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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 danced around them. “Every day you prove I’m wrong to doubt. Neth doesn’t breathe anymore, but your breath makes my heart beat.” Awa, Bal, and a few older Sprites rolled their eyes. Yari laughed in their sullen faces. “Every day we test our truth and if we discover a better truth, we change. Trust that.” Elders snapped their fingers, agreeing. Bal joined them, but Awa resisted.

“Jod and Cal have decided who they mean to be and crossed over.” Isra poured a cup of honey wine, spilled a few drops on the grass, then downed the rest. “Let’s eat. The bread is warm.” Vie sat at a feast table. “We celebrate new life.”

Yari played infectious upbeats, lifting spirits. Stomachs growled and mouths watered. The fast had turned everyday food into a special delight. Awa wasn’t hungry. Her stomach was sour, her mouth full of unspoken words. She and Bal sat close, rubbing shoulders and thighs. Bal tickled her clenched muscles and kissed her flaring nose. The griots blasted fire from their mouths and burned off the last of the foul mood.

Being rid of Jod and his friends was a good thing. Awa and Bal could celebrate that.

9

Everywhere Except Sick Bay

The sun was a white disk behind mist. Djola stood on deck by the steer-man. He practiced pulling fire, the key to Xhalan Xhala. His skin crawled and his mouth was ash. He couldn’t call a flicker or spark, too jittery inside. No letter from Grain in a while. Maybe Pezarrat’s course was too erratic to track, so Kyrie sent letters through a wise-woman corridor to empty sea.

The pirate fleet had almost gone to the floating cities several times, but Pezarrat always changed his mind. Steering clear of Urzula’s patrol, the fleet dawdled in a northland cove—near what was left of Anawanama and Zamanzi territory. Spies alerted Pezarrat when Zamanzi warriors left their camps to attack caravans, and he sent in raiders. Pirates suffered few casualties and took whomever they wanted. Zamanzi often surrendered without a fight. The fleet was waiting for raiding-parties to return with captives.

On a ledge above the water, rogue twisters appeared from nowhere, from static and shimmer, and pulverized bushes and trees. In a blink, the storms vanished. A wise-woman corridor was more stable than that. These bits of folded space collapsed quickly. Leafless bushes flailed in the wind. Listless waves lapped against the flagship hull. Silvery haints hissed in the sails, sounding like Tessa, Bal, and Quint. A rope smacked Djola’s back and dispelled visions. His family hadn’t walked from the death lands to haunt him. They were prisoners, under house arrest or in a cell in Arkhys City. Azizi would never let harm come to them. Djola had to believe this.