Nightforged
Author: Carrie Summers
Date: 2017-01-09 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Young Adult
Description: Ancient magic courses through her veins, but can she survive long enough to master it? Seventeen-year-old Lilik is gutterborn and sick of it. Done groveling to the tyrannical trader class and watching her family suffer, she is ready to be a hero. And the opportunity has finally arrived. Lilik’s nation is under siege by brutal sea tribes. But there is hope: on a distant volcanic island, a months-long night has fallen. An expedition plans to set sail, including young women—all trader-class—who will harness powerful magic gathering in the island’s dark. Blind to the consequences, Lilik bluffs her
Publisher: Lonely Crag Press

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Acknowledgements

Nightforged

Book One

Shattering of the Nocturnai

Carrie Summers

Chapter One

I WAS RUNNING. Pain stabbed my arches with every smack of a sandal against the cobblestones. Each breath was fire in my lungs, rasping through my throat.

But I wouldn’t stop. Not today.

With every step, I shoved away the memory of my father’s broken face, fresh bruises atop the fading yellow of last week’s beating. The harder my aching legs pumped, the easier it was to forget the defeated slump of his shoulders. The resignation.

Around me, the alley was a dark stone mouth. Balconies jutted like teeth, cutting away the sky. Up there, flowers draped the rails. But down below, it was just gloom and crates and the smell of mildew rising like bad breath from the sewer grates.

My heel slammed onto a pebble, and I yelped. Hopping, I cursed my pathetic sandals—I’d made them myself, squinting by lamplight, bruising my hand as I shoved the needle through hardened leather.

“Idiot girl. Break your fool neck running down here,” a rag-seller said as she squinted through the shadows.

I shrugged. Whether selling rags in a dark alley or sprinting to a trial no one expected me to attempt, being gutterborn meant taking risks. What other choice did I have? Give up like my father?

Da was done resisting. He’d let them take our money, leave us scraping for meals. But backing down would just make the collectors bolder. The next time, he’d have worse than a broken nose. And soon, the thugs would come after my little brother. They’d already threatened him. Next would be fists. Or a length of chain like they’d used on our neighbor.

Da wouldn’t fight anymore, which meant it was all up to me now. If I passed the nightcaller trial—if they selected me for the expedition—everything would change.

So I ran.

Near the central district, the crowd’s chatter sloshed down alleys, a rising tide. My mouth went dry, but my feet shoved me forward. This was it.

I skidded to a halt at the edge of Istanik's courthouse square, my heart a hard stone in my throat. Pitched upon a central dais, the ink-black fabric of the expedition’s tent swooped down from a high peak. The tent’s dark walls symbolized the night-soaked slopes of the journey’s destination, the island volcano, Ioene. I swallowed. For over one hundred years, only daughters of the trader Houses had passed the nightcaller trial. But even though I was gutterborn, I was determined not to fail.

On the platform, a waiting line of trader girls sneered at the commoners crowding below. Anger rushed through me when I saw them. I clenched my fists. The Trader Council sent the tax collectors who’d pummeled my father. But I forced my hatred away. It wouldn’t do me any good.

Sweat pasted my hair to my cheek. I swiped it away and shoved into the mob of onlookers. Packed like pickles in brine, the crowd reeked of sweat and leather. Men and women cussed at me while I wormed past. Near the dais, a doomsayer had cleared a small space. He gestured with burning batons, green and blue fire tufting the ends. I sprinted across the empty circle, flame swooshing past my cheek.

A pair of strongmen guarded the stairs leading to the platform. Other guards circled, enforcing a cleared space around the dais. When I reached the edge of the crowd, I halted, glancing at the cudgel shoved through the closest guard’s belt.

Come on, Lilik. What was he going to do? Bludgeon me in front of all these people? I remembered Jaret’s wide eyes after a thug had pulled him into a dark shop, telling my brother he needed to "deliver a message" to the family.

Inhaling, I stepped into the gap.

The crowd quieted when the guard laid a hand on his baton. “Prospective nightcallers only, girl.”

“I came to test,” I said, marching toward the stairs.

A murmur traveled the crowd. Someone laughed. I heard the word "gutterborn" whispered unkindly.

The guard stepped to block my progress. “Traders only.”

“The law says any girl between eleven and nineteen may undertake the trial,” I said, pitching my voice so the crowd could hear.

“Herik.” Upon the platform, a woman garbed in the dark silk tunic of the Nocturnai nodded. “She’s correct. It’s written in the charter.”

Raising my eyebrows at the guard, I waited. With a sigh, he stepped aside, gesturing toward the stairs.

Scattered taunts peppered the air, but I kept my back straight. I’d survive it. My family sold eggs—little room for pride there. And compared to the fists that had bruised my father’s face, words were no threat.

“Get ‘em!” The shout of encouragement joined the taunts. Others followed. “About time! Trader scum!”

Fists clenched, I stepped to the end of the line. The traders ignored me, their chins raised, eyes on the tent. Unbreakable pride and iron fists kept trader fortunes intact. They certainly wouldn’t stoop to acknowledging me.

The woman who’d called to the guard rose from her stool beside the entrance flap. She looked me up and down as she approached. “It’s obvious you’re not trader stock. Any reason to assume you have the nightcalling talent?”

“No reason to assume I don’t,” I said.

“As you’ve pointed out—” Her gaze lingered on my sandals. “—the laws allow you to test. But you’re awfully late for someone hoping to secure the greatest honor in the Kiriilt Islands.”

I met her stare. “I had work to do this morning. Unlike the others.”

Strapped to the woman’s upper arm, a nightforged dagger gleamed. Her weapon made a clear statement: without a successful Nocturnai, our people would die, murdered by the sea tribes. Many blades forged by the previous expedition had been broken or lost. Nightforged ship’s harpoons rusted on the bottom of the sea, their mystical ability to seek a target lost to the depths. Mundane steel and iron, our only choice for armaments without the Nocturnai, were not enough to protect us from the savagery of the tribes.

“You’ll test last if there’s time. Please step aside for traders, should any more arrive so . . . late.”

As the woman stalked away, her hand brushed one of the ropes securing the tent. The line shivered, metal disks along its length winking and clicking together. I doubted the other girls understood the significance, but I’d spent hours and hours reading the logs of previous Nocturnais and studying the journey’s lore. The disks represented the stars and moon, the only heavenly light the voyagers would see on Ioene.

The trader ahead of me curled her lip. “The talent doesn’t run in common families. You’re wasting our time.”

I glared. “Prisak Relat was the most successful caller of her generation.”

“A bastard trader, no doubt. Fathered on a gutter wench.”

Two spots up the line, another girl spoke over her shoulder. “If you even believe stories from almost a hundred years ago.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I looked away. No use arguing with traders. Anyway, they’d regret their words when I passed the trial.

The line inched forward as if the tent were swallowing it, girl by girl, only to spit them out the other side. Most of the traders sulked away, failures. But then an older girl exited the tent with a conceited smile on her perfect face. She’d passed. When another success followed, a cold weight settled into my chest. Three spots left. Only five nightcallers would be selected for the Nocturnai. Even if I passed the test, the captain would never choose a gutterborn over a trader.

Mid-morning, a chorus of whispers rose from the crowd. When I glimpsed the source of the commotion, my eyes widened. Marching behind her guardsmen as if she were the only person in the square, Moanet Yiltak, lone heir to her family’s sea dynasty, approached the dais.

What was she doing here? House Yiltak’s warships protected the Islands’ most critical straits, and half of the capital, Istanik, owed the food in their bellies to commissions from Moanet's family. Even the Nocturnai bent to the Yiltak family. The Yiltak heir typically tested early, in private.

Moanet ignored me and strode to the front of the line. Though the other traders glared, none objected. When the tent disgorged another disappointed girl, Moanet shoved her way in without a word.

The square quieted while Moanet was inside the tent. I shuffled, anger growing, the unfairness tearing at my self-control.

Soon enough, the rear flap opened. Moanet’s lips were a thin line, and deep red blotches marred her cheeks. I stared, stunned.

She faced the crowd. “Unbelievable, isn't it?” she called out. “Moanet Yiltak does not have the talent. First failure in ten generations. If you hurry home, you can be the first to spread the gossip.”

After an awkward pause, noise resumed. Prompted by Moanet’s suggestion, a few people detached from the fringes of the crowd and hurried off. Moanet kept her shoulders straight. Unexpectedly, I felt sorry for her. No one expected me to test, much less succeed. But a talentless Yiltak—people would talk about it for months.

The other traders smirked as they turned from Moanet. I dropped my gaze to my feet.

When a pair of gold-worked slippers stopped next to my sandals, I curled my toes to hide the dirt around the toenails. I clenched my fists, regretting my moment of pity. Moanet no doubt intended to embarrass me as a way to save face after her failure.

“Oh, stop it,” she said. “Look up.”

Up close, I noticed she didn’t line her eyes with kohl or color her cheeks. Her large hazel eyes and sculpted mouth didn't need accenting. Glossy hair, cut in a severe line, curled at her jaw.

“I have a commission for you," she said.

What could she want? Eggs weren’t exactly a prime commodity.

She leaned in, light perfume teasing my nose.

“Listen carefully,” she whispered into my ear. “The nightweave pattern makes a five-sided figure. Inside, a crescent moon holds a circle suspended between its points. There is subtle shading in the underside of the circle—most girls will miss that.”

The solution to the trial. Why was she telling me this?

I pulled back, shocked. Below, the crowd jeered, convinced she’d insulted me. Moanet’s stare met mine.

“But you failed . . .” I muttered, too quiet for anyone to hear over the noise in the square.

Her brows raised. “Did I?”

With that, she whirled, marched down the stairs, and followed the path her House guardsmen cut through the crowd.

Chapter Two

INSIDE THE TENT, a single lamp burned. The deep red flame symbolized the lava that flowed from Ioene into the sea. Incense smoldered in a nightforged censer, smelling of the kivi blossoms that flowered in the long-night.

A woman sat at a low table. Against the far wall, a man stood, brooding and silent.

“Sit.” The woman gestured to a cushion. “I’m Nyralit, the strandmistress.”

I knelt before the table, resting my weight on my heels. Mistress Nyralit offered me a swatch of finely-woven black silk. Silver threads caught the low light, sketching Ioene's silhouette and a spattering of stars above the mountain’s cone. Infused with nightstrands, the cloth rippled as if stirred by a breeze none of us could feel.

“Take your time,” she said.

Seven traders had passed the trial already. I had almost no chance of being selected, but my stubborn heart refused to give up hope.

I ran my fingers over the fabric, seeking the hidden pattern of nightsilk woven through the cloth. I’d read that I would feel cool tingles where the nightsilk ran. The silver threads were coarser than the strands of silk. I wondered if they'd been added to confuse potential callers. Between, the delicate silk reminded me of water, smooth and cool.

But nothing tingled. Not yet.

Each thread of nightsilk had been infused with a mystical nightstrand gathered on Ioene. Only nightcallers could sense and capture them. It shouldn’t be difficult for me to feel them if I had the talent. Maybe I just needed more focus.

Mistress Nyralit and her guardsman shifted while I examined the cloth. Time stretched out, my fingers moving back and forth over the square. Still I sensed no threads of nightsilk. An invisible belt wrapped my chest, squeezing tighter and tighter.

If I didn’t find the strands soon, I would fail. Each passing second was a brass-knuckled fist smacking my da’s face. A kick to his already broken ribs.

Mistress Nyralit cleared her throat. I closed my eyes. Concentrate, Lilik. Fingers over the weave.

I felt nothing. Not the slightest tingle nor hint of magic—despite my absolute conviction that I’d succeed, I had no talent. I’d never be a nightcaller. The last air left my lungs.

“Most traders fail, too,” the strandmistress said.

As I opened my eyes, she tugged the fabric away, slowly, as if a quick motion might bring forth a gush of tears.

She didn’t even bother to ask whether I’d sensed the strands. Why would she? I was gutterborn—in other words, worthless. Mistress Nyralit had assumed I’d fail from the moment I entered the tent. And she had the gall to offer comfort.

Anger flooded my chest, the need to scream searing my lungs. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let her be right about me. I wasn’t a failure, no more than Da deserved to be beaten because he couldn’t honor a defense bargain made generations ago.

Without thinking, I slapped my palms against the table and stared at the strandmistress. “The five-sided figure represents the five corners of the world. Inside it there’s a crescent moon.”

Mistress Nyralit froze. Stunned, she glanced at the man against the wall. He shrugged in disbelief. Of course . . . why would a gutterborn detect anything? Furious now, I couldn’t stop talking.

“Within the crescent, there’s a circle. The subtle shading at the bottom symbolizes Ioene’s transition to the long-night.”

Silence followed my words while Mistress Nyralit and the man shared a long look. Finally, the man raised his eyebrows and detached from the tent's wall. He approached the table with heavy steps. Three gold earrings pierced his right ear.

“Such a strong nightcalling talent, yet you have a common birth,” he said.

I refused to be embarrassed. “My family delivers eggs.”

“Ever sailed? The Nocturnai is treacherous. Once we cross the night line, there will be no daylight, no comfort, no safety for months. What would you do if a storm damaged the ship?”

“Only traders and their hired crew have the right to—”

“And yet that didn’t stop Prisak Relat from learning the windcraft. By the time she tested as a nightcaller, she’d weathered months aboard. Stowing away. Signing on with foreign ventures. Her seaworthiness got her nominated to the Nocturnai.” He picked up the swatch of silk, traced the volcano’s outline with a fingertip. “And don't forget the dangers once we anchor at Ioene. Eruptions, endless dark. Nightcallers have disappeared in the island’s wilds, never to be found.”

I clenched my fists as he laid out his reasons for rejecting me. The other girls who passed the trial would wait until the day of the presentation before learning who’d been chosen, but he wouldn’t taint the Nocturnai by associating it with a gutterborn.

“Then again,” the man said, “following the rules despite personal desire . . . That’s a quality you rarely find in trader spawn. And no one can question your courage, undertaking a trial that no gutter—excuse me, no one of common origins—has attempted for decades. Welcome to the Nocturnai. Vidyul Altak, Captain.”

Captain Altak held out his hand. In it laid a pin, blue sea opal set in a nightforged silver housing. The sigil of the Nocturnai’s ship, the Evaeni. I stared at it blankly.

“But I—”

“Yes, you’re gutterborn, if you want to be crass about it. Frankly, I’d take a ship full of your sort over traders with their fussy needs and soft hands, but none of you are brave enough to test. When you walk out of here, the next generation of girls will see I’ve already pinned this to you. Perhaps more gutterborn will test next time.”

But I’m untalented. My heart stuttered. I couldn’t join the Nocturnai; I had no way to call the nightstrands. I’d only blurted out Moanet’s solution because I was so mad.

“I didn’t expect—”

“Of course you didn’t.” Captain Altak stuck the pin through the collar of my tunic and fastened the clasp. “Now out with you. The presentation ceremony is in two days—your appointment will be a formality. You’ll name your sentinel that evening. We sail at dawn five days from now.”

When I stumbled out of the tent, a nearby woman pointed at the pin affixed to my collar. Whispers rippled across the square. In the crowd’s midst, someone cheered. Others took it up, a rising storm. My stomach heaved as I ran for the alleyway and home.

Chapter Three

THOUGH MY FATHER’S grin twisted into a grimace when it pulled at the scabs around his eye, his face once again held hope. Sitting on his cot in our one-room home, he almost looked like the man I remembered from before our mother left. Proud. Unbreakable.

“My Lilik,” he said. “The first common nightcaller since Prisak Relat. I’d have given anything to see you leave that tent.”

My lie was a stone in my gut, heavier and heavier. I covered the Evaeni’s sigil with my hand.

“I’m not going, Da. I’m telling Captain Altak tomorrow. You need me to help with the deliveries.”

He caught Jaret’s eye and laughed. “Oh, dear little bird. Of course you’ll go. You haven’t even been formally presented, and traders have already sent offers at double my usual price. We’ll never struggle to pay the defense tax again.”

My guts churned. I simply couldn’t sail with the Nocturnai because I couldn’t call the strands. Night voyages always sailed with five talented nightcallers. The number five was sacred. Probably essential to the expedition’s success. And without nightforged weapons that responded to wielders’ thoughts as well as their sword arms, our defenders would lose against the savages. Islanders would die, and it would be my fault.

At the kitchen table, Jaret stabbed his fork into a potato. “I hope our mother hears. I bet she’d sell her toes one by one to get some nightblown glass for her jewelry-making.”

Poor Jaret. Twelve years old and so bitter. My mother had abandoned us soon after his birth, leaving Jaret to feel it was somehow his fault. But she’d been weak. The ordinary senses of duty and love and loyalty didn’t apply to her, not when weighed against the call of the Outer Isles. Maybe it was thanks to her influence I’d done this despicable thing.

My father grasped my clenched fist in a hand the size of a shovel. His fingers were thick and callused, but he never broke an egg when packing the deliveries. Not anymore, at least. When my mother abandoned us, Jaret and I were too young to help. Back then, my father crushed or dropped almost as many eggs as he nestled into the straw-filled cartons. He’d learned gentleness because he had to, both with the eggs and with us.

He pointed at my untouched plate. “Two weeks from now, when you realize that all you have to eat are fish and hardtack, you’ll miss my cooking.”

“I’m just not very hungry.” I wanted to vomit.

His grin once again tugged at his cuts. “Too excited, I’ll bet. Imagine . . . the Nocturnai.” He dug through his pocket, pulled out a coin. A whole copper crescent. “Try the evening market. Maybe you’ll find something more appetizing.”

“I’m not going, Da. Captain Altak made a mistake. And you need that money.”

Da laughed, loud and honestly. “Our fortunes have changed, little bird. No need to worry about a crescent or two.”

“But Da—”

“Lilik.” He grimaced as he sat up, no doubt from more bruises hiding beneath his clothes. “You don’t know how proud I am. If I could, I’d commission kites bearing your name to fly from the harbor guardstones. But all I have is this crescent. So take it. Please.”

I couldn’t speak. Snatching the crescent, I pushed out the door before I broke down entirely.

I knew where I had to go, but I needed to cut through the evening market to get there. People whispered when I passed. Food sellers smiled and touched their foreheads in quick salutes. I dropped my gaze and hurried past.

“Lilik!” A little boy ran up holding a bread trencher filled with spiced fruit. “My mother wants you to have this. No cost.”

My stomach clenched, a fist around my guilt. I pasted on a smile and shook my head. The boy’s shoulders slumped.

“Wait,” I said. “I already ate, that’s all. Can I come back tomorrow?”

The boy was missing his two front teeth. He stuck his tongue through the hole, smiled, and scampered off.

I hurried on, hands shoved deep into my pockets. Near the market’s edge, musicians played stringed instruments in the aisles between stalls. Pools of music lapped against one another, often clashing. Yowling cats prowled the stalls, curving between boots and carts.

When someone tapped my shoulder, I whirled to see Paono, crab pot-hoister, opportunist, and my best friend.

He grinned, dimples denting his cheeks. “Hoo! Supreme Lilik, the first gutterborn caller since the days before the Ulstat monster-heir raved on his throne. Aren’t you the cat’s tongue?”

“Clap shut, Paono.”

He fell in beside me. Unbelievably, his sandals were rattier than mine, clinging to his callused feet by threads.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I need to talk to someone.”

“Oh.” His stride faltered. He tried to cover it by stopping to adjust his sandal. “I thought we could go to the fountain. Forgot how busy you must be.”

“Maybe a bit later? I just—I have to deal with something first.”

Paono’s shoulders tensed—I was making this worse.

I touched his arm. “It’s Moanet Yiltak, okay? I need to ask her something.”

He straightened and set off, quickly drawing ahead of me. “I guess I’ll look for you later then.”

“Wait.” I hurried to catch up. “It’s not like that.”

Not meeting my eyes, he brushed dark curls from his forehead. “I understand. You’re a nightcaller now.”

“I’ll be there, okay? Just give me an hour.”

He nodded, face pained—Paono was terrible at hiding his emotions. “Good luck with Moanet. I hope she accepts.”

Accepts? What did he mean?

He trotted off before I could ask, veering around a light-bearer holding a lantern with an aquamarine flame aloft. Each bearer walked a specific district, indicated by the lantern color, unless an attack happened, and then every lantern in the city would burn blood-red.

Too late, I realized what he was talking about. Paono thought I planned to invite Moanet to be my sentinel. As a nightcaller, I was expected to choose a companion to guard my back when I entered the calling trance. A sentinel should be the person the nightcaller trusts most. When he’d tapped on my shoulder, Paono had been expecting I’d ask him.

I sighed. What a mess.

Chapter Four

THE HOUSE OF YILTAK spanned an entire city block. Mosaics of tiny glass tiles covered the walls. Set in recessed niches, tall windows stretched for the sky. At the bases of the crowning spires, fires burned green and yellow, coloring the spires with flickering light. Atop wide marble steps, a pair of iron doors stood like wide-shouldered soldiers. I felt like a cockroach climbing the stairs. The brass knocker was as big as my head. When it fell against the door, the sound echoed.

A small panel slid aside with the hiss of metal scraping metal. Keen eyes peered out framed with perfect, high brows. My breath hitched. It was Trader Yiltak, Moanet's mother, and the most powerful person in the Islands. I’d expected a doorman.

“State your business.”

My jaw trembled, a stupid nervous reaction. “I’m here to see Moanet. I’d like to continue a business discussion we began earlier today.”

