Page 78 of All the Wandering Light

“We’ve been asked to attend you, dyonpa,” the closest servant said. She was perhaps a year or two older than me, with a gap-toothed smile and round cheeks.

Dyonpa. It was a word used only for the nobility. I looked longingly at the scented oils, but I didn’t have time to be pampered by servants—I needed to find Lusha, to work out what we were going to do next. I had already slept too long. “I—thank you, but I—”

“Sit,” the second girl said, somehow turning the command into the gentlest request. I sat on the edge of the bed, which had been made in my absence. They patiently combed the snarls from my hair, applying oil to soften it. They tsked over my bruises and blisters, my broken and missing toenails. Then they helped me into my clothes—a dress of deep blue brocade that fell to the floor and belted at the waist. It was so soft and so warm I felt as if I were wrapped in a blanket. The gap-toothed girl motioned for me to sit again, and began to massage my feet with a different oil.

“No, that’s all right.” I pulled my feet out of her grasp. They were so unsightly I felt guilty even displaying them to these pampered attendants. “Thank you.”

“As you wish, dyonpa.” The girl gave me a quick, sly smile. “We’ve seen worse, you know.”

I almost laughed. “Have you?”

“Explorers,” the girl said, as if it explained everything. They rose, bowing themselves out. With a sigh of relief, I turned to the tray of food they had left. It was piled high with sweet bean cakes, roasted apples, clear green tea, and several spice-studded dishes of noodles with strangely shaped vegetables that I didn’t recognize, but that tasted heavenly after weeks of stale rations. As I ate, I became aware that the room had brightened. I rose, opening the shutter that the servants had closed.

Warm sunlight spilled over me. In the courtyard below, two men in seers’ robes stood by the fountain, heads bowed in conversation. Birds sang among the leafy paths.

It was morning, not twilight. I had slept an entire day.

Panic filled me, and the food somersaulted in my stomach. What had happened, while I slept? Had there been more attacks?

Behind me, the door opened. I whirled.

“Calm down,” Lusha said by way of greeting. “It’s just me.”

I surged forward. “The star— Is Esha—”

“The star is safe,” Lusha said, patting the pocket of her chuba, which, while plain, was woven from expensive silks. “It’s as River said—the villages are quiet, according to the messengers. The witches seem to have retreated.”

I absorbed this dubiously. Esha hadn’t struck me as someone who gave up easily.

“I agree,” Lusha said, noting my expression. “Sit down, Kamzin. Eat. The Empire won’t fall while you finish your laping.”

I sat, irritably, but didn’t touch my breakfast. “So you think your pocket meets the definition of ‘safe’?”

“I can’t trust it with anyone else.” She sat beside me, absently helping herself to an uneaten cake. Her eyes were shadowed, her face pale, and I wondered how much she had rested. “That’s what I came here to tell you. The emperor returns to court today—I have to convince him to meet with me, so I can give him the star. He needs to recast the binding spell.”

I frowned. “Can’t you give it to one of the royal shamans?”

Lusha gave me a look. “You know as well as I do what Three Cities shamans are like. I spoke with several of them yesterday—without revealing anything about our expedition, of course—and they’re hopeless. All they know of fallen stars is rumor and legend. Besides, I can’t say too much—what if River finds out what the star can be used for?”

I rubbed my head, which was beginning to ache from the weight of dealings and double-dealings. “I wish we could—”

“We can’t.” Lusha didn’t speak again until I met her eyes. “If River finds out the star can take his powers again, what do you think he’ll do? Shrug and make a joke about shamanic magic?”

My mouth was suddenly very dry. I pictured River on the summit of Raksha, the expression he had worn after I tried to stop him from lifting the binding spell. “No.”

“The binding spell was cast two centuries ago,” Lusha said. “The only person who certainly knows how is the emperor himself, because he was there.”

I shivered at the reminder of Emperor Lozong’s unnatural life span. It was said that he had ruled for over two centuries, kept alive by some strange shamanic spell. Most outside the Three Cities believed it a tale invented by the first Lozong’s descendants to intimidate his enemies. Lusha rose and moved back to the door.

“Where are you going?” I demanded, following.

“I told you.” Lusha’s hand was already on the door. “I’m going to speak to the emperor’s advisors to request a private audience.”

“What should I do?” I said.

“You don’t have to do anything,” she replied. “Stay here, and wait for me to return. Don’t speak to anyone—especially not River.”

And with that, she was gone.