“Then reach out to them with your heart,” Syan whispered. “Bend those flames to your passion. Bend those flames to your soul. Bend them to the zaryas, and make them your own!”
Ellarion sucked in his breath, and I kind of did, too. I couldn’t actually see the bands or flames or whatever, but his gaze was so intense, his eyes so bright, that I almost felt like I would, any second now. The air seemed to tighten, drawing around us, and there was that crackle, that hum of magic. I stared at the zaryas, waiting, watching, hoping so badly they would move.
There was a scraping noise, like something metallic pushing against earth, and I gasped, because was it really happening? But then I realized the zaryas were still lying still. No, there was something else moving on the ground. Ellarion’s bronze hands twitched at his feet, the index fingers drawing lines in the sand.
He sighed, deflated, and the sense of magic vanished as quickly as it had come. “Damn it,” he said.
“You’re still trying to use your hands,” Syan said, head cocked to the side at the prosthetics.
“I’m not trying to,” Ellarion insisted. “It’s just…instinctive. It’s what my body wants to do. It’s what I spent decades learning to do. It’s how I—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m getting closer. This time, I almost did it. I swear I felt it. I almost made it work, I really did.” He turned to Syan, and he was so achingly vulnerable it made my heart ache. “Please. I’m telling you. I’m close. I can feel it. Don’t give up on me.”
“I promised I would try to teach you,” Syan said. “I won’t give up now.”
Ellarion nodded, then, with one more heavy breath, scooped up his hands. “My turn at watch. I’ll be on that dune.” It wasn’t actually his turn, I don’t think, but I got that he needed some space. I was about to head off to get a little space of my own when I heard Lyriana clear her throat from somewhere nearby.
I turned around to see her sitting on a rock behind us. I hadn’t realized she was watching too, but Lyriana had a way of sneaking up like that. “Thank you, Syan,” she said. “Thank you for everything.”
Syan let out a weary exhale of her own, and walked over to sit by Lyriana’s side. “I just wish I could do more for him.”
“You’re doing so much.”
Syan shook her head. “It’s not working. He tries so hard and wants it so badly, but there’s just nothing. No connection to the zaryas.” She folded her hands together, cracking her knuckles with her palms. “Your magic and mine, they’re just too different. It’s like teaching a fish to fly.”
“Maybe it’s just enough that he’s trying,” I said. “Enough that he has hope.”
Lyriana shifted in her seat, sliding over to face Syan. “Is it acceptable for you to teach him your ways? Will your people be mad when they learn?”
Syan stared at her, confused, like this had never occurred to her. “There’s no rules against it. I mean, there’s no rules about it at all. I don’t think any Person of the Storm has tried it before.” She thought about it for a moment, then sighed. “My mother will probably object. Once she knows.”
“Your mother?”
“Syan Sellara of Benn Devalos, Torchbearer, Greatest of the Elders.” Syan’s gaze was distant, troubled. “She is a…stern woman. Passionate. Strong-headed.”
“Greatest of the elders…” Lyriana repeated. “Is she in charge of your people?”
“A council of elders presides over my benn. My city,” Syan clarified. “But yes. My mother sits at the center of the council. Her voice resolves all disagreements.”
“So she’s a Queen.” Lyriana struggled, and failed, to keep herself from smiling. “And you’re a Princess!”
“No, I…That’s not a term we use…”
“Do you struggle with the expectations your mother’s put on you? Do you have trouble sleeping when you think about all the decisions you’ll have to make? Do you hate how everyone looks at you like you’re some kind of glowing magical creature? Do you wish, all the time, that you could just be a normal girl, even for a day?”
Syan stared at Lyriana, orange eyes wide. “Yes. Yes, to all of that.”
“Mmhmm.” Lyriana grinned. “You’re totally a Princess. Same as me.”
“If you insist,” Syan said, but she glanced away with a little smile, and was she actually…shy? What was happening here?
“I’m serious, Syan,” Lyriana insisted. “I know we’re really different, but ever since we met, I’ve just felt like…like I don’t know. Like there’s something connecting us. Like you understand me. This makes so much sense.”
