“They’re the souls of the dead,” Trey muttered in wonder. “As they go into the Black, so they fall from the sky.”

Kosar sighed. “They’re just falling stars,” he said. “Flames in the heavens that burn out quickly. Nothing lasts forever, and you don’t need to find an omen in everything.”

“Everything happens for a reason,” Hope said. She was looking at Rafe, not up into the sky.

A’Meer seemed not to have heard anyone. “My people will be looking skyward, hundreds of miles from here, wondering what it is they’re doing wrong. Our distant ancestors managed to find the truly enlightened path, and they were . . . not as lucky as we are now. They were used and abused, yet they attained spiritual perfection. We’ve lost that. Almost as if pain and suffering help a soul reach such planes of understanding.”

Kosar did not understand. This was A’Meer’s moment, not his. The idea that he could help her by listening to her woes comforted him and made him feel special.

“The Guiders will be gathering in the halls at Hess, poring over their old texts and trying to see the significance of the shooting stars tonight, the direction, the number. They’ll be agonizing over the inner workings of New Shanti, wondering whether the enlightened path all Shantasi seek has veered from the True, arguing amongst themselves like a flock of birds fighting over a scrap of food.” She smiled, and her expression was almost wistful. “Such minor concerns,” she said. “Such petty worries when the real fate of things rides on the horse behind us.

“But maybe a few will ascribe those stars to magic. Perhaps one or two of the Guiders will try to ally their appearance with something else, some other sign, and read Truth in them. I wonder what a Guider on fledge could see?”

A’Meer fell quiet, but the silence between them was not comfortable. It was waiting to be broken.

“How long is it since you’ve been to Hess?” Kosar asked.

“Seventy years,” she said. “And now I return with the news my people have been awaiting for so long.”

“Can they help us?” Kosar asked. “Will they hide us, protect us? Can they hold off the Red Monks, the Mages?”