All the Wandering Light

by Heather Fawcett

  Esha struck her so hard it sent her reeling to the ground, where she lay unmoving.

  Fury erupted inside me, and I surged forward. The star’s light seemed to waver slightly. It tore itself from Esha’s grasp and hovered in the air. How was I supposed to order it to do anything?

  “Stop,” I said weakly. I felt foolish, speaking to a glowing rock, but I pressed on. “Undo it. Please.”

  Nothing. Except, perhaps, the smallest flicker in the star’s light, so small I may have imagined it.

  “Please,” I said again. “Don’t do what he wants.”

  To my amazement, the star dimmed. The shadowy figures wavered like mist.

  Esha’s expression was a storm of rage. He had barely glanced at me this entire time, and I found myself grateful that I had been spared, until now, the full horror of his attention.

  With difficulty, I tore my gaze away and focused on the star. It was glowing painfully now.

  “Send them back,” I said.

  The star rose higher. Esha made a grab for it, but the star darted away. Guards and witches alike cowered, pressing their hands against their eyes. Tears streamed down my face, but I forced myself to stay focused on the star. I held out my hand, but the star bobbed once and darted between the columns and over the balconies, disappearing into the night.

  It seemed as if everyone was staring at me, including River, blinking the light from his eyes. The shadow-figures were gone, though not the towers and ramparts, the doors that hovered like holes in the air.

  Esha raised his hands, and shadows rolled toward me like vines.

  I cried out as they encircled me. River wrapped me in his arms, and they surrounded him too. Rather than forcing the shadows back, he pulled them toward us, calling others with them so that we were briefly wrapped in a churning cloud of darkness. I clung to River, my hair whipping around my face. Through the swirl of shadow, I watched as the hall grew painfully bright and stark. River was summoning all the shadows in the vicinity toward himself, as I had seen him do in the Ashes.

  The other witches cried out as the shadows surrounding them were torn away. River shaped the shadows into a net and flung it over Esha.

  The shadows enveloped Esha like an enormous wave, thick and heavy. His hand briefly surfaced, grasping for something, before it vanished.

  “The palace is lost.” River grabbed one of the guards by the shoulder and shoved him. “Get everyone out!”

  The guards stood gazing at him with dumbfounded expressions. The witches seemed to be having a similar reaction—they stood blinking and disoriented in the unnatural bright of the hall. Their power was tied to the darkness, and without it, they were weakened. Clumsily, the guards began to retreat. One of them pulled Lusha to her feet and dragged her away.

  “Kamzin, go,” River said, his voice strained.

  I stared at him. “I can’t. Lusha—”

  “I can hold them off for now. You have to go after the star. Esha will try to recover it.”

  I looked from him to the guards, to Esha, pinned beneath a net of shadow. River’s jaw was set, his face pale. He was struggling to hold Esha, and the witches were regrouping.

  “River—”

  He shoved me roughly toward the balcony. “Go.”

  I gave him one last look. Then I ran.

  Thirty

  SOMETHING LUNGED AT me as I darted through the balcony door—a shape that was half bird, half shadow. I swung my fist and felt it collide satisfyingly with something warm and feathered. The witch fell back, and I didn’t pause long enough to see if she would follow. My skirts flapped around my legs, and my bare arms and throat tingled in the cold air. I wasn’t cold, though—I was hot.

  I had run the length of the balcony that framed the hall, past a few startled courtiers who had been too far away to hear what had happened, and now stood clustered together, uncertain. It had all happened so fast. The emperor. The attack. The star.

  Something flickered above me—the star was still there, hovering over the roof of the palace observatory. Was it trying to launch itself back into the sky?

  I jumped off the edge of the balcony, dropping several feet to the hillside below. The shadows were thick, and I shuddered, picturing Esha’s skeletal hand reaching out from the darkness. Could River hold him back alone? It seemed impossible that anyone could, and yet it was clear that River was stronger than Esha. I recalled the way he had drawn the shadows toward us—they had responded almost eagerly.

