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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

As Kyrie raced down to them, Bal spoke in a choir of angry voices. “Where is Kyrie’s stool at Council? She uses gate conjure to protect Mount Eidhou, but has no spirit slaves, bleeds nobody but herself. And they say she is a monster, while Hezram with his lies, terror huts, and illusions is a hero, a savior welcomed to Council by Azizi.”

The crystal in Djola’s foot spit murky spears of light then turned clear. He wheezed at the pain. “Let’s not fight one another.”

Soot licked Bal’s knees. “Truth is—hard to accept.” Bal swallowed more argument.

“Truth is whatever you’re willing to believe,” Djola declared.

“Nothing more, nothing less.” Kyrie took his hand. “My true love drank poison the floating-city Babalawos gave him for me. He snatched the cup away from me at the last moment and took his own life. Without his sacrifice, I’d have never realized the danger, never escaped the floating cities, never made peace with Azizi. He loved me more than his own life. Love is power.”

“Love? Power?” Awa’s mouth fell open. Wounds on Kyrie’s face leaked silver. Other wounds had crusted over, Vévés to mountain and forest spirits. This Kyrie was not the Kyrie of legends. “How do we change what people are willing to believe?” Awa asked.

“We must hurry. Azizi is still willing to believe Djola.” Kyrie pulled him and Bal along the path. “This way to that truth.”

“Why trust Azizi, Kyrie?” Bal’s voice echoed around the mountain, calm once more.

“I don’t,” Kyrie replied. “I trust you, Awa, and people I don’t know who seek to join with the Weeds and Wild Things, with the rocks and rain. Even Djola.”

He flinched. “Trust is our wealth.”

Awa shook her head at Elder-speak.

Djola touched her cheek and said, “We are Yari’s hope.”

11

A Mirage

They tramped up Kyrie’s blood path at Djola’s pace, Bal shouldering his weight now and again. Fannie pawed vines creeping back over red dirt. Soot nipped at warhorse heels and kept her moving. Kyrie regaled them with tales of good folks slogging through the void and suffering enormous sacrifices to make a better way for all. Bal argued with Kyrie’s hopeful chatter but Awa barely listened to these griot tales for children.

After returning from Jumbajabbaland, Awa had planned to give the conjure bag back to Djola then leave him to his save-the-Empire quest and go find Bal. But here was Bal on a save-the-Empire quest too or something similar with Kyrie. Bal wasn’t Awa’s Bal anymore, and suddenly, killing Hezram and rescuing Meera, Rokiat, and the warhorses seemed impossible, even with what she’d learned from Djola.