“You’re the common girl the captain selected for the Nocturnai.”

“Yes, Trader. That’s me.”

“I understand my daughter spoke to you before your test. Perhaps she wished to be the first to capitalize on your increased standing should you pass. You realize, however, that any commissions are not binding without my approval.”

I dropped my gaze. “I understand.”

The woman opened the door. She was as tall as most men. Elegant, with her hair in the customary crop-cut favored by heads of trader households.

I slipped past her into the coolness of the entry hall. The air smelled fresh, alive—potted trees lined the marble walkway, brushing the glass skylights high above.

“Moanet uses the second door on the right as her personal receiving chamber. Wait there.”

My sandals scuffed against the polished floor then rubbed softly when I crossed onto the carpet in Moanet’s room. Heavy bookcases covered two walls of the chamber. On a display table, a miniature brass ship sailed across seas sculpted of metal foil. I chose one of the three plush armchairs. The velvet fabric gave off a warm, antique scent.

Moanet arrived with little delay. She carried a tray set with cups of melted chocolate. Someone, perhaps a servant, shut the door behind her.

“You cannot admit the truth.” Moanet’s face was white, and her gaze flitted.

I stared at her, shocked. “But I can’t join the Nocturnai. I don’t have the talent.”

“You must.” When Moanet set the tray upon the table, the cups rattled.

“I shouldn’t have listened to you.” I dug my fingers into the arms of her expensive chair. What had I expected? An apology? Advice?

With a trembling hand, Moanet tucked her hair behind her ear. “The other traders were so smug. Conceited. I wanted you to pass where they failed. I never imagined the captain would select you.”

“But he did.”

“So you’ll go to Ioene.”

“And what happens when they find out I can’t call the strands?”

“Traitors to the Nocturnai are executed,” she said.

What? Executed? “Then I have to confess!”

She shook her head. “Same result.”

Even if I admitted to the lie? “Are you serious? But they haven’t even had the presentation ceremony. All I wanted was to prove them wrong.”

“Lilik. Stop.” Moanet’s hand had steadied, her trader serenity restored. She lifted a cup of chocolate and offered it. “There’s a way.”

I pinched the cup’s delicate handle, feeling numbed. “You mean, besides fleeing the Islands?”

Moanet sipped her chocolate. “You wouldn’t get far.”

“And why am I the only one in danger here? You’re as much to blame for this as I am.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I was not in the tent when you made the choice to lie.”

I clacked my cup down on the table. “You had a turn in the tent, too. And you told them you couldn’t sense the pattern. A Yiltak, testing in public with the rest of us, and you pretended to fail.”

“I had to.”

“Why?”

“It’s not important.” Moanet looked to the side. Her knuckles were white around the handle of her cup. “Look there’s no reason for us to argue. I said there’s a way. You can still make the voyage. My family has a particular heirloom that allows you to call the nightstrands without the talent.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a small carving you place within your reliquary. The strands will collect inside it as if you called them yourself.”

“If that’s possible, why does the expedition need nightcallers at all?”

“Two reasons. First, ours is the only known artifact—and we keep its existence secret. Do you really think the talent has manifested in every single Yiltak girl for the last ten generations?” She smirked. “Second, it’s dangerous. Because you cannot sense the collecting strands, you don’t know when there are too many. You must be cautious, and never call them for more than a few minutes.”

Hope and dread fought for control of my heart. I couldn’t believe they’d kill me for lying during the trial. Not if I came forward. But should I risk the shame of admitting what I’d done when she could offer a way out of this mess?

Then again, taking the carving would mean trusting Moanet a second time. The first time hadn’t worked out well.

“How do I know you aren’t trying to make sure I’m far away when they discover the truth?”

“You don’t. But consider: Yiltak soldiers are loyal and don’t ask questions. If I wanted you removed, I have plenty of options.”

The edge in her voice communicated the threat behind her words. I stared at her, thoughts racing. When the realization hit me, I wondered how I could have missed it earlier. “You tested in public because of the carving. If you’d failed in a private appointment, you’d have been forced onto the voyage anyway because your family can send a talentless nightcaller to Ioene.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Perceptive.”

“You must have an important reason to stay.”

Moanet ignored my comment. “For what it’s worth, I regret offering you the pattern. I wish I’d been less impulsive.” She pulled on a rope that dangled behind her chair. Somewhere in the cavernous house, a bell tinkled.

I swirled the chocolate in the cup as I thought back on logs of previous Nocturnais. None mentioned nightcaller betrayals, but mutineers had been keelhauled, and a thieving blacksmith had swung from a ship’s yardarm. Maybe she was right about the punishment for cheating during the trial.

A knock came at the door. Moanet set down her cup. “Come in.”

A servant entered bearing an inlaid wooden box. “As requested.”

He left, the door clicking shut behind him.

“I’m not heartless, Lilik. I am sorry. This is the best apology I can offer,” Moanet said. She opened the box. Inside, a black stone statuette of a young woman lay on a bed of velvet. Wisps of fog swirled above the carving, eddying where the lid’s movement had disturbed the air. When Moanet pursed her lips and blew, the tendrils of mist fled.

“Nightstrands?” I asked.

Moanet shook her head. “Just residues. The ghosts of strands she’s called before.” A smile flitted across her lips. “Only callers with the talent could see the strands anyway. And you have none.”

I blushed. It had been a dumb question. But Moanet’s words were a knife across the hurt I’d been ignoring. All my life I’d been convinced I was talented.

“Tell me why you’re doing this,” I said. “I can’t trust you otherwise.”

Household sounds filtered into the room. Pots and pans clanged while an entertainer plucked notes from a stringed instrument.

“I plan to elope,” Moanet said at last. Her hand curled around a pendant that dangled from her neck. “My mother would not approve. My intended husband is neither Kiriilti nor wealthy, but he loves me. He’s gathered enough money to send a ship. It’s the only way I’ll get away.”

“If you were chosen for the Nocturnai, you wouldn’t be here when it arrives.”

“No.”

Moanet was older than me. Eighteen or nineteen. In a few years, she’d be expected to marry a younger sibling from another trader House, someone who would complement her skills without threatening her power. Maybe her mother had already chosen someone.

“I love him,” Moanet said. “Commoners think that trader life is easy, but you forget the burdens we carry. When the Waikert sink a trading vessel and kill everyone aboard, we feel we’ve failed them. The future of the Islands lies in our hands.”

She wasn’t going to earn my pity that easily. Moanet Yiltak might have responsibilities that I wouldn’t enjoy, but she’d never had to use the needle and waxed thread from her shoe-making kit to stitch her father’s face shut.

I took a sip of chocolate to collect myself. “What about your inheritance?”

Moanet sneered. “Haven’t you pried enough? You have my big secret.”

And by admitting it, she’d given me power over her. I could use her secret to blackmail her mother into paying my father’s debt. If I somehow avoided the punishment for lying, of course.

Or I could accept her figurine and sail for Ioene. No one would have to know about my failure, and I’d get to make the journey I’d always dreamed of.

“Say I agree...” I said. “I assume you’ll teach me how to use the carving?”

“It won’t take long.”

Moanet scooted her chair over. She ran me through the basics, focusing on how to fake the nightcalling trance and repeating the warning about collecting too many strands.

“That’s about it,” she said, finally. “I’ll leave instructions with one of my servants to retrieve the figurine when you return.”

“I hope I’m not stupid to trust you,” I said. She’d be long gone from Istanik by the time I learned whether she was lying.

“I may be a trader, but I do have some integrity. I wouldn’t send you to your death just because I made a mistake.”

We didn’t speak while walking to the iron front door. The air outside had cooled. Smoke from the multicolored flames that lit the city hazed the night air.

As I descended the steps of House Yiltak, carrying the figurine in my pocket and the weight of my decision on my shoulders, the door clanged shut behind me.

The fountain splashed down three tiers of granite. Mist hung in the air in the fountain’s square, cool where it settled against skin and stone.

Paono wasn’t there yet, so I sat on a bench and let the damp soak into my hair. My pulse still roared in my ears, rushing with the knowledge that I risked death with my choices.

I started to shiver while I sat breathing the mist. Minutes stretched into what must have been an hour, and only once my shivers turned uncontrollable did I finally give up hope that Paono would come. My fingers were stiff with cold, and my legs leaden by the time I stood to leave.

Chapter Five

DARK WOOD PANELED Captain Altak’s chamber. The heavy door shut behind me with a thud, sealing off the room from the city’s clamor. Because of my chores, I was late again, the last to arrive. My fellow nightcallers sat in straight-backed chairs around a low table, awaiting instructions for the presentation ceremony that would follow.

Captain Altak occupied the seat opposite the door, a leather-upholstered armchair much taller than the others. He knew how to signal his authority.

“Lilik,” he said simply.

My eyes were hot with sudden embarrassment. I clasped the sigil pin and slid into a chair.

The captain gestured at the girl nearest him. “All right then,” he said. “Introductions.”

The trader stood, tall and thin with hard angles ready to cut anyone who crossed her. Her eyes were granite-gray and unforgiving.

“Mieshk Ulstat,” she said, “of House Ulstat on the island of Araok.”

I knew House Ulstat by reputation, a hard family who guarded the shores of a brutal hunk of land. In the last century or so, two Ulstats had been raised as ancestor-gods when they died. But the family had also birthed the monster-heir, the madman who had ruled by executing his opponents and haphazardly flinging his armies upon distant shores while savages battered our home coasts.

“Next,” the captain prompted.

“Katrikki Korpit, of House Korpit. Istanik, Stanik Island.” Katrikki tossed her silver-blonde hair over her shoulder. No one could miss her in a crowd—almost everyone else in the Islands had hair like mine: thin, black, and limp.

The next girl jumped to her feet beside Katrikki. The two smiled at each other and hunched their shoulders as if they shared a secret.

The captain cleared his throat. “Friendships that extend beyond Nocturnai interests shall not conflict with our duties.”

The trader dropped her gaze. “Avilet Majkut. House Majkut of Istanik.”

The final girl appeared reluctant to stand. Large eyes peered from beneath a thick fringe of hair, and she hugged her arms across her body. She couldn’t be more than twelve.

“Go ahead,” the captain said.

She hopped up, quick like a songbird. “Heiklet Srukolk, of House Srukolk. Orteshk Island.”

When Heiklet curtsied, Avilet giggled. Heiklet looked up, wide eyes uncertain.

“House Srukolk is newly elevated to trader status,” the captain said. “She brings great honor and increased wealth to her family by being here.” He paused. “You can sit down now, Heiklet.”

She folded in on herself, tiny body tucking back into the solid corners of her chair.

Captain Altak turned his gaze to me. My breath left my lungs in a gust.

“Lilik Boket of . . . of the egg-selling Bokets. Istanik slums.” I raised my chin, daring them to laugh.

The captain’s smile was amused. “Thank you, Lilik. Now then. In a few moments, we’ll make our way to the stage and present you to the crowd.”

The stage stood in courthouse square. Crewmen from the Evaeni marched at our side, defending us from curious spectators. The sailor nearest me smelled of tar and sweat and the sea.

Approaching the platform, I remembered the last presentation ceremony, eight long years ago. I’d ridden on my father’s shoulders, watching the excited crowd from above. Even then, I imagined being selected for the voyage.

Captain Altak called a halt at the base of the stairs. He jogged up the steps, turned, and hefted his speaking horn. My heart sped.

“Citizens of Istanik. Travelers from distant ports.” Captain Altak’s voice boomed, echoing off the stonework of the courthouse. In response, the crowd hushed, babble draining away through the sewer grates.

“Welcome to the presentation ceremony for the Nocturnai, setting out three days hence on the Evaeni.”

A cheer erupted, roaring in my ears like the crash of storm seas. I shoved my trembling hands into my pockets.

Captain Altak quieted the crowd with a raised hand. “It’s been eight years since the last Nocturnai. On Ioene, the sun’s rhythms are unnatural. Since we left, the island has endured the battering of the storm season, a time when the sun came and went erratically, raising violent maelstroms from the sea. Ioene has basked in a year-long day that scorched all life from her flanks. She has enjoyed an autumn where the sea teemed and plants strangled her rocky slopes. And now the long-night has fallen. The strands gather. Lava pumps through the ducts beneath forges built by the ancients.”

When Captain Altak paused, a few shouts rose from the square’s far edge. His raised index finger stilled them.

“But no Nocturnai is successful without its nightcallers. To these girls—” He swept his arm toward us. “—each a breath away from adulthood, we entrust everything. These girls will summon the nightstrands and carry them to our blacksmiths, who will forge hope for our soldiers and success for our ships.”

His voice had dropped, low and dramatic.

“Look upon your future.”

Captain Altak stepped aside with a flourish of the speaking horn, bowing to Mieshk at the head of our small line. The others climbed the stairs, wading through the crowd’s applause. Too soon, I was alone on the square’s cobbles.

When my foot touched the stairs, the crowd roared. Each step higher brought a louder cheer. By the time I reached the stage, I had to resist the urge to clamp my hands over my ears. None of these people knew I was a liar. A cheat. If not for Moanet’s carving, they might have come to watch a hanging instead of a presentation.

Below me, the crowd was an undulating sea, arms waving, children jumping. Miraculously, my eyes found my father. Da’s bruises were fading already. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. Jaret jumped up and down at his side, pumping his fist.

Captain Altak pinned sigils to each of the traders’ shirts. My ears grew numb to the crowd’s roar, and I felt I was encased in glass. Separate, floating.

For better or for worse, I was going to Ioene.

Chapter Six

THE CAPTAIN RELEASED us to mingle while entertainers took the stage. I descended the stairs and swam through the mass of bodies, seeking my family.

My breath caught when I saw Paono standing next to my father. What should I say? I understood that he was hurt. Jealous. But he should have trusted me. And I really needed a friend right now.

My father swept me into a big, spinning hug, saving me from greeting Paono. When he set me down, my friend’s eyes were on the knife juggler who’d taken the stage.

“Where have you been, Paono?” I hoped my family didn’t notice the edge in my voice.

He avoided my eyes, watched as a back-flipping dancer joined the juggler. “The usual. Work.”

“At night? I thought I’d see you at the fountain, at least.”

Paono pushed his hair off his forehead. “The crabs are following the evening tides.”

Oblivious to the tension, Da clapped his hand on Paono’s shoulder and fished out a quarter-crescent. “You two should grab some food,” he said, handing me the coin.

Paono kicked a toe against the cobbles. Like me, he had no desire to argue in front of my father.

“Come on,” I said. “I heard Merti is frying dough.”

Once we were beyond my family’s hearing, Paono stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t think you’d show up. And the crabs were in.”

“I said I’d be there.”

His nostrils flared when he sighed.

“So . . . what did Moanet say?”

“She wished me a good voyage.” I couldn’t tell him anything else. Bad enough that I’d put myself in this position.

“You know what I mean,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t ask her to be my sentinel, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Paono straightened, finally making eye contact. “What then?”

“Her family has a lot of experience with Ioene.”

“If you say so. I doubt anyone knows as much about the Nocturnai as you do.”

The compliment brought a smile to my face. “Who cares about the dancers? Let's take our food back to your Nan’s.”

He shrugged. “I’m not really in the mood to celebrate anyway.”

The awkwardness in his voice told me he knew I was hiding something. At least we’d avoided the sentinel discussion for now. I’d lain awake thinking about it most of the previous night. I trusted Paono more than anyone. But with us both gone, who would care for Nan? And what if Moanet’s carving didn’t work? I couldn’t let him risk himself.

After grabbing some cinnamon-dusted dough pockets, a ten-minute walk brought us to his grandmother’s door. Nan rented a small home and a tiny garden behind a jeweler’s. This time of the evening, taller buildings cast deep shadows over her cottage.

Paono pushed the door open, and a wash of multicolored light spilled onto the doorstep. “I’m back, Nan. Lilik’s here, too.”

When I entered the cottage, the dazzle of lamps in half a dozen different colors made my eye sockets ache. Nan’s vision had been failing for years, and she filled her world with wild hues to compensate. The air smelled of scented oils that fed the lamps’ wicks.

The old woman smiled. “Here she is, our official nightcaller. With you aboard, things will finally get better for the Islands. I know it.”

Yeah, well, they shouldn’t count their blessings yet. Considering my reliance on Moanet’s figurine, I’d be an average caller at best. Still, I smiled at her. Paono’s nan was the kindest person I knew, except maybe my father.

“Thanks, Nan,” I said.

“And with Paono as your sentinel—”

Paono jerked. “Nan, she hasn’t asked me.”

“But she will, right?” Her skin crinkled around the corners of her eyes. “Who else would she take? Some trader?”

“We can’t both leave you, Nan,” I said.

I watched Paono’s reaction. His face was unreadable.

Paono’s grandmother smacked her lips. Few of her teeth remained, and the holes reminded me of all the people who'd vanished from our lives. My mother, Paono’s parents.

The old woman lifted a pouch from beside her chair. She loosened the drawstring. “I’ve been saving this for you, Paono. It’s your birthright. Yours to keep or pawn or sell.” When she shook the bag, a length of nightforged steel chain slithered into her palm. Another little shake, and a pendant as big as a pigeon’s egg plopped into her hand. Within the stone, the colors swirled—no doubt the pendant was nightcrafted as well.

I stared, wide-eyed. Paono mumbled something unintelligible.

A serious expression replaced Nan’s grin. “Now listen. This will pay someone to care for me for longer than I’ll live. Or, Paono, you could set yourself up with a business in the city, free yourself from the crab pots. The amulet came from my grandmother. Handed to her by a relative so old no one remembers her name—”

“I can’t sell something like that,” Paono said. “Nan!”

Nan rolled her eyes. “Pawn it, then. That Captain Altak eats gold for breakfast. Bet you a horse’s apple he’ll loan you the money with this as collateral. You’re guaranteed to come back rich from the voyage.”

Guaranteed if Moanet’s figurine works, I thought. I couldn’t let Paono trade away his family treasure. Especially not when my lie might doom us.

I stared at the necklace. The stone, another sea opal, was huge. “Listen, Paono. There are plenty of people I can ask to be my sentinel. Joyenk. Cailik. They’re strong. Honest, too.”

Paono’s cheeks went dark red, obvious even in the stew of yellow and purple and green light that swam on his face. We stood close, almost shoulder to shoulder. Well, shoulder to armpit—he’d outgrown me a couple of years ago. Anger radiated from him.

“At least Nan lets me make up my own mind. Why should it be your choice? Because you’re a nightcaller now? Well, too bad.”

Paono cupped one hand under his grandmother’s frail one while he lifted the amulet. “I’ll make sure that my pay includes a lamp with nightblown glass, Nan. Only the finest for you.”

She patted his arm. “The best thing you can bring me is a story. I’ll want to know how Ioene’s cinders smell.”

I stared, horrified. I hadn’t actually asked him, yet somehow he was coming anyway. I should protest. I could ruin their lives. But instead, I stood frozen, too scared to face Ioene and my deception alone.

An hour later, we stood inside the captain’s chambers.

“I wouldn’t even think about it,” Captain Altak said, laughing in response to Paono’s request to offer the pendant as collateral for a loan. “Consider your nan’s care as part of your pay. Tell the clerk I sent you.”

All but shooing us out the door, he shut it with a thud.

Standing on carpet that felt ankle-deep, I ran eyes over the gilt-edged mirrors and paintings, the velvet-upholstered chairs lining the walls. All this for a hallway.

“Lilik?” Paono asked, still holding the necklace in his palm.

“Yeah?”

“Will you wear it?”

My eyes widened in shock. Paono let the chain slip through his fingers, then held the necklace up as if to drape it over my head.

“I can’t. It’s your family’s.”

“But what good does it do hidden in a bag? I can’t wear it. Well, I could, but . . .”

“It’s made for a woman.”

He nodded. “Will you? Until we return, at least? That way, whenever I look at you, I’ll remember Nan. Home.”

My lips pressed together over the protests rising in my throat. After a moment, I nodded. Paono slipped the necklace over my head and slipped his fingers along my neck to pull my hair free from the chain. The pendant rested against my breastbone, heavy with things unsaid.

Chapter Seven

AFTER THREE DAYS of frantic packing and goodbyes, the day of our departure arrived. The musicians started playing at dawn, lining the street from the central square all the way to the quay. Food-sellers set up at every corner, and the smell of fried treats hung in the air. I wore my finest clothing, still simple, but newly made, a thin linen shift beneath a belted tunic with small buttons of abalone shell. For once, my pants reached all the way to my ankles. I’d donned sandals—made by an actual cobbler—for the departure, but I had two pairs of honest, closed-toe shoes in my trunk.

My father and Jaret had left early to stake out a vantage point near the gangway to the Evaeni’s deck. Paono had arrived about an hour later with a borrowed handcart. With our sea trunks nestled in the cart’s belly, we tugged at the handle together, pulling the creaking wheels over the cobbles. Paono gave off the clean scent of sandalwood and honey. He always smelled nice.

We didn’t talk much. Sometimes, our hours together were like that, an easy friendship that needed no empty words. But our silence today was different. The quiet expressed our nervousness and anticipation in a way words couldn't.

Pennants streamed from the Evaeni’s masts, black silk sparkling with silver stars. At the quay’s edge, the crowd stood ten bodies deep already. People laughed and ate whipped cream dusted with shaved chocolate. Children riding on shoulders pointed when we neared. An aisle opened, leaving us a path to the ship.

