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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

“What? Tell me,” Djola commanded.

Orca’s dimpled cheeks flushed. “You drink too much seed and silk. The last trip to the floating cities your mind was mush.”

“Which trip? When?” Djola wanted to deny a trip to the floating cities, but he vaguely remembered a nightmare where he sputtered jibber jabber at Babalawos, who sneered at him. Had this happened? “No, I—”

Orca hugged Djola. “This time you must be clear.”

In exile a true friend was a treasure, even if he was a spy.

10

Goat Treats

Two Goats bound from a crumbling ledge to the boulder wedged between a stone-wood tree and a piece of sky that fell long ago. The Goats love this climb. They lick salty minerals on the ancient tree then trot along a narrow ridge into the wind. Few creatures can reach them on the knife edge. The air is thin and cold; every step is slippery. They jump over a gap. Behind them the wild dog growls at someone. Big cats don’t roam this high, only the foolish dog.

The Goats and dog have been friends since they were kids. The dog barks and lunges at a flurry of feathers. A golden eagle takes to the air, chirping and circling the peak. The Goats consider the bird, unafraid. Eagles only attack kids or a distracted goat, hoping to knock one down the mountain and feast. Not today. The dog keeps the eagles in the air. Yari, Awa, and Bal tramp up behind the dog, panting and chattering. They scramble and sweat.

“This is my favorite peak,” Yari says.

“Worth falling for?” Awa asks.

“You climb like a goat,” Bal replies. “Don’t complain.”

“Food is better at the top.” Yari talk-sings. “Berries taste like sunshine. Cloud mist is the best wine.”

Awa and Bal snort and blow their lips like horses. “Goat treats.”

The Goats jump to the peak and scurry down the other side. Dewclaws are sharp and prevent slipping. They reach a rocky terrace, bathed in sun. Scruffy shrubs hold down soil. The Goats eat leaves, twigs, berries, and crunchy lichen. The dog wiggles through a rock tunnel to the terrace, avoiding the knife edge and peak, treacherous for his soft paws. He licks the Goats’ faces, finds a warm rock, and drops down, panting. The Goats eat quickly, before Yari, Awa, and Bal arrive. They’ll eat too and then want to turn back. Beyond the terrace, this sunny side of the mountain is sheer rock, nothing for even Goats to hold onto. Golden eagles fly about, diving down to catch something for the bleating mouths in their nests.