Page 85 of All the Wandering Light
“I’m not sure—she was here a while ago. She’s been trying to get an audience with the emperor without River finding out, but apparently he won’t be returning before the banquet.”
Something stirred in my memory. “Tem, River said that he closed his mind to Azar-at. Do you know what he meant?”
Tem gave me a sharp look. “Why do you ask?”
“I had a dream last night. It was—well, unusual. It reminded me of the visions I had. I’m sure it was only a dream,” I hastened to add. “But I just wondered.”
Tem looked thoughtful. “There is a technique used by shamans to block spells of the mind—memory spells, spells to induce madness or love. I don’t know how it’s done—I believe training involves meditation. You have to have a very focused mind. But this isn’t a spell—I’m not sure you can compare it.”
“Focused,” I repeated. “So, this technique might not work if you were distracted. Or asleep?”
He nodded slowly. “That would make sense.”
I swallowed. If I had shared River’s dreams, it meant he had been right—we were still connected.
“If I end my contract with Azar-at,” I said, “does that mean the visions will stop?”
“I don’t know.” Tem’s voice was quiet. “River experiences them, though he isn’t bound to Azar-at anymore.”
I glanced down at the scrolls on the desk. Suddenly, I wanted to change the subject. “What did you discover?”
“A few things.” An oddly nervous look passed over Tem’s face. “Where’s Ragtooth?”
“Ragtooth?” The question brought me up short. “Asleep on my bed. Why?”
Tem was already nodding. “Of course. He always turns up.”
I blinked. “Why are we talking about Ragtooth? Did you come here to research familiars, or the star?”
“The star, obviously. But then River told me about Ragtooth, and so . . .” He made an overwhelmed gesture at the scrolls piled before him.
For a moment, I was so surprised that Tem and River had spoken without killing each other that I didn’t take in what he had said. “He told you—”
“He’s seen Ragtooth a lot over the last few days,” Tem said. “Always when Ragtooth should have been miles away, with us.”
“How is that possible?”
“It isn’t,” Tem said. “Not even the most powerful shamans have the ability to travel from place to place like that.” He paused. “Fire demons do—Azar-at brought us here.”
I shook my head. “This is ridiculous. River must have imagined what he saw. You know as well as I do that Ragtooth’s sole power is stealing food.”
Tem gave me a long look. “Kamzin. You’ve never been reasonable when it comes to Ragtooth. You see what you want to see, and you push aside any questions about what he is.”
I was taken aback. Something about the conversation felt wrong, somehow. “He’s mine. He’s always been mine. Why would I question that?”
Tem riffled through the papers on the desk. His expression was animated, though what was exciting about a pile of yellowed scrolls eluded me. He had looked the same whenever he solved one of Chirri’s impossible assignments. “Did you read the scrolls about familiars in your father’s library?”
“I thought you wrote that essay.”
Tem gave me a long-suffering look. “I did. Azmiri doesn’t have much information—old stories, mostly, about ancient heroes whose familiars are mentioned only in passing. They always choose heroes—that much is clear.”
“They?” I repeated.
“Wind demons,” Tem said. He unearthed a smaller scroll, and handed it to me. “Beings like the fire demons, but of a different race, you could say. Elemental spirits drawn to mountaintops and wild places, and the sorts of people who roam them. As I said—heroes.”
I gazed at the scroll without seeing it. “Tem . . .”
“I know it’s hard for you to accept,” he said quickly. “But it all fits. The ancient scholars use the words ‘familiar’ and ‘wind demon’ interchangeably. They can take on any form. Like fire demons—like witches, to a certain extent, though witches have a unique lineage. But they usually choose the form that best suits their master. Some can appear and disappear at will, but no matter what, they always return to the person they have chosen to serve.”