Ahead, the gangway looked too narrow, and the rope railing too flimsy. I halted, abruptly afraid. Paono grabbed my hand and squeezed. He seemed so confident, but when I looked, his face was as pale as the Evaeni’s furled sails.

A crewmember with shoulders like mountains stomped down the gangway as if it were wide as a street and not bouncing wildly with each step. He hefted our sea trunks, one under each massive arm and headed back up to the ship without a word.

This was it, then.

Paono wheeled the cart back across the harbor street, leaving it as arranged. Wrapped in the crowd’s noise, I watched the gulls fly overhead. Istanikers smiled at me, waving small flags with the Evaeni’s sigil. I noticed that some of them, ridiculously, clutched eggs in their hands. I was a gutter hero.

I spotted my family. Nan stood with them, and my father had a hand cupped under her elbow.

We’d said our goodbyes earlier, in private, because voyagers were supposed to move straight onto the ship to prove our resolve. But just before Paono and I filed onto the gangway, Jaret shouted. “Wait!”

My heart cartwheeled in my chest as he sprinted toward us. Jaret had grown so much in the last year. His eyes were nearly level with mine despite our five-year age difference.

“I have to go, rat-bait.”

“But what if you . . . what about the Nocturnais that failed?”

I forced a brave expression. “They weren’t prepared. We can handle spoiled food.” Eighty-some years ago, rot got into the food casks of a previous ship, the Istari. A third of the voyagers starved on the way home. That wouldn’t happen to us. Even during the long-night, edible plants grew upon Ioene. Dormant shellfish could still be harvested and cooked. I could teach the expedition how to forage.

“I don’t mean that,” Jaret said. “There might be storms. What about the Niveli? Not a single person returned from that voyage.”

I wrapped my arms around my brother and rested my chin on his shoulder. He always feared the worst, no doubt due to our mother’s abandonment.

“Don’t worry, Jaret,” I whispered. “I’ll come back to you.”

His arms were a vise around me, trembling. “Bye . . . I love you.”

“Love you, too. Take care of Da, okay?” I said.

I pried his arms off of me. Turning away from him was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.

Paono had watched the exchange, waiting patiently. I followed him up the gangway. The bridge bounced and swayed, and I clutched the railings with white knuckles, but at least I didn’t stumble on the way up to the deck.

From the deck, the crowd looked small. I set my palms on the polished rail. Through the warm, slick wood, I felt the vibration of wavelets slapping the ship's hull.

I caught my father’s eye and saw something new there. He regarded me as a different person, now. Equal to equal. Abruptly the emotions were too much for me, and I shuffled to the seaward rail to collect myself.

Motion in the water grabbed my attention. A small head bobbed low to the waves, hair plastered to the scalp. Thin arms reached from the water and grabbed a rope ladder that hung over the ship’s side. The boy got his feet looped through rungs that dangled beneath the harbor’s surface. Then he lowered himself until only his hands and the top half of his head peeked out from the water.

He glanced up and noticed me watching. His eyes widened like a startled rabbit’s. He shook his head as if pleading with me.

A stowaway. If only I'd been so brave when I was younger. I couldn’t help thinking of Captain Altak’s story about Prisak Relat, the last gutterborn caller, taking control of her destiny by doing the same thing. A small, scrawny kid, the boy would probably have no problem staying hidden. I slid away from the rail to avoid drawing attention.

The other nightcallers were filing aboard with their sentinels. Mieshk had selected a girl almost as gaunt as she was. I wondered if they didn’t eat on Araok Island. Mieshk glowered while she walked. I tried to think nice thoughts.

Behind the Araokan traders, Katrikki Korpit, the—though I hated to admit it—stunning ice-blond, stepped onto the gangway. When her sentinel followed, my breath caught. He was the dark to Katrikki’s light. If anything, more striking. As tall as most grown men, he had wide shoulders, muscular without being heavy. Black hair fell across his forehead in a slight wave. His eyes held secrets.

I wrenched my gaze away; I had months ahead to stare at the other nightcallers’ faces. No need to watch them get on the boat.

The last half hour rushed by. Finally, crewmen descended the gangway to free our mooring lines from their cleats. The closest musicians started up a quick jig. Crowd members tossed the ends of ribbons up to voyagers at the rail. My heart crawled into my throat.

After freeing the lines, the crewmen leaped from the quay, swinging on the ropes across the widening gap before climbing hand over hand to the rail. The crowd roared while sailors heaved against the ropes that raised the sails.

Canvas bellied in the salt-smelling breeze, and the Evaeni tugged forward. I stumbled.

Someone laughed. “Look at her. Can’t even stand on the deck.”

I whirled upon Mieshk and her sentinel. The pair sneered at me.

I bent my knees to keep my balance and turned away. Unfortunately, the captain chose that moment to change direction, sending me tumbling into a pile of rigging.

Mieshk, standing as if rooted to the ground, raised her chin. “You cripple the Nocturnai just by being here, gutterscamp. Don’t think anyone will forget that.”

The ropes beneath me smelled like turpentine and seaweed. With the light sway of the deck, the scent made my belly roil. A shadow crossed the deck. One of the harbor guardstones, blocking the morning sun. When we sailed past, the nesting gulls screeched.

“Obviously the captain didn’t think so,” I retorted.

“A confident leader chooses the strongest individuals for his team,” Mieshk said. “Vidyul Altak has shown that he’s weak. We may all regret that.”

Clearly, Mieshk and I would not become friends. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” I asked as I grabbed a barrel that had been lashed to the deck and pulled up. The world spun, and my stomach tightened. I picked a spot on the horizon and concentrated on it while I staggered away.

“Goodbye, little land rat,” one of them called.

I found Paono near the bow. At ease with the sway of the decks, he greeted me with a grin that faded when he saw my face.

"You okay?"

"Just seasick."

A few long strides brought him to my side. I breathed deep, relieved. No matter what else happened on the voyage, I’d have one steadfast ally.

“Seen your bunk yet?” I asked.

“Nope. Shall we?”

We headed for the closest ladder. When I stumbled, he caught my elbow to steady me. Warm comfort spread outward from his hands. Things weren’t so terrible.

The air in the hold was stuffy, smelling of damp wood and lamp oil. The nightcallers shared a cabin. Paono and I peeked in to see Heiklet, the young caller, curled on her bunk. Homesick, I guessed. She smiled, a lonely expression.

The sentinels were housed in the next lower level of the hold, in small cabins scattered between storage rooms. Down here, the air was even danker, sopping and mildewy. My stomach cramped. Clenching my jaw, I vowed to struggle through the few minutes Paono needed to check out his room. He had to sleep in this dungeon.

The cabin's damp-swollen wooden door caught on the floor, and Paono had to yank it open. Meanwhile, another huge wave rocked the ship. I braced my hand against the wall and swallowed. Sweat slimed my face.

“Guess we’re roommates.” The voice hummed from within Paono’s cabin, sounding like the bass string on a violin.

Katrikki’s sentinel stepped into the open door, and my tongue turned to rubber.

“Raav,” the boy said with an easy smile.

He and Paono shook hands. When Raav turned to greet me, my stomach finally rebelled.

“Bucket!” I said, voice squeaking.

Paono’s eyes widened, and he dashed down the aisle, turning at a cross-passage. A mop toppled into the main aisle with a clatter. Paono dashed back with a wooden bucket clutched in both hands.

Just in time. I fell to my knees and lost my breakfast.

“Poor thing,” Raav said.

I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t even look at Paono. Staggering to my feet, I stumbled for the ladder.

The walls swam, and lanterns were blurry streaks of light. I followed the brightest glow toward the hatch. Once outside, I swayed like a drunk toward the forward rail, leaned over and was sick again before sinking into a humiliated heap. Soon after, an arm fell across my shoulders.

“You’ll get used to the motion.”

I looked at Paono. “Will I?”

He shrugged. “I imagine so.”

A dark head emerged from the ladder leading below. Wide shoulders followed, and Raav raised his face to the sunlight.

As he stepped higher, I stared, horrified. He was carrying my bucket.

Without a word to Paono or me, he walked to the far rail and dumped its revolting contents overboard. After tying a rope to the handle, he lowered the bucket to the sea for washing.

I’d never been more ashamed.

Chapter Eight

I TOSSED IN my bunk through the first night, fighting the urge to spill my stomach again, and in the morning, a squall moved through. At this point, I had no pride left. I spent the breakfast hours dry-heaving over the rail. But by mid-morning, the winds had quieted, and my stomach finally began to settle.

The Evaeni rolled when it crested the lazy waves. Canvas sails flapped and bellied in the light wind, and the rigging creaked when each swell rocked the ship. The captain steered a course down a wide strait. To starboard, an island rose from the sea. Trails switchbacked up steep mountainsides, leading to terraced fields. More farms quilted the valley floors.

To port, the island of Araok spread in blocky, dark hills pocked with the black holes of its many mines. Smoke rose from ore smelters, tossing hints of sulfur and ash into the breeze that filled our sails. Araok was home to the House of Ulstat. Mieshk’s domain. Seeing the ugly island firsthand, I had little difficulty imagining it birthing the Ulstat monster-heir.

Behind us, Stanik Island was already lost in the haze. I’d been so sick I hadn’t even taken a last look.

“Not there, boy. Coil that line beneath the port windlass. You’re just making more work for the rest of us.”

I searched for the shout's source. Oh, poor Paono. Near the forward mast, he stood with a rope coil wrapped in his fist. A pair of deckhands faced him, all muscle and sinew, patched trousers and squinty glares.

Paono's coil of rope dropped to the deck. “Windlass?”

One of the deckhands snarled, baring yellowed teeth in his weathered face. “Maybe you ought to learn Evaeni’s fittings before you try to work her decks, eh? Get below, green boy. Find someone to show you around.”

There was nothing I could do. If I butted into the conversation, I’d just embarrass Paono.

“Lilik?”

A young boy, no older than ten, had appeared at my side.

“Yes. Who are you?”

“Makal. My da’s the first mate.”

A cabin boy. Makal’s hair looked like mice nested in it, and his trousers sat crookedly on his narrow hips.

“I’m supposed to tell you that the other nightcallers are waiting,” he said. “The strandmistress doesn’t like girls that come late to their lesson.”

Lesson? No one had mentioned there'd be a lesson this afternoon.

“Where?”

“Mistress Nyralit’s cabin.”

“Which is?”

He scratched his mouse-nest head and looked at me like I was stupid. “Right next to yours.”

“Not everyone grew up on this boat.”

He shrugged and craned his neck to watch a crewman climb to the crow’s nest. “If you’re still standing around like a post in a field, don’t blame me when the mistress comes to fetch you herself.”

I headed for the aft hatch, adding Makal to my list of people to avoid.

Inside Mistress Nyralit’s cabin, a small, glassed porthole admitted a shaft of sunlight that fell on the thick rug. On her bunk, pillows were piled high, and the bed covers were patterned in the style of the Tuukan weavers, a tiny colony of artisans on the smallest of the Kiriilt Islands.

Five pale faces turned when I entered. I ignored the other girls and curtsied to Mistress Nyralit. I didn’t make an excuse for being late.

“Sorry, Mistress.”

“Well then,” Mistress Nyralit said, “it seems we can finally begin.”

I took a seat at the rug’s edge. To my left, Katrikki Korpit, back straight as an iron rod, shifted away. On my right, Heiklet Srukolk sat cross-legged and attentive. Her thumbs rubbed back and forth over the fabric of her trousers.

“So then, the nightstrands. What brings them to Ioene?” Mistress Nyralit looked around the circle.

When no one answered, I swallowed and spoke. “Depends on who you ask, Mistress. Either they’re attracted to the volcano’s heat and our talent simply allows us to sense them, or the aether extrudes them in the presence of a nightcaller.”

“Or the ancestor-gods of a nightcaller’s family herd them from the depths,” Mieshk said.

Mistress Nyralit arched her eyebrows. “That theory was discarded decades ago, Mieshk. If the ancestor-gods were responsible, only traders could call the strands. Lilik here disproves it.”

Mieshk's face darkened, and her knuckles blanched, bone-white, when she squeezed her knees. Mistress Nyralit was not helping me get along with the traders.

The strandmistress continued. “So . . . the basics of nightcalling. Who knows the fundamental techniques?”

I plucked at the nap on the rug. Wasn’t anyone else going to answer? I’d already drawn enough attention.

Mistress Nyralit was watching me. “You know the answer, don’t you, Lilik? Well, speak up.”

“A—a blindfolded nightcaller senses a nearby strand and plucks it from the night. The strand must be calmed and then threaded carefully through the holes in the reliquary. Otherwise, it will thrash and become tattered, and anything forged with it will be defective.”

Unless you had the Yiltak figurine in your reliquary. In that case, strands entered the container without help. According to Moanet, anyway. An anxious tingle numbed my fingertips.

The lesson continued like this, with Mistress Nyralit testing our basic knowledge, and the callers—mostly me—answering. I could almost smell the hatred in the room.

In the middle of a discussion about infusing hot metal with a collected strand, Mistress Nyralit stood. “Thank you, callers. Time’s up. We’ll begin here tomorrow.”

One by one, we clambered off our cushions.

“Lilik.” Mistress Nyralit held a nightforged chain. She slid it between her fingers and caught it in her other palm. When she released the end, the chain slithered across her hand and wrapped her wrist. Nightcrafted items were often like that, behaving according to their owner’s desires. Nightforged silver ewers kept summer wines cool while warming mulled cider during the chill rains of winter. And, of course, the nightforged weapons were unlike any other, swords seeming to move an instant before the wielder decided to cut, throwing daggers hitting their target no matter how bad the toss.

“Yes?” I said, bobbing my head in a small bow.

“Stay a moment. The rest of you should retire to your cabin and recheck the stowing of your belongings. We cannot predict the onset of storms.”

The traders filed past, glaring. Was the strandmistress trying to get me thrown overboard?

Mistress Nyralit pushed the door firmly shut before she spoke. “Tomorrow, if no one carries you the news of our meeting time, please check with me no later than one hour after lunch. I’m guessing you had no idea we were beginning lessons today.”

“I’m sure it was just a mistake.”

“Nonsense. But not unexpected. You’ve stolen something precious from the traders—their sense of superiority.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“But they’ll come around, I suspect. Or they won’t. Not your fault if they spend the voyage wallowing in envy. And you should never hide your knowledge for their sake.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“See you tomorrow, Lilik.”

When I reached the callers’ cabin, I stopped short. Inside, my trunk yawned wide. My possessions covered the floor as if the wooden box had coughed them up. As soon as the traders noticed me, they stopped laughing.

Moanet’s figurine. My heart stopped beating. If anyone found the statuette and figured out its use, I was dead. Probably Paono, too. It took everything I had to stay calm. I plucked clothing from the floor while I walked, bundling it in my arms. Sitting on my bunk, I calmly folded a fur-lined cloak I’d need for the long night ahead. While I worked, I glanced into the trunk. There. The figurine’s case peeked out from beneath a pair of heavy leather mitts. A warm flush of relief spilled through my body.

When I leaned down to place the cloak inside the trunk, I lifted the case’s lid and palmed the little statuette. After sitting up, I slipped it into my pants pocket.

I’d been an idiot to leave the heirloom unguarded. Never again. Without looking at the other girls, I folded the rest of my possessions and tucked them back into the trunk.

“It wasn’t us,” Heiklet said quietly. The small girl sat on her bunk, apart from the other traders. With her back against the wall, her feet barely cleared the edge of her bed.

I shrugged, worried that my voice might break. Even if that were true, none of them had lifted a finger to help me. I latched the lid of my trunk, wishing for a lock.

As I pushed out the door, a figure descended the ladder, a boy with broad shoulders and narrow hips. He was facing away. Dark hair curled lightly against his neck. It looked like Paono—he really had grown in the last year. I hoped so; I needed a friend right now. But when the boy turned, my shoulders slumped. Raav.

He seemed to fill the aisle when he drew close. There wasn't enough space to duck around him.

“Hello,” he said.

I nodded a greeting. All I could think about was throwing up at his feet.

“How was your first training?” he asked.

If the nightcallers hadn’t emptied my trunk, maybe it had been the sentinels. I swallowed to steady my voice.

“The training was fine.”

“Listen,” he said, “half my trader friends were sick on their first ocean voyage. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Raav’s hair fell across one of his eyebrows. He’d stepped close while I was staring at my feet. The knot of cartilage in his throat bobbed when he swallowed. Abruptly, I felt too warm.

I turned sideways to edge around him. “Thanks for cleaning up after me.”

“I was happy to help.” He pivoted as if to keep the conversation going, but I continued on.

“Bye, then, Lilik,” he said. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Was he really, or was he making fun of me? A smile curled his lips, amused but not mocking. The edge of my foot caught a floorboard. I stumbled.

Idiot. I ducked my head and scurried for the ladder.

Chapter Nine

Finally, we grazed the shallows of the northern-most Outer Isle, and our next tack sent us into the open ocean. I looked back at the craggy headland, the last glimpse of home we’d see for months. Home, but only in name. The outer Kiriilt Islands were sharp, rocky, and harsh, entirely foreign compared to the rounded, lush hills of Stanik.

My mother was somewhere among those crags, returned to her birthplace. The ache of her abandonment throbbed in my heart. To my eyes, choosing this place over Stanik Island was insane. The wind blew harder here, forcing the sparse vegetation to wedge deep in fissures and gullies. Villages crusted the crags’ leeward sides and extended out as floating rafts of shanties connected by narrow plank bridges.

Yet despite the apparent hardships, the pull here had been so strong that it’d torn her from her children, from the cozy house and soft bed my father had provided.

But no amount of thinking about it would change what my mother had done. I forced my eyes away and didn't look astern until the Outer Isles had fallen beneath the horizon.

After we had cleared the Islands, the view lay unchanged, day after day. The open ocean spread to a hazy horizon, broken only by the occasional herd of whitecaps raised when a gust of wind plucked wavelets from the water’s surface. Sometimes, Paono joined me for a few minutes between tasks, and we sat shoulder to shoulder in the sun. Others, I sat alone.

One afternoon, I’d found a small cubby formed by stacks of crates with a pile of fishing net in the bottom. A perfect spot for a snooze. I’d just shut my eyes when a shout traveled the deck.

“Captain! Got a stowaway.”

I’d forgotten about the boy I’d seen hanging onto the seaward ladder. He’d probably been lurking in the lowest hold this whole time, miserable in the dark and the damp.

I peeked over a crate. Yes, it was the same child. Brown eyes, black hair. Staniker through and through. Two crewmen grabbed him under the arms. They held his toes a good distance above the deck. The boy didn’t struggle.

Captain Altak had been helming the wheel himself. He handed off control of the ship and marched forward.

“Rotten tides, boy.”

Captain Altak smacked him on the side of the head, and I winced. For all his words about Prisak Relat, he was being awfully rough.

“So you thought you’d see Ioene. Smell her cinders. Watch her lava spill into the cool sea. Your friends will idolize you when we return.”

The boy nodded, but he didn’t look up.

“I was like you once,” the captain said. “A common birth if you can believe it.”

The captain was gutterborn! No wonder he’d been so quick to accept me. The stowaway had raised his head, seeming to take hope from the captain’s words.

“Except I wasn’t nearly as stupid.”

The boy recoiled as if slapped.

“Do you know why we can’t tolerate stowaways? Because you eat. We only bring enough supplies to feed invited voyagers. And when you aren’t eating, you’re planning to pilfer the nightcrafted goods—oh, don’t shake your head at me like that. The sale of one nightforged weapon could feed your family for months.”

“I wouldn’t . . .” The boy’s lower lip quivered. He wasn't more than eight or nine.

Captain Altak set his shoulders. His eyes hardened. “I doubt you know how to read, and even if you did, you wouldn’t have studied the charter. But it’s no excuse. The punishment for stowing away on a Nocturnai is death.”

Wait. What? My stomach bounded into my throat, shoving a strangled cry from my mouth. Captain Altak spun, a flash of shame crossing his face. He couldn’t really intend to murder the stowaway, could he?

I felt sick. I’d known about the boy. I could have prevented it.

“Tie him to the main mast,” the captain said. “I need to confer with my leadership.”

Why had I been so stupid? If I’d just told someone about the boy in the water, he’d have been yelled at and sent home to Istanik’s slums. Now he had a death sentence.

Perched on a stack of fishing nets, I kept a vigil over him. At least he wouldn’t be alone.

“Wonder who's going to starve before we reach port. Gutter scum deserves whatever he gets.” An oarsman stomped by with Makal, the cabin boy, tagging at his heels.

“I’ll do him myself!” Makal said, bouncing.

I glared at them, disgusted.

The stowaway's chin rested on his chest. Fat tears soaked his face and ran down his neck. Because his arms were bound, he couldn't even wipe away the damp.

The idea arrived in a flash, like a jolt of static. Breathless, I scrambled to my feet and ran for the captain’s cabin, a square room built upon the forward deck.

Captain Altak’s sun-lined face was drawn and heavy when he answered my knock. Thick canvas blinds shrouded the cabin’s windows, hiding the occupants. “I’m busy, nightcaller.” He started to close the door.

“Wait—” I stuck my elbow in the gap. “—please.”

Nearby deckhands had stopped their work to watch me. The captain waved them off.

“We have weeks of sailing left—your issue can wait. A boy’s life is being decided.”

“Captain, I—it’s about the boy. Please, I’ll be quick.”

“Oh, let her in, Vidyul,” Mistress Nyralit said from within the cabin.

