Page 101 of All the Wandering Light

Steadily, the fires were spreading.

As we moved deeper into the city, we passed men and women fleeing in various states of undress. One man appeared to be wearing a nightgown and was towing a heavily burdened yak behind him. Two shoeless women ran by, one almost colliding with Lusha. Dragons flapped around them in a chittering whirl of alarm.

“Where are the soldiers?” I said, between coughs. The smoke was strangely sharp—it stuck in my throat like brambles. Just as I spoke, though, I saw them: three soldiers in an empty square who seemed to be fighting the darkness. As Lusha and I watched, a witch swirled out of the shadow and wrapped his arms around the closest soldier’s throat. Another fired an arrow that struck the witch in the side, and he fell to the ground, writhing. But another witch appeared and, with a gesture, summoned a gust of wind that slammed the soldier into a wall. He slid to the ground and lay unmoving.

Lusha pulled me down an alley before the witches saw us. We emerged across from what was clearly a tavern frequented by traveling merchants. Several abandoned yaks stood tethered outside, grunting and straining at their ties.

Pausing, I drew the obsidian dagger from my pocket and slashed it through the yaks’ tethers. The beasts huffed, startled, and then they turned and thundered down the street.

“We don’t have time,” Lusha snapped, grabbing my arm again. “Come on.”

But before I could move, the tavern burst into flame.

I didn’t see the witch who lit it. There was only a stirring in the darkness, and then the creature was gone, off to wreak havoc somewhere else. Embers leaped into the street, singeing my chuba. One landed just below my eye, and I gasped. The searing pain didn’t fade even after I brushed the ember away with my sleeve.

The house behind us went up, screams echoing within. Lusha stood frozen, stunned, as plumes of fire rained down. I grabbed her and hauled her out of the way as the gate plunged toward us, the iron burning as easily as kindling.

“Kamzin!”

I whirled. A small group ran toward us, dressed in shamans’ robes. Except for one, a tall, lean figure in the chuba of a nobleman.

It was Tem.

He rang one of the kinnika—it sang out with a cold, high tone. He shouted an incantation, and the house went out as suddenly as it had ignited.

Tem gripped my arms. He had the bell that Mara had given us, which he had attached to the string of kinnika around his neck. His face was pale, but he was alive and unhurt. Two of the shamans he was with paused before the tavern and began chanting an incantation. The flames sputtered but did not die.

“Are you hurt?” Tem demanded. “I heard about what happened in the hall—at least, parts of it. No one is certain what’s going on—except for the obvious, of course. The witches want to burn the city to the ground.”

I shook my head, stunned. Tem stepped back and rang the kinnika again. His tall frame was briefly silhouetted against the shadowed orange glow—he seemed, to my eyes, to have grown a foot, and his chuba whipped about him in the wind, churned up by the hungry flames. The tavern was extinguished—all of it, down to the last ember. It smoked lightly, as if the flames had been extinguished hours ago.

I stared at him. Tem turned back to me.

“My theory was correct,” he said in his thoughtful, familiar voice. “When paired with a fire incantation, the bell has the power to counteract the witches’ fire, including some of its aftereffects—”

I grabbed him and pulled him close. His arms wrapped around me as if instinctively. I noticed, not for the first time, how good it felt to be in Tem’s arms.

He pulled back, touching my face where the ember had burned me. “You are hurt.” It was almost accusing.

“I’m fine,” I said, but Tem was already reaching for one of the bone kinnika and murmuring a healing incantation. The pain faded to a twinge.

One of the shamans shouted something, gesturing at Tem.

“Kamzin—I have to go,” he said. “We’re trying to put out as many fires as possible.”

I held on to him for one more second. I didn’t want to let go—I didn’t want him anywhere near these ghoulish fires, or the witches who had set them. Tem should be at my side. Anything else was wrong.

I set my jaw, forced myself to step back. “Go.”

Tem nodded. Then he was gone, charging back into the smoke and the dusky light that filled the street.

“We’re almost there,” Lusha said, motioning me on. We ran past a temple, as yet untouched by the fire, then came to a towering stone edifice set into the peak of another hill, several stories of pillars and luxurious balconies. Flowering ivy crept over the rails, and in contrast to the stark purity of the emperor’s palace, the pillars of this building were painted in vivid reds and golds. I didn’t need to ask if Lusha was certain—this was precisely the sort of place I would have expected the pampered shamans of the Three Cities to reside. A grand staircase of white stone loomed before us. It wasn’t even the main entrance, for this was an alley.

Lusha led me up the steps, which zagged sharply around a knuckle of rock. There we both halted, for standing in our path was a tall, thin figure dressed in a ragged chuba.

“Well,” Esha said, his voice quiet as the shadows fell away from him. “You two look familiar.”

For a heartbeat, horror froze my limbs. The city below was a tumult of orange and red and darkness, and for a moment, it felt as if the three of us hovered above it all, suspended in midair.