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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

The librarian pounded the torch on the rock floor. “You need a Lahesh conjurer, like Yari, the griot of griots and master of nothing. Who ever knows all the stories?”

Djola grabbed the librarian’s rough cotton sleeve. “Yari hides from the world.”

“Empire citizens call vesons abominations and string them up. Can you blame Yari?”

“Yes.” Instead of pummeling the librarian, Djola raced down the corridor and out into the sunset. Great gulps of salt air quenched the fire in his chest and belly.

Orca scurried behind him. “We should come back tomorrow and reason with—”

“Librarians and Babalawos won’t help. They think ignorant, foolish people have called disaster upon themselves—a cure for that is impossible.”

Orca clutched Djola’s shoulders, his face open, his smile deep. “You’re a master. You can learn anything, even the impossible, without anybody’s help.”

Djola shrugged Orca off. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“Of course you are.”

Instead of arguing, Djola sent Orca to the sky windows and tromped across the ridge to meet Queen Urzula.

13

Fortress

Yidohwedo’s head was the pirate queen’s fortress, a serpent’s face with fire eyes overlooking the sea. The queen’s mountain chambers never went dark. Spark torches lit the night without burning tree oil and lasted who knows how long. This Lahesh wim-wom was one of the floating cities’ most closely guarded secrets. Impossible conjure until Lahesh tinkerers mastered it. The floating cities could have shared their fire-spell with the world and saved a hundred hundred cathedral trees or more, but they were greedy, stingy pirates. Djola squashed a gout of anger.

Urzula sat alone in a courtyard on a stone bench, watching the sunset. A mosaic of crystals at her feet soaked up the last rays of light. “Too beautiful a night to waste in a cave.” She smiled. If she had bad news, she wouldn’t flash her teeth at Djola. Silvery white stars made half circles above her dark eyes. A white line crossed her purple-tinted lips going from chin to nose. She wore a tight tunic and loose-fitting pants gathered at the ankle—pirate gear. On Yidohwedo Urzula was almost unremarkable. “Why have you come to see me?”

Djola would not start with family. “The wisest conjurers in the world, Babalawos, Iyalawos, and librarians, offered nothing new to solve the poison dust mystery.”

Urzula flicked her fingers. “Of course you know more than librarians and Iyalawos sitting in the middle of the Salty Sea.”

“If they applied their wisdom to the problem,” he retorted, “we could solve this.”

She kissed her teeth. “You think you’re the only one who looks for a solution?”

“They were patronizing, indifferent. They’ve already given up.”

“Why should anyone trust a savage rascal?” Urzula glowered at him.

“We northlanders have much to offer the world.”

“Do you?”

“I didn’t come to burden you about void-storms. What news of my family?”