She chewed on that thought for a while, until she heard the clatter of the students and beasts returning to the river ship. Pixit broadcast his thoughts to her as he greeted Chauda, Brindle, and Ragit. He told them all, as planned, that she was ill belowdecks and that they should encourage the guardians to see her and tell her what she’d missed—​but that they should keep their distance because she was really sick.

Flopping limply in the cot, Mina waited for the sound of footsteps on the ladder. It wasn’t long before Jyx, Ferro, and Zek half climbed and half jumped down into the hold. “Gah!” Ferro said. “This smells worse than my grandmother’s socks!”

“This smells worse than your grandmother,” Zek said.

“Seriously? You’re insulting Grammy?”

“Sorry,” Zek said. “It was just so easy.”

Jyx hurried into the tiny room with the cots. She skidded to a stop several feet away from Mina’s cot. “Mina! You look awful.”

Mina tried not to be offended by that, since she wasn’t actually sick. She gave her a halfhearted wave, as if she didn’t have the strength for anything more. She then screwed up her face and grabbed for the bucket as Zek and Ferro came into the room. She coughed hard into it, and then looked up to see that all three of them were clustered by the door.

“We can, uh, leave you alone to rest,” Zek said.

Mina leaned back heavily, as if the exertion had taken all her strength. She knew how to play sick—​Gaton had done it often enough to avoid being sent to sell on market day. “It might make me feel better if you tell me what I missed?” Mina made her voice sound pathetic.

Brightening, Jyx launched into a description of the inside of the capitol, as well as the various acts they’d seen practicing for the festival. And then Ferro chimed in with an impression of the prime minister, quoting bits of her speech about the glories of Alorria.

The glories of Alorria, Mina thought as he prattled on. And what is the cost of those glories? Doesn’t anyone else wonder about that? Professor Dano said rumors had been flying for some time. But is anyone doing anything about it?

She watched her friends and their excitement over the upcoming festival. She wondered how they’d feel if they knew that all the celebrating caused terrible storms.

«Tell them,» Pixit urged.

I can’t. If they go and tell the wrong person . . .

But she also thought of the outsiders she’d met. She remembered Varli pressing his fingers to his forehead and saying, “Stars and moon help us all when the ten-year storms come.” Knowing what she knew now, how could she stay quiet?