Captain Altak’s nostrils flared, but he motioned me in, shutting the door behind me.

Three more pairs of eyes bored into me as I inhaled the stuffy cabin air. When my vision adjusted to the dim light, I picked out the faces of the first and second mates at the table with Mistress Nyralit.

“Speak, girl, and be gone," said Brik, the first mate. The man was as unpleasant as his son, Makal.

I returned my eyes to the captain. “I volunteer to feed the stowaway out of my ration.”

Captain Altak’s face softened. “If you were a glass-blower or a deckhand or anything else, we'd consider your offer, Lilik. But if you’re too weak to call the strands, our whole voyage is crippled. So no.”

He laid his hand on the door.

“Wait—I’ve studied the Nocturnai logs for years. Early voyages didn’t even bring rations for the time they were ashore on Ioene. Once we’re on land, I'll forage. ”

His eyebrows lifted as if surprised I’d offered him an escape from his predicament.

Tkira, the second mate, sneered. A long scar sliced across her cheek—the expression caused her face to twist around the old injury. “Sure. Put food in the little thief’s belly so he has the strength to rob us on the way home. You can’t be soft, Captain. You know the dangers of the long-night . . . Makes savages of us. Ship's crew are rough to begin with—only fear keeps them in line when we’re deep in the darkness.”

Resolve turned the captain’s eyes stony. “She's right, Lilik. Leniency breeds mutiny.”

True, most sailors were born into life at sea. A childhood spent away from civilization made for coarse morals—I only needed to look at Makal to see that. But I still couldn’t believe the captain would kill a boy to keep his crew in line.

“What if I put my share of the profits up against the boy’s honesty? If he steals something, repay it from my earnings.”

The captain shook his head. “If we do that, half the crew will pilfer the hold and expect the boy to be blamed. The laws exist because the Nocturnai is more important than any one person, Lilik.”

Desperate, I switched my attention to Mistress Nyralit. “Mistress . . .”

She wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Go now, Lilik. Thank you for your offers. We’ll make the boy’s death as merciful as possible.”

Incoherent pleas stumbled off my tongue while the captain opened the door. Brik stood and grabbed me, his hands steel around my upper arms. As if I weighed nothing, he deposited me back out on the deck.

The sun hung low in the sky. I squinted into the red glare. The captive boy was a shadow against the base of the mast. Small. So helpless.

Not caring what the crew thought, I squatted before him and wrapped my arms around his thin shoulders. He was younger than Jaret. I remembered when my brother's body felt like this, greenstick bones under a scrawny chicken’s body. The boy’s face was still wet, but he’d stopped crying.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Geren. But my ma calls me Skink because I’m sneaky.” The boy huddled at my feet, curling upon himself as best as the ropes allowed.

Anger vibrated through my body. How could the captain and strandmistress do this? How could they live with the decision?

A hand touched my shoulder, heavy and reassuring. I expected to see Paono, but Raav stood behind me.

“I brought him something,” he said.

At Raav's feet, a heel of bread lay beside a pail of water. He stooped and gently ladled water into the stowaway’s mouth.

“I saw you visit the captain’s cabin,” he said.

Crouching, I tore off a bite of bread and fed it to the boy. “I hoped that I could . . .” I trailed off, realizing that Geren needed no more reminders of his fate.

“Many of us feel as you do,” Raav said. “No matter what the captain decides, remember that.”

I continued doling out pieces of bread. Shoulder to shoulder with Raav, I realized I no longer thought of him as a trader, not after this kindness. Raav wasn’t like them. He cared about more than his family fortune and his social status.

“This is Geren,” I said, a belated introduction.

“Geren. A good, tough name.” Raav crouched lower, placing his face before the child’s. “You are strong, you know. Brave enough to meet this.”

The boy’s lip trembled when Raav squeezed his shoulders, but he seemed to gather strength from the contact. Once the meal was finished, Raav stood, solemn, and backed away. I sidestepped to him, putting myself out of Geren’s earshot.

“Maybe you could talk to the captain,” I said. “He might listen to a trader.”

A strange look, guarded almost, crossed Raav’s face. “It’s too late for that, I’m afraid. I’ve seen enough shipboard punishments to know.”

As he regarded the boy, Raav’s jaw worked in contained frustration. Growing up in a trader House, he must have had a lot of practice controlling his emotions. Back home, I’d never seen an Istaniker trader show anything but cool disdain while out in public. But Raav, at least, was more complicated than he let on.

“You’re strong, too, Lilik. Don’t forget that.”

As Raav stalked away, he stared long and hard at the gawking crew, daring them to challenge him. After he’d vanished, I settled down beside Geren. Deckhands and oarsmen hovered near. I couldn’t defend the boy against a determined assault, but they’d be less inclined to violence if someone were watching.

“Thank you,” the boy whispered.

“You’re welcome, Skink.”

After some time, the sun dipped below the horizon. My legs had fallen asleep when the cabin door opened. The leaders filed out and headed astern. Shortly afterward, a pair of deckhands came and stood before me.

“Captain said that you’re to head to the galley for supper, nightcaller.”

My jaw trembled. “Are you taking him now?”

“Captain sent us to protect him. He’ll be guarded through the night. Whatever his punishment, it won’t be at the hands of a vigilante.”

Bitter saliva flooded my mouth. I’m sorry, I wanted to tell Geren. I’m so sorry.

“Go on, nightcaller.” The man’s voice remained gentle, but he’d be firmer if he had to ask again.

I shuffled for the ladder, my chest filled with black.

I lay awake through the night. This was no game. The boy would die in the morning. And I couldn’t forget my own predicament. I’d failed the nightcaller test and dragged my best friend into my lie. Paono’s life could be forfeit just like the poor boy’s.

I finally dozed off as the sky began to pale. In my dream, my father and brother stood on the gallows. Trader Yiltak, Moanet's mother, held the lever that would drop the platform.

“Just tell the truth!” she yelled at me.

“I am!”

“Liar!”

The crowd shoved me forward while Moanet’s mother dropped the floor from beneath my family. The crack of their necks echoed across Istanik’s central square.

I jolted awake, sweat stinging as it leaked into my eyes.

Most mornings, the other callers left the cabin early. But today, Mieshk lazed on her bunk, glaring at me. Heiklet sat with knees curled to her chest. Her sentinel, Islilla, lay upon Heiklet’s bunk.

I ran my hand through my hair.

“The boy?” I asked. “Is he alive?”

“Escaped,” Heiklet said.

My pulse fluttered. “What? Gone?”

“You act so surprised, Lilik,” Mieshk said with obvious suspicion.

I was too relieved to speak. Instead, I rubbed my face, trying to clear away the fatigue.

Heiklet straightened her legs. “She couldn’t have helped him escape, Mieshk. She's been here all night.”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway.” Mieshk rolled her eyes. “What are the chances that an eight-year-old rows back to the Islands before he capsizes or starves?”

“I feel sorry for him,” Islilla said.

“Crew will probably riot over the captain letting the little rat escape,” Avilet said as she marched into the cabin, tiny blotches of color high on her cheeks.

Katrikki followed her friend into the room and flopped down on her bunk. The traders fell into speculation about who'd pulled sacks over the guards’ heads and lowered the boy’s boat over the rail.

I curled and uncurled my toes, thinking. Raav had said that I wasn’t alone in wanting the boy spared. Had he been involved in the escape? That would explain his reluctance to approach the captain; he wouldn’t have wanted to draw added attention.

“Anyone want to wager on the number of days until he starves?” Avilet asked. “Not that we’d have a way to decide who takes the pot.”

Disgusted, I threw off my covers and left the cabin. Above decks, I spotted Paono and joined him near the forward rail.

“Haven’t seen you much lately,” he said.

“Busy, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Paono looked tired. His eyes were glassy.

“How are you, Paono?” I asked. “Holding up to the deckhands' abuse?”

His brows drew together, a strained expression that reminded me of the first months after his parents’ deaths.

“This voyage isn’t what I expected,” he said.

Regret crushed the air from my chest. “No, it’s not.”

We fell silent at the thought. Rigging creaked under the light breeze. Perched on the rail of the crow’s nest, a pair of seagulls squabbled.

“Who do you think freed the boy?” I asked after a while.

Guilt flashed across Paono’s face. “I—good question. Maybe the captain arranged it to avoid executing him.”

Ah. I should have suspected Paono had something to do with it. I kicked my heels against the deck. “The traders don’t think he’ll live long enough to reach land.”

“I heard about a small island chain,” he said. “Not Kiriilti. Isolated tribal ports—they’re just over the western horizon. I bet he knew about them.” Paono's lips twitched in a smile. He may have been the worst liar I’d ever met.

It made sense for Paono and Raav to work together; they shared a room. Until now, though, I’d kept them far apart in my mind. I liked them that way. Separate. Paono was my anchor, solid and comforting. And Raav . . . that was more complicated. A trader who defied my opinions of the class, he’d been so kind to the boy last night, not to mention, courteous to me. I wanted to understand him.

I stood. “I better get breakfast. I couldn’t eat last night.”

“Good to see you for once, Lil.”

“Paono . . .” I waited until he met my eyes. “Don’t talk to anyone about the boy. I mean it. You’re far too pleased with his escape.”

He blushed. We wouldn’t have to talk about it again.

Chapter Ten

TWENTY-THREE DAYS after leaving port, we plunged into the long-night.

When the sun was a sliver at the edge of the sea, and the last rays glinted off wavelets already dark with the night, we gathered on the deck. No one spoke while we faced the dying light. After this, we wouldn't see the sun for months. In the boat’s wake, a fish jumped and flopped into the sea with a splash. Only the rigging's constant creak and the slap of water against the hull accompanied our silence.

Paono and I stood together, facing into the night. Catching his eyes, I smiled. Whatever else happened, we’d made it to the night crossing together, something neither of us imagined a year ago. I wanted to grab his hand but thought better of it. What if he jerked away?

When the sun winked out, extinguished, I shivered. The night was liquid shadow poured over the ship. Stars shone brighter over the endless, ink-black ocean. Near the bow, someone chuckled, a tight and nervous laugh. Feet shuffled against the deck planks while a low murmur rose. Voices whispered of the night-madness, the mysterious sickness of the mind that struck voyagers mercilessly and by surprise.

With a crackle, the first torch was kindled, spitting drops of light onto the deck. Red. Only red and orange flames were permitted now. The colors of Ioene.

“Thank you, Lilik,” Paono said. “I won’t forget this. Not ever.”

Neither would I.

Over Paono's shoulder, I spied Raav watching me from atop a pile of rigging. Blood rushed to my face. We'd hardly spoken since we fed the stowaway together, but I'd caught him looking at me often. Now, as before, his eyes held a strange mix of warmth and respect. He was a mystery: defender of helpless stowaways yet sentinel to Katrikki Korpit. How had she—a stinking puddle of self-absorption—convinced him to come with her?

Noticing the direction of my gaze, Paono spun. When Raav nodded a greeting, Paono dropped his arm over my shoulder.

I jerked in surprise. “Paono?”

He didn’t move his arm. “I’ve seen how the traders treat you.”

That was a terrible excuse. Paono wasn’t trying to protect me—he was being possessive. “Raav has been nice to me this whole voyage,” I muttered, too low for Raav to hear.

Paono stopped breathing as if controlling anger. “We aren’t like them, Lilik. We’re common. Any friendships you make on the expedition aren’t real. Once we’re home, the traders will forget us. Unless we owe them money, of course.”

“He’s different, Paono.”

“He’s a trader. What else is there to say?”

The words fell out of my mouth. “Are you jealous?”

Paono jerked his arm away, leaving my shoulder cold. I straightened my woolen jacket, wishing I could steal the words back. When I glanced up, Raav was gone.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said.

“And I don't want to lose my chance to find an ally among the traders.”

“Don’t be dense. Raav and I share a cabin. Tiny room, smells like wet wood—I’m sure you remember it. I know him. You don’t want to get involved, Lilik. You’ll just get hurt.”

“But there’s nothing to get hurt over.”

Paono shrugged. “If you say so.”

A crew member set fire to the torch in front of us. The smell of burning oil that soaked the rags stung my nose. The flame was red from its base to its dancing tip, no white or blue center like most.

I looked at my friend, still confused. Paono had never suggested we be anything more than friends. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew he’d probably thought about it. But neither of us would risk our friendship.

Sure, Raav was attractive. But I didn’t join the Nocturnai to meet someone, and I certainly didn’t intend to get mixed up with a trader. At any rate, I needed to get over it. Paono and I had been through plenty of arguments, and we usually made up by forgetting they happened.

“Are we okay now?” I said.

“Yeah, I guess.”

I shoved my hands into my pockets. Time for a change of subject. “It’s strange, knowing we won’t feel the sun again until we’re on our way home. We’ll be different people then. Tougher.”

“Nightforged ourselves, huh?” He smiled crookedly. “Hey, Lilik, sorry about what I said. Maybe I'm taking my sentinel duties too seriously. I am supposed to watch your back, right?”

I punched him in the shoulder. “Don’t worry—”

A high-pitched laugh cut me off. The cabin boy, Makal, sat atop a nearby barrel. He kicked his heels against the staves, creating hollow thuds when they landed.

“Lilik and her lover are all made up,” he said. “Better kissy-kiss now.”

“Go fold your daddy’s clothes, Makal.” When Paono stepped toward him, Makal scampered away. He caught hold of a rope ladder and clambered into the nest of rigging.

I watched him go. How much of our conversation had he listened in on? If the rumor got back to the traders that Paono was jealous of Raav, they'd die of laughter. I still hadn’t told Paono about my trunk getting emptied. We’d talked so little. I wondered if he’d been mistreated as well.

“No one’s been messing with you have they, Paono?”

“What do you mean?”

I hesitated, but then told him the story.

“Nothing like that?” I asked after I finished. “No rotten food in your bed? Nobody dragging your things out of your trunk?”

He chewed at a hangnail. “Depends on whether you count the knife slashes in my padded jackets. Or people kicking my knees from behind when there’s a crowd.”

“Rot. I’m sorry, Paono,” I said. “We should have talked about this earlier. Listen, there’s nothing that says a caller can’t watch her sentinel’s back, too. From now on, we guard each other, okay?”

“It’ll get easier when we get to Ioene,” he said. “People are bored. Traders mistake cruelty for entertainment.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The torchlight glinted off his eyes while he watched the dancing flame. “Hey Lilik, there’s something else I’ve wanted to tell you.”

“What’s that?”

“Before you invited me, I’d never considered the Nocturnai.”

“What? Really?” I tried to think back. Hadn’t we always talked about it together?

He shrugged. “I like Istanik. I probably would have been happy to spend my whole life around the port.”

My brows drew together. For years, Paono and I had talked about this. He’d said he dreamed about Ioene. Had he made it all up?

“But what about all our talks?”

His smile was melancholy. “I guess I wanted to fit in with you.”

“We’ve been friends forever. How do you fit in with one person?”

“That’s just it, Lilik. You just kind of sweep people along—if they can keep up at all.”

“So you don’t want to be here? You lied all this time?”

He shrugged, then nodded. “But I wanted to say that I’m glad I’m here now. The stars are beautiful. And I’m with my best friend. My other half.”

Except we weren’t at all as alike as I’d thought. He’d be happy catching crabs or weaving ropes or doing whatever boring, back-breaking work he could scrounge up. Meanwhile, my future as an egg-seller had felt like I was locked in a tiny room with no doors.

I chewed my lip, feeling adrift with no sails. I couldn’t be mad at Paono—he’d only been fibbing to stay close to me. Because he needed a friend, I guess. But I’d dragged him up here, into danger he wanted no part of, all based on a lie.

The night didn’t seem so beautiful anymore.

“Well, I’m happy that you don’t hate it here,” I said.

He smiled, pulling me into a quick hug. “I don’t. And I never would have come if you hadn’t invited me. So thanks again.”

Beneath my shirt, Paono’s pendant jabbed my breastbone, uncomfortable. I looked at the sky, seeking the wonder I’d felt just minutes before, but all I saw were the stars glaring down at me.

Paono’s confession about the Nocturnai was a glass wall between us. I wanted to smash it and go back to the way we were. But every time I decided to go talk to him, I’d see him coiling rope or inventorying supplies, and I’d remember that simple things were all he wanted out of life. A stranger lived inside my best friend.

Often, I noticed my hand creeping for the sea opal pendant. Maybe I shouldn’t wear it anymore.

Captain Altak had warned us to eat well before we left Istanik. In the constant darkness, I finally appreciated his words. Without a sunrise, the cooks didn’t bother making the meals distinct. Instead, they threw everything together into a sticky mass of porridge dotted with dried vegetables and meat that turned to slime when rehydrated.

I was testing whether a glob would stick to an upside-down spoon when Raav sat down across from me. I jerked and plunged my spoon into the gray mess. Did traders play with their food? I blushed.

“Good morning,” he said. His keen gaze gave the sense that he was examining me, a trader assessing a trade good. When I fidgeted under his scrutiny, he chuckled.

I quickly straightened; I wouldn’t be intimidated by him, trader or not. Handsome trader or not.

“I’m not sure I’d call it ‘good’ with this for breakfast,” I said.

He laughed. “No. And to think, back home I used to be a morning person. Couldn’t wait to see what surprises the day had ready for me.”

Unlike Paono, who didn’t want to contend with surprises or adventure. I nearly winced at the thought. I shouldn’t be so critical. How many people had friends as dependable—as predictable—as he was?

I plugged a gob of porridge into my mouth and swallowed with some difficulty before speaking. “So what do traders do in the morning besides sit around and eat?”

He laughed, a sound like quick, low notes tugged from a cello’s strings.

“Before or after our servants finish washing our feet?”

“You’re joking, right?”

A smirk teased the corner of his mouth. “Mostly. Though there are some . . .”

“You mean . . . some traders actually hire foot washers? Gross.”

“Someone to help them in the bath, actually.”

My lip curled. “Isn’t that sort of a private moment?”

“I like to think so.” Raav’s stare arrowed into me. “Though I suppose it would depend on the company . . .”

My face went hot. Blinking, I turned to the porthole beside our table. Beneath a flickering, red lamp, it peered out over dark waves, a hint of starlight brushing over their crests. Swallowing, I tapped my toes on the floor and turned back to him.

Raav chuckled.

Chapter Eleven

AS WE APPROACHED Ioene, spirits were high. Crewmen stopped muttering about the threat of night madness. Even my worries about Moanet’s figurine had started to fade.

One night, the air was warm enough that I nestled on deck to enjoy the sea breeze before heading to my bunk.

Trails of aquamarine glow, phosphorescent algae, swirled in eddies cut by the oars. Above, the aurora echoed the display, shimmering green and blue across the starscape. The sails had long been furled because few breezes stirred above the night line, and the masts were dark spears aimed at the heavens. I wore my fur overcoat now. My breath steamed, ghostly in the starlight. Only the splash of the oars broke the night’s calm. Farther astern, Captain Altak manned the wheel. He squinted at the compass, occasionally tugging a rope that rang a bell below, informing the oarsmen to pull harder on one side.

The night air was so crisp, I heard the squeak from the captain’s throat when he yawned. If not for the chill, the gentle splashing and the pull of the oars might have lulled me to sleep.

Deep in the pocket of my overcoat, I wrapped my hand around the figurine’s obsidian curve. Time for bed. I inhaled cold sea air and summoned the energy to stand.

A sharp yelp rang across the deck. “Land ahead!”

Excitement raced through me. Finally! There, on the horizon, dull red lines glowed on a hulking shadow: the volcano, Ioene. A cloud hung above the mountain’s cone, its underbelly reddened by the fires. Sparks danced in the ash.

“Ship the oars and rouse the crew,” Captain Altak called. “We’ll prepare for the shoals.”

I clambered atop a pile of coiled lines at the base of the mainmast and crouched. Around Ioene’s shores, jagged ridges of hardened lava lurked in the shallows. The island itself had a safe harbor and a pier older than memory, but reaching it remained one of the voyage’s most dangerous challenges.

While the crewmembers huddled on the aft deck, I stared at Ioene. Since I was a little girl learning to read in a basement storeroom with other destitute children, I’d dreamed of this mountain. This voyage. I pulled the carving from my pocket, hand wrapped tight around the object that had made it possible.

“Caller! Lilik!”

I jumped up.

“No one but crew on deck. Get below.” Captain Altak commanded the scene from atop a crate. He carried a spyglass in one hand.

“Yes, Captain.”

My shoulders slumped—I’d hoped to watch our approach—but I wouldn't disobey the captain's orders. As I shimmied along the rail, bound for the forward hatch, a crewman rushed past. His elbow slammed my shoulder. My thigh hit the rail, and I overbalanced, windmilling my arms to recover.

“Get below, gutter rat!” The man spun, and the coil of rope he carried swung into my flailing arm. My hand smashed the rail. The figurine tumbled from my grasp and landed on the deck, skittering along the rail a hand’s width from the edge.

“No!” I dove, and my fingers brushed the carving’s cool stone as my face slammed the planks.

Crawling like a terrified piglet, I chased the figurine across the slippery deck. Abruptly, my coat collar cinched tight around my throat, choking me. The figurine slid farther away as I kicked my feet and clawed at the deck, not understanding why I'd stopped moving. I gagged as someone yanked the coat, lifting me to my feet.

“What’s the—are you night mad?” The crewman who'd knocked me said. My coat twisted around his fist.

I wrenched away from him and scrambled forward, desperate for the figurine.

