Page 111 of All the Wandering Light

Lusha looked away, but not before I saw the flash of pain in her eyes. I knew how important Yonden was to her—I may have been the only one who did. I also knew that, as a seer, he could never marry. Seers were prevented by fiercely guarded customs even from forming friendships, and his relationship with Lusha had only survived by being kept secret from the rest of the village.

“I don’t know,” Lusha said finally. “I suppose I’ll find out.”

I could think of nothing to say to that. I thought of the seer’s distant gaze, the long hours he spent charting the futures he glimpsed in the stars, and wondered how much of what had happened he had already guessed. Lusha’s gaze was distant. After a moment, she went to help the servant tasked with assembling our tents.

I sat there for a while, gazing into the night. Then I too stood and slipped away—into the darkening forest.

The leaves rustled as a bird or other small creature flitted through the underbrush. I was still within the perimeter of the wards, where there was no need to wonder at unusual sounds. But I kept walking—farther upstream, past the place where the protective magic stopped and the sounds from our camp faded beneath the nighttime forest sounds. The trees parted along the bank, revealing a slash of starry sky.

I paused next to a waterfall, waiting. The wards kept him away too, but even if they didn’t, he couldn’t show himself when the soldiers were near.

I let out a slow breath. I was happy to have a moment alone. Amid the bustle and clamor of the palace, it had been difficult to find time to think. I scanned the trees. The nights seemed darker since the witches had returned to the Empire, the shadows deeper, more dangerous. I was almost certain it was my imagination. Almost.

I had traveled from one end of the Empire to the other—beyond the Empire. It still felt strange to think it. At times, I wondered if everything that had happened had been an elaborate dream—soon I would awaken in my room crowded with shamanic trinkets, late for my morning lessons with Chirri. I would climb to her lonely hut, gazing down the slope to where Tem grazed the yaks—and beyond, to where the Arya Mountains dissolved into sky, a world of magic and wild places that I would never know.

One of the kinnika—I didn’t have to look to tell which one—gave a whisper. I didn’t start when his hand slipped into mine, but I did feel my heart speed up.

“So,” River said, “it seems that your appearance before the emperor’s court was a success. Congratulations.”

I glanced down at the tahrskin chuba I was wearing. It was wonderfully warm without being bulky, and molded itself perfectly to my form. But of course it did—it had been made for me.

Ragtooth had followed River out of the shadows. These days, he was often in River’s company, as if he belonged as much to River as he did to me now. Though I suspected this was at least partly Ragtooth’s way of making River aware that he was being monitored.

Ragtooth gave my toe an affectionate nip, then began to wash his knee. Since the battle with Azar-at, the fox hadn’t demonstrated any unusual abilities—unless gnawing through a pair of new boots in the space of an hour counted as an unusual ability. He sniffed the air, the wind playing through his whiskers, the image of an ordinary, if remarkably scruffy, fox. I shook my head. I wondered if I would ever fully understand what Ragtooth was.

“Did he name you Royal Explorer?” River said.

I let out a short laugh. “No. But Lusha said she’d work on him.”

“I’m sure she will.”

“I don’t need it. Just having this”—I played absently with the sleeve of the tahrskin chuba—“is almost too much.”

River’s grip on my hand tightened. “Kamzin. You deserve every honor the emperor could bestow on you.”

“Do I?”

His voice was steady. “Yes.”

I wondered at that. I hadn’t set out for Raksha to fulfill some noble purpose. Lusha had. Lusha was the one who always thought of the greater good—I had wanted something else. An adventure. A chance. Now I had another one.

I thought of my mother, her face turned to the stars. The best explorers make the night a little brighter. I felt a surge of determination.

“So,” River said, “where is your first expedition?”

My eyes met his. There was a pensive, almost awkward quality to his expression, as if he were asking an entirely different question.

“West,” I said, through the happiness that rose inside me. “Beyond the Drakkar Mountains. The emperor wants a report on the new village by Otinza Falls—its position makes it a target for raiders.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Yes.” The happiness brimmed over. “But nothing we can’t handle.”

He smiled. “True.”

My hand tightened in his. “You don’t think you’ll be missed? You are their leader now, after all.”

“Technically.” He gave a small shrug, as if the vast powers he had inherited were nothing at all. “No, I doubt anyone will miss me. I don’t think we’re well suited to courts and thrones and following orders.”