We have now eliminated nine of the Duster decoys the Sandstorm left behind. Some of the families offered the children up willingly. Others hid them from us until a blood scour proved their heritage. No one suspects Anoor. We must keep it that way if my reign is to be successful.
I will find the Sandstorm and destroy them.
—Uka Elsari’s journal, year 405
Sylah woke to Anoor sniffing.
“What’s happened?” Sylah asked, rising from her pallet.
“Someone died in the courtyard. I…I can see their guts.”
Sylah rubbed the sleep from her eyes and joined Anoor by the window.
“Yes, those are guts, all right.” It was a tidewind murder, that was clear.
“Why did they go out during the tidewind?” Anoor turned her tear-streaked face to Sylah’s.
She shrugged. “No idea.”
“I knew the tidewind could cause death. I’ve never seen it, though.” Anoor hugged her elbows.
Sylah thought about what she’d overheard the wardens say when they tried to sneak into the library for the first time. I think we have a year at the most…before we are under siege from the sky.
Sylah let her eyes linger on the red blood in the courtyard. It must have been an Ember servant—maybe she had known them. At least it was one fewer Ember for Jond to kill. For some reason, the thought soured her stomach, and she looked away to find the gates of the Keep open.
Officers were taking their positions ready for the audience members to arrive later that day for the third Aktibar of knowledge. One officer was gesticulating at a Ghosting to clean up the body and the blood.
The wardens’ journals littered the floor where Anoor had flung them the night before. She was studying them as closely as she had the map, hoping to glean the truth of what lay beyond the sea. Sylah was starting to doubt their suspicions, but she let the girl waste her time searching. There were no repercussions from stealing the journals, nor were there any rewards from the Sandstorm.
Eleven days had passed since Sylah delivered Jond the volumes, and although they practiced their bloodwerk together every lunchtime, he did not mention the Sandstorm and Sylah did not ask. She had enough on her mind with Anoor’s mind training and the letter from Loot.
Drop-off is at the arena a strike before the Aktibar of knowledge begins on the second week of the mooncycle. The client will be wearing a black silk scarf around their neck, the instructions had said.
Sylah guarded the letter meticulously, even taking it with her when she went about her work or visited Jond. Sylah was glad the Aktibar of knowledge was today, so she could finally deliver it and be done with Loot’s favor. For now.
That morning Sylah drank two cups of verd leaf tea.
“Do you still need to drink that much?” Anoor asked her.
Sylah didn’t want to admit the muscle seizures still afflicted her, especially when she was nervous or angry. She began to think the problem was permanent.
“I like the taste,” Sylah replied.
—
The young woman was waiting for her at the side of the arena between an oak tree and a cherry shrub. She was wearing a black scarf around her neck as Loot had instructed.
“You’re late,” she growled. Her features were crowlike, black eyes darting left and right.
“You’re welcome,” Sylah said as she withdrew the letter from between her breasts. She pressed it into the stranger’s hand.
The girl seemed shocked to see it there. Then she tore open the wax seal, which Sylah had somehow managed to refrain from doing, and scanned its contents.
Sylah leaned forward; she couldn’t see the full details, but it looked like a list of some kind. The girl brought out a set of matches and set the letter alight. The paper burned orange, then black, until all that remained was ash. Sylah was relieved.
The crow girl didn’t say goodbye as she slipped away.
“Rude,” Sylah said to her retreating back.