It had vanished. Gone overboard or been kicked into a tangle of netting. My stomach heaved.

But then I spied a glint. My breath whooshed out in a relieved gust. The carving teetered at the deck’s edge, feet wedged against one rail post, flowing hair against the other. If anyone brushed it, they’d knock it into the sea.

I leaped, tumbled forward, and closed my fingers around the cool stone. Clutching it to my chest, I rolled.

“Ridge dead ahead! To port! Grab the poles—push us off!” The captain’s voice boomed. Crewmen sprinted back and forth, jumping over me, cursing and snarling.

Light exploded, a starburst of sparks. Pain stabbed my temple.

I remember nothing else.

Chapter Twelve

I HEARD VOICES. Words. Nothing made sense.

“We’re here for two months. If she recovers quickly, she can still call the strands.”

“Panicked like a fool. Clumsy. She’ll ruin the Nocturnai and I’ll be back to prying hunks of ore out of Araokan holes.”

“Then what would . . .”

The sounds faded, crunching footsteps retreating.

Beneath the blanket—was I in bed?—my legs were bare. Warm, humid air flowed into my lungs, reminding me of rainy nights I huddled by the fire with Jaret.

Warm, not cold. I remembered being cold.

Later, more people spoke, words rattling in my skull. I shifted, sending a spear of agony through one ear and out the other.

“She’s waking up.” I recognized the voice, but from where? Makal. The name drifted across my thoughts.

“Good. I hope she has a headache.” Mieshk or Laiska, her sentinel—they sounded so alike. Memories trickled back.

“Lilik . . .” Low purr of a voice. Raav? Recollections poured in. I’d scrambled to catch the figurine and then . . .

I sat bolt upright, snapping my eyes open. Bile surged into my throat with the white pain in my skull. Frantic, I swallowed, forcing the pain back far enough I could think.

Dizzied, I took in my surroundings. I was sitting on a cot on the black-rock beach. Surrounding the area, torches burned, and behind, the mountain glowed where lava oozed down her flanks. The scene wavered. My stomach turned over.

“You’ve hit your head, Lilik. Do you know where you are?”

Tkira, the second mate, pressed me back to the pillow. Her rough palms snagged on the fabric of my shirt—crewing the Evaeni was hard work, even for a captain’s mate. I stiffened, remembering her reaction to the stowaway, how Tkira had pressed for his execution.

Whoever had put me here had removed my heavy trousers and fur overcoat. I pawed around under the covers. No figurine.

“Lilik?” Raav’s face bent over mine.

“Ioene . . . we made it. Where are my clothes? I had my—I had a carving that belonged to my mother.”

“Your coat's in your trunk.” Tkira pointed with her chin. “Still on board. Didn't see any carving.”

Because it fell into the sea. I clenched my fists, fighting rising panic.

Crouching, Raav laid a hand on my shoulder. “Shh. We’ll find it.”

My eyes flitted back and forth, desperate. Stay calm, Lilik. I crammed the reassurance into my thoughts. My memories were fuzzy—maybe I’d stuffed the figurine into my pocket before the accident. Moist air tickled my nostrils as I forced myself to inhale.

Raav nodded. “Better.” After a reassuring pat, he stood. “I should help set up.”

Nodding, I scanned the harbor water. The Evaeni floated in placid waters, lashed to a pier, deck empty of crew. Farther along the shoreline, a lava flow hissed into the sea, raising a cloud of red steam. Warm, acrid air from the volcano’s vents mixed with the scents of dark-blooming kivi flowers and the ocean’s cool salt-tang. On the beach, a group of crewmen stacked and restacked crates, organizing the cargo for the move into the village.

“Idiot,” one of them said without bothering to lower his voice. “Gutterborn girl couldn’t stay out of the way. Got herself hurt and now we’re short a nightcaller.”

“Another word and you’re on double shifts,” Tkira snapped. Turning to me, she lowered her voice. “You cost us plenty of effort, getting you off the deck and into a bunk just when we needed to deal with the shoals.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“You’re forgiven.” Her voice was soft considering the cruel-looking twist of her face. I still didn’t trust her. “I saw you heading below when Engotav knocked you. But don’t expect the crew's forgiveness until you’re up and calling the strands. Everyone is counting on you.”

Yeah. I swallowed. I really needed to check those coat pockets.

“When they bring my trunk ashore, can they leave it here?” I asked. “I feel chilled.”

She laid her hand, knuckles the size of walnuts, against my forehead. “Probably your injury.”

Another wool blanket settled over me, its comforting weight pressing me into the cot. Tkira’s kindness took me off guard. Scanning the beach, I wondered where Paono was. Did he even know what had happened? Or maybe he knew and had decided not to stay with me.

I dug my fingers into the thin mattress. Maybe that was better. If I couldn’t call the strands, he might be punished, too.

Unless, maybe, I turned myself in. Told the truth.

I shook my head. Most likely, he’d join me on the gallows no matter what I said.

Behind me, the volcano growled, red glow flaring. I closed my eyes against the sting of ashes.

I didn’t want to die.

Traitors to the Nocturnai are executed.

I couldn’t help remembering Moanet’s words while I paced the confines of my hut. The others had carried me from the beach while I slept. It had been a day since, and I’d searched my belongings at least ten times. The figurine was gone.

Constructed of mortared stone, my hut had a single window and door. I’d pulled a blanket from the bed, snagging it on the rough-cut corners of the window frame as a makeshift curtain. The door had no lock, so I’d wedged a chair beneath the knob. It wouldn’t keep out a determined intruder, but I was less likely to be surprised by a casual visitor.

Turning when I reached the wall, I stalked in the opposite direction. Back and forth. Back and forth. The blow to the head excused me from the first calling shift, but my lies would be unearthed soon enough.

I had to do something, but I’d discarded every option but one: escape.

Remaining meant my death. Possibly Paono’s, too. But I could leave, and no one would know about the figurine. They’d assume I got lost. Fell into the ocean. I was just a gutterborn, after all. Most voyagers would expect me to do something stupid.

It meant surviving, alone, on Ioene. But it meant surviving.

Rooting through my trunk, I laid supplies on top of my cot. Two changes of clothes, thin linen shifts, loose trousers, and belted tunics to go over the top. A warm coat. My extra pair of shoes. I needed a way to carry it all, so I dug out my sewing kit and laid it beside my spare cloak. After so many years of making and repairing my own clothes, it should be straightforward to create a rucksack from the cloak’s fabric and ties.

I paused to look over my preparations and made a mental list of extra things I needed to gather. My sewing kit included only needles and thread—I’d need scissors to cut the cloak. Or better—more versatile—a knife. I shouldn’t leave without a water skin, plus food to last me until I could put my foraging knowledge to work. Those three things could come from the dining hall—I doubted anyone would notice me leaving with extra. But as for torch-making supplies—rags and lamp oil—that would require some thought. Most likely, I’d have to sneak into one of the storage buildings.

All right. I’d done what I could for the moment. Inhaling, I removed the chair from beneath the doorknob and stepped outside. A simple bench stood on my porch. Taking a seat, I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders to keep up the injured act. By watching the crew prepare the village, I’d find out where various supplies were stored, maybe even gather ideas for other items I needed.

The village perched above the beach on a jut of rock and earth. Though night foliage choked much of the island, a tangle of springy, scratching branches prickling with leaves so dark they were nearly black, the subterranean lines of heat that fed the thickets veered around the outcrop, leaving the earth bare. Plants that had taken root in the daylight had long since withered. A few dry stalks threaded between the floorboards of my narrow porch, casting thin-armed shadows in the flickering light of nearby lamps.

The huts lined a central pathway. Previous expeditions had cleared the volcanic rubble, leaving packed earth and a few large boulders. Three huts down, a pair of men were mending a hole in a roof punched by falling debris during one of Ioene’s outbursts. Our voyage was lucky that few buildings had been damaged. Some expeditions had to rebuild entire portions of the village.

Unlike the huts, the ancient forges, built by a long-ago civilization, were impervious to Ioene’s eruptions. I’d read stories of lava beading and running from their domed stone walls like water on an oiled surface. Boulders bounced off without leaving a scratch. Inside, the firepots and bellows were as clean and usable as they’d been when the first Nocturnai dropped anchor in the bay.

The memory of reading those accounts by lamplight, finger running beneath scrawled lines of text, struck me in a wave of melancholy. I’d loved the dust-smell and the crinkle of pages unturned for years.

A minor quake shook the island, jarring me from my thoughts.

“Sitting up, I see.” Raav stepped out from the side of my hut. He hopped up onto my porch and took a seat on the edge.

I checked that the door was shut, hiding the traveling clothes laid out on my bed. “Where’s Katrikki?” I’d expected the sentinels to be busy with their callers until we left Ioene—not that I’d seen Paono since we’d arrived.

Raav rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his long, elegant fingers together. He had nice hands. Too bad I was leaving.

“Katrikki would murder me for telling you this. None of the girls have managed to call the strands, and they’ve all tried. The strandmistress told them to rest for a few shifts.”

I sat up straighter—maybe my situation wasn't so desperate. If the traders couldn’t call the strands, no one would be surprised if I failed, too.

“Any idea what’s wrong?”

Raav waved his hand toward Ioene’s burning summit. “The aurora flared while you slept, and Ioene’s rumbling. The strandmistress thinks the aether may be disrupted.” He smirked. “I suspect nightcaller incompetence. Too bad you’re hurt. I’d like to watch you summon the strands where they failed.”

Yeah, that would be nice. I glanced at the volcano. Fountains of lava sprayed from Ioene’s crown, and the hanging quilt of ash blotted most of the stars.

Raav laid his hand on my knee. A jolt traveled my leg, but his somber face caused it to fizzle.

“There’s another rumor going around, Lilik. Some of the callers are blaming you. They say that your common birth angers Ioene.”

I almost knocked his hand off my knee in my rush of anger. “What? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard.”

“I guess it’s in our trader breeding to assume we’re special.” He withdrew his hand as his heel scuffed in the gravel beneath the porch step. “There’s one more thing . . . Lilik, you have to do better keeping your figurine hidden.”

My stomach did a flip.

“My . . . my figurine?” Cold sweat sprouted at my hairline.

“The Yiltak Effigy. I saw you holding it while you were looking at the stars. Lilik, anyone could have seen it. If the other callers catch you with it, you’re done. Abandoned here at best. Probably hanged.”

“I don’t know what you mean. Effigy?” The words sounded false, even to me.

“The carving is no secret. The Yiltaks have been using it for generations—they’re rarely talented. But hey—” He tapped my shin with the back of his hand as if telling me a joke. “If I planned to rat you out, I would have done it a long time ago.”

Another tremor rattled the island. The rivers of lava oozing down Ioene’s flanks were running higher, flaring hot and red. A whiff of steam curled through the village when a new tongue of molten rock hissed into the sea.

I stared at the volcano while panic beat at my walls. Raav knew. And the carving was no secret. My hands were numb bricks at the ends of my arms.

“Moanet didn’t tell me that.”

Raav chuckled. “Of course she didn’t. The Yiltaks are blind and conceited. They think no one knows their secret. One of these days, a rival House will expose them.” He picked up a rock and tossed it from hand to hand. “So . . . I assume that Moanet Yiltak gave you the figurine because you need it to call the strands. But I'm curious how you passed the trial.”

His expression was amused, as if we were partners in some innocent prank. But after seeing my face, he drew back. “Sorry, Lilik. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.” My voice sounded stale. Lifeless.

“Probably better.” He was disappointed but tried hard to hide it. “Confess nothing. You know what happened to the stowaway.”

I tucked the blanket tighter around me. “So you won't tell anyone?”

“Why would I? With the Effigy, you can call the strands as well as anyone. Besides, I find you . . . intriguing. Think I want you dead?”

“I—I guess not,” I stammered.

In the sky above the fuming volcano, the aurora painted a shifting picture. The breeze swirled, carrying cool sea air followed by hot puffs of Ioene’s breath.

Given his knowledge of my secret, I figured he owed me a chance to pry. “Raav, did the captain help you plan the stowaway’s escape?”

His expression became abruptly guarded. “The stowaway came very close to dying, Lilik. Some people think that he should have. You should forget about him because whoever his allies were, they aren’t safe.”

As he spoke, Ioene ejected a spray of cinders. A growl followed, and then light, air-filled pellets of stone pelted the ground. The men working on the neighboring rooftop held up a sheet of pounded metal to defend themselves from the stinging pebbles. Raav joined me under the porch overhang, and we huddled without speaking until the hail stopped.

He glanced up the line of huts. “I better go.”

With his chin, he gestured toward the village’s far side. A cluster of voyagers tramped along the packed path. The dim glow of the torches made faces hard to recognize, but Mieshk’s tall, sharp angles were unmistakable. An entourage of deckhands and oarsmen followed behind her.

Raav slipped back the narrow alley as I hurried inside. Right now, Mieshk was the last person I wanted to see.

Chapter Thirteen

ON THE EVAENI, I’d become used to waking in the dark, and now, the molten lava-glow that seeped around the edges of my curtain disoriented me. I rolled off my bunk, blinking away confused stupor, and dragged on a thin jacket over my linen shift. Groggy from my nap, I swiped my hand down my face. The traders’ failure to call the strands gave me time, but I didn’t know how long.

I had to keep moving on my preparations. First, a trip to the dining hall to pilfer a knife and food. After swigging a cup of water from the tin pitcher on my table, I stepped outside.

As I descended the porch stairs, I spotted Paono exiting the dining hall. He walked with hands shoved in his pockets, and abruptly I felt the years peel back. How many times had we gone off together, him walking just like that? He had a habit of picking up interesting pebbles and carrying them in his pockets all day. I'm not sure what happened once he returned home—maybe there was a pile behind Nan’s cottage.

The memories made my chest hurt. I missed him so much.

“Paono!” I called before I could stop myself.

He veered toward me. “Feeling better?”

Reality slammed back in like a wave returning to shore. He’d known but hadn’t even checked in on me. Did he not feel welcome? Did he just not care?

“I—well . . .”

I couldn’t stack another lie on the wall we’d built between us. Paono was my best friend. The only person I could trust with my predicament was right here on Ioene, and instead of confiding in him, I'd been hiding away in my room. Even though I told myself I was keeping the secret to protect him, the truth was I was afraid of what he’d think of me. But wasn’t it better to anger him now than have him learn what I'd done when I was accused and executed?

“No headache for once,” I said. “Up for a walk? I could scout for calling spots.”

His smile was almost shy. "Might as well see the island now that I’m here, huh?”

“Nan would never forgive you for returning without stories. Even if you'd rather keep to your hut.”

The space between us filled with an awkward silence.

“We have to get past this, Lilik. I meant what I said. I’m glad I came, even if it wasn’t my lifelong dream.”

“I know. It’s my fault for not letting it go. Sorry?”

“Friends?” he returned.

I nodded. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll grab my stuff.”

Paono waited while I shoved supplies into a knapsack that he insisted on carrying due to my injury. As I stepped off the porch, he fell in behind to let me set the pace.

According to Mistress Nyralit, a caller's location didn't matter, as long as she stood far enough away from the village to escape the torchlight and the noise. But I wanted to wander, and Paono seemed eager to follow. The excuse of hunting for a calling spot only mattered if someone questioned us.

From the village edge a faint path, trampled by generations of nightcallers, wound through the rubble and the tangle of the night foliage. Kiriilt Islanders had been making pilgrimages for over five centuries. I imagined those long-ago girls striding out into the dark, sentinels on their heels. Back then, voyagers had forged magical art instead of weapons. There’d been no Waikert savages attacking port cities and burning crops, sinking fishing vessels and murdering children.

Paono’s feet crunched behind me, and his breath was a soft hiss. Away from the torches, my eyes adjusted to the dim wash of moonlight and the peak’s red glow. Leaning boulders cast deep shadows. The trail petered out in a scree field, and we hopped from stone to stone, careful to avoid twisted ankles.

Remembering our shared childhood, I veered toward the beach. Paono and I had spent hours and hours combing Stanik Island’s shore for clams and just splashing in the shallows.

Wavelets lapped the shore, a quiet splashing against the distant hiss of lava meeting the sea. Once on the beach, our feet sank and crunched in the crushed pumice.

“Do you want to try to call?” he said. “We don’t have to tell anyone if it doesn’t work.”

“Not yet.”

Paono settled down on the gravel and hugged his knees while I slid a rock next to him and sat.

“Paono, I have something—”

“I miss you, Lilik,” he said, talking over my words.

We both stopped speaking, embarrassed.

“You first,” I said, glad for the excuse to delay my confession.

“I’ve hardly seen you since we left Istanik.”

“I had caller training, and you’ve been so busy helping out the crew. Face it, Paono. Even without money involved, you like to work.” I hadn’t realized that until now, but it should have been obvious long ago. Paono’s predawn hours spent pulling crab pots and hauling cargo off the wharfs had less to do with profit and more with his satisfaction in the work itself. He and Raav had something in common after all.

“I guess I do.” He brushed my knee with a single finger. "Lilik, when I was busy at home we still found the time. Something else has changed. It's like we’re sailing in different directions.”

Blown by different winds. We were, weren’t we? Paono and I wanted different things.

“That doesn’t mean we have to stop being friends.”

He threw a pebble into the waves. “I don’t think so either, but I feel like you're avoiding me. At first, I thought you were just nervous about nightcalling or busy with your training or—I don’t know, lots of things. But now I wonder if your new friends are more exciting than me.”

“New friends? The other nightcallers hate me.”

“Back before the sleep shifts changed, Heiklet made a big effort to talk to you.”

“I’ve hardly said a word to her.” Where was he getting this stuff?

He shrugged. “Then she probably feels like I do—not important enough. Think of how you must seem to her. So brave, standing up to everyone who says you don’t belong here. You did better in caller training than all the traders put together—I even heard Mieshk admit that to her sentinel.”

He paused as a larger wave lapped the shore, throwing pebbles up to growl when they rolled back into the sea.

“Heiklet doesn’t think she belongs here either,” he continued. “She’s what, twelve? And the other traders won’t consider her family to be a real House until they’ve been titled for a century.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. But I’m confused. First you say I’m spending too much time with my new friends, but then you tell me I should pay more attention to Heiklet.”

“There are others you haven’t been ignoring.”

“Like?”

This time, he threw a whole handful of pebbles. They hit the waves with a hiss. “Oh, like Raav.”

So that’s what this was about. Raav again.

The longer I held my silence, the more frustrated I got. The rock I'd chosen as a stool had a water-filled pothole on top and the damp was soaking through the butt of my pants.

Why couldn’t Paono just drop the Raav thing? I shouldn't have to defend my personal interactions. I’d already explained that I was grateful to have Raav as my ally. And Paono already given me his dire warning about not getting hurt. Why rehash it?

“Nothing to say to that, Lilik?” Paono stood and walked closer to the water.

“I’m just not sure it deserves a response. There’s nothing going on between Raav and me. Shouldn’t you be happy that I have at least one other friend?”

“Nothing going on from your end, maybe. Why else would he hang around you so much?”

“I don't know—maybe because I’m an interesting person? Come on, Paono! Give it up.”

A hot gust of wind flowed down the slope behind us. When Paono spun, another red flare from the mountain lit his face. His expression was anguished. Refusing to soften, I crossed my arms over my belly and looked past him to the dark ocean.

“Sorry, Lilik—I didn't mean it that way. I can see hundreds of reasons for someone to want to be near you. You’re amazing. Brave. Loyal. A dreamer who isn’t afraid to catch her fantasies by the tail.”

Never good with direct praise, I was abruptly flustered, casting about for some words to deflect the compliments.

“I—”

“I’m not done.” Paono set his feet wide. “You are amazing, Lilik. No matter what reasons a boy might have for becoming your friend at first, how can he help but want more?”

“You seem to be fine with our relationship. We’ve been friends forever.”

“Am I fine with it, Lilik?”

His eyes locked with mine, and it seemed like the air got hotter. My throat moved as if to speak, but no words came.

Ioene rescued me with a roar. A spout of ash sprayed from her cone, followed by a fountain of lava. The earth beneath us shook, knocking Paono from his feet.

I flipped onto hands and knees and started crawling up the beach. Behind the mountain’s top, the aurora flared. Blue-green shimmer stretched down from the dark skies like curtains of heavenly rain.

Another tremor rocked the beach. I screamed. Paono scrambled forward, bundled me into his arms and leaned over me to provide a shield from the sky. A few seconds later, stone rain pelted down. The pebbles that hit my exposed feet stung like hornets. I could only imagine the pummeling he was taking on his back.

After a couple minutes, the hail lessened.

“Come on!” he yelled. “Back to the village.”

He dragged me by the hand as the ash cloud spilled down the mountain, carrying cinders and sulfur and clogging our noses. I dug into my rucksack, yanking out a pair of scarves to tie over our mouths.

Paono, eyes blinking against the sting, nodded his head in thanks. “Worst eruption yet,” he said. His lips were hints beneath the scarf. A strange impulse made me want to touch them.

“Ioene is usually quiet during the long-night. It’s not normal.” The eruption had slowed to a low rumble, but I still had to raise my voice.

“The strandmistress agrees with you. She’s worried the eruptions may be keeping the nightstrands from congregating.”

I coughed and rubbed my eyes as another growl from the mountain’s summit warned of imminent stone rain. Paono pulled me under the overhang of a large boulder.