“I’ve felt the same way,” Syan said quietly, and I could see her eyes light on Lyriana’s tattoo. “I think we were fated to meet. To bring our people together.”
“It’s what your people dreamed of.”
I expected that to make Syan smile, but for some reason, she looked away with an odd, guilty look. “Lyriana, there’s so much I haven’t told you,” she said. “My people can be…I mean…I can’t promise they’ll understand. And if they don’t…”
“They will,” Lyriana said. “Because you do. And if you and I can come together like this, to join our flames like we did at the river, then our people can, too.” She stared at Syan, her eyes big and earnest, sparkling gold. “I believe in us. I believe in you.”
Syan turned back to Lyriana and now her eyes were glistening too, and was that a tear running down her cheek? There was something happening here, something I was missing, but something very real and powerful all the same. “Lyriana,” Syan said and as she reached out to touch her arm, the streaks in her hair burned a sudden vibrant blue, so bright it lit up the night around us, brighter than the brightest torch, and the energy humming around us was so strong and electric I could feel it in my teeth and my bones and my thundering heart.
Syan jerked back, surprised, and all that magic blinked out instantly. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to…I shouldn’t have drawn from you like that.”
“It’s fine,” Lyriana said, even though she looked a little flushed. She stood up, adjusting her shirt, averting her gaze. “I should go. To bed. You know. For rest.”
She left, and Syan did too, and I just sat there alone, trying to figure out what in the frozen hell had just happened. Whatever it was, I was grateful to be out here alone.
So of course, as the sun set, we ran into a bunch of people.
We huddled down on the top of a cresting dune, gazing down through our spyglasses at a caravan. To the naked eye, the other travelers were just tiny specs on the horizon, a huddle of little black dots in a wide stretch between two hills, but through the spyglass I could make out more details: big brightly painted wagons, sleek brown horses with beautiful black manes, the bustle of at least a dozen people setting up for the night. Two men hoisted up heavy tarp tents. A couple women built a deep fire pit, while a few others laid out big strips of meat. I’m pretty sure there was even a child, a little boy running circles around the perimeter.
My stomach growled, and my back sent a highly suggestive ache. Sleeping in a real camp would be nice.
“Well, they’re not soldiers.” Zell squinted through his spyglass by my side. “Only one of them looks armed, the bald guy hanging around the back. Probably a hired guard.”
“Refugees, maybe?” Lyriana speculated.
Ellarion shook his head. “Awfully well-provisioned for that. I’m thinking merchants or vagabonds.”
“Does it matter who they are?” I asked. “Isn’t the real question what we’re going to do?”
“Their campsite is a problem,” Zell said. “If we want to march far enough out so they won’t see us, it’ll cost us half a day, easy.”
“You said they had horses, right?” my father asked. He was the only one of us without a spyglass, seated cross-legged on the dune’s slope. “We could really use some of those.”
Lyriana shot him a glare that could freeze a volcano. “Titans restrain me, if you’
re suggesting we rob these people…”
“I will take no part in this,” Syan added, her voice a dagger’s edge. “The law of my people forbids banditry. Try to harm them, and I will stop you.”
My father looked from one girl to the other, then shrugged. “Merely making an observation.”
“So then we avoid them,” Zell said. “We’ll move at night, when they’re less likely to see us. Take a long path around the valley.”
Zell kept talking, but I barely heard him, because I was staring at something though my spyglass, trying to make sense of it. It was at the edge of the strangers’ camp, near one of the men, a beefy Heartlander with an open shirt and billowing pants. He had something in his hand, something that was sparkling really bright, a hot white glint almost blinding to look at…
The lens of a spyglass.
“Ahoy!” he shouted, his voice echoing over the dunes. “Fellow travelers! We bear you no harm! Come, share our bread and wine, and grant us the gift of company!”
Ellarion jerked up, slamming his spyglass shut, as if that would do any good now. “Shit. So much for avoiding them.”
“Should we flee?” Lyriana asked, already in motion.
Syan shook her head. “No fleeing a horse in the desert.”
