan to do?” I said, because I was genuinely curious. River had, after all, risked his life in returning to the emperor’s court. And he wasn’t here out of concern for the Empire’s safety.

  “I meet with Lozong’s generals tomorrow,” River said, his voice muffled as he leaned over a drawer. “I’ll tell them everything I know about Esha’s plans. Then I’ll help them hunt him down.”

  “What will you tell them?”

  “That after the binding spell broke, I spied on the witches in the Nightwood.” He flashed me a smile. “The best lies double as truths.”

  I felt cold. If River could lie so easily to the emperor, then I should have no problem lying to him. I gazed at the back of his tousled head. Once the emperor recast the binding spell, we would go back to being enemies.

  I felt a tiny flicker of triumph at the thought of River realizing that I had deceived him. It surprised me. My anger was still there, and part of me wanted to hurt him as he had hurt me.

  Yet I knew what the emperor’s spell had done to River and the others. It hadn’t destroyed them, but it had taken away what they were. Living death, Lusha had said.

  A little shiver ran down my spine. “What do you want me to say?”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” River said. “The emperor wants to meet the girl who guided my expedition to Raksha, but he’s unlikely to question you. You don’t have to be part of this anymore, Kamzin. I should think you’d be happy about that.”

  My heart was beating too quickly, and I felt an echo of my irritation with Lusha. You don’t have to do anything. Here was River, saying the same thing—telling me to sit back, to let others worry about the fate of the Empire. As if Azmiri’s safety didn’t concern me.

  I glared at the back of his head. They were both insufferable.

  “Here.” River came to my side, pressing something into my hand. The blue of his tunic deepened the gold of his left eye—it seemed to glow like a cat’s. I glanced down—he had given me a dagger, the hilt elegantly carved, the blade black and glossy. Obsidian.

  “This is yours?”

  He smiled. “It’s no danger to me unless I fall on it. I’ve been hearing strange rumors from some of the servants—you should keep this close to you.”

  I looked at it glumly. I doubted I would be any more skilled with a dagger than I was with a bow. It would be better for River to give it to Lusha.

  As if reading my thoughts in my eyes, River closed his hand over mine. He guided the dagger toward himself, allowing the tip to rest against the fabric of his tunic, just below his ribs.

  “Here,” he said quietly. “Like this. Or here.” He lifted the dagger to his throat, pressing it against the hollow between his collarbones.

  My hand, covered by his, felt very hot. My fingers were only inches from the curve of his jaw. When he released my hand, I let it drift down, the point of the dagger skimming his tunic. He held my gaze, his lips parted slightly, as if about to speak, but no words came. I could count every freckle on his nose, and every black eyelash.

  I had a sudden thought, which surfaced like something rising through fog. “What strange rumors?”

  He blinked. “There have been sightings throughout the palace, and elsewhere in the Three Cities. Illusions of shadow.”

  I felt a chill. “What sort of illusions?”

  “Doors opening onto unfamiliar passages. Dark towers that disappear when the dawn touches them. Walls of shadow where no walls existed before.”

  “Dark towers,” I murmured. It didn’t make any sense. Yet the description was familiar—it was what we had found on the summit of Raksha. The witches’ ancient, abandoned city—strange ruins made of shadow tucked into that wind-blasted peak.

  “I saw something like that in the corridor,” I said. “It was like the sky city.”

  “Not ‘like,’” River said thoughtfully. “I think it is the sky city. Traces of it, anyway.”

  I stared at him, uncomprehending. “Is Esha doing this?”

  “No. The sky city isn’t really a city. It’s . . . alive. Sentient. And it can move from place to place. According to the stories, it wasn’t always on Raksha. It was somewhere else, somewhere far away.”

  “But—” I still didn’t understand. “Are you saying it’s starting to move here? To the Three Cities? Why?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps it believes the Empire is falling.”

  Suddenly, I felt very small. I realized, perhaps for the first time, how ancient this conflict was, how much stranger than I had imagined. “Can we stop it?”

  “I don’t know.” River rubbed his head. To my surprise, he looked as if he shared my thoughts. “The apparitions began appearing the day the binding spell shattered. But if Esha is defeated, if this goes no further—perhaps. Esha will strike the Three Cities eventually, even though they’re outnumbered. He’s foolish enough for that. It’s just a matter of when.”

  I noticed his use of the word “they,” and wondered if he was aware of how he switched back and forth. “You wish I hadn’t come here, don’t you?”

  He looked surprised. “I wish neither of us had.” His voice was quiet and honest. “I wish we were both far away, beside a campfire under the stars. But there’s nothing to be gained from wishing.”

  I was taken aback. How many times had I thought the same thing, even after learning what River was? His words painted a picture that made me ache.

