Page 84 of All the Wandering Light

Mara gave him a long, cold look. “If I find you’ve tampered with her mind or harmed her in any way—”

“I doubt Lusha’s mind is as easily tampered with as some,” River said. “In any case, I don’t have that power anymore.”

“I’ll have my account from her.” Mara turned, his concern over my safety evidently dissipated. Midstep, his brow furrowed and he paused, drawing something from his chuba.

“Here,” he said, holding out a small item wrapped in oilcloth. “From the Elder of Jangsa.”

I took it, surprised. “For me?”

“For Tem.” With one last, dark look at River, Mara swept away.

River let out a long breath as Mara’s footsteps faded. “Good thinking. I thought he’d never leave.”

“Lusha won’t thank me.” I unwrapped the parcel. “What is—?”

I fell silent as a small, crudely carved bell tumbled into my hand.

“This looks like one of the kinnika,” I murmured. I rang it, and it made a sound so high it was almost inaudible. I examined the bell for images or characters, but there was nothing, only a faint crosshatching along the rim.

I held it out to River, but after grasping it he quickly dropped it back into my palm, as if singed.

“What is it?”

“It’s like ice.” His brow furrowed. “You don’t feel it?”

“No.” The bell was cool, but warmed against my skin, no different from ordinary metal. “Does the sound hurt you?”

River shook his head. I rewrapped the kinnika carefully. The elder had sent it to us—no doubt it was important. “Tem will know what it’s for.”

River led me down the corridor to where it opened onto another hall as wide as a room. He stopped in front of a mighty set of oak doors, which stretched all the way to the ceiling. They were carved with dozens, if not hundreds, of tiny wizened figures, each holding a brush and a scroll. A guard stood on either side, both looking as bored as the others I’d seen, though they drew themselves to attention when they recognized River.

“What’s this?” I said, certain some fearsome sight awaited me on the other side of the doors—the emperor’s personal receiving room, perhaps, or the royal shamans’ training arena.

“The libraries,” River said.

We stepped through, pushing against doors as heavy as boulders.

I drew in a breath. I had never seen a room so large. At least a dozen stories spiraled up from the cavernous atrium, all lined with shelves upon shelves of scrolls. The polished stone floor was crowded with desks occupied by scholars and shamans, some murmuring quietly together, others sitting in silence, heads bent over tiny writing. The Elder’s library in Azmiri, which Father often boasted was the largest in the Northern Aryas, could fit inside this place hundreds of times. Dragons—wisely, I supposed—seemed to be banned. Lanterns dangled from railings and cast their soft glow across desks—a necessity, for there were few windows, and the place was all golden shadow.

I turned to River, but he was gone. The enormous doors folded shut with barely a whisper.

I squared my shoulders, turning back to the room. Given my history with Chirri and her incomprehensible research assignments, libraries were far from my favorite place. Fortunately, I spotted Tem almost immediately, ensconced at a desk against the wall, his nose so close to the scroll he was examining I suspected it would be stained with ink. His hair was uncharacteristically tucked behind his ears, and the lantern light glanced off the sharp planes of his face.

When I tapped him on the shoulder, he leaped in the air.

“Did you sleep at all, Tem? Or have you been here since yesterday?”

He gave me a rueful smile. He was dressed in a dark, knitted tunic and trousers of a finer material than I had ever seen him wear. The bruise on his cheek seemed to be fading, and while still drawn and thin, he looked rested for the first time in weeks. “Not quite. But after what I discovered yesterday, I couldn’t stay away.” He paused, blinking at me. “You look—”

“Terrible. I know.”

“No. Kamzin, you look better.” He stared in astonishment. “I’m covered in bruises, and when I stand up, I feel as if I’ll faint. You look as if you never left Azmiri.”

I took stock of myself. I was still tired, perhaps, and though my muscles had been soothed by the hot bath, my legs ached slightly. But overall, Tem was right—I felt almost like my old self.

“Only you could climb the highest mountain in the Empire, hunt down a fallen star, and escape the Fifth Army without a scrape,” Tem said, shaking his head.

“None you can see,” I said lightly. “Where’s Lusha?”