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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

Yari rejoiced to see them so changed. Vie gave them each a Lahesh timepiece. Awa’s was a waterwheel sculpture, Bal’s a candle contrivance. They were thrilled to have such rare treasures. Yari was Lahesh, a tinkerer, fashioning whatever wim-wom came to mind. In days gone by, thief-lords and warriors had raided Lahesh markets stealing everything, even snatching people from themselves. Few Lahesh spoke their ancestor tongue anymore, but Lahesh tinkering, craftwork, and wisdom were coveted. Awa and Bal felt lucky to have Yari—the crocodile lover, the dream tinkerer, the trickster shadow Elder—bring them into the enclave.

“You won’t be Sprites forever,” Yari said, sucking down sadness. “You should think on who you want to be: Green Elder, Iyalawo, good Empire citizen, griot storyteller, shadow warrior, or something of your own invention.”

Father had claimed story weavers were useless, lying windbags. She had proved him wrong. Griots made the world.

“At the crossroads, why choose only one role?” Bal said. “Why not be everything we want to be?”

Awa nodded, excited. “Like Aido cloth, every color strong.”

Yari grinned. “The ancient languages have a word for sacred shapeshifters. I shall find this for you in time for your crossover ceremony. I promise.”

Out of the void and into tomorrow. Of course, the void could follow you to tomorrow, but Awa and Bal danced for their good fortune.

BOOK
II

1

Visions of Fire

Djola guzzled a flask of cathedral seed and cloud-silk potion, a perversion of Lahesh conjure, but time was a demon tormenting him. Days on the flagship rushed by, like white water over a cliff, or dragged on and on, endless torture: ships, villages, and cities plundered, the taste of acid-conjure lingering in dead air as the pirate fleet chased a good wind. Almost three years lost to the sea.

Djola scratched a patchy beard. Shaving was too hard. No longer the clean-shaven northlander, he looked like a rogue pirate, scruffy and merciless. He stared from a cracked mirror to the book-booty scattered on the floor. Probably nothing he hadn’t read. No word of his family, no word from Yari. Perhaps Yari was against him. Djola burped sour bile. A double dose of seed and silk was merciful, but hard on an empty stomach. His mind was as ratchety as a broken windcatcher. Vision blurred; sounds were muffled. He closed his eyes and let the pirate world fade.