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Chapters (102)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Map
  5. DRAMATIS PERSONAE
  6. BOOKI
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. BOOKII
  30. 1
  31. 2
  32. 3
  33. 4
  34. 5
  35. 6
  36. 7
  37. 8
  38. 9
  39. 10
  40. 11
  41. 12
  42. 13
  43. 14
  44. 15
  45. 16
  46. 17
  47. 18
  48. 19
  49. BOOKIII
  50. 1
  51. 2
  52. 3
  53. 4
  54. 5
  55. 6
  56. 7
  57. 8
  58. 9
  59. 10
  60. 11
  61. 12
  62. 13
  63. 14
  64. 15
  65. 16
  66. 17
  67. BOOKIV
  68. 1
  69. 2
  70. 3
  71. 4
  72. 5
  73. 6
  74. 7
  75. 8
  76. 9
  77. 10
  78. 11
  79. BOOKV
  80. 1
  81. 2
  82. 3
  83. 4
  84. 5
  85. 6
  86. 7
  87. 8
  88. 9
  89. 10
  90. 11
  91. 12
  92. 13
  93. 14
  94. 15
  95. 16
  96. 17
  97. 18
  98. Glossary
  99. Acknowledgments
  100. Also by Andrea Hairston
  101. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  102. Newsletter Sign-up

Pezarrat ignored jumba jabba and agreed with Djola that lingering in the floating cities and paying docking fees was pointless. As the fleet headed out, Djola chased the old healer from sick bay and sat on a prayer rug with Vandana and Orca.

“I’ve lost too much time”—his voice cracked—“distracted or blank or addled from seed and silk.” He held up a hand as they protested. “Don’t argue. To master new conjure, I’ll make my mind a fortress and seal my heart. Otherwise I’ll go mad.”

Vandana pursed her lips. “You’ll be patient. You won’t believe lies or crave seed and silk, but it’ll be hard to feel anybody else’s pain, joy, or fear.” She stroked his face. “Take care to banish despair. Locked inside, despair will fester and ruin you.”

“Samina and the children wait for me to rescue them,” Djola sputtered. “I’ll hold fast to memories of them.” He thought of Quint’s musical laugh as he soared through the air; Bal’s pout when she couldn’t ride to Council and protect him from fools and haints; Tessa’s grin as she offered a scroll-spell for avoiding danger. Instead of a good-bye embrace, Samina balled her fists and pounded his chest. “My wife’s hands always smelled of almonds and raintree blossoms. Conjuring these memories will clear despair.”

Vandana grunted, unconvinced, but she sharpened the chisel and every needle. She mixed blue-green Anawanama dyes and silvery dust from Lahesh gate-mesh. Orca shaved Djola’s head and chest. Peering into the cracked mirror, Djola drew Vévés on his skull and over his heart: a lattice of interlocking roads and spirals, shooting stars and spiderwebs that invoked crossroads deities.

“I’ll also hold fast to my mission.” His voice ached. “I don’t know if what I seek is possible, if what I do matters…”

“Everything matters,” Orca said. “That’s what you say to me.”

“I can’t recall why my wife and I fought that last time.” Djola poured a libation to the crossroads gods. “With this conjure and everything I do from now on, I ask for her forgiveness.”

Vandana cut the Vévés into his flesh and filled the wounds with the fortress-spell.

14

Surviving at the Crossroads

When the stars aligned, Green Elder clans from across the Empire and beyond the maps gathered at a secret oasis in the sweet desert for a crossover festival. They honored the dead, welcomed the future, and celebrated freedom. Feast tables were laid out around a gurgling spring in a windswept canyon. Honey wine cooled in cisterns belowground. Potions were brewed, and Elders crafted masks, instruments, and dances. They found lost words and invented new ones.