  I thought of Lusha, dragged away from the banquet hall by the emperor’s guards, and felt a stab of fear. River had said he would protect her. But could he?

  I sprinted up the grand stone staircase, past a pair of royal shamans clothed in their traditional red chubas. One called after me, no doubt startled by my wild appearance, but I ignored her.

  Above the main floor of the royal observatory, which was already higher than much of the rest of the palace, were several tiered floors ringed by balconies. Instead of going inside, I leaped to grasp the edge of the sloping roof and hauled myself up, first slinging an elbow over the edge, then a knee, until I was able to roll my body onto the roof. My skirt caught on a nail and tore. The curved tiles were slippery, but I had clung to ice sheerer than this, and clambered up them with little difficulty. I repeated the same process to reach the third-story balcony, and the one above. There I paused, glancing into the observatory’s inner sanctum. It had no windows or walls, its structure supported by pillars of whitewashed stone. A young man sat on the floor next to a telescope, head bent over a scroll. Incredibly, the man seemed to have no idea what was happening to his city. But, I realized, it hadn’t been fifteen minutes since the witches attacked the palace, though it felt much longer. And this high in the observatory, you were cut off from the world below.

  I felt a pang. There was something in the young man’s attitude of absorbed attention, the fall of hair across his face, that reminded me of Tem. Where was he now?

  I reached the observatory’s roof in less than a minute. I leaned forward on my hands, which trembled slightly from gripping the sloped tiles, breathing hard. The breeze lifted the hair off my neck and stirred my dress. I had almost forgotten I was wearing it. The fine fabric was stained now with smudges of roof dirt, and the hem was torn where it had caught on a tile.

  Smoke wafted past, and I turned. The fires dotting the city were more numerous now, though they hadn’t consumed more than a handful of buildings—but they would, if left unchecked. I swallowed, thinking of the ruins that stood on the outskirts of Azmiri, the stone still warm to the touch after years of snow and rain.

  Something sparked at the edge of my vision, colder and brighter than fire. I turned and found myself face-to-face with a girl.

  A girl with my face.

  I shrieked and nearly tumbled backward off the roof. The girl grabbed me by the arm, pulling me back to equilibrium.

  “I’ve seen you before,” I whispered.

  The girl only looked at me. She was wearing a red dress now—identical to mine—but before, she had worn a chuba. My chuba. I pictured her bending over me in the tent in the Ash Mountains, and then in the forest, her eyes luminous in the dark.

  I had thought I was going mad. Yet she stood before me now, flesh and blood, with identical smudges on the front of her dress, as if she were my mirror image.

  “What are you?” I said.

  She smiled faintly at that, and held out her hand. Hesitating, I took it.

  Light flared, spilling out from our joined hands. I jerked back in shock, and it flickered and died.

  “You’re—” I took a step back, realized I was balanced on a precarious, slick roof, and stopped. “How is this possible?”

  “I came up here to see if they would take me back.” The girl was gazing up at the stars. Her voice was like mine, but fragmented, strangely wavering. “But they can’t hear me, and I don’t have the strength to make the trip.”

  I forced myself to speak through my shock. “I found you
. Is that why—is that why you look like me?”

  “I suppose so.” The girl was still staring at the sky. “I don’t remember what I used to look like. The first person I saw after I fell was you. So that was the form I took, whenever I felt like seeing the world through human eyes again.”

  “You vanished,” I said. “When I saw you before, you vanished.”

  “I was frightened,” she said. “I didn’t understand what had happened to me. I’m sorry.”

  She seemed so downcast that I said, “It’s all right. No one could blame you for being afraid.”

  “I never used to be afraid,” she said sadly. “Please don’t let that red-eyed man use my power again.”

  I swallowed. My thoughts whirled. I wished more than anything that Lusha was here—calm, self-assured Lusha, who would certainly have some logical explanation for this. “What’s your name?”

