“Bring me any letter that appears from nowhere,” Djola said softly. News usually took months to travel across the Empire. Kyrie’s conjure took no time. “Don’t tamper with the Vévé seal or—”

Pezarrat gripped his throat. “Why not just toss the cursed thing in the sea?”

Djola pulled Pezarrat’s hands from his windpipe. “Without my gold-spell to contain it, Kyrie’s letter would keep coming back, trying to find me,” he lied.

Pirates scowled and backed away. Pezarrat masqueraded cool. “What do I get?”

“I’ll make you a weapon, acid-conjure to dissolve enemy resistance. Merchant ships and barbarians will surrender quickly. No pirate casualties.”

Pezarrat slitted his eyes. “You really know how to do this?”

“I was a spy in a Green Elder enclave. I know many spells.”

Pezarrat glanced at the commander’s body. “I guess you do.”

“I need supplies,” Djola said. “The floating cities have cheaper prices than Arkhys City.” And wise men, the world’s best library, and even talking books. “A direct route across the sea, we’re there in less than a month.”

Pezarrat patted Djola. “My guard will get what you need for acid-conjure in Arkhys City. At the docks, we can even buy you a fighting woman from beyond the maps.”

“Women from beyond the maps are dangerous.”

“I like danger. You too, I think. We’re alike.” Pezarrat and his gang sauntered away.

Azizi thought finding Xhalan Xhala and an antidote would be quick. Madness. Djola dashed down to sick bay. His hands trembling, he unfurled Grain’s letter.

Strength to you, Djola, in exile almost ten months

Nothing much has changed since my last letter

Azizi is as thin and brittle as dead leaves

Yari has disappeared—even I can’t track vie

Northland chiefs chant war and call you and me traitors

Arms whines like a wounded dog

The other masters sit on their thumbs and blame you for speaking bad news aloud

Hezram presses for a chair at the stone-wood table—Azizi still puts him off

Queen Urzula hunts rogue pirates

She’s torched fifty boats, after confiscating the cargo

No master crosses her

Kyrie cannot say if you receive my words

I know the rhythms of your heart and the inland waterway

I too would be an ally to the wind and stars and this connects us

Writing a fourth letter means I believe you receive these reports

I hope you find good conjure to conquer poison desert

Azizi expects a miracle

Something bold and bright to save the day, like from a griot’s hero tale

We all need that

The crossroads gods are tricksters—power to your conjure hand