Hassa touched Sylah’s arm, drawing her eyes to her. The tidewind will eventually make this land unlivable. The elders are preparing to travel to the Ghosting settlement at midday when the city is distracted by the Aktibar finals. The Ghostings at the settlement are preparing for a scouting voyage to the mainland to ask for aid.
“How do we know they will help us?”
No one answered her for a beat.
If aid cannot be found, we are prepared to move all our people if need be.
Not all of them will leave the home of our ancestors,Ravenwing signed. And Sylah was sure he would be one of those who would stay and fight the Embers. On his own if need be.
“What about your bloodwerk? Can’t you teach me to stop the tidewind?”
Our knowledge was lost to us long ago. Our descendants burned all the Books of Blood, thirteen volumes, all told. The Embers salvaged one; their bloodwerk is stunted, ugly, Elder Reed signed.
“So the old relics, the old bloodwerk around the empire, like the clock, that was by the Ghostings?”
An incline of the head. You cannot see the Ghosting markers, our blood is silent, transparent. Look as hard as you might at the Tongue our legacy built, but you will not see the clear blood that holds it up. What you see is apprentices we taught. The Embers.
“The Embers as apprentices?” Sylah couldn’t believe it.
Yes, we welcomed them to our land, and for years they have been trying to erase us. So we hoarded. We traded. We hid what we could. Our ancestors knew the power of the map you now own. Now it is yours.Elder Ravenwing’s eyes flickered to Hassa, who shriveled.
Sylah swallowed.
“You think I should go with them?”
Hassa inclined her head. You can help, you can speak the common tongue to the mainlanders, you can aid the Ghostings in the fight, if you wish to. The Sandstorm won’t find you there.
Sylah thought of Anoor, of her smile, her lips, the way her eyes splintered with anger as she heard the truth.
“What of Anoor? I won’t leave her, she’s in as much danger as me. More so.”
The elders signed to each other quickly, so fast Sylah couldn’t follow. Hassa shifted her feet next to her. Finally Elder Dew turned to her.
You may bring her. Come at midday, we will not wait.
—
The labyrinth of tunnels had led her to the entrance of the Keep, and Hassa and Sylah walked back through the gardens to the tower together.
“You’ve been watching me.”
Yes.
“For mooncycles.”
Yes. We all have.
Sylah didn’t have the strength to be affronted. The night had been one of the longest of her life, the aftershocks of truth still thrumming through her.
“So everyone can bloodwerk? No matter their blood color?”
A sharp nod.
A young kori bird soared above them, the fluffy feathers a sign that the adolescent had only recently taken to the skies. Sylah watched it as it flew up through the pink morning light. The day of the Aktibar finals was upon them.
Each guild would test its competitors for the final time. Starting with strength. A fight was always the best way to draw the crowds in.
The music from the great veranda still floated across the courtyard, and as they passed the hall Sylah saw the stragglers from the night before still dancing. They laughed and twirled and spun on their heels. Did they know the ground they were dancing on belonged to another?