Page 71 of All the Wandering Light

Lusha’s hand went to her pack, where the star nestled inside a spare tunic. “We’ll make for Amvar’s house.”

Tem coughed. Lusha put her finger to her lips, but he didn’t seem able to stop—the incense was too much for him. Lusha beckoned, and we hurried after her. I shivered as we passed beneath a lurid tapestry depicting a hero with a hideous scowl—her eyes seemed to follow us, as if her spirit inhabited the woven threads.

We came to a small room with tables laden with food offerings—a pitcher of souring milk; khir; spiced lamb; a bowl of soft cheese. I knew that in large temples like this, food was often left out for the spirits at all times—though from the smell, these offerings hadn’t been freshened lately. A small door led off the room.

Lusha hurried forward, her hand going to the handle, when suddenly it opened, swinging inward. She started back, knocking me against the table of offerings. The milk overturned, spattering all three of us, and my elbow landed in a bowl of rice.

The young man who had entered seemed equally startled, staring at us with round eyes. He was clad in the black robes of a temple attendant. We stared at each other for a heartbeat, and then the man’s eyes narrowed. He turned his head as if to call to someone.

“Go,” Lusha said. Tem and I were already moving—back through the temple, past the enraged hero. We reached the doors, and I thoughtlessly wrenched the handle on the broken side.

“Watch out!” Lusha shouted as the heavy block of wood fell backward with a creak. Tem yanked me out of the way, and the door slammed into the stone floor, the sound reverberating.

I groaned. Any spirits that may have been slumbering in the temple—along with any living neighbors—were not likely to be asleep anymore.

We darted back onto the street. Fortunately, there was no sign of the guards.

“Do you actually know where you’re going?” I asked Lusha.

As if in response, she stopped short. She had seen something around the corner of the next street.

“Guards,” she said, stepping back. “Headed this way. They must be sweeping the neighborhood.”

There was no time to run. Lusha motioned to a wall over which the boughs of fragrant fruit trees leaned—a garden. Tem gave Lusha a boost while I easily hauled myself up. Then the two of us helped Tem scale the wall—he was so exhausted his feet kept slipping. The three of us landed atop a prickly bush just as the sound of pounding feet reached us. The guards continued past the garden at a rapid pace. We lay unmoving until the sound faded.

“Where are we?” Tem said.

“The merchants’ quarter,” Lusha replied. She glanced around us. “In someone’s goji patch, by the looks of it.”

I extricated myself from the vines, cursing as they caught at my chuba. The reddish stains from the crushed berries did not exactly enhance my bedraggled appearance—nor did the sweet rice tangled in my hair. Dragonlight flickered through one of the shuttered windows of the house looming over the garden, and I fell silent.

“We can’t stay here,” Tem said.

“We’re safer here than on the streets.” Lusha rubbed her brow. “I don’t understand how he sent word so quickly.”

It took me a moment to grasp what she meant. Dread settled in my chest.

“Elin,” I murmured.

Lusha nodded. “Three witches escaping the Fifth Army is not exactly a common occurrence. He must have sent a messenger to the Three Cities with our description, and a warning that we were at large.”

We froze as another set of footfalls stampeded along the lane. But they too continued past the garden without pause.

“What are we going to do?” I whispered.

Lusha made no reply. For the first time I could remember, she seemed defeated. She slumped against the wall, her chuba slipping off one shoulder.

I felt that now-familiar tug—the urge to use Azar-at’s magic. But where before I had seen it as a harmless thing, now it frightened me. The fire demon would be near, crouched somewhere out of sight. Naturally, the harder I pushed away my thoughts of magic, the more they filled my mind.

I thought of the girl with my face, staring at me from the darkness. I shuddered. If those hallucinations were connected to Azar-at—the beginnings of the madness that afflicted all shamans who used a fire demon’s power—they would only worsen if I cast another spell.

An hour crept by. Tem’s head slumped forward, and he barely murmured when I shook him. In the end, I let him sleep. Biter alighted briefly in the fragrant pear tree, then flew off, disappearing into the night on quiet wings. I felt a twinge of envy.

I started awake at the feeling of someone tugging at my hair. At some point, I had nodded off, my head falling onto Lusha’s shoulder. She was removing leaves from my hair with gentle fingers.

“This is familiar,” she said. “How many times did Father scold you for coming home with leaves and pinecones tangled in your hair?”

“Not since I was twelve,” I replied in a dignified voice. But I let her pluck the foliage, feeling surprisingly soothed.