When the pumice started falling from the sky, he dropped his arm over my shoulder and squeezed. We sat and listened to the roar of gravel pelting the earth. After a while, it slowed to a steady patter of ash and grit.

He sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

I looked into his eyes and saw confusion that echoed my own. As I examined his face, I wondered how long he’d felt this way, and whether he only hung around me because of it.

“So to be clear, Paono, are we or aren’t we really friends?”

“We’re best friends, but sometimes it's hard to ignore the other stuff.”

“Like?”

“Like you’re a girl and you’re pretty.”

“As far as I can tell, Raav has no problem ignoring that.”

“You don’t know what’s in his head.”

“And you do?”

Paono shrugged. “I imagine I have a fairly good idea. Anyway, I’m just saying you should be careful. I’m your sentinel and it’s my job to protect you.”

It was a thin excuse, but I didn't want to argue anymore. There'd been enough tension lately, plus there was the issue of my own confession.

“I have to tell you something, Paono.”

He shifted so we were facing one another. “Yeah, what’s that?”

“I—I’m in trouble. I need help. But also, I don’t want it to affect you.”

He flicked my knee. “Didn’t we agree to guard each other’s backs? What’s going on?”

“It’s bigger than a prank or bullying. I can’t call the strands. I lied.”

He blinked a couple times. “I don’t understand.”

“Moanet Yiltak gave me the information I needed to pass the test.”

He stared at me, silent.

“And she gave me a figurine I could use in place of talent. Only I lost it somehow. Or someone stole it.”

“You came here knowing you couldn’t—that you don't have the talent? Lilik, why didn’t you tell me? They’ll kill you.”

He scooted away from me, horror on his face.

I kept on like an oblivious cow. “You have to pretend you don’t know, Paono. If they find out, you’re in danger, too. I didn’t want to tell you, but I couldn’t stand having this lie between us anymore and—”

“All that time on the voyage, I felt guilty for hiding my feelings about the Nocturnai, while you . . .” Paono’s mouth moved as if he held the unformed words on his tongue but couldn’t finish their shaping. Red blotches darkened his cheeks.

He backed out from under the boulder into the hail of stone, flinching as each small rock pelted his skin. His eyes were wide hollows in the volcano’s glow.

“Wait! I kept it secret because I didn’t want to put you in danger. Everything happened so fast. After I passed the trial to spite them, I wanted to decline but—”

“Just stay away from me, Lilik. Find your figurine or we’re dead.”

Paono ran off into the fog of ash and falling rock.

I was too shocked to move. Of all the things I’d expected—mild anger, a hurt look in his eyes—I never thought Paono would abandon me. We were inseparable. Friends forever.

“Wait . . . can’t we just talk?” I said the words to myself. Paono was long gone. I clasped the sea opal pendant, squeezing hard.

Chapter Fourteen

AS I RACED to my hut, the sky threw stones at me. Acrid steam seared my eyes and nose. The door flew open and smacked the wall. I slammed it behind me, muting the furor of the eruption before throwing myself on my bunk, face shoved into my pillow.

I didn’t even want to think anymore.

I don’t know how long I lay there, caught between tears and terror, but not long after the rattle of stones on the roof quieted, hollow footsteps shook my porch. The visitor’s fist thudded.

“Captain’s orders,” the crewman said when I cracked the door. “Everyone is to stay inside except when called for meals. If the eruption worsens, we’ll take shelter in the forges.”

After he left, I jammed the chair back under the doorknob. And paced.

I couldn’t get Paono out of my head. We’d often argued through the years, short quarrels about stupid little things. But he’d never been mad enough to leave me. I’d expected to have a chance to explain. I’d been sure he’d understand once he listened to the whole story. Had I misjudged my friend’s heart? What if he decided to protect himself by telling Captain Altak about my lies?

Once again, I pawed through my trunk in search of the figurine. The fur overcoat spilled across my palms, silky on the outside, coarse leather within. My deception was like that, an outer smoothness disguising the brutal interior. Eyes burning, I balled the coat and threw it on the floor, accidentally knocking over a nearby chair. I kicked, driving my toes into to side of the chest.

Exhausted by the emotions, I staggered to the bunk and flopped down, dazed. When the rapping came at my door, I started, cracking my knee against the wall.

“Lilik. Open up.” Raav’s smooth voice, though muffled, was unmistakable.

I limped to the door, rubbing my face to clear the haze.

“You’re supposed to stay inside,” I said as I opened it.

His eyes widened in feigned panic. “Then let me in, quick!”

He winked. Sighing, I stepped aside. Raav raised his eyebrows at the half-unpacked state of my trunk, the piles of clothing I’d laid out for my escape blending with the mess.

“Bored?” he asked.

“I guess.”

“Yeah, me too. So I came here.”

A smile snuck onto my face. Raav had a knack for making the worst circumstances enjoyable.

The hut had few furnishings. Aside from my narrow bunk, there was the overturned chair, a three-legged stool, and a pedestal table holding the lantern and water pitcher. Raav glanced around, righted the chair for me, and lowered himself to the stool. Upon the ridiculously undersized perch, his long legs folded like a grasshopper's.

“So,” he said, “it’s all right if I distract you from repacking your trunk? I’m sure it’s invigorating.”

I shrugged. “Almost makes me wish I’d brought supplies to make a new pair of sandals, and I used to hate that.”

“Have you toured the village? Haven’t been to the weavers’ hall or the glassblower's building?”

“I went with Paono to scout for calling spots this morning.”

His eyebrows raised. “Did you bring the Effigy? If anything can bring the strands, it’s the carving.”

His words gave me a sudden thought. What if the strands weren’t heeding the callers' summonings because the figurine was attracting them to the sea bottom somewhere out in the shoals? Moanet had explained that the carving only worked when placed inside a caller’s reliquary, but I wouldn't be surprised to learn that she'd lied.

“Well?” Raav stared at me expectantly.

“I didn’t try to call. Just looked around.” I hoped the flickering orange light of my lantern hid my blush. Pretending I still had the carving was as hard as lying about my talent.

“Too bad. Things will get dangerous for the nightcallers unless someone solves the problem. I heard that Mistress Nyralit hasn’t slept since the moon rise before last.”

“Dangerous? Already?”

He shrugged. “The crew and oarsmen are hard men.”

“Oh.” I nodded, remembering the scowl the oarsman had given me this morning.

“But anyway, I wasn’t asking whether you’d seen the village just to make conversation.”

“Okay . . .?”

“So, you want to go?” Raav’s mouth turned up at the corner.

“You mean now?”

“Sure, why not?” he said. “We could be good voyagers and stay inside like the captain asked, but to be honest, I feel safer when I can see what’s about to fall out of the sky.”

I shoved aside my makeshift curtain and stared at the mountain's red glow. Raav had a point.

Anyway, I was in plenty of trouble already. The extra punishment for disobeying the captain’s orders seemed laughable.

“Let’s go.”

Raav smiled and held the door for me.

Unsurprisingly, we weren’t the only ones interested in the spectacle. Expedition members stood on at least a third of the huts’ porches, gaping at the glimmering sheets of aurora hanging behind the mountain’s flaming cone.

Raav grabbed my hand. I jerked in surprise but covered it by pretending to be startled by the volcano’s latest spray.

My hand was small in his, enveloped by his firm grasp. Calluses roughed his palm. Raav didn’t avoid work—even if he hadn’t told me as much, it was obvious in the wide set of his shoulders. But feeling the results of his labor made him seem more real. Not just a trader. A person.

Ahead, the paths to the disused weaving hall and the forges split. Raav steered us toward the forges, keeping to the relative darkness on the edge of the walkway opposite the torches.

“I feel like a child sneaking out to the evening market,” I said.

He squeezed my hand and released it. When he spoke, his voice held a tight edge. “I would have needed to get past the guards my brother hired.”

His brother . . . that was interesting. I’d expect his mother or father to be the authority, but then I didn’t know much about the trader Houses outside of Yiltak and Ulstat.

As I followed the path, I stared up at Ioene. When Raav stopped abruptly, I ran into him. A small laugh escaped my throat.

“Shh,” he said, pointing behind me.

Following us, a clot of people led by Mieshk Ulstat climbed the path. Because the path curved and we’d been in shadow, they hadn’t seen us yet. But the trail dead-ended at the forges. Unless Mieshk turned around, we were bound to run into her.

“She’s been telling people she could solve the nightstrand problem if Mistress Nyralit and Captain Altak would give her authority,” Raav whispered.

I nodded, unsurprised— Mieshk would say anything to appear important. Like tattling to the leadership about Raav and I disobeying the orders. She’d have a viable excuse to explain her own presence outside, of course, probably backed up by her crowd of followers.

“We’re better off heading back,” I said. “Make it look like we had an errand at the forges.”

“Yeah. I’d rather go somewhere not polluted by Mieshk, anyway.”

He set off back down the hill with long strides. I tracked Mieshk’s approach, expecting verbal attacks once we were in range. Instead, she stopped and stared with eyes wide, glinting in the torchlight. She raised a hand toward me.

“Don’t move.” Mieshk’s low voice quavered.

“What?” I asked. A glance at Raav told me he was just as puzzled.

“Seems we know where the strands have gone.” Mieshk backed away. She stumbled when her heel hit a rock.

Laiska took her caller’s elbow. “What is it?”

“The strands. They’re swarming her. It’s like she’s covered in black eels.”

What was she talking about? Absently, I ran my hands over my legs as if I could brush them off.

“That many strands in one spot—Ioene won’t tolerate it. We’ll be smashed. I need to get the strandmistress.”

Mieshk and her followers plowed forward, and Raav pulled me off the path before they knocked me over. With a quick backward glance, Mieshk turned onto the village’s main path and yelled for Mistress Nyralit.

I stood, stunned. Swarmed by nightstrands? Really? I held out my hand, examined it back and front. Wouldn’t I feel something?

Raav looked me up and down. “You need to get out of here, Lilik.”

“Why? She probably made it up to explain their failure. Or to put the attention elsewhere.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know—she looked scared. What if it’s true?”

“Then I should let the other callers get them off me.”

“You can’t. They’ll know you can’t see them.”

“But if the eruptions are my fault—”

“That’s just a superstition. We’ve been here a week, and the volcano hasn’t buried us yet.”

I shook my head in protest. I couldn’t just run away. If the legend was more than a superstition, I’d be endangering the whole Nocturnai.

“What then?”

I remembered what Paono said about Heiklet. “I’ll go to the beach. Near the dock. Send Heiklet—she can tell me if it’s true.”

Raav nodded. “Good idea. Go.”

Ducking off the path, I teetered down the rubbled hillside. A stone rolled under my footstep, sending me crashing into a boulder. Cursing, I pushed off and stumbled down the slope.

Once on the beach, I limped through crushed pumice, feet plunging deep. Beyond the pier where the Evaeni was tied, the moon's rising edge shone off the water. Phosphorescent jellyfish drifted in the harbor’s lazy currents, green glow beneath the water. Crouching behind a boulder in the tidal zone, I waited, heart thudding, rolling my ankle to clear the stiffness.

“Down there!” someone shouted from the village.

I spun on the balls of my feet, remaining crouched even though I’d been spotted.

The moon pulled free from the sea’s grasp, casting the village and shore in ghostly light. At the corner of the closest hut, I spotted Mistress Nyralit's flowing silks. A handful of people stood near her.

“Lilik, even I can see them,” the mistress shouted. She’d been a caller once, long ago. A hint of talent must have remained despite her age.

“I—”

Ioene roared. The earth shuddered and shook. Above, people stumbled, latching on to each other for balance. I toppled, landing with a spine-jarring thump on my rear. High above us, the volcano erupted in a fountain of lava, ash, and stone so high I couldn’t see the top.

Fire fell from the heavens. Shrieks threaded through the growl of the explosion. Clapping my hands over my ears, I scrabbled backward toward the water line. A stone the size of a summer melon pounded the pumice near my foot.

The sky was ablaze, and a torrent of lava spilled over the crater’s rim. The river tumbled down the hill, a new channel, bound straight for the village.

From behind, a concussion knocked the air from my lungs. My ears rang. A wave of heat enveloped me as firelight reddened the shore.

Shaking my head, I turned toward the explosion. A scream ripped free from my throat. Planks and beams on the pier were burning, but the inferno at the end of the dock brought me to my knees.

The Evaeni.

Ioene had hurled an immense boulder straight through the ship’s hull. Fires burned the length of her deserted deck, and already she listed, straining at the lines that bound her to the pier. Through the hole in her side, I glimpsed a fire-filled interior cabin. A bunk and a mirror. Cabinet doors hanging open with flame licking at the wood. Steam poured from the hole when the seawater streamed in, dousing, snuffing.

I sprinted for the pier. Stupid. Futile. What could I do? But I ran anyway and splashed the burning wood with seawater from my cupped hands. Our only way home was sinking.

Agonized yells rushed from above. A line of voyagers gathered, horror-struck. Without the Evaeni, we were marooned. If hunger didn’t kill us, the storm season would. Everyone on the expedition would die. A man fell to his knees. Hands covered mouths.

Mieshk stepped forward, a specter lined in flame. The trader raised an arm and pointed at me.

One by one, the voyagers turned their gazes from the sinking ship to me. I knew their thoughts—an ignorant, gutter commoner, I’d collected too many strands and provoked Ioene, condemning us all.

I swallowed and stepped back from the pier.

“Run!” A boy’s voice—Paono? Raav?—cut above the roar and crackle of fire, the crash of stones demolishing stands of night foliage, the splash-hiss of molten rock falling into the ocean.

“Now!”

I ran. There was nothing left for me to do.

Chapter Fifteen

STOMACH GROWLING, I curled in a hollow between boulders. Loud cracks of cooling lava peppered the air, joined by the hissing when a new tongue of molten rock oozed from the black crust and licked the sea. The air smelled of burned wood and sulfur and the stinging acridity of the volcanic ash.

I’d been alone since the moon set and rose again. At one point I’d dozed. In my dreams, sunshine honeyed the terraced fields of inland Stanik while my father’s egg cart creaked over a narrow path. We laughed when the mule huffed and turned back his ears at the rocky sections. Paono was there, too, but in the dream he was younger. The boy from my memories.

I’d woken shivering and hadn’t slept since.

Though I’d fled, I hadn’t gone far. I had no supplies, no protection from the elements. Lurking in thickets of night foliage and jumbled boulders, I kept watch on the beach. Over the last few hours, crewmen had planted torches in a semi-circle. Now, a crowd gathered. Yearning for the firelight, I crept closer, trusting in the darkness to hide me.

Captain Altak stood at the top of the beach where crushed stone gave way to jagged rubble and clinging vines. He turned to survey the gathered crowd, a ragged group with eyes too wide. Tears traced shining lines down scattered faces.

“Voyagers,” the captain called out, “I see you. I see you alive and safe.”

A few nods answered his words. Most of the gathered crowd waited without reacting, expectant.

“Mistress Nyralit,” he said, “are we accounted for?”

The strandmistress stepped forward and brushed her hair over her shoulder. “Two oarsmen are missing along with a deckhand. They were searching for stones to rebuild a storehouse when the lava came through town. We hope they fled north along the coast and are separated from us by the flow. With good fortune, they’ll return when it’s safe.”

My nails bit into the flesh of my palms. That didn’t seem likely.

Mistress Nyralit paused as if thinking the same thing. It had been hours, nearly a day as reckoned on Stanik, since the ribbon of molten rock burned through the village. Unless the men were injured or worse, they would have swum around the seaward edge of the flow.

She straightened her silks. “First mate Tkira has suffered burns to her arms. Heiklet Srukolk’s sentinel, Islilla, sustained a fracture of her lower arm. Otherwise, we’ve seen only minor burns and bruises. The injured are resting in cots we recovered from huts on the village perimeter.” She paused. “And as you know, the caller, Lilik, fled.”

“She caused this!” Mieshk Ulstat’s words were shrill.

Captain Altak raised his palms to the group, asking for calm. “Right now we must focus on our immediate needs. Blame can come later.”

Mieshk glared at him, crossing her long, thin arms over her chest.

“As for supplies, we’ll wait until the flow cools before we enter the remaining huts to take inventory. In the meantime, I’ll nominate men to dive the Evaeni for salvage. You’ll work in pairs and avoid entering any areas of the ship that appear unstable. I won’t lose any mo—” He stopped himself from acknowledging that the missing oarsmen and deckhand were gone. “I won’t lose anyone over plugs of iron we won’t be forging on this expedition. We’re looking for blankets and tools, any food barrels that remain sealed. Swimmers will remain on the surface with torches—this won’t light the wreck as well as we’d like, but the water is shallow, and it may help.”

The crew of the sunken ship nodded, grim.

“Later,” Captain Altak continued, “we’ll take steps to dismantle the ship. With the wood, we’ll build rafts to sail us off this island.”

A murmur followed these words. I shivered again. Even if the rafts were seaworthy, I wouldn’t be among those returning home. I was a traitor.

“For now,” he said, “anyone not assigned a task should try to sleep. Share your spare clothing so that those who are resting stay warm enough to sleep comfortably. Once the village has cooled, we’ll reconvene.”

At this he walked off alone to stand on the shoreline. He faced south as if counting off the long months until silver light of the approaching dawn would wash the stars from the horizon. The coming sun would wake the buds on the day-season plants and paint the island’s rough edges with dawn light. But day would bring the storms. Once the wicked maelstroms pounded the northern sea, there would be no hope of sailing for home until the seasons circled again and the next Nocturnai ventured north.

Closer, I heard the crunch of feet. Mistress Nyralit strolled along the beach, and Heiklet rushed to catch up with her.

“Is it hopeless?” Heiklet kept her voice low.

“I don’t think so. We’ll find a way home.”

“Lilik didn’t do this. Mieshk has been trying to hurt her since the first day.”

My chin quivered. Paono was right; she did like me.

Mistress Nyralit dug at the beach with the toe of a slippered foot. “You would be wise to keep that opinion quiet. No one is particularly fond of Mieshk, but they respect House Ulstat. Even the captain and I must be careful.”

A school of jellyfish drifted close to shore, green-blue glow beneath the wavelets. A few crewmen took up a game of rock-throwing, attempting to chase them off. I wondered if they knew that the creatures were edible. Early expeditions had lived off them.

“Why are we relying on Mieshk’s word over Lilik’s?” Heiklet asked.

Mistress Nyralit was silent for some time. “You weren’t near the beach when we found her, were you? Even I saw the strands that swarmed around her, and I’m decades past the proper age to sense them. No one knows what harm might come from summoning too many because we never do it.” She put a hand on Heiklet’s shoulder. “So I understand Mieshk’s position. But I’m with you. I don't think Lilik would deliberately endanger us. And she didn’t call them—no reliquary, no trance. The strands came to her by some means we’ve never seen. It’s possible she didn’t even know they were there—though how a nightcaller with a talent as strong as hers wouldn’t notice, I can’t say.”

The captain approached while Mistress Nyralit was speaking. He inhaled deeply. “I suppose we’ll have to go after her once we’ve established a temporary encampment.”

“I suppose so,” Mistress Nyralit said.

My heart sped, and I shrank deeper into my refuge. I should have fled already, but the island’s dark lurked behind me. The thought of living in exile for years—maybe for the rest of my life—pressed down like a black wave.

“Tides,” Captain Altak cursed. A flurry of movement at the gathering spot had grabbed his attention.

My swallow caught in my throat. Inside a circle of spectators, Paono faced off with a trio of oarsmen. His knees were bent, fists cocked but low. When one of the oarsmen sprang, Paono missed with a wide punch, and the oarsman landed a jab to his gut. Paono went down into the gravel. He rolled over, forearms protecting his face. The oarsman kicked him in the ribs.

“Voyagers!” the captain roared. “There will be no fights. Anyone who ignores the orders of myself or the strandmistress will lose a day of rations. This is not up for debate.”

When Paono stood, I saw bruises along his jaw. This wasn’t the first time someone had attacked him.

“Won’t happen again, Captain,” he said.

The oarsman kicked a spray of gravel onto Paono’s lower legs. “Fool claims we ought to beg his traitor friend for help rather than drag her back for justice, Captain. Says she knows how to survive here. ‘Cept he’s forgetting she’s the whole reason we’re marooned.”

Oh, Paono. Why did he have to open his big mouth?

“Are you done, or do we need to find someone to eat your rations?” Captain Altak stalked over to the oarsman. Though he was shorter than the big man by a hand’s span, his glare made the oarsman shrink.

The oarsman looked aside. “Sorry, Captain.”

“Now get some rest, those of you who can. Sailors come with me. We’ll set to work on the salvage.”

Rest. My eyelids were heavy, but I was so cold—chilled deep in my bones. While the group on the beach dispersed, I rose to a crouch, stretching the aches from cramped muscles. Up the hill, I found a pile of dry leaves shed from a tangle of day-season foilwood. Scooping them together, I lay down and then piled another layer over my body. The moon tracked across the sky while I shivered, stomach rumbling.

I woke after the moon set. My stomach was an empty hole, aching with hunger. Though I’d discovered a small freshwater trickle in the boulders, each long hour without food sapped my strength. I knew about Ioene’s edible plants and sea life from the Nocturnai logs, but earlier voyagers had used tools and torchlight. I had only my bare hands and the clothes I was wearing. Pitted against a benighted island, I wouldn’t make it without more resources. Food. Protection from the cold.

Headache pounding, I slipped closer to the beach.

