He gasped; he was suddenly short of breath. The air felt heavy, like soup. He feared some sinajista had called her back from death. If that was so, or if she’d pulled herself back from Sina’s maw, he didn’t have much time.

“Who was it?” he said. “Was it Nasaka? Kirana, who killed you?”

“I did,” she said, and released him.

The lantern fell from Ahkio’s hand.

Chapter 10

10

When Lilia came to the crossroads, she did not halt the bear, though foam lathered its snout. She pulled out a short blade sheathed behind her with the sanisi’s other supplies, and used it to cut back the worst of the plant life that barred their path. Her wrists and ankles were covered in red welts and broken thorns. A giant swinging vine nearly knocked her from her seat. She untied the sanisi’s supplies and used the cord to tie herself to the saddle.

She sent Kalinda letters six times a year, on the major festivals and religious holidays. Kalinda had her address them Way House Hyacinth, Mark 21, Oma to Garika. It meant Way House Hyacinth was at the twenty-one-mile mark on the road that ran from the Temple of Oma to Garika. Dhai had no regular mail service; it was all taken up by traveling merchants and delivered along with other shipments.

When Lilia came to the door of the way house, she was bleeding and exhausted from her tangle with the hungry plant life along the road. She slid from the bear, filthy and aching, and climbed the steps of the porch with great effort. The door – as all doors were in Dhai – was not locked.

She stepped inside.

Kalinda Lasa sat at one of several round wooden tables at the center of the room, speaking to two older women and a boy. Another young woman stood to the rear of the room, leaning easily in the doorway to the kitchen. She moved immediately forward when Lilia entered. The others stayed seated.

Kalinda cocked her head at Lilia. She was much older than Lilia remembered. Her white hair was wound about her head in one easy spiral, as if some tornadic wind had shaped it. She wore a bright red skirt and purple blouse beneath a leather vest buckled at the front with three large, eye-shaped silver buttons.

“Are you all right, child?” Kalinda asked as she rose.

Lilia had a terrible fear that Kalinda did not remember her. Oma, she had come all this way and given up the only friend she had for nothing.

“I’m Lilia Sona, and there is a sanisi coming here for me. Maybe something worse.”

Lilia saw recognition pass across Kalinda’s face. Lilia’s relief was so sharp that her eyes filled with tears. There is a time to mourn, and a time to act, the sanisi had said. She wiped her eyes.

“It’s all right, Gian,” Kalinda said.