  Her brow furrowed. “I don’t know. That was . . . a long time ago.”

  She sounded so forlorn that I reached out and touched her hand. Her skin was as cool as the night air, but she was solid, substantial. Not a ghost.

  Light flared again when I touched her, but after a few seconds, it faded to a soft glow.

  “That’s better.” She sounded relieved. “I feel stronger when you touch me. Almost as if I could make it back.”

  “No, you—” I paused, drawing my hand back. The girl watched me. “You can’t. Not yet. Please—we need your help.”

  She shrugged. “It’s your decision.”

  “Is it?”

  “You seem to be able to command me,” she said. “Even now, when I tried to escape, I could only get so far.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “But I promise, if you help us, I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever I can. If I need to take you back to the Ashes, I will.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t think that will be necessary.” The girl gave me a thoughtful look. “You’re a strange sort of person. I just told you that you can command me as you like. Yet you’re still asking for my help.”

  “Of course.” I thought of the witches setting fire to the city, and River, his face strained as he held Esha back. Even still, I couldn’t order the star to help us. I wasn’t like Lusha, who could coolly discard moral qualms if she felt a situation required it.

  “You’re better than he is,” the girl said.

  “Who?”

  “That man. The one your sister danced with. He killed the star he caught. I could sense it on him—he spent and spent its power until nothing remained.”

  I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I will help you willingly. And then—you will help me get home?”

  “However I can,” I promised.

  She smiled, making the light flicker again. “I believe you.”

  She held out her hands. Hesitantly, I took them, squinting against the explosion of light. It came, but even brighter than I expected. And then—

  The star stepped into me.

  I staggered back. It was like being doused in ice water, followed by a brief flare of heat. When the sensation settled, I looked down at my hands, and found that they were glowing.

  I sat down hard on the roof, my legs weak with shock and the strangeness of what I felt. I focused my attention on the glow that enveloped me, imagining that I was pressing it down, forcing it deeper inside me. I had no idea what I was doing, but I thought the star responded. After a few deep breaths, I looked back at my hands. The glow was gone, but my skin had the slightest glimmer to it, as if I had been dusted with ice crystals.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  Setting my jaw, I lowered myself over the edge of the roof and made my way back to the palace.

  Thirty-One

  I SWUNG MYSELF down from the roof, landing with bent knees on the pavement. Absently brushing at my dress, which was even more of a mess now, I turned.

  And walked straight into Lusha.

  I shrieked. Lusha grasped my shoulders, pushing me to a safe distance. “It’s just me. Calm down.”

  I stared. When I had last seen Lusha, the emperor’s guards had been dragging her from the hall, unconscious. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. At her temple was a darkening bruise. “I woke just before one of the men slung me over his shoulder. I think they thought I was—” She stopped. “I saw you leaving the hall, so I followed.”

  Though her voice was steady, her hand trembled, and I knew that she was more shaken than she let on. I brushed her hair aside to examine the bruise. “Lusha—”

  “We don’t have time,” she said, pushing me away. “Did you get the star?”

  Of course her first question would be about the star. “I’m fine too, thank you.”

  “I can see that.” She gave me a stop wasting time look. “Where is it?”

  “Can’t you tell?” I stepped back and spread my arms. I expected—and was looking forward to—the look of astonishment on her face, but to my surprise, she only nodded.

  “Good. Let’s go.” And she turned and walked away, leaving me reeling. I had to run to catch up.

  “Wait—how did you know?”

  “I thought I would be the one the star chose,” she said. “I did find it, after all—”

  “You found it?”

  “—but after discussing it with Lozong, I realized that the star always obeys the person who first touches it.”

  “He would know,” I said darkly. “What did you tell him?”

  “Everything, of course.”

  “‘Everything’? You mean you told him about River?”