“Um, guys?” I cut in. “I realize this might sound kind of out there…but that guy said they have bread and wine.” Everyone turned to stare at me. “I mean, they seem friendly, right? And if we can’t outrun them anyway, what other choice do we have?”
“You want to take him up on his offer?” Ellarion said “No. Too dangerous. What if they recognize us?”
“I don’t think they will,” Lyriana said, scanning our group. “We don’t exactly look like ourselves.”
She had a point. The journey had taken its toll on us, and I’m pretty sure we just looked like a random band of drifters. Zell and Ellarion both sported long hair and messy beards. My father was working a mad-hermit look. Even Lyriana’s radiance was dulled, her skin cracked from the dry winds, her short hair tangled. Our clothes were tattered, our bodies bruised. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but I couldn’t imagine anyone looking at us and seeing a band of fugitive nobles.
“Did I mention we have wine?” the burly guy shouted.
“We’ll make something up about who we are,” I said. “If things go well, we can eat some good food and have a drink, maybe buy some of those horses off them. And if it doesn’t, Lyriana can do some awesome magic thing, and we can escape. It’s worth a shot, right?”
Lyriana nodded, as did Zell, and Syan gave a little shrug. Ellarion stretched and groaned, the way he always did when he was agreeing to a bad idea. “Fine. But let me do all the talking. It’s the one thing I’m still pretty good at.” Then he turned, shouting down to the figures on the horizon. “We accept your offer, travelers! We shall join you shortly!”
We got ready as quickly as we could. We took most of our weapons and wrapped them up in a sheet, hiding them in Zell’s big pack. Lyriana tucked her Rings into her pockets. Syan pulled her hood up over her head, hiding her face in its shadow, as if that mattered.
My father cleared his throat. “Not to be demanding, but I think these might raise some questions.” He held out his hands, showing us the heavy iron manacles on his wrists, the chain dangling between them.
We all looked among ourselves uneasily, then Lyriana let out a long, irritated sigh. “You try anything, Kent…anything…and I’ll kill you on the spot.”
My father nodded. “Understood.”
Lyriana reached out a hand, whispering under her breath, as the air around her hand pulsed with a hidden heat, like the surface of a road on a hot day. The manacles glowed bright, then crumbled into brittle chunks and fell to the desert floor. I winced at the sight of my father’s wrists: raw and bloody, the flesh ground away, two bands of oozing wounds. He held them out to Lyriana questioningly, and she just turned her back on him.
Ice. Cold.
With all that settled, we headed down into the clearing between the dunes. The big guy, who I’m guessing was the leader of the caravan, was already walking our way. He was a Heartlander, his skin almost as dark as a Volaris’, with his hair hanging down his back in long beaded ropes and his bare chest covered in curly black hairs. The two women flanking him were Southlanders, slim women in tight robes with their bald heads glistening in the light of the sun. And the man behind them, the hired guard, was an Easterner, a Sparran I think, his face painted white with golden serpents around his eyes and a scimitar at his hips. “Greetings, companions!” the Heartlander shouted, voice booming over the desert sprawl. “Well met!”
Ellarion led our company toward him, and clasped the man’s hand in greeting. “Well met, indeed!” Ellarion said, and was he actually doing a voice? Like kind of a gruff sailor voice, I guess, a rumbling baritone? Was this how he thought all commoners sounded?
Why did we let him do the talking again?
“My companions and I have fallen on rough times,” Ellarion went on, and yup, he was definitely doing a voice. “How lucky we are to encounter your caravan!”
“Lucky you are indeed!” The big man grinned, several of his teeth shining gold. “I am Varyn Magsend, and you have the pleasure of meeting the Jolly Company, the greatest vagabond troupe on the continent!”
Vagabonds, then. Traveling entertainers who roamed from inn to inn, performing songs and dances and plays for anyone willing to toss them gold. As far as people to run into in the middle of the desert, we could’ve done a lot worse.
