“Yes, Anoor, I think I can make it to the market and back again without you.”
Anoor’s smile was small. Sylah kissed it.
“That facemask tastes quite good.” Sylah leaned in to lick her cheek, but Anoor pranced back.
“Go, go!” Anoor laughed as she flapped Sylah away.
Sylah left the Keep feeling content and light. It was a different type of ecstasy than the feeling of taking a joba seed: it filled more of the spaces in her mind and didn’t leave her feeling hollow. In fact, it didn’t leave her at all. The farther she walked from the Keep, the more confident she was that Anoor was there waiting for her. It was a wholly unique experience for Sylah, and she relished it.
The Tongue protruded in the distance, but Sylah wasn’t going to cross it. Instead, she walked east across the Ember Quarter toward the Ember Market. The roads were busy with ambling erus moving Embers in drawn carriages.
Sylah coughed as a gold filigree carriage rolled past puffing out incense from the curtained windows. Spitting in the wake of its dust, Sylah decided to take the long way around through the quieter streets, where the only sounds were the trinkets in the joba trees moving in the breeze.
Sylah’s eyes snagged on a ripple of shadows by an empty eru stable. Her heart began to beat, the hairs on her neck standing on end. The darkness moved, becoming a small figure.
Sylah let out a sigh as she spotted Hassa. Or rather, Hassa allowed herself to be found.
“Where have you been?”
Hi, Sylah.
“Are you okay?” Sylah held Hassa’s shoulders and did a quick scan. Despite looking a little tired, there were no visible signs of hurt.
I’ve been really busy.
“Hassa, you handed me the bone-shattering truth and then disappeared.”
She gave Sylah a half smile.
It’s not my fault if you used it as a baton, though none of your bones appear to be shattered.
“Hassa.”
Yes?
“What is going on? Tell me the truth.”
A second ago you were telling me I gave you too much truth. Broken-bone truth.
“Stop being word-sneaky.”
Hassa tried the signing combination.
Word-sneaky? I like that.She repeated it with a twist of her left arm, and a touch on her nose, feeling the word out. Word-sneaky.
Sylah almost stamped her foot, a sign she was spending too much time with Anoor.
“Hassa, what role do the Ghostings play in all of this?”
All mirth bled from Hassa’s face.
Role? I guess it is a role to be the forgotten, to be a ghost in your own land. Haunting the stolen.
Sylah jumped at the word.
“What are you talking about?”
Hassa frowned and looked away for a moment. What if I told you this tidewind was only going to get worse until everyone in the empire was wiped off this continent?