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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 blocked him. “Sometimes I think you should be a librarian or a priest and sometimes I think you have an assassin’s cold heart.” He wasn’t stupid, just greedy and heartless. “I think you’ll try to skewer me when you find whatever you seek.”

Djola spoke Anawanama. “I’m worth more to you alive than dead. When a change comes, it’ll be too late for you.”

“I have no use for savage poetry.” Pezarrat feigned understanding. “I intend to get rich, kill you before you kill me, and retire from the sea to the floating cities.”

“Why keep a snake in the house if she wants to eat you?” Djola translated a line from The Songs for Living and Dying.

“All men are snakes.”

5

Mortal Danger

No matter that Pezarrat tossed the book.

Djola had spent sleepless nights memorizing every word, every image. What you know is always yours. Lahesh conjurers could call fire yet stay cold. They felt the motion in stillness, sensed the truth in a lie, and changed the unknown into the known. They brought the power of Smokeland to the everyday. If Djola could touch a thing, feel its fate, imagine flowing in its time, he could pull reckoning fire and bring tomorrow to today.

“We’ve run out of splints and bandages,” Djola cursed.

“I sent Orca to fetch the healing silk I stashed in my hammock.” Vandana was sewing up pirates and captives in flickering lamplight.

“Thank you.” Djola hated sewing flesh.

“How bad?” A delirious captive clutched Vandana. “Will Pezarrat take me?”

“Maybe.” Djola drizzled a honey-venom potion into his and everyone’s mouth, for strength and sleep. Tomorrow, captives had to be well enough to replace dead pirates or be sold to a farm, brothel, mine, or army. Weak ones would be tossed overboard along with pirates too broken to fight again. Captives were eager to join Pezarrat. They imagined a few years of easy raids and then retiring to a rich life in the floating cities. “Better to get off these ships as soon as you can.” Djola wanted to turn his patients into rebels. No potion for that.

“I’m patience.” Vandana finished sewing and touched Djola’s arm. “Like you.”

Djola snorted.

“I will take everything to home.” Vandana held up a small bag. “A library from the floating cities.”

“Lahesh conjure? Is that how you hide your long blades?”

Vandana smiled, dagger teeth glinting. “Old warrior women trek across Mama Zamba to Arkhys City. We can be spared and know how to come back to home.”