He dodged her doubt. “This is your fault. Or your grandfather’s.” Pirates who tried raiding from the cove perished in the canyon maze, until her grandfather mapped a tunnel route, left over from when this was Lahesh land. Samina inherited Grandfather’s maps and convinced Djola to build a hideaway near the entrance.

“No. Tessa, Bal, and Quint hope to delay you another day.”

“We’ll find them in less than an hour. I can leave after lunch. The light lasts long.”

“Not as long as you think.”

“Warhorses will make the Empire Road before dark.”

The ancient boneyard was a gently sloping field covered by whistling acacia trees. Poison storms had taken their toll on nearby farms. Grain and fruit rotted; soil blew away; yet whistling acacias held their ground. Temple ruins to forgotten gods poked through prickly branches. Ancestor mounds, stone tombs, and funeral pyres were scattered among the trees. Everyone was buried here: citizens, northlanders, pirates, and people nobody remembered. When the wind blew, ancestors spoke through acacia gourds—fat bulbs along the branches that ended in knife-sharp thorns. The thorns discouraged hungry herds, and wildflowers growing in the thicket drew bees and hummingbirds. A perfect place to speak to the ancestors.

Djola and Samina smudged soil on their foreheads and whispered praises to sacred ground. Warhorses flicked tails at pesky flies. Djola’s guardsmen shuffled their feet and offered sheepish grins as fifteen-year-old Tessa raced to her parents. “We’d have made it back in time, but Quint ran off with the old codex.” She had Samina’s watery eyes, sturdy physique, and flinty nature. “The words had faded. Why give that to you? So he’s hiding.”

Samina peered down the village road. “Hiding? Quint gets lost so easily.”

“Don’t worry.” Bal jabbed at Djola with a fighting staff. “Captain Rano is on his trail.” She had green-flecked dark eyes like Djola’s. “Rano says he’ll teach me to be the best tracker.” Djola groaned when she got him between the ribs. “You say I have a fighting spirit, yet you ride into battle and leave me behind.” Twelve-year-old Bal wanted to go to Council and protect him from scoundrels and haints.

Tessa sucked her teeth. “Quint’s mad you’re leaving, before taking us up the coast to hunt old conjure books.”

“You won’t find ancient Anawanama spells to save us.” Samina shook her head. “That’s all been lost, even old Lahesh wisdom.”

“Not all of it,” Djola insisted. Samina couldn’t argue with that.

“Why go to Council if storms rage and masters ignore you?” Tessa stood in Djola’s face, bold as a pirate captain, speaking for her brother, sister, and Samina. She threw her arms around Djola’s neck. “Please stay. You can do more good here than in the capital.”