Page 89 of All the Wandering Light

“I wouldn’t rather be in the Nightwood.”

His eyes held mine, and my stomach turned over. Something made me think of my dream, the crane soaring through clouds. “But you’d rather be out there. Not here.”

He paused. “Yes. Wouldn’t you?”

I ignored the question. “How many animals can you turn into, anyway?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t tried them all.” He said it in an offhand way, as if it was a matter so abstract as to be unimportant.

“Isn’t that unusual? I thought witches could only take the shape of a single animal.”

“I think that’s true, for most.”

“Not for you, though.”

“No.”

I thought about what Esha had said about River’s powers being greater than his, and his reference to the Crown. But before I could ask about it, the music died, and the chatter quieted. River pulled away, his attention on the raised dais just visible at the far end of the hall. He drew me inside, toward the edge of the crowd. Their faces were all turned in the same direction.

“The emperor,” he said.

I craned my neck, silently cursing my shortness. River, after a glance at me, took my hand and led me into the crowd, which parted before him. With fewer heads blocking my view, I could see the dais clearly, and also the three figures moving toward it. They didn’t clear the way as River did—it was already cleared for them, courtiers stepping back to form a passage, heads bowing like sheaves of grain.

One of the figures, the most elaborately dressed of the three, to whom my eyes went instinctively, was white-haired, though his shoulders were thrust back and his spine unbent. I couldn’t see his face, but I could see the faces of the two people at his side—a woman in her thirties, her chuba worn over a dress of rose-colored silk. And the other was Captain Elin.

My mouth fell open. Captain Elin was here, and he was talking to the emperor. There was a powerful incongruity about it—when I had last seen him, he had been menacing and battle-worn, dressed in bloodstained armor with a sword at his side. Now he stood here at a gilded banquet, dressed in a cloak of pure white that swept the floor behind him. The stubble on his face was gone, and his hair was clean and brushed, though several wayward strands still fell across his forehead, partly obscuring one eye. He stood several inches above most other men in the hall, and while he wore no sword or armour, something in his bearing—the soldier’s walk, perhaps—kept alive the undercurrent of menace that I remembered.

I forced my attention away from Elin to the white-haired man. “That’s the emperor? You said he looked young.”

“I think your attention is in the wrong place,” River said. He seemed half lost in thought, his eyes on the three figures.

I looked back at the emperor, not understanding. Even as the woman in the rose dress bowed to Captain Elin, I still didn’t understand. The white-haired man bowed also, and stepped back to join the crowd, who watched the captain expectantly as he stepped onto the dais and seated himself on the elaborately carved throne.

The scene before me seemed to freeze, as if rendered in ink on a canvas. For a moment, it was all I could do to breathe.

It can’t be.

“River,” I said, my voice very low, “who is that man on the throne?”

River gave me a puzzled look. “Who do you think?”

My entire body was numb. “That. Is. The emperor?”

I saw Captain Elin gazing at Tem with murder in his eyes. Saw him binding us, saw his arrow pointed at Lusha’s throat. I saw the ravens attacking him as we fled into the forest.

River was watching me. His hand was still in mine, and he brushed his thumb against my knuckles. “What? Tell me.”

A booming voice rang out. It was the woman who had accompanied Elin to the throne—she stood below the dais upon which the captain lounged, looking simultaneously tense and bored, his eyes scanning the crowd as he sat with one ankle propped on his knee.

“The emperor welcomes River Shara, Royal Explorer of the Three Cities and the Empire,” the woman announced.

As the captain’s eyes turned toward the place where we stood, I stepped behind a taller courtier. River was still looking at me, nonplussed, even as before him another corridor was opening. He turned his face back to the dais. He couldn’t very well delay, with all eyes upon him. I wanted to grab at him, to tell him we needed to leave now, but I stood frozen, unable to look away.

Calmly, River strode forward, the hem of his black chuba stirring with each step. It was enough, if you didn’t look closely, to disguise the way the shadows at his feet shifted strangely, as if they were drawn to him. Once again, I was reminded of the effectiveness of River’s nondisguise.

He stopped at the edge of the dais and gave a short bow. Beneath my fear, it struck me how strange it looked for River to bow to anyone, but the emperor didn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he had simply grown used to it. He leaned back in his throne, a surprisingly genuine smile on his face. He gazed at River as one would an old friend, and I recalled that River was one of the emperor’s closest advisors. And of course he was—though the generals had more actual power, the Royal Explorer’s rank was above theirs. The emperor couldn’t very well give the honor to someone he didn’t trust.

“Welcome home, River,” Captain Elin said. “I trust you had an uneventful journey?”