Captain Altak was on the gravel, examining the collected stacks of supplies. I doubted he’d slept since the eruption. As if confirming my suspicion, he rubbed his eyes and slapped his cheeks. After jotting a couple notes on a tally sheet, he swiped a hand across a bale of jerky, cleaning off a layer of ash. His face was grim.

A train of oarsmen walked back and forth from the village, ferrying casks of food. Other crewmen carried blacksmithing tools and freshwater casks. Near the edge of the flickering torchlight, a small collection of fishing spear guns had been gathered. If anyone had studied the logs, they’d know there were fish in the deeper currents beyond the harbor. Not the sweet-fleshed sort that swam in daylight, but they were edible.

At the thought, my stomach growled, insistent and cramping.

Mistress Nyralit approached with Heiklet.

“Vidyul.” The strandmistress inclined her head.

“Hello, Nyralit.”

“Heiklet tells me that the group is whispering against you. They suggest that you're doing too little.”

Heiklet kept her eyes on the ground.

“What would they have me change, then?” he asked.

Mistress Nyralit nudged the girl.

“Everyone is hungry,” Heiklet said. “They want to know how we’ll get home.”

“Did I not address that in the meeting?”

“And they want Lilik punished.”

“I told them we’ll deal with her once we see to our own safety.”

“Vidyul.” Nyralit stepped close and laid a hand on his arm. “It’s not enough. They’re afraid, and they aren’t thinking clearly. You need to act to keep control.”

He sighed. “Call them together. Everyone who’s not on watch that is. We need to keep spotters on the volcano.”

Once the group had once again assembled on the beach, Captain Altak cleared his throat. “All right, voyagers. I understand there are concerns regarding the caller, Lilik.”

“She should hang!” The voice came from a clot of oarsmen gathered at the crowd’s fringe.

The fire-lit faces were stark, harsh, contorted into monstrous expressions. I cringed.

“Lilik’s punishment will suit her transgressions. We’ll commence a hunt as soon as our supplies are inventoried.”

The last bit of air left my lungs. Though Captain Altak had tried to leave open the possibility of my innocence, the crew members would only remember his mention of punishment.

Returning from watch duty, a deckhand sauntered up from the tide line. His approach brought him behind Captain Altak. Something in the man’s demeanor caught my attention—he looked stiff, almost suspicious.

“Captain?” he said.

Captain Altak glanced at the newcomer. “Yes?”

The rest happened so fast. A click brought the captain’s attention back to the group. The barbed iron of a fishing spear quivered a finger’s width from his chest. Holding the spear gun in two hands, Mieshk’s sentinel, Laiska, snarled. Her bony arms shook, and the firelight highlighted cheek bones that slashed her face like welts. Mieshk stood at her sentinel’s shoulder, face wooden.

“What’s this?” Captain Altak hooked his thumbs into his belt loops and adopted a relaxed stance. Showing fear would be like throwing his authority overboard.

Laiska said nothing. She touched the spear’s point to his breastbone. It must have been sharp because the captain shifted back a fraction.

“Submit your wrists,” Mieshk said.

She pulled a bundle of twine from the pocket of her heavy cloak. Captain Altak laughed. I wondered about the cloak. The air was cool—too cool to be clothed like I was in a thin layer of linen—but she had to be sweating under that fur wrap.

“Your wrists. Now!” Laiska shoved the spear tip into Captain Altak.

“Just wait a—” As the captain stepped back, he batted the spear with his forearm. The tip tore his shirt and fell into the pumice. Taking advantage of the opening, he shouldered into Laiska, knocking her off balance. She squeezed the trigger on the spear gun, and the iron spike sliced through the gravel.

“Crewmen, grab these girls!” Captain Altak drew himself up to his full height. He balled his fists and clenched the muscles of his shoulders, advancing on Laiska and her empty spear gun.

Mieshk cocked her head to the side. “Maybe you don’t understand.” The girl shrugged a shoulder out of her cloak. Beneath, she wore the finely embroidered tunic of a prime trader.

Captain Altak laughed, a low boom. “So it’s Trader Ulstat now? I wonder what your father would have to say about that.” He glared at the gathered voyagers, demanding they obey his command to seize the renegade girls. A crewman stepped forward, but his mates laid restraining hands on his shoulders.

Rot. This was bad. The crew was waiting to see who won the standoff. No one wanted to sacrifice their future by siding with the loser. Mistress Nyralit had been right. The leaders’ hold over the Nocturnai was weak.

“Mieshk Ulstat,” Captain Altak said. “Take a moment to reconsider your actions. Like everyone here—” He turned in a slow circle, deliberately putting his back to Laiska now that her spear gun was empty. “—you signed an agreement that bound you to my authority for the duration of our expedition. I will force your House to cast you out.”

Mieshk sneered while she unhooked the clasp at her collar. The heavy cloak fell away and puddled on the beach.

I stared, astonished. Was the girl crazy? She clasped an iron scepter. And not just any scepter, the rod of an ancestor-god. The scepter had been recently nightforged—the lines where the strands had infused the metal were still black. I wasn’t the only liar on Ioene; someone, probably Mieshk herself, had called enough strands for the scepter’s crafting.

The scepter was a twisted thing, lumpy and whorled, and at the top, woven ribs of metal formed a basket. Ordinarily, a blown glass globe would be cradled there. Shortly after a powerful trader died, the hand of the deceased would be removed and cremated, and the ashes would be placed inside the globe. Once the globe was inserted into the scepter, the rod would be buried with the trader, clasped in the body’s remaining hand. According to custom, this process allowed the god’s spirit to exit the body and crypt at will.

Mieshk had proclaimed herself ready for deification as if she were almost a god already. The notion was so ridiculous that I expected the crowd to laugh. Back in the Kiriilt Islands, not even the head of a trader House would be so arrogant. The process of elevating a trader to god status usually began with speculation amongst the House staff. From there it spread to administrators who conducted quiet reviews of the accounts and ledgers that tracked the trader’s accomplishments. Hints were dropped in perfumed gardens. Whispers filled cloisters where neophytes were trained. Finally, usually just after the trader passed away, a brave young priest or priestess would declare intent to construct a sanctum honoring the deceased. With luck, others would join. Otherwise, the devotee could expect a long life of laying stones.

No one would even think of elevating an adolescent trader years away from her inheritance. Yet here she stood, holding the scepter as if it were her birthright.

Someone had forged it for her. I scanned the crowd. Couldn’t they see she’d betrayed the Nocturnai not only by lying, but by spending time crafting that scepter while the others struggled to recover from the eruption?

“I see from your face you understand what this is,” Mieshk said to Captain Altak.

“I can’t see any purpose in you carrying that thing, no. Unless . . . your great-grandfather was the Ulstat monster-heir, as I recall. Perhaps you want to remind us of him?”

Mieshk’s nostrils flared. She nodded toward the crowd. Captain Altak whirled, in time to glimpse Brik’s face as the first mate bludgeoned his captain with a pair of blacksmithing tongs.

Captain Altak crumpled. I closed my eyes, mourning the expedition. With Captain Altak’s fall, there was no hope left.

“Voyagers,” Mieshk said imperiously. “The priorities have changed. Foremost, we will organize into search parties. The group that apprehends the traitor, Lilik, will receive double rations and berths on the first raft that sails for the Kiriilt Islands. The second priority is that raft. We will build it and take only the strongest sailors in addition to Lilik’s captors. Those remaining will wait for rescue or build their own vessel.”

So there’d be a competition to hunt me down, with a return voyage as the prize. Mieshk hadn’t prioritized food or shelter or organization. Without those things, those voyagers left behind had little hope of surviving. Just another way to sweeten the prize pot.

My stomach clenched as she stalked away from the beach. She’d nearly moved out of sight when I glimpsed it. I’d been so dumbfounded by the scepter in her right hand I hadn’t noticed the other.

The glints and curves of obsidian were unmistakable. In her left hand, Mieshk held my lost figurine.

Chapter Sixteen

LEGS TENSE, I crouched at the very edge of the beach. Behind and to my right, I heard the crash of a search party floundering through the brush. Torches high, voices raised, there was no way they’d sneak up on me. But I was exhausted, weak from hunger. I couldn’t remain here.

Unconscious and chained to a boulder, Captain Altak lay in a heap on the sand. After gathering her closest sycophants, Mieshk had paraded toward the forges with instructions that the others await her commands regarding the hunt for me. The rest of the group had fragmented and wandered off.

Mieshk had assigned a deckhand to watch the beach, but he’d sauntered away, either looking for a bush to water or someone to take over his job.

If I wanted supplies, I needed to act now.

With an indrawn breath, I crashed through the thicket of dry brush that fringed the beach. Pounding across the open gravel to the supply cache, I was a rat crossing an open kitchen floor. Any moment, a cook’s cleaver would chop me in two. I darted through the shadows between stacked crates and sprinted across a gap to snatch the heavy cloak still warm from Mieshk’s body.

Next, food. Spinning, I plowed into a warm body. We both fell.

I scrambled to my feet, panicking.

“Lilik?” Heiklet. Relief flooded me. Her eyes were saucers. “Go! She’s coming back. She’ll kill you!”

“I am. Just need—”

“Go! Now!” She stuffed a chunk of hard bread into my hands, hooked her knapsack over my neck, and shoved me toward the beach’s upper edge. I jogged backward, meeting her eyes, wanting to say something. She waved me on, frantic jabbing motions.

“Thanks,” I whispered. As I turned and plunged into the wild, I saw Mieshk outlined against the torches. My breath shook. If not for Heiklet, I’d have been caught.

I ran through the harsh night with the cloak bundled under my arm until the jabbing pain in my side brought me to my knees. While catching my breath, I opened Heiklet’s knapsack. Inside, I found a dull knife and water skin with a couple swallows worth sloshing inside. Bundling the bread in the cloak, I stuffed everything into the pack.

The waning moon provided little light, but out to sea, the glints off the wavelets provided a cold comfort. I thought of evenings spent on the quay with Paono, watching the torches atop the harbor guardstones shine off distant waves. I’d probably never see him again, I realized. An outcast, I’d either live or die here, but no matter the fate, I’d meet it alone.

Hiking rather than running now, I wiggled through a gap between boulders where choking vines draped the rocks like curtains, black-leafed and oily and smelling like turpentine. I pinched a leaf, trying to identify the plant. Eikkas tresses—that was the vine's name. Early expeditions had written about them: inedible, irritating to the skin.

As if to confirm, my hands started to itch. A line of fire seared my face where a tendril had brushed it. Cringing, I sidled around the patch. After clearing the gap between the rocks, I stopped, feeling abruptly defeated. What was I doing out here? Yes, I’d read the Nocturnai logs, but they hadn’t saved me from crashing through the first clump of tresses I found.

Exhausted, starving, and alone, I slumped to the ground. My head ached from hunger and exertion. In my sleep-deprived weakness, I wondered if I’d earned this with my deceit. Maybe I had been responsible for the Evaeni’s sinking after all.

If so, did I deserve to be hunted like a criminal? Maybe. But even criminals had the right to a trial.

Alone in the island-dark, I had to be my own judge and jury. Only I could decide if I were guilty. And until I knew the answer, I needed to move forward.

I snatched a handful of clean, sandy soil. The sea mists had condensed on Ioene’s flanks, dampening the earth. I rubbed it over my hands and face to dull the burning itch.

I looked out to sea. So what now? Now that the moon was up, search parties would douse their torches, making their progress harder to track. I’d need to be cautious, too—in the brighter light, I’d be easier to spot, and they’d make fewer loud blunders into dry brush. A small group might surprise me.

I needed shelter and water. On Ioene, fresh water most often seeped out near the tide line. A cave near a spring would be best, but in a few short months, the storm season would slam the island. Waves would pound the shore while flash floods roared down from above, stripping Ioene bare and pummeling the lower elevations with mud and boulders. I’d be safest tucked into a cliff well above the shore.

Before I stood, I rubbed away the marks my fingers had left in the soil. My feet left faint imprints, enough for a skilled tracker, but I couldn’t erase my trail entirely. Best to just wipe away obvious sign.

Ahead, a stand of ivory-trunked foilwood shrubs fringed the open scree slope. Ducking beneath the low branches, I followed tunnels carpeted with crunching leaves. While crawling, I pawed away the fallen foliage in search of nuts. An early account told of foragers grinding flour from the nutmeat. I found three, hardly enough to bake a single bite of flatbread, but it was a start.

Outside the thicket, the terrain fell away, giving a wide view of the folds and hazards on the volcano’s slopes. I’d climbed higher than I thought, so I planned a route that would bring me back near the tide line. From there, I could search for water and a cave to hide in.

After maybe an hour’s hard travel, I reached the beach. I’d finished the few swallows in the water skin early on, and my throat rasped when I swallowed. Heiklet’s bread was far too dry without something to wash it down. The three foilwood nuts couldn’t be eaten without first grinding them and leaching the flour with baths of fresh water to pull out the astringents. Not if I wanted to avoid vomiting, at least.

The moon had started its descent toward the sea, and jagged boulders cast long shadows across the small arc of beach gravel. Out here, beyond the protective arms of the village’s natural harbor, waves rumpled the sea’s surface and crashed against the shore, smooth faces shining red in the glow from Ioene’s burning crown.

At the water line, I dipped fingers into the sea. I regretted it immediately. Even gutterborn knew not to drink seawater, but the cold wetness made my tongue ache in longing. Standing, I dried my hand on my pants and examined my surroundings.

At the far end of the beach, a cliff band reached down from high on the volcano’s flanks, slicing across the beach into the open sea where waves bashed the end. I squinted at the outcrop, considering. The more barriers between me and the encampment the better, but I didn’t want to swim around it. The sea was cold; my limbs would tire quickly. Plus, I wasn’t a very good swimmer to begin with. I was a good climber, though. Back home, I’d scaled trees and walls that Paono wouldn’t even attempt.

As I weighed my options, a racket rose behind me, a clatter of stones followed by a crash of brush snapping and a loud curse.

Rot. I sprang for the edge of the beach, diving into the thicket with my breath caught in my lungs. The searchers must have traveled close to the shore, a more direct route than I’d taken by going up and then back down. I didn’t think they’d seen me; there’d been no cry of alarm, no running feet. But I couldn’t backtrack. They had me pinned against the escarpment, and the only way out was over.

Crouched low, I wound through the brush, ears alert for pursuit. When I’d nearly reached the cliff, I poked my head out and peered down the beach. Four figures sat in the pumice, shadowy in the wan moonlight. It looked like they were eating before continuing on. Ducking back into cover, I hurried across the final few paces before the cliff.

My thirst made thinking difficult, and my head spun when I examined the cliff, but features emerged under my hands. Sharp edges the width of a finger felt as if they’d make good handholds, but I didn’t think they’d be large enough to stand on. If I slipped, I’d slam down on the jumble of rocks at the cliff’s base. A few paces uphill, a potential route caught my eye, a series of wider ledges trending up and right like a crooked ladder. I swallowed saliva gone tacky with thirst and fear—it would have to work.

Sharp stone bit my hands while ridges pressed through the thick leather soles of my boots. As I moved higher, a light breeze cooled the nervous sweat at my hairline. I climbed a body length. Two, then three, glancing at the beach to make sure I wasn’t observed. My arms began to shake with fatigue, and I realized I’d been gripping too tightly. I settled my weight onto my feet.

With a crunch, a foothold crumbled. My falling body slammed into my shoulder sockets, ripping the flesh of my palms when my hands skidded, then stopped. I hung, legs pedaling, toes desperate for purchase to take the weight from my shredded palms. Below, the stone that had given way crashed onto the broken rubble at the cliff’s base, clattering as it came to rest.

The leather of my shoe hooked a tiny rail. I edged my foot onto the narrow ledge and pressed up off my big toe. Tiny serrations in the stone bit into the sole of my boot and kept my foot in place. With my cheek pressed against the cool rock, I paddled my other leg up and down the cliff face until my foot caught on another small hold. I coughed the terror from my lungs and looked toward the searchers. One scanned the island in my direction, then shrugged and continued eating.

Breath shaky, I reached with a blood-slick hand for the next highest handhold. One painful step after another, I inched toward the top. Finally, I snatched the escarpment’s lip with both hands. I belly-flopped onto the flat top and rolled onto my back, staying flat to avoid being seen.

Ioene’s ash cloud was a soft red cape pulled across the starlit sky. The moon had slipped behind the ash, lighting the cloud’s edge a brilliant, pinkish white. I lay, shaking, teeth chattering in the aftermath of fear until I noticed the moist air, the hiss that rose from the sea on the other side of the rock ridge.

Bleeding hands tucked against my belly, I rolled onto my side. A rush of warm air puffed into my face, rising from the lava flow that oozed into the sea a hundred paces from the base of the ridge. Clouds of steam billowed from the boiling seawater, hazing the view. But just beyond the river of molten rock, I spied the red glint where fresh water pools reflected Ioene’s fires.

If only I could fly.

Chapter Seventeen

THE FRESH WATER was so close I imagined I could smell it, yet I’d have to cross a river of lava to reach it. Demoralized, I rubbed my face only to realize I’d smeared drying blood from my torn palms across my cheeks. I yearned for someone to hug me around the shoulders and tell me it would be okay. Tears welled.

Angry, I swiped them away and peered down the cliff I’d ascended. With the moon veiled by the ash cloud, I couldn’t make out the narrow ledges and crevices I’d used to clamber my way up. I’d been lucky to find the path, and now part of it had crumbled away. At least it would be hard for the searchers to follow me, assuming I found a way down from here.

Above me, the rock ridge shot uphill through jumbled stone and copses of brush, stretching into the darkness. The crest never dipped close enough to the ground for a safe jump, and large, vertical gashes and up thrust blocks cluttered the top, making progress treacherous.

In the seaward direction, spray from the larger waves misted the cliff top. The ridge ended beyond the boiling cauldron where molten rock spilled into the sea. Watching the steam billow, I wondered: near the roiling end of the lava river, but not too close, would the water be warm enough to swim? It wasn’t a bad idea, actually, provided I could get past the waves.

I checked that Heiklet’s knapsack was secure against my body and slithered along the skinny rock rib, staying as low to the ridge as possible. To either side, the dark void lapped, threatening to pull me over. Mist condensed on my skin and cooling steam pooled in little potholes in the stone. I sucked up swallows of the water to clear the stale taste from my mouth.

When the rock thinned to a ridge no wider than my hand, I straddled it and scooted, stomach flat against the stone, to the farthest point. Beyond, the sea spread like rippling black silk out to the horizon. Stars glimmered at the edge of the world. Where the swells slapped the stone beneath me, faint curls of phosphorescence swirled in the turbulence.

On the beach, the searchers were preparing to move, standing and stretching. Soon they’d be paying more attention. A large wave smashed against the cliff, vibrating the stone beneath me. But as I’d hoped, the spray was warm. I waited, watching the next swell. When it slammed the escarpment, I crouched and, giving a little yelp, jumped. Just before I hit the water, I sucked in a deep breath, pointed my toes and clamped my arms to my side.

The ocean knocked the breath from my body as the retreating wave sucked me away from the cliff. I gasped and wheezed and panted, struggling against the currents.

Swim. I had to swim.

Dark waves lifted me. At each crest, I glimpsed the red glow of billowing steam. Keeping it to my right, I thrashed toward the promise of safety. Seawater poured into my mouth when a wave slapped my face. I swallowed the mouthful and fought the urge to retch. Still I paddled, desperate to get past the lava. With each kick, each frantic wave of an arm, fatigue settled into my limbs, heavy. I slowed, then slowed some more.

When my strength finally failed, the dark sea tugged me down. In my mind, Da watched me sink. Jaret screamed, furious at me for dying. Paono shook his head, resigned.

I floated beneath the sea, no longer tired, only numb.

A tendril of heat caressed my leg, slid up my body, and wrapped my belly and chest. The warmth lent comfort to my slide into the depths. My head pillowed on a pocket of heat, I rested while the warm currents tugged me to and fro. Soon, I would breathe the warm sea into my lungs.

All at once, a gouging pain in my thigh jarred me from my quiet death. I opened my eyes, blinked at the blurry shadows dancing in the sea water. Lit from behind by the smoldering lava, tentacles of darkness swirled like smoke. Confused, I searched for the source, only to discover that the shadows flowed from my leg.

My pants were torn, and blood streamed from a deep scrape on my thigh. As it dispersed into the water, the blood looked black in the faint light.

But I was still alive.

Wakened from paralysis, I kicked and spun to orient. A few feet away, a dagger of hardened lava thrust up from the seabed. I’d been tossed into it by the currents.

Abruptly desperate for air, I swam for the surface. Blood eddied in my wake, but already the flow had slowed. Warm mist landed on my face when I broke free of the waves.

My breath steadied while my strokes lengthened and smoothed. When I was young, my mother had forced me to swim through the surf, to use my arms and legs together like a sea creature. After she’d left, I was too busy surviving to swim. But my mother’s lessons lurked deep within me, jarred loose by the lava spear. I headed for the safety of the beach beyond the flow.

A few hundred paces past the hot zone, I veered for shore. My toe scuffed the stone reef, and I whooped in relief. I’d made it.

Water sluiced off my sodden clothing while I trudged up the beach. The gashes on my hands and thigh oozed blood, their edges puckered and pale.

When I reached the first freshwater pool, I dropped to my elbows and knees and leaned over the water to suck it down. With my last reserves of energy, I tucked into an alcove upon the rocky shelf. It wouldn’t hide me from a determined search party, but I expected they'd check easier locations before going over the escarpment.