  “That his closest advisor has been plotting against him from the beginning? Against the Empire? Of course I did.”

  I stared at her. “River was helping us.”

  “Was he?” Lusha gave me a sharp look. “I think he was helping himself. I have no intention of playing guessing games about River’s motives. The Empire is at stake, and River has never been on the side of the Empire.”

  “And you think it’s that simple?” I was furious. Lusha had made this decision without even thinking of consulting me. “What about the emperor? Do you really think he’s blameless in all this? Do you trust him?”

  “He did what he thought was right. Besides, he is the emperor. We owe him our loyalty. We owe River nothing.” She noticed my expression and made a frustrated sound. “What does it matter? I saw River use his powers in the banquet hall, and so did a dozen guards. They know what he is now.”

  It came to me, in a blinding flash, that Lusha really did think it was simple—all of it. She had always seen the world in absolutes. There was always a right course, in Lusha’s mind, and a wrong one. It was, in part, why she was such an effective leader: she fixed her mind on a goal with single-minded purpose, rarely doubting her choice. It was an efficient way to view the world. But it was also, I had come to realize, dangerously shortsighted. I thought of River’s mother, driven mad by the binding spell. I thought of all the witches who had grown up hating the Empire with an all-consuming intensity. Now the Three Cities were burning, and where did the fault lie? I wasn’t sure the question had an easy answer.

  “You and the emperor covered a lot in one dance,” I said, my voice cold.

  “He’s . . . very easy to talk to.” She wasn’t looking at me, and I noticed that her face had more color than it had a moment ago. “Once you get to know him.”

  “Once he stops lying about who he is, you mean.”

  “He apologized for that. He couldn’t very well reveal himself when he thought us all witches. Are you really going to lecture me about trusting people who hide their identities?”

  “Wait.” My head was spinning. We weren’t heading back to the palace—Lusha steered me to one of the grand staircases that led down to the Three Cities. “Where are we going?”

  “The shamans’ residences. The head of the Royal Guard felt it wasn’t safe for the emperor to r
emain in the palace. He’s being taken there by stealth, with only a handful of guards. Several hundred shamans live there. It’s the safest place in the Three Cities.”

  “What about River?”

  “I don’t know.” Lusha finally stopped her headlong pace and turned to face me. “They pulled me out of the hall. The last I saw, Esha had broken free of River’s spell.”

  “What?” It was almost a shout. I turned, and would have run back to the palace if Lusha hadn’t grabbed my arm.

  She pulled me to face her again. “Kamzin, he can’t help us now.”

  “I don’t care if he can help us.” I wrenched away from her. “I care if he’s all right.”

  “The Three Cities are burning.” She enunciated each syllable. “If the emperor’s shamans can’t stop the fire, it will devour everything in its path. If the emperor can’t stop the witches’ invasion, the Empire will fall. Right now, we have to focus.”

  I felt, suddenly, very small. I could see the halo of light behind Lusha cast by the witch fire. “Focus on what?” I asked.

  “The only army left in the city is the Second,” she said, pulling me down the stairs. “The soldiers are arming themselves with every obsidian blade and arrow they can find, and they’re going to sweep the city. We’re to bring the emperor the star.”

  “You mean me,” I said. I looked back up the stairs. I didn’t want to leave River.

  “You may be the only one who can stop this.” Lusha’s voice held no resentment. Her focus, as it always was during a crisis, big or small, was on the goal, not her own feelings. “I promised the emperor I’d find the star and bring it back to him.”

  Dazed, I allowed Lusha to pull me forward. We reached the bottom of the stairs and sprinted into a swirl of light and darkness.

  The fire was no longer confined to a few scattered buildings—entire streets were ablaze, separated by eerily dark, pensive blocks. Across from the palace, a mansion tucked into a smaller hill was engulfed, painting the street below with contorted shadows. A row of shops went up a block away. I choked and gasped from the smoke that filled the air.

  Steadily, the fires were spreading.