Chapters (70)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Map
- Epigraph
- BEGINNINGS
- PART I
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- PART II
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- TRICKSTER
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Also by Susan Dennard
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Newsletter Sign-up
Despite her new spectacles, Stix had to squint to watch him depart with any sort of clarity. He aimed for one of the three wooden boxes that led out of the Ring. And though Stix couldn’t quite discern the woman waiting for him on the other side of the open door, she knew who it was: the reason she had come here today.
Stix nudged Ryber beside her, and Ryber nodded. She had far keener eyes and a Sightwitch’s gift: Once seen, never forgotten. Once heard, never lost. “Let’s go,” Ryber murmured, and as one, she and Stix pushed to their feet. A single plait pulled free from the rest of Ryber’s braids—at least the tenth that day, though she tried to keep them pulled back. The heat in Saldonica was just too intense for any human to deal with long hair. Stix kept her own pulled into a low bun.
Ryber’s skin was a cooler brown than Stix’s, reminding Stix of a burnished silver mirror she’d loved as a child. And although coltish in her figure, Ryber had muscles hidden beneath her loose tunic and breeches. Meanwhile, behind her magically silver eyes, she had the sharpest mind Stix had ever encountered.
They had spent a week in the Pirate Republic trying to find a way into the Ring. Not because Stix or Ryber cared about the fights below (Stix had wagered on one fight with the Hammer, gained a tiny fortune, and never wagered again), but because it was the only way for them to gain access to what rested beneath the Ring: ruins from a thousand years ago. Ruins that called to Stix with voices that never seemed to relent. Come this way, keep coming. Stix had followed those voices across the Witchlands because it was the only way she knew to make them shut up.
And that was all Stix wanted—silence. No more screaming memories that weren’t her own. No more doing as the voices commanded. No more following them like a fish on a line. Once she had done what they desired, seen whatever it was they wanted her to see, then she could leave this rotten Hagfish hole and go home again. Back to Vivia’s side, back to where she belonged.
She and Ryber pushed past spectators who groused and swore and shoved at them to move faster. Quit blocking the view. Get out of the thrice-damned way. It set Stix’s teeth on edge. Even the rowdiest of Nubrevnans—with whom Stix had spent plenty of evenings at the Cleaved Man—seemed an orderly lot compared to these people.
Stix missed them. She missed Vivia even more.