Page 34 of All the Wandering Light

River suppressed a grimace at the “my lord.” Thorn had always trailed after Esha when they were children—now that he was emperor, Thorn was practically kissing his feet.

“I’m flattered Esha places such confidence in me,” River said. “That he would think I could locate a fallen star in a vast mountain range within a matter of hours.”

Thorn made a low sound of disgust. River ignored him. He wasn’t trying to irritate his brothers—which wasn’t to say that he didn’t enjoy it. When the emperor had sent him after a star before, he had been given precise coordinates by Lozong’s seers. He didn’t have that now—he had nothing more than a vague description from the witches who had seen the star land somewhere in the Ashes. River might be able to move like the wind, but that was of limited benefit if he didn’t know where to go.

“Esha will not—”

“If Esha wants the star found more quickly, he can kidnap a seer,” River said. “As I’ve told him, I’m no expert in astronomy.”

River’s words stirred up a memory. Kamzin’s sister was a seer, a talented one—she had guessed things about River’s identity that not even the emperor’s seers had discovered. No doubt she would be able to track a fallen star. He wondered if they were still on Raksha, or if they had made it off the mountain and were now heading back to Azmiri. Either way, they wouldn’t be far—not for him. Lusha would have little interest in helping them, but River had no doubt Esha could find a way to convince her.

He gazed thoughtfully at the mountains. It wasn’t as if River had warm feelings for Lusha—quite the opposite. She had tried to sabotage his expedition. She had nearly destroyed everything he had been working toward for over three years. He felt nothing for her but animosity.

“Unfortunately, seers are in short supply in these parts,” Thorn said drily. “You’re the best we have.”

River pressed his lips together. He bent his head over the strings again. “So it seems.”

“We’ve had another one take ill,” Thorn said. “It doesn’t make sense. Esha was furious.”

“Yes, I’m sure she fell ill to spite him.” The illness that had afflicted several of their company had slowed their progress further. Oddly, it resembled the symptoms of obsidian poisoning, once a common weapon used against the witches by Empire soldiers.

“He was furious because he thinks someone’s working against us.”

“Who?” River gestured at the vast, empty landscape. “Esha’s only grown more paranoid over the years. More likely, they’ve been overusing their magic. I’ve seen shamans sicken from that.”

Thorn leaned back on his hands. He was watching River again. “What’s he like? The emperor.”

“Arrogant. Vain. Given to tormenting his brother with impossible tasks.”

Thorn actually laughed. “I meant Lozong.”

River pulled at another string. “They’re rather alike. Though Lozong’s chief preoccupation these days is his banquets and festivals. I doubt anyone would invite Esha to a banquet. He’d eat the guests.”

“We’re fortunate the empress is no longer alive,” Thorn said. “She was more attentive to the security of the Empire than Lozong, wasn’t she?”

“So they say.” River had never met Empress Iranna—she had died decades ago, having refused to allow her life to be lengthened unnaturally by magic, as the emperor’s had been. By all accounts, she had been a fearsome ruler, with a sharp tongue and a sharper mind, and more than a match for the emperor. It was clearly a quality that appealed to him, for he was said to have been wholly devoted to her. River found it hard to believe, as the only person he had seen inspire devotion in the emperor was himself. Yet it was true that he had never remarried.

“Esha wants to speak with you,” Thorn said, standing. “He’s in a foul mood.”

“Does he have other moods?”

Thorn laughed again and strode off. River found himself wondering idly how it would have been between him and Thorn had it not been for Esha. Sometimes they were almost capable of getting along.

River set the divining strings aside and scrubbed a hand through his hair. The problem wasn’t just the interruption. He had enough difficulty sitting still, let alone fiddling with bits of string.

He pictured Sky hunched over his hands by firelight, plucking at the threads as intricate patterns took shape. He made it seem so effortless—as a child, River had sometimes fallen asleep watching him. Sky would sit beside him, a bulky, comforting presence, explaining the patterns in his calm voice.

Thinking of Sky brought about that hollow feeling again. River shoved his thoughts away. Discarding unpleasant thoughts was easier than it had been before he’d met Azar-at—another reason to be grateful for the fire demon’s companionship.

The wind whispered over the hill, rustling the water of the nearest pool so that the stars seemed to melt together. River reached for the telescope—only to find it gone.

Claws scraped against stone. He turned.

Gazing back at him was Kamzin’s fox, the telescope clutched in its jaws.

For a moment, River could only stare. The fox stared back, green eyes narrowed with what River could have sworn was amusement. The creature scampered down the hill, moving with uncanny speed.

In a blink, River transformed into a black leopard and surged after the fox. But within a few yards, its trail disappeared. He pawed at the snow, perplexed.