Djola told his tale anyhow as they drifted through a blur of constellations and huddled close for warmth. He talked too fast, like a desperate Sprite defying the fates. Awa scoffed at his fatal errors. Of course greedy, foolish Council masters denied truth. They were no different than anybody. She rolled her eyes as masters betrayed Djola and Azizi exiled him. “It took you that long to realize we’re all thief-lords bringing disaster on ourselves?” Unfazed, Djola spoke of pirate cunning and treachery, of whore-spies and warrior women from beyond the maps, of behemoths dancing on their tails in a river of ice. He said little about the deaths of his wife, Samina, and Tessa, Bal, and Quint. Awa was hungry for these details. “You don’t know what happened to your children?” she asked.

“I know they are dead and I have nowhere to mourn them.”

“Did anybody see the bodies?”

Djola complained that Kyrie conjured gates to save her mountain but did nothing for his family, then he spoke of conjure studies and vengeance barely held in check. “Poison desert is how Hezram powers his Dream Gates. Azizi would build such gates around Arkhys City and give Hezram a chair at Council. This illusion solution is disaster that could swallow all the children.”

Awa sighed. “After this journey, I’ll find my Bal. I can’t do anything about the rest.”

He clamped his mouth on a retort.

A blast of light from under their feet made her jump. A star exploded, too far for heat to touch them. She hugged herself, glad for the furry mountain attire from Vandana.

“Do you know Dream Gate spells?”

“I could teach one such as you in a snap.”

She stared down the endless star bridge. “Will you teach me now?”

“You would learn this? A perverted spell really.” He eyed her. “Why?”

“I’d learn anything you wanted to teach. Ignorance won’t save us.”

“My words to you…” He pointed to a violet disk surrounded by blue and silver dust, a giant eye in the dark. “The sky is empty, but full of wonder.”

Her lips trembled. “Yari.”

“Yes.” His voice cracked. “Have you learned the order of things?”

“Zamanzi raided our enclave the day I was to cross over. I know more than you think.” More than she would tell him. “Yari taught me ceremonies for trees, water, animal-people, and rocks. I sing to the land, to ancestors long dead and those to come. The order is a circle, encompassing all.”

“Ahh, an Elder then.”

“I don’t know what I am.”

“Abelzowadyo,” Djola declared.

“I’m a griot, not a shapeshifter.” Awa squirmed. “Why a savage word?”

“The Empire stole our stories and turned us into savage, barbarian, citizen; they turned Iyalawos and Babalawos into witch women and witchdoctors.”