I squared my shoulders. I’d done enough hiding and cowering in my time at the palace; I wouldn’t cower anymore. “I am here for your help, not your reprimands.”
He harrumphed, twisting the ends of his long white beard. “Long has it been since an enchanter has broken his oath and sought out my counsel. When Edan came to me, I should have realized his freedom came at a price. Though I would not have expected it to take the shape of one such as you.”
His tone provoked me. “A girl?” I challenged. “Or a demon?”
“Both,” replied the master curtly. He harrumphed again and stood, circling me deliberately, his cane tapping the stone ground between each step. It was hard to imagine that this wizened, shrunken figure had once been Bandur’s teacher, a great enchanter.
Edan waited, and I shifted uncomfortably.
“Interesting,” he grunted, once he’d inspected me from every angle. “Gen is correct—you haven’t yet succumbed. Surprising, given how long ago it has been since Bandur marked you.”
“Does she have a chance?” Edan asked.
“That, I cannot ascertain just yet.” Tsring threw his beard over his shoulder, then poked at my ribs with his cane. “They say the belly has a better memory than the heart, and I must agree. Let us eat.” His cane thumped the ground. “One cannot unravel a demon’s curse on an empty stomach.”
* * *
• • •
I couldn’t shake the feeling that lunch was a test.
Though I hadn’t eaten for days, I was not hungry. The monks served me a steaming bowl of carrot soup, with soymilk and bean curd and pickled cabbage, a meal I should have consumed greedily. But I had to force down every bite, as if I were eating paper. Even the tea they served, a famously bitter brew called Nandun’s Tears that grew sweeter as one drank it, had no flavor to me.
Master Tsring did not speak during lunch, nor did Edan. Their silence made me anxious, and I found my attention wandering to the table next to us, at which the master’s students clustered together on two long benches.
Only a handful were A’landan. They wore faded blue robes, and each was accompanied by a creature: a turtle, a cat, even a young bear. Their stares weighed on me, though they quickly looked away.
It was my red eyes they were staring at, I knew. My eyes unnerved even Edan.
I saw a student enchant her soup into black sesame paste, a dessert Finlei used to love. She drank it quickly, before anyone saw. But Master Tsring cleared his throat and pounded his fist on the table once. “Enchantment is to be used during your studies, not at meals.”
The girl’s face flushed with embarrassment. “Yes, sir.”
That was all Master Tsring said during the meal. He was lost in thought otherwise, chewing on a steamed bun, flavored lightly with spring onions. I’d left mine untouched.
When the disciples cleared their table and left, he scraped his spoon against his empty walnut bowl. “I have come to a decision about your companion, Gen.”
My shoulders hiked with tension.
“There is no hope left for this one,” Master Tsring said gravely. “Take her to Bandur immediately, before she brings ruin upon us.”
“But you agreed she has not yet succumbed.”
“That matters not.” Tsring’s wizened fingers gestured at my amulet. “She has already been named.”
“Named?” I echoed.
His voice was low. “Sentur’na.”
Hearing it spoken aloud, I felt my blood turn cold. That word had haunted me for weeks. Sentur’na.
“Breaker,” translated Edan slowly.
Master Tsring grunted. “Or, more literally, cutter of fate.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “No. That isn’t my name.”
“Soon it will be. It is the name that the ghosts will obey. You yourself will know no other. An enchanter may have a thousand names, but a demon has only one.”
“It will be different for her,” Edan insisted, coming to my defense. “Bandur killed his master, and because of his heinous act he was cursed to become the guardian of Lapzur. Maia chose this path…out of love.”
Master Tsring considered this. “It is rare indeed that one chooses to become a demon. Perhaps that is why her transformation is slow. But the outcome will be the same, no matter the delay.”
“If I return to Lapzur, Bandur will be free,” I said slowly. “What will happen to him then?”
“Only in Lapzur is his power great,” Tsring replied, “but he will seek to make bargains with the foolish, spreading sorrow and ruin. My disciples and I are prepared to confront him.”
“And what will becoming a demon be like for me?” I asked in a small voice.
“You will continue to change,” he replied. “Your eyes are just the beginning. The rest will come, but it is hard to say what shape you will take.”
“What shape?” I echoed, before I realized what he meant. An ache rose in my throat. Bandur took on the form of a wolf; Gyiu’rak, a tiger. Soon I would have my turn. What would I become?
“Demons who began as enchanters are especially powerful,” went on Master Tsring, “but you have no oath, and you have no schooling in magic.”
Tsring folded his arms on the table. The edges of his sleeves were stained with carrot soup. “The magic in you is wild. I can smell it. It is like wood smoldering, the smoke so thick it makes the air difficult to breathe.”
He eyed me sternly. “Demon magic feeds off destruction. An unquenchable rage. The desire for vengeance. These are signs of changing.”
With a shudder, I remembered my anger at the shansen’s soldiers, Emperor Khanujin, even Ammi…how much I’d wanted to hurt them. How easy it had been to give in.
When I said nothing, Master Tsring continued. “A demon’s power resides in his amulet, which can be destroyed only by the demon himself, or by a source of powerful magic such as the blood of stars. As sentinel of the Forgotten Isles, Bandur guards it zealously, for it can bring his demise.”
