Page 72 of All the Wandering Light

“‘You can’t just wander in to dinner looking like some forest beast,’” Lusha said, mimicking Father’s tone precisely.

I laughed. She tugged at another tangle, her expression growing thoughtful. “We should split up. They’re looking for three travelers—we’re too easy to pick out.”

This struck me as a bad—even ominous—idea. “The guards have seen us. Splitting up won’t change that. We should stick together and make for the seer’s house as quickly as possible.”

Lusha was already shaking her head. “His house is in the next quarter—there are too many guards between here and there.”

Her tone carried a familiar note of finality that never failed to annoy me. I opened my mouth to argue, and then, slowly, closed it. I felt almost disappointed—after everything Lusha and I had been through, we were still arguing?

I let out my breath. Lusha would never stop infuriating me—expecting otherwise was unrealistic. We were flint and steel—we would always spark when we were together. It didn’t mean anything. I would still lay down my life for her, or follow her to the edge of the world, even if we spent the entire journey arguing.

“All right,” I said. “You go with Tem, and I’ll follow.”

Lusha blinked. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and I returned her gaze blandly. I felt lofty and high-minded for letting go of the argument, though there was a part of me that also enjoyed Lusha’s confusion.

“Right,” she said, regaining her authoritative composure, “we’ll wait to see if they come this way again. Then we run.”

I nodded. “I’ll go first.”

“You’re not going by yourself.” It was Tem—I hadn’t realized he was awake. “If anything, it should be you and Lusha. I have the kinnika—I can protect myself.”

Tem, to my eyes, didn’t seem to be in a state to protect anyone. The bruise from the blow the soldiers had dealt him had darkened, and his face was lined with fatigue.

“Tem—”

“I don’t want you to go off alone again, Kamzin. It was hard enough last time, when you went after him.” There was a pleading note in Tem’s voice. It took me a moment to realize that he was talking about Raksha, when I had left Tem and Lusha in the cave to chase River to the summit. Tem had been asleep when I left. It had been cruel not to say good-bye, given that I had been facing almost certain death, but I had known he would only plead with me to stay.

I pressed his hand and gave a short nod. Lusha and I clambered back over the wall, leaving Tem to follow.

“I don’t like this,” I said. Lusha’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing. Fortunately, the stars were fading, and more people were about—people with carts and yaks and horses. Despite myself, I began to relax. It was true that no one looked as disheveled as us—our appearance drew stares from several passersby—but we would be more difficult to find in a crowd.

“Almost there,” she murmured as we turned a corner. From one of the rooftops, a raven gave a cry.

I didn’t have time to react. I was wrenched from behind, Lusha’s arm torn from mine. She yelled, and the raven seemed to echo her, a mournful sound. I struggled instinctively, but two guards had me in a grip like stone. Lusha was also held by two captors, and before us stood a man with his sword out.

His sword—not the obsidian dagger that dangled from his belt. Yet I didn’t have time to fully process this—one of the men was speaking.

“This is them?” he said.

The man regarding us nodded. With a start, I recognized him as the burly guard who had initially spotted us. “Where’s the boy?”

“Got away from us. We’ll find him.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Lusha interjected. “We’re not witches.”

“Witches?” The burly man’s brow furrowed. He glanced at the others, as if for an explanation. “What’s this?”

“Search me,” said one of the guards holding Lusha. He was middle-aged with a vague sort of frown that put me in mind of Norbu. His hair, like many of those we had passed in the streets, was dyed the color of blueberries in deference to the latest style. “We have our orders. He doesn’t want to be kept waiting.”

“No.” A look of trepidation passed over the burly man’s face. As if to conceal it from the others, he added in a light voice, “That’s the nobility for you.”

“Where are you taking us?” I demanded. The men were half marching, half dragging us down the still-shadowed street. The man with the sword followed, but he held it almost lazily.

“Sorry about this,” he said, when I glanced over my shoulder. “But you did run off before.”

“Isn’t that what most people do when they’re being followed by armed guards?” I snapped.

The man frowned. “Only if they’ve got something to hide, in my experience.”