Page 83 of All the Wandering Light

Mara glanced at him for the first time, then did a double take so violent it seemed to involve his entire body.

“You—” He grabbed my arm, yanking me backward so hard that I briefly levitated. “Kamzin, stay back.”

I shook him off. “Mara, you don’t—”

“Have you enspelled her?” Mara’s face was white as he glanced from River to me. He had drawn an obsidian dagger from his chuba, and his hand, as he gripped it, shook violently. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Mara so rattled, even when we’d faced the fiangul. “Is that what this is? Did you take her memories?”

“Her memories of what?” River said.

Mara made a move toward him, and I leaped between them. “Mara, stop. He doesn’t mean that—River’s helping us.”

“And I’ve already warned the generals of Esha’s plot,” River said. “I’m afraid you’re superfluous, Mara. No doubt the feeling’s familiar by now.”

“Oh, you’ve warned them.” Mara let out a humorless laugh. He didn’t lower the dagger. “I’m sure you did. You’ve no doubt convinced them to adopt whatever course suits your ends. Kamzin, if you’ve placed even a shred of trust in anything he says, you’re a fool. He’s capable of nothing but guile.”

“Was it guile that rescued you in the Amarin Valley?” River said. “Or pulled you out of the Iriad Rapids? Saving your life was certainly ill-advised, but I don’t recall guile being part of it.”

I shot him a glare. “You’re not helping.”

He rolled his eyes and pushed off the wall. “What can I say? Mara, I have no intention of harming you—or anyone else, at the moment, apart from my brother.”

Mara’s grip tightened on the dagger. “Do you think your lies will sway me? I am not as easily taken in as a naïve village girl.”

Anger flickered in River’s eyes, and he turned to me. “You see? I tried.”

“Mara, put the dagger away,” I said.

“Yes, do,” River said. “I’ve been stabbed quite enough recently.”

“I saw what you did to Jangsa.” Mara’s voice was hoarse. “I was there.”

“Jangsa.” I thought of the plumes of black smoke. “Did the villagers survive? What did you see?”

“Death,” he said quietly. “Death and devastation. Like nothing I’ve ever witnessed.”

I closed my eyes. River showed no reaction whatsoever. Then he asked, unexpectedly, “Does the elder live?”

Mara gave him a look of pure venom. “Yes. By some miracle of the spirits.”

River nodded. “That’s good. I liked him.”

He looked so unaffected that I had to suppress my own urge to leap at him. But being angry at River for lacking customary human feelings was, I was beginning to realize, like being angry at the wind for rustling the leaves.

I turned to Mara. “Speak to Lusha. She can explain everything.” And then, because I couldn’t resist, “No doubt better than a naïve village girl like me.”

Mara, having noticed no sarcasm in my words, gave River a ferocious look. “I won’t leave you alone with him.”

“Mara,” River said, “you’re interrupting us. You can leave by choice, or we can come to some other arrangement.” He had looked more ruffled by Mara’s characterization of me than his account of Jangsa’s destruction.

“Lusha will want to see you,” I said quickly, as Mara’s expression grew ugly. “She kept wondering when you would arrive. She was worried.”

Mara blinked. “She was?”

I nodded, wondering what Lusha would do to make me pay for this later. “She thought the fiangul might have attacked you in the pass. I told her that if anyone could make it back to the Three Cities in one piece, it was you, but I don’t think it helped.”

Mara seemed to draw himself up straighter. “I kept a careful eye on the weather. I always do.”

“She’s probably in the observatory,” River interjected, for Mara’s tone implied he was about to elaborate. “I’d check there.”