I was fingering my amulet without realizing it. Its color had darkened, the ridges of the walnut shell were charcoal gray, and the glass crack in the center was murky instead of clear. The change in color made my heart jump. “What about the power of Amana’s children?”
Master Tsring watched me, his expression unreadable. “A curious question few would ask. Gen told me you were able to sew the dresses of Amana.”
“Yes.”
Tsring chewed on a stalk of sugarcane, considering. “The demon grows stronger in you every day. Since you are the creator of the dresses, they will succumb to the darkness along with you. But the dresses are both your salvation and your ruin; they are the source of your power in your amulet. If you destroy them, you will be free of Bandur.” A deliberate pause. “But you will also die.”
I fell silent, choking back a cry.
“That is not an option,” rasped Edan. His next words came quickly, as if he wanted to forget what Tsring had said. “What if we were to destroy the Forgotten Isles?”
Tsring shook his head. “Even if that were possible, there is no way to free her. Her promise is sealed twofold, by the demon, and the goddess.”
His words sank into me. “I’ve already destroyed one of the dresses,” I said tightly. “The laughter of the sun.”
The master’s expression darkened. “In doing so, you have hastened your end. Those three dresses are your body, your mind, your heart.”
I stiffened at the revelation. Since I’d sacrificed the dress of the sun, my body had become numb to all but extreme heat and cold. Since recovering from my wounds in the Winter Palace, I hadn’t felt pain either.
“What Gen says is true,” Tsring continued. “You have already lasted longer than most. Your devotion to your family, your love for Gen and his for you—these are your strength, the barrier that protects you from Bandur. But
you know better than any that the wall is crumbling. Your memories will be the next to go. Without them, we are nothing but empty husks. You are running out of time.”
“So you’re saying I should give up and let Bandur win.” My nostrils flared, a surge of anger quickening inside me.
Tsring stared into my simmering eyes. Whatever he saw there did not please him, for his lips wrinkled into a frown. “Stay tonight, but leave tomorrow for Lapzur. Any longer and you will become a danger to my disciples and the peace here in this temple. I will be forced to subdue you.”
What makes you think you can win against me? I nearly spat. But I bit my tongue to keep the words from spilling out. They drummed in me, the urge to show Tsring I would not cower before him. Him, a mere enchanter.
I squeezed my hands together tightly as Master Tsring rose and left the dining quarters, leaving Edan and me alone.
“We’ve wasted our time coming here,” I said.
Edan put his hand over mine. He’d been quiet the past few minutes. “You didn’t tell me you sacrificed the dress of the sun.”
I swallowed, some of my anger fading. “The Autumn Palace was under attack. Hundreds of lives were at stake.”
“I should have been there with you.”
My shoulders fell, and I pulled my hand away from Edan’s. “It’s better that you weren’t. There wasn’t anything you could have done.”
Immediately after I said it, I wished I could take back the words. They stung him. They stung me, too.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“Master Tsring is wrong about you,” Edan interrupted. “He blames himself for what happened to Bandur, so much that he cannot see you are different. Talk to him again.”
He stood. “I’ll be in the library.”
Alone, I slammed my fist on the table. If not for Lady Sarnai, I wouldn’t have had to make these damned dresses, the root of everything that had gone wrong. And if not for Emperor Khanujin and the shansen and their stupid war, I would have grown up with my brothers and never had to go to the palace in the first place.
Lady Sarnai, Khanujin, the shansen. I hated them all. I even hated Master Tsring for giving Edan false hope that I could be saved.
But most of all, I hated Bandur.
I inhaled a breath.
“Remember what Master Tsring said,” I murmured, working to calm myself. “Vengeance is the path to your fall.”
But you’re going to fall anyway, spoke the demon’s voice inside me. You might as well destroy those who’ve hurt you along the way.
I felt my blood begin to chill. Groping for control, I clenched the edge of my stool, digging my nails into its stiff wood. “Go away.”
But how can I do that, Sentur’na? I am you. I AM YOU.
I shot to my feet, heart thumping madly as my stool toppled behind me. Silence greeted me when I burst into the hall. The demon had not followed.
Relieved, I leaned against the wall to wait for my ears to stop ringing.
“Edan?” I called out then.
The hall was empty. No sign of Edan or Master Tsring.
I started toward the courtyard, when a flicker of my reflection in the window caught my eye. Against my better judgment, I stopped to look. My face had grown gaunt, my cheeks so sunken I could see the slant of my bones curving to my chin.
That wasn’t all. My pupils flickered like two flames, and my skin was so pale that blue veins shone through.
All the air left me in a rush. My body tensed and tipped. “That isn’t me,” I insisted, rapping my knuckles against the window’s glass. “Show me who I am. The real me.”
I waited, but my reflection did not change. This was no enchanted mirror of truth, just a sheet of glass.
Even if it were an enchanted mirror, it would show you the same. This is who you are now.
I glared up at the ceiling, looking for the shadow of the demon that had just spoken. But it was my demon, the one inside me.
And she was right.