  “I don’t know about that,” I said. “I used to wish for a way to escape Azmiri. I used to lie awake at night, imagining what it could be like.”

  He smiled at that. “And is this what you imagined?”

  I laughed, surprising myself. “Not exactly.”

  River’s hand moved. For one dizzying moment, I thought he was about to brush the hair from my face. But then he seemed to catch himself, the hand drifting to rest on the windowsill. I had gone still, my eyes resting on his. It was impossible not to recall that we had shared the same thoughts.

  I took a step back. “I should find Tem.”

  River nodded. He searched my face, his brow furrowed, and then he turned away. “He’s probably in the libraries. He spent all of yesterday evening there.”

  I groaned. Tem would be beside himself over a library so large it was spoken of i
n the plural.

  “I can take you there,” River said, his expression brightening.

  I nodded, though part of me regretted my suggestion. I wondered if being around River would ever be straightforward, or if it would always feel like navigating a labyrinth.

  River led me out of his rooms and down a staircase that led to a grand, colonnaded walkway. The city lay to our right, shimmering with a fine mist.

  We were not stopped once. River called out greetings to each armoured guard we passed, and they answered easily, often with smiles or jokes. He must have trod these corridors dozens of times, and while it was clear his presence was unanticipated, the guards didn’t seemed surprised by it. The Royal Explorer, I recognized, was accustomed to coming and going as he pleased, and the guards were used to his returning unannounced from some treacherous expedition or other. More than one called out a question about his mission, which River smoothly evaded. He was good at lying, and even better at sidestepping.

  “I’m beginning to understand how you fooled the emperor for so long,” I muttered, after leaving behind a guard who had gone so far as to clap River on the shoulder.

  He flashed me a smile. He was enjoying himself as usual, as if this was all a game. “Would you prefer it if they attacked us?”

  I gave him a look. To my eyes, River, radiating magic as he was, could not look more like a witch. And yet—I squinted. If you didn’t look too closely, if you ignored the way the shadows at his feet moved, as if of their own volition, if you looked at him without expecting to see anything otherworldly . . . perhaps most people wouldn’t notice. The guards certainly didn’t, and none of the courtiers we passed did more than bow respectfully.

  “How does that feel?” I said.

  He glanced at me. “I’ve been the Royal Explorer for over three years. I’m quite used to people bowing to me.”

  “Even people you tried to destroy?” I said evenly.

  River gave me a vaguely puzzled look. “I had no particular wish to destroy them. All I wanted was to break the binding spell.”

  I was exasperated. “And you didn’t think beyond that?”

  “Not really.” A defensive note entered his voice. “Why should I? Do I owe something to the Empire? To the emperor who stole our magic?”

  “No.” I thought of what Mingma had said about witches valuing fairness. “But you owe something to me. Is that why you saved my life?”

  “I’m not sure I owe you anything. You may have helped me reach the summit of Raksha, but you also tried to kill me there. Have you forgotten that part? I haven’t.”

  “Given the circumstances, I don’t think you can blame me,” I muttered. “But it’s good to know you don’t regret anything.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Fine.”

  We walked on in stormy silence.

  “I suppose I should have told you what I was planning,” he said, in an odd tone that was half-exasperated and half-rueful. “That wasn’t—I didn’t enjoy lying to you.”

  I stared at him. It wasn’t an apology, but it was the closest I’d ever heard him come to one.

  “If you had told me, I would have tried to stop you,” I said slowly.

  “I know.”

  Another silence. “It wasn’t just me you lied to,” I said. “What about Mara? Norbu? I’m sure there are dozens more.”

  “They don’t matter,” he said, again in that vaguely puzzled tone, as if it was so obvious he didn’t know why I was asking.

  I couldn’t think of anything to say to that.

  After a moment, River said, “Tem seemed surprised by his new abilities. Though he didn’t seem particularly inclined to thank me.”

  “I think Tem was happy the way he was.”

  River’s gaze was thoughtful. “He’s unusual. Witches can’t use shamanic talismans. Most talismans are imbued with our own magic, and the binding spell prevented us from using our powers in any form. I always thought it was strange, but it must be his human blood. He has a foot in both worlds.”

  I stopped midstep. River turned to look at me.

  “You knew,” I breathed. “You knew all along about Tem.”

  The amusement returned to his eyes. “I wasn’t certain until our encounter with the fiangul. I know many revered shamans, and not one of them could do what he did in that pass. That sort of affinity with magic is not a human trait.” Then, he mused, “I wonder who his mother was.”

  The world’s strange new pattern seemed to come into clearer focus. I thought of all the things Tem was capable of—how he could master a spell as easily as breathing, as easily as Chirri, if not more.