“I am the leader of this merry group,” Varyn went on. “These two beautiful visions are the Lyo Sisters, the greatest acrobats you’ll ever meet. The muscled gentleman behind me is our protection, Pattos Sel Tyn Dee, and though he’ll never admit it, he has a truly magnificent singing voice.” The guard rolled his eyes. “In the camp, you’ll find all manner of wondrous entertainers. We have actors, jugglers, singers, dancers…and cooks.” He must have seen our eyes light up, because he let out a booming laugh. “I take it that holds some appeal.”
“It’s been a while since we’ve eaten well,” I admitted.
“If I may ask, what brings you out our way? Not many people travel this part of the Southlands.”
I winced, half expecting Ellarion to say something like Oh, you know how we poors are, can’t read a map to save our lives. But when he spoke, it was actually pretty convincing. “My name is Jerrald Taye, and this is my sister Mara.” He waved at Lyriana, who blinked, then curtsied. “We were leading a merchant train to deliver our goods to Tau Lorren. We’d hoped to cut through these lands here to avoid any trouble, but alas, found ourselves caught in the middle of battle.” He let out an only slightly melodramatic sigh. “Our little band is all that remains.”
Varyn spit angrily into the sand. “This war ruins everything.”
“What kind of merchant train has Zitochi and Westerners?” Pattos, the armed guard, grumbled, resting one hairy hand on a scimitar’s hilt. “I don’t trust this.”
“We specialize in goods from all over the Kingdom,” Ellarion quickly cut in. “Celyse sells the greatest redwood stock of the whole West.” I guess that was me, so I nodded. “Zayn is a nightglass merchant from the Zitochi tundra. And this Red Waster…”
“My name is Cella Cae,” Syan said calmly, without even the slightest hint she was lying. “I sell candles.”
Well…okay.
“What about him?” Pattos jerked his head at my father. “What’s his deal?”
“Celyse’s poor uncle Gregory,” Ellarion said, shaking his head with deep distress. “He barely survived the battle. Lost both his sons. Hasn’t spoken a word since. We suspect he’s been rendered mute. Isn’t that right, Gregory?”
My father nodded.
Against all odds, Varyn seemed to buy it. “Sounds like you’ve all been through a lot. All the more reason to welcome you to our camp for the night.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have much to pay you with,” Lyr
iana said, and, like, why bring that up?
Varyn just shrugged. “The only payment we need is your company.” He reached out, clasping a hand around her shoulder, and I wonder what he’d say if he knew he was touching the Queen of Noveris. “Come! Come! Dinner is almost ready!”
It might have just been the hunger or the exhaustion or the sheer relief at eating something that wasn’t dried and/or lizard. But the dinner we had there was the single best meal of my life.
They laid out a row of soft cushions for us by a roaring fire, and we all huddled together, the six of us, as the company’s cooks brought out an incredible assortment of Southlands cuisine. There were roasted goat skewers, topped with just the right amount of spice and dipped in a tangy mint sauce. There was a creamy milk soup with chunks of potato, and bowls of seasoned rice. There were plates of fruits I’d never seen before, yellow pears covered in spikes and furry green apples with a surprisingly tart kick. And there was the dessert, Sinners’ Secrets, the flaky sugar-coated cubes full of cherry jam and rosewater liquor, my literal favorite thing in the world, ever. Oh, the Sinners’ Secrets.
A reasonable person would’ve paced herself, knowing that after weeks of lean eating, she should go easy. I was not a reasonable person, so I gorged myself on every single delicious thing and then lay there, slumped against Zell, rubbing my incredibly full stomach. Next to me, Lyriana nibbled delicately on a long green fruit, while Syan slurped down her third bowl of soup. My father sat behind us, legs crossed, eating his rice in silence. For better or worse, he was playing along with Ellarion’s ruse.
The vagabonds hustled all around us, practicing their arts and enjoying the cool night air. The acrobat sisters did handstands and contortions, climbing up one another in a form that seemed almost like a dance. A big bearded Southlander worked on his juggling; he could toss four daggers, easy, but as soon as he added a fifth, they came crashing down, making me wince every time. Three young people who I’m guessing were actors sat in a huddle, poring over pages of a script. And Varyn managed it all, flitting from group to group, before eventually wandering our way.
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