A fit of anger came over me, my fists shaking at my sides. I couldn’t control it, the hot, boiling rage bubbling in my throat.
I punched the window. It cracked, but did not shatter. A thousand reflections of myself blinked back at me, every one with red eyes and sunken cheeks.
I gaped and turned from the cracked window, reeling down the corridor. My knuckles bled, the skin underneath pink and raw. But my knuckles didn’t hurt. Not at all.
“My name is Maia,” I said to myself, over and over. “My name is Maia Tamarin.”
I pulled on my hair, trying to grasp something, anything, to help me hold on to the girl I’d once been. My fingers found the plum blossom Edan had placed in my hair, and I held it on my palm.
I started to close my fingers over the petals, but a gust of wind swept in, carrying the flower from my hand. I lunged after it, but it was already too late. Over the mountain, it drifted off.
Lost and never to be recovered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
That night, the ghosts of Lapzur tormented me. They perched on the crooked trees outside Edan’s window, white hair streaming from their scalps, melting into the moonlight, their voices low and harsh. It was well past twilight, the entire temple clothed in darkness. Beside me, Edan slept peacefully.
Come back, the ghosts entreated. Over and over, they made the same pleas, their hollow black eyes following my movements as I tossed and turned.
Don’t fight us, Sentur’na. You will lose. You will die.
I pinched my eyes shut, remembering Master Tsring’s warning to me. That the dresses were both my salvation and my ruin—if I destroyed them, I would be free of Bandur. But I would also die.
A gust of wind blew the window open. I sprang up to shut it, then curled back against Edan in bed.
“Can’t sleep?”
I rolled onto my side to find Edan gazing at me. The ghosts’ calls receded to the back of my mind.
He was still the same boy I’d grown to love during our travels, but he’d changed since being freed of his oath. During our few moments together, he smiled more and laughed easily. If not for the curse hanging over me, I thought, with a bitter pang to my heart, he might always be smiling.
“Nightmares?” he asked.
I didn’t reply. Instead, I scooted closer to him, inhaling the warmth of his skin. “Why do they call you Gen here?”
Edan folded an arm under his head. “It was my name before I became an enchanter. They will call me by no other name until I regain enough magic to be deserving.”
“So you no longer have a thousand names?”
“For now,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. “Don’t worry, I’ll earn them back.”
We laughed, but the sound struck me as hollow. I didn’t want our last days to be like this, pretending everything was the way it used to be.
At my silence, he prodded, “Are you worried about what Master Tsring said?”
“No.” I hesitated. We’d searched for the master after dinner, but he was nowhere to be found. “I was just listening.”
“Listening?” He flashed a grin. “To me?”
“You were snoring,” I teased.
“Ah, how our roles have changed.” A bittersweet note touched his voice. “I remember when we were on the Road, I was the one who used to listen to you. You snore a little before you fall fully asleep. I’d gotten used to the sound.”
I poked him playfully in the ribs. “I don’t snore.”
“You don’t. Except when you’re exhausted.” He took my hand and rubbed my bruised knuckles, a question in his raised eyebrow. The amusement fled from his tone. “What’s this?”
I drew my hand back. “Nothing.”
“Maia…tell me.”
I wouldn’t look at him. I stared at the ceiling, then at the grooves in th
e granite walls. Finally I said, “I…I got angry at myself after lunch.”
“Why?” he pressed.
“Sometimes I see things—hear things….”
“From Lapzur,” Edan murmured, tightening his hand over mine. “When was the first time?”
I faltered, listening to the rustling of leaves outside the monastery, the falling pebbles against the stone walls. The ghosts had disappeared, and I eased my breath, letting my shoulders relax. Just a little; I knew they hadn’t left me entirely. The shadow of Lapzur hung over me like a shroud.
Edan asked again, “What did you see just now—outside the window?”
“The ghosts of Lapzur,” I whispered. “They’re not happy with me for coming here.”
Edan’s dark eyes glittered. “Are they still there?”
“They’re gone.” It was my turn to grin, though it took effort. “Maybe they remembered to be frightened of you.”
“How often do they visit you?” he asked quietly.
“Every night. Sometimes in the day, too. I didn’t want to worry you—”
It’s easier to fight them off when I’m with you, I wanted to say. Easier to slip into my old self and make believe I have more time. Easier to look into the mirror and remember who I am. But I couldn’t.
“That’s why you haven’t been able to sleep.”
“I don’t need to.”
If what I said troubled him, he didn’t show it. He wrapped me in his arms, clasping me to him. “Rest now. What did your brothers do when you were little and couldn’t sleep?”
I thought hard. “Sendo used to tell me stories when there was a storm. I was more afraid of thunder than of lightning. Keton used to tease me that the thunder was an evil spirit hungry for the hearts of little girls. He liked to scare me.”
“I hope he got a thrashing for that.”
The wryness of his tone made me smile. “Finlei gave him extra chores.”
We laughed, and I rested my head on the crook of his arm, calmer now. “Do you ever miss your brothers?” I asked.
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “I wish I’d known them as well as you knew yours. I like to think they’re living their next lives now, with full stomachs and full hearts. Better lives than the ones we led.”
Unravel the Dusk Page 16