His shoulders lifted slightly in a faint shrug. “Very well. Then I suppose you’ll just never know where I’ve put them.”

Fury blackened the edges of my vision. “You will tell me,” I breathed. “You will tell me now.”

“Will you torture me, Hopebearer?”

No, I wouldn’t. He knew I wouldn’t. I wasn’t like him. I wouldn’t hurt people to get what I wanted. But maybe I could give him an incentive. “What about a bath?”

“I’m not interested in you like that,” he said. “But it’s thoughtful of you to offer.”

Gerel drew her knife halfway from its sheath. “Watch your tone.”

“Tell me where they are,” I said, “and you’ll have a nice half hour to bathe. The hotel has a lovely jasmine-and-honey soap you might consider using. We’ll even make sure your closet is aired and cleaned.”

He lifted his shoulders and sniffed. “I don’t mind a little bit of filth. All I want is to know everything you know.”

I sighed, regretting it instantly. We all knew he was getting a bath no matter what.

“High Magistrate Paorah has gathered up all the remaining island governments. Since your warriors killed the rest of the Luminary Council, the high magistrate will be searching for Elbena. It wouldn’t hurt him to have Tirta, either, since she’s pretending to be me.”

If there was anything redeeming about Altan, beyond his devotion to dragons, it was that he was smart. He put things together. He knew what I wasn’t saying, even if he didn’t understand that Anahera was behind the Mira Treaty, not the Algotti Empire like he believed.

“You don’t trust the high magistrate.”

“I don’t have a reason to trust most governments right now,” I said. “So no, I don’t want him to have any version of a Hopebearer to parade around. Who knows what he might use her for?”

He glared beyond me, thinking. Then, finally, he said, “All right. They’re in a house on Weber Street. But you have to go yourself. My people will speak only to you or me, and I don’t expect you’ll invite me to go with you.”

“Not a chance.”

He shrugged. “Your loss.”

I turned to Gerel and Chenda. “Tonight. The longer we wait, the more likely it is the high magistrate gets to them first.”

“We’ll get ready,” Chenda said.

For the first time since the earthquake, I felt . . . good wasn’t the right word. How could I, with a risen god on the horizon and the boy I loved so devastated he could barely move? But I felt resolved. Determined. Focused. We had a goal and a plan. And—if my dragon dreams were real—maybe we had a reason to hope.

HRISTO PULLED ME aside before I left.

“I wish you’d take fewer risks,” he said.

“You heard Altan,” I said. “His warriors won’t give up Tirta and Elbena for anyone else. I have to go.”

He sighed. “Not just this time, but earlier. Anyone else could have gone to see the ships. Gerel could have gone by herself. And all the times you went to the markets . . .”