Gingerly pulling a few branches off a nearby snarebush, recognizable by its wicked, recurve spines, I camouflaged my little niche. It would have to do.

After spreading the cloak out to dry, I lay down and let the heat from the lava flow wash me while I listened to the slap of waves on the shore.

The moon hung a few fingers above the sea when I woke. I jerked upright, momentarily confused. My hands ached, and I had to bend and unbend my knee a few times to get blood flow back into my injured leg.

I thought back. When I’d fallen asleep, the moon had only recently set behind Ioene—I’d slept for a long time.

Rubbing my eyes, I looked around. To one side, the lava smoldered and oozed down to the shore. On the other, the island arced away in a wide slope of rubble and patchy vegetation, some gray and dormant, some dark and alive. Scattered ridges and solid stone towers thrust up from the mountainside.

My head spun when I stood. As the world blurred and doubled, the ground rushed up and pounded my face. Rolling, I groaned.

Slow, Lilik.

Chin and cheekbone aching from the impact, I eased onto hands and knees and then crouched. When I straightened my legs, the woozy feeling swam up from my belly, but I stayed upright this time.

I needed to eat. Now that I had fresh water, I considered digging out Heiklet’s bread but decided to try foraging while I had the ridge and lava flow standing between my hunters and me. If I needed to hide later, I’d be glad I saved the bread.

A handful of large boulders stood like stone sentinels in the tidal zone. Tucked into hollows on the undersides, clusters of akal mussels bristled, dormant and clamped shut for the long-night, but edible. I used a fold of the cloak to protect my damaged palms while I yanked the shellfish from their niches. Even with the padding, I expected the work to hurt more than it did. Hunger must have been dulling the pain.

I returned to the pool with an armful of the dark-shelled creatures. On one side of the shelf, a stand of snarebush spilled onto the rock. I dumped the shellfish in a rocky, water-filled dish and built a small heap of thorny snarebush twigs over the top. Next, I edged as close to the lava as possible without searing off my eyebrows and extended a series of sticks lashed together with my leather bootlaces. When the end of my pole began to smolder, I dashed back to the pool, begging the little flame to keep burning until I got the fire lit.

The tinder smoked to life. Once the flames crackled pleasantly, I leaned back against a boulder, satisfied with my cleverness. The water hissed when bits of fire and coals dribbled into the makeshift pot, and after a while, the smell of cooking mussels wafted out.

My mouth watered in anticipation. After so many weeks of gluey rations aboard the Evaeni, fresh food would be divine. I wondered why the Nocturnais had forgotten so much of what Ioene offered. Fear, maybe. We’d become so focused on weapon-crafting, we’d lost our senses.

I set aside my fire poker. Before eating, I needed to clean my wounds to prevent infection. Rubbing my hands together in a pool, I peered down at my palms.

Perplexed, I squinted and rotated my hands so that the moonlight shone directly on my damaged skin.

No wonder harvesting the mussels hadn’t hurt. The gashes had already started to close, leaving pale lines behind. I ran a fingertip over a fresh, ridged scar. An examination of my thigh showed the same thing.

Perhaps it was the quick dousing in salt water. My mother used to claim that a half-hour soak in stinging seawater kept the raw skin from festering. Wisdom from the Outer Isles.

Of course, soon after that, she’d vanished on the outgoing tide. Washed clean away, and leaving a sting far more terrible than a skinned knee. I wondered what she’d think of me now, fending for myself on the wilds of Ioene, finally putting her swimming lessons to use. At the thought, old hurt panged in my chest, the dull ache of long-ago abandonment. It didn’t bother me much, though. Sometimes the pain felt like a part of me.

Using the poker, I fished the first open mussels out of the hot water. The akal was delicious. I closed my eyes and savored the springy meat, the taste of the ocean on my tongue.

Before I finished my meal, the ground shook. Hot water sloshed from the divot, scalding my ankle. Upon Ioene’s cone, the fires blazed and flared. A jet of lava sprayed out.

Shelter. Now. I grabbed what I could and scrambled for the beach where I could run fastest.

A short distance up the coast, a trio of boulders leaned together, creating a cave of sorts. I ducked inside, squinting and stumbling in the dark before I knocked my shin on something and crashed to the ground. The mussels I’d managed to save scattered.

Small rocks and ash pelted the area. A few bounced in through the gaps, but the boulders absorbed the direct hits. I drew my knees to my chest, hoping my shelter would hold.

Sometime during the assault of stone hail, I dozed off again, my days in the wild catching up with me. When I woke, I stuck my head out from beneath the boulders. The eruption had ended. The moon had set, and the night was as dark as the bottom of a well.

Back inside, I pawed the confines of my cave in search of my spilled shellfish. After locating three, I leaned back against rough stone and devoured the food, grit and all. The shelter really wasn’t bad. Solid walls hid me from sight and guarded against falling volcanic debris. I’d want to forge onward soon, but I needed to eat to restore my strength. Plus, I’d like to gather a better stock of supplies before heading deeper into the wilds.

This would be home, for now.

As I waited for my food to digest, a ghostly green light leaked into my shelter. I scrambled out of the cave and gasped. The aurora were breathtaking without torches to wash away their light. Bathed in the glow and infused with a sense of hope I hadn’t felt since fleeing the camp, I returned to the spring and gathered my meager supplies before setting to work.

First, I scrubbed my clothes in a freshwater pool, which made me feel almost human. A nearby foilwood grove provided half a rucksack of nuts which I stashed in my cave, intent on grinding them down. By stacking rocks and camouflaging my work with seaweed and driftwood, I sealed two of the three cave entrances. After four tries, I managed to dash back from the lava with a live flame. I built a circle of stones in the center of the cave and vowed to keep the coals smoldering even while I slept. Finally, I started weaving a latticework sleeping mat before yawns overtook me. I slept with the completed portion under my shoulders. Hardly enough to count as a bed, but I was still pleased with myself.

The following days were similar, and during the third moonrise, I reclined on the beach gravel and surveyed my domain while I breakfasted on another helping of mussels. I was proud of my progress—despite everything, I was surviving alone on Ioene.

But I was concerned about the injuries to my hands and thigh. The gashes had closed completely, leaving ridges, cold to the touch. In the dark, they seemed almost to shimmer, silvery like a dense blanket of stars. I couldn’t pretend that was due to the salt water dousing.

Maybe the strange scarring was related to the aether around the island. I rubbed my palms together and, after a moment, shrugged. Alone, possibly for the rest of my life, I doubted I’d ever know.

At least the mountain had been calmer since I arrived. I wondered how the others were faring. The stacks of supplies on the beach wouldn't feed the group for long; some of them had to be getting hungry. Raav’s trader status and wide shoulders would protect him. But the other people I cared for—Paono, Heiklet, Mistress Nyralit, and Captain Altak—were in greater danger the longer the expedition remained marooned.

Once I was established and strong, maybe I could help them. With care, I might be able to make contact and help them get away. I couldn’t promise a raft, but at least I knew how to find food.

Breakfast done, it was time to get to work—today I planned to do a little scouting. While ducking into the shelter, I laid a hand on one of the massive stones. Tingles, like the pins and needles of blood returning to a numb limb, pushed through the scars and up into my wrists. Shuddering, I jerked my hand away. At least a day exploring would distract from my hands.

Before leaving, I laid bark shavings in a dished-out rock and checked that the coals were well banked. Even if I returned in inky darkness, I’d be able to locate the tinder and relight the fire. Stooping low, I shuffled outside.

A few hundred paces from the lava flow, I struck uphill, paralleling the molten river. In many spots, the lava flowed through a hardened tube, a black stone tunnel too hot to touch. Elsewhere, melted rock roiled and oozed, flaring brilliant red where cracks webbed the black crust. The river blazed a path up the mountainside, visible until a bend in the channel tucked it back behind Ioene’s flank.

I climbed, balancing from rock to rock across boulder fields and scree slopes. Sweat dripped along my ribs, tickling. The pleasant sensation of motion eased my nerves. Between the time inside my cave and the weeks before, confined to the decks of the Evaeni, I’d been feeling more trapped than I realized.

When the moon skated along the edge of Ioene’s ash cloud, it was time to turn around. Before descending, I found a flat stone and sat to enjoy the view. With the horizon below me, the sky felt endless. Out to sea, lines of glowing algae marked the wave crests as they marched toward shore. Slightly downhill and to the side, a small vent released steam, the gas lit a dull orange by the fire beneath. Wisps draped the landscape like the grasping arms of a wraith, curling and coiling around the stones. While I watched the steam move in the shifting air currents, I rested my palms on the earth. The tingle spread up my arms again. I ignored it—the scenery was too stunning.

All right. Time to go.

I stood, stretched, and started tramping back down the hill. When I passed through the coils of mist escaping the vent and carrying scents of sulfur and fire and steam, I felt suddenly giddy.

My feet were fuzzy, like unspun wool at the ends of my legs. Perched on a narrow stone ridge, I wanted to laugh.

No, not perched. Sliding.

I tried to catch my balance, but everything was so hazy. My backpack snagged on something and tore free.

Scree clattered as I slipped and slid, and I giggled at the sight of a crevice ahead. The crack yawned wide, ready to swallow me up like a wiggling fish. What a funny thought. My elbow scraped stone and all of a sudden I dropped, plummeting along a rock wall that rasped the skin from the knobs of my spine. It tickled.

My stomach somersaulted, and I stared at the spinning slice of sky above. The stars were beautiful. Something hit my head, and it hurt an awful lot, but then another impact crumpled my leg to my chest, and I couldn’t see the stars anymore, but that was okay. I’d just go to sleep until my stomach stopped doing flips.

Chapter Eighteen

MY TONGUE WAS like sandpaper against the roof of my mouth. Rot and reap, my head felt like it’d been pounded between a boat and the dock. When I opened my eyes, purple sparks bloomed and faded to pitch-black. Not a hint of light filtered into . . .

Where was I?

I vaguely remembered falling, but the recollection felt coated in spun sugar. Unreal and far too sweet. I must have been confused by fumes from the vent—a few Nocturnai logs had mentioned their dangers.

I lay on my belly. Beneath my cheek, the stone was warm and polished. Groaning, I shut my eyes and ran fingers through my tangled hair. Sweat had glued strands together; my scalp hurt when I tugged. The air smelled of stone and stale body odor. My hand crept to my neck, afraid. Relief spread from my chest when I felt the nightforged chain of Paono’s pendant.

Worming like a snake, I explored the area. To one side, the ledge dropped into the abyss, and on the other, my fingertips brushed vertical stone. I scooted toward the wall, the crunch of gravel echoing in the chasm. The raw knobs of my spine brushed stone; I jerked away, whimpering.

When I cracked my eyelids, I jerked, stunned.

My hands were glowing. The scars on my palms shone bright enough to light my surrounds. A faint white shimmer, but down here it was enough. Extending my hands toward the chasm’s opposite wall, I squinted. Nothing. The far side hid in shadow. Finally, I peered over the lip of my ledge. Inky dark swallowed the light. I tossed out a small pebble and listened. Silence. I shuddered, realizing how lucky I’d been to land on the ledge.

Once more, I examined my hands. What was happening to me?

Judging by the thirst burning in my throat, I’d been unconscious for a long time. During the fall, I’d lost my pack and everything in it. Even disregarding the weird scars, my situation wasn’t looking good.

To either side, the ledge stretched away into darkness, overhung by the sheer chasm wall. After my near-miss on the ridge climb, I knew better than to try going up. Instead, I picked a direction and crawled, too afraid I’d stumble off the narrow ledge if I tried walking. Not long after, I stopped and stripped off my jacket, leaving just a thin linen shift over my torso. The hard stone was bruising my knees. Using my thumbnails to sever the first few threads, I ripped the jacket’s sleeves free. The tearing noise echoed, a loud snarl. I tied each around a knee, pulled the jacket back over my torso, and started forward again.

I whispered as I crawled, nonsense words hissing out of my dry throat like the rustle of corn stalks in a breeze. Sometimes I thought I heard a whispered response. Words of encouragement, and little folk tales to help me forward: my old habit of concocting stories to make my life less desperate, resurrected on Ioene.

My thirst grew from oppressive to unbearable. I imagined condensation forming on a tin pitcher, drops cutting wet lines down the sides. A ladle sat in the cold water. When someone lifted it free, liquid sloshed and streamed back into the ewer. In my mind, I shouldered the person aside, lifted the pitcher, poured it over my hair. Water cascaded down my body.

You’ll make it, said the whisper in my head. Another image filled my thoughts, of a staircase of rubble that led out of the chasm, the fire-glow of Ioene lighting the exit.

Thirst was a fire poker shoved down my throat. My eyes were balls of sandstone in their sockets, and my heart was a butterfly fluttering in my chest. Nonetheless, I continued forward.

A boulder wedged between the chasm walls, blocking the way. I wormed underneath, feeling the weight looming above, not daring to breathe. When I reached the other side, a taste of sweet air tickled my nostrils. Cooler. My throat tightened.

Legs weak, I stumbled backward into the boulder when I stood. The massive rock wobbled and shifted. Air hissed through my clenched teeth while I stepped away.

Quiet, Lilik, the voice reassured me.

I leaned into the wall. Cheek pressed against stone, I felt each nubbin of rock, each crystal where lava had hardened its syrupy flow. A puff of fresh air swirled over me.

Illuminated by the thin wash of light, the ledge ahead broke into a set of blocks that ascended into darkness, an echo of the vision I’d had before sleeping. Too exhausted to wonder at the resemblance, I tottered forward.

One foot after another, with a shoulder scraping along the wall for stability, I climbed the stacked blocks. The abyss lurked on one side, dark and waiting, but soon I inhaled a lungful of sea breeze.

When I pushed through the opening, a faint brush of aurora lit the heavens. Glorious. I smiled, my lips cracking.

Unfamiliar hunks of rock hulked at my back. I recognized none of the landmarks I’d memorized on my ascent, but down the hill, I spotted the ruddy glow of the lava river spilling into the sea. I could use it to guide me down.

Though my body screamed with the effort of movement, one step after another I staggered toward the beach.

Finally, I heard the crash of waves on the shore. The slope’s angle gentled, and the hiss of molten rock doused by sea water filled the air. Home.

Foilwood twigs snapped and crackled when I stumbled through the last stand of brush and onto the rock shelf where the fresh water pooled. I shoved my face into the spring, and chill liquid poured down my throat. Immediately, my stomach clenched. Oh, Lilik. I barely got clear of the pool before I vomited all over the rocks.

Trying again, I sipped small mouthfuls, forcing myself to stop while I was still thirsty. I stood, swaying, and gazed down at the beach.

I jerked, a shock traveling my body.

A fire burned just outside the trio of boulders, and a few dark figures huddled around it. Down at the waterline, a raft had been pulled up onto the shore.

Mieshk.

Chapter Nineteen

I DROPPED FLAT onto the rock shelf, my belly twisting in knots that had nothing to do with drinking too much water. My fist slammed the stone. All that work on the shelter, and now I'd have to abandon it. I’d already lost my pack and destroyed my jacket. The only possession I had remaining, my cloak, was still inside the cave.

That cloak symbolized many things. Hope. Small victories. Survival.

Let them have my shelter and my food. I wasn’t going without my cloak.

Gravel crunched when I stepped off the shelf. I cringed, but no one around the campfire seemed to notice.

A few sharp-edged rocks nestled beneath the rock shelf. I hefted one, testing its weight and settling it in my grip. Not the best weapon, but better than nothing.

Edging along the edge of the beach, I crept forward until the fire stood between me and the water. The newcomers sat silently around the blaze, poking at the fire with sticks. Someone dug into the coals and fished out an akal mussel, no doubt from the collection I’d harvested and kept fresh in a nearby tide pool. I wondered if they’d eaten up my nut stash, too. If so, I hoped that they’d neglected to grind and leach the flour. They’d have bellyaches for that.

Motionless as a stone carving, I waited until my legs cramped, and still no one said anything. I crept from cover, intending to circle around the back of the shelter to reach the entrance.

There were six people around the fire, and judging by the amount of firelight they blocked, at least two were adults. They sat in an arc, looking out over the sea. When I drew nearer, one turned and granted me a profile view. Makal, the cabin boy—his hair was even more ratted than before, and hunger had hollowed deep shadows into his cheeks.

Why would Mieshk send a small boy out with a search party? Was she really that unhinged? As I leaned forward, squinting, my foot slid down a grit-covered rock. I crashed to the gravel, loud as a flock of startled chickens. The group at the fire sprang to their feet. Flailing, I raised my fist, rock clutched tight. A pathetic defense.

“Lilik! You’re okay!”

The low voice held the tenor notes of a stringed instrument: Raav. I peered at the rest of the group. Raav, Makal, and . . . Heiklet had been sent too. Arm splinted and tied up in a sling, Heiklet’s sentinel, Islilla, hung back. That's right—Mistress Nyralit had said her arm was fractured. Why would Mieshk send this ragtag group after me?

Unless they hadn’t come to capture me. Hope licked my heart, but I couldn’t let it take a bite. Not yet.

I scrambled backward, tired and weak and wishing I’d chosen a rock light enough to throw rather than a bludgeoning weapon.

“Wait.” Raav held his hands up. “We’re on your side.”

“My side?”

“Yes, your side. I mean—”

“Where’s Paono?” I scanned their faces. Second mate Tkira’s sharp eyes peered out from her scarred face. I didn’t recognize the other adult, an oarsman by appearance.

Heiklet stepped forward. Her gaze slid to the side when she looked at my face.

“Why are you here?” I pressed. “Why won’t you look at me, Heiklet?”

"It’s the strands,” she said. “You’re covered in black eels. Oily smoke. I don’t know how to describe it.”

I rotated the stone in my hand. “Yeah, well, I guess they like me.”

Raav put his hands in his pockets. “Listen, Lilik. Nobody blames you for being nervous. Half the expedition wants you dead.”

“Only half?”

“Okay. Maybe more than that."

"But we don’t!” Heiklet said.

“Where’s Paono?”

“Sorry, Lilik,” Heiklet said. “Paono didn’t want to come with us.”

I’d been alone for a week. Hungry, tired, scared, exhausted. Abruptly, it was all too much.

“Why are people so stupid?” I yelled. “So happy to believe Mieshk Ulstat? And why are you eating my food?”

Heiklet glanced at the others, sheepish. “We found the mussels in a puddle. They’re yours?”

I nodded, arms crossed.

“We didn’t know. We wouldn’t—Lilik, we’ve got no ship, no hope of rescue, and there’s only enough food for the next month, if we ration.” She chewed her lip. “Paono said you know everything about Ioene. And he was right. You have food here. A bed. Water.”

But he hadn’t come. I badly wanted to ask why. Yes, he was mad that I’d lied. But had he really chosen Mieshk over me? The notion sat like rotten food in my gut.

“So you came to ask for help finding food?” I said.

Raav approached with hands out. “And to warn you. Mieshk—”

“I was there when she took over. I saw.”

He grasped my wrist and pried the rock from my clenched fingers. Though he must have seen my glowing palm, he said nothing. I didn’t fight when he helped me up.

“I heard about the reward for capturing me.”

He shook his head. “You can trust us.”

“If you say so.”

“Yes. I say so.” Raav gestured at the lava flow. “I’m impressed that you made it here, by the way. But you look terrible. No offense.”

“I’ve had some difficulties since then.”

“Care for a mussel? We worked hard to steal them.” He smiled crookedly.

As I looked at the campfire, my brow knit. “Aren’t you worried about being seen?”

“Be a while before a search party gets this far. They’ll need another raft.”

A solemn silence fell over the group.

The oarsman shuffled his feet. “Wouldn't have got them home anyway. Too flimsy for the open ocean.”

Heiklet spoke quietly. “I didn’t want to take it. Neither did Islilla. But it was the only way.”

“Come on.” Raav guided me toward the fire. “We can talk more after you eat.”

They’d devoured quite a few mussels judging by the pile of empty shells. Alone, that would have taken me a week. I kicked at the gravel, irritated.

“When you harvest a mussel cluster, you have to leave the smaller ones behind so the colony regrows. We have to be careful with our food.” Sifting through the spent shells, I checked the luster. They were still shiny; at least they'd cooked them fresh from the water rather than letting them dry out and poisoning themselves in the process.

Heiklet nodded at the oarsman. “Gaff told us that. Not so different from the ones on Stanik. But since these were already detached—Lilik, it seems stupid now, but we thought the waves had knocked them free. We were so hungry . . .”

“I forgive you,” I said.

As Gaff settled down beside the fire, he laid a crutch at his side. I hadn't paid much attention to the oarsman, but when I realized he was missing one of his lower legs, I quickly looked away. How had I not noticed that when they stood up from the fire? Fatigue, I guess.

“Been gone since I was younger’n you,” he said. “Don’t worry about it, girl."

Raav grabbed a handful of mussels and tossed them on the coals. My stomach growled.

After a while, Gaff cleared his throat. “What Raav said about the searchers isn't exactly true. You kids know that, right? We shouldn’t trust that they’ll need a raft to get here. We need to find a spot we can defend.”

I kicked at the rocks at the edge of the fire, feeling petulant. Maybe it wasn’t the most defensible, but this was my home. I’d done a good job camouflaging the cave.

. . .Then again, the group had found me, hadn't they?

“We’re not kids,” Raav said in a voice that was surprisingly tense. He scooted closer to me. “And we won