The librarian chuckled. “Don’t believe the griot tales. Fire-spells are dangerous, but novices never burn to death. They can’t pull enough fire.”

“I need to pull a lot of fire.”

The head librarian leaned close and grinned. “I have only modest skill, but I’ll share a secret. Kyrie was my student. Of course, I can’t take credit for her ferocity.”

Djola smiled. “No, of course not.”

“Clumsy at first but so much power, Kyrie was someone who might have burnt herself up. But I knew just what to say.” He savored some insight he’d doled out. “What are you trying to do?”

Djola licked dry lips. He hadn’t told anyone his plan. “If I dance Xhalan Xhala at the border between green lands and poison desert, reckoning fire might show what led to poison sandstorms. Then I could find an antidote.”

“No,” the librarian roared, “too dangerous.” He switched to Empire vernacular and waved a spark torch, warding off evil. “Only a madman—”

“Xhalan Xhala is a prophet’s tool.” Djola effected a calm manner. “I could look at now and see the future and call it forth.”

“You’d conjure one future. There are so many. You’d add to the void.”

“No, a meal for the crossroads gods.”

The librarian sneered. “Who can count on those tricksters?”

“I found a book in Kaharta,” Djola said, “Amplify Now—”

“Amplify Now—in Kaharta?”

“Kaharta had the best library on the mainland,” Orca blurted.

The librarian aimed the torch at Djola. “Rogue pirates burned Kaharta, looted the library.”

Orca pushed the torch aside. “Pezarrat dumped the book out a porthole.”

“Good. Amplify Now is a few notes written by desperate Elders.” The librarian came to the front of his desk. He was taller than Djola. “What are you, Sorit and Zamanzi?”

“Anawanama and Zamanzi.” Djola corrected him. “My brother is a chief—”

“You should know better.” The librarian narrowed his eyes. “You can’t rip up the fabric of ancient wisdom for a few convenient threads.”

“I seek the whole cloth.” Djola clenched a fist behind his back.

The librarian sighed. “Xhalan Xhala is sacred ritual, a lifetime practice. Who learns that from a book?”

“That’s why I’ve come to you.” Djola tugged the frothy cloth at the librarian’s neck, cutting off his air. “We’re running out of time. We have to do something. Soon.”

“Stop.” Orca pulled Djola’s hands away and stood between them. “Forgive us. Too many months at sea. Loved ones lost. Djola would learn anything to master the spell.”

The librarian rubbed his throat. “Nobody masters Xhalan Xhala—you surrender to it.”

“I would surrender,” Djola declared. “I would do anything.”

“I’ll bet you would.” The librarian almost snarled, “I can’t teach what is impossible.”

“You mean you won’t try.” Djola’s chest was fire again. “Ignorance can’t save us.”