  We had come to a stop in a space that was neither inside nor outside, a turn in the wide hallway that was open to the gray sky and the green slope of the palace hill. Grasses stirred in the wind beyond a little balcony, and I could make out the marks of a trail disappearing over the brow of the land. The sun broke through the clouds, and its light fell on us.

  “It used to be more common,” River said. “Centuries ago, there were many humans with witch ancestry. It’s still true that the stronger shamans have some connection to us.”

  The sunlight was on River’s face, illuminating the strands of copper in his hair. For the first time, I noticed a subtle similarity between him and Tem—it was not their appearance, but something in the way they held themselves, a lightness or unconscious poise. “Will he be all right?” I said.

  “I would think so. If he can work out where he fits.”

  I gazed at him. Someone was approaching from the other end of the hall with a purposeful stride, but I didn’t look up. The man was making an unnecessary amount of noise, his arms slicing back and forth so that the fabric of his chuba made an aggressive rustling sound, his boots thudding against the tiled floor. River seemed about to speak again, and was waiting until the passerby was out of earshot. But instead of turning the corner and continuing on his way, the man came to a stop when he reached us.

  “Kamzin,” he said, looming beyond River’s shoulder, “what in the name of the spirits are you doing here?”

  It was Mara.

  Twenty-Six

  MARA WAS WORN and travel-stained, his face shadowed by an unkempt beard. He had, evidently, only just arrived in the Three Cities, not even pausing to change out of his traveling clothes. He didn’t glance at River, whose back was to him, but stared at me as if he’d seen a ghost.

  “Where’s Lusha?” he demanded. “I came with utmost haste through the Aryas to warn the emperor of the witches’ plot, assuming all the while that you were still in the north, searching for the star. How is it that you came to be here?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said hesitantly. River had taken a step back and leaned casually against the wall, a glint of amusement in his eye that I didn’t trust.

  “Is Lusha all right?” Mara pressed.

  “She’s fine.” And, though he hadn’t asked, “Tem too.”

  Mara ran a hand over his face. “And the star?”

  “Oh, you’re not going to ask about me?” River said. “After all our years together.”

  Mara glanced at him for the first time, then did a double take so violent it seemed to involve his entire body.

  “You—” He grabbed my arm, yanking me backward so hard that I briefly levitated. “Kamzin, stay back.”

  I shook him off. “Mara, you don’t—”

  “Have you enspelled her?” Mara’s face was white as he glanced from River to me. He had drawn an obsidian dagger from his chuba, and his hand, as he gripped it, shook violently. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Mara so rattled, even when we’d faced the fiangul. “Is that what this is? Did you take her memories?”

  “Her memories of what?” River said.

  Mara made a move toward him, and I leaped between them. “Mara, stop. He doesn’t mean that—River’s helping us.”

  “And I’ve already warned the generals of Esha’s plot,” River said. “I’m afraid you’re superfluous, Mara. No d
oubt the feeling’s familiar by now.”

  “Oh, you’ve warned them.” Mara let out a humorless laugh. He didn’t lower the dagger. “I’m sure you did. You’ve no doubt convinced them to adopt whatever course suits your ends. Kamzin, if you’ve placed even a shred of trust in anything he says, you’re a fool. He’s capable of nothing but guile.”

  “Was it guile that rescued you in the Amarin Valley?” River said. “Or pulled you out of the Iriad Rapids? Saving your life was certainly ill-advised, but I don’t recall guile being part of it.”

  I shot him a glare. “You’re not helping.”

  He rolled his eyes and pushed off the wall. “What can I say? Mara, I have no intention of harming you—or anyone else, at the moment, apart from my brother.”

  Mara’s grip tightened on the dagger. “Do you think your lies will sway me? I am not as easily taken in as a naïve village girl.”

  Anger flickered in River’s eyes, and he turned to me. “You see? I tried.”

  “Mara, put the dagger away,” I said.

  “Yes, do,” River said. “I’ve been stabbed quite enough recently.”

  “I saw what you did to Jangsa.” Mara’s voice was hoarse. “I was there.”

  “Jangsa.” I thought of the plumes of black smoke. “Did the villagers survive? What did you see?”

  “Death,” he said quietly. “Death and devastation. Like nothing I’ve ever witnessed.”

  I closed my eyes. River showed no reaction whatsoever. Then he asked, unexpectedly, “Does the elder live?”

  Mara gave him a look of pure venom. “Yes. By some miracle of the spirits.”

  River nodded. “That’s good. I liked him.”

  He looked so unaffected that I had to suppress my own urge to leap at him. But being angry at River for lacking customary human feelings was, I was beginning to realize, like being angry at the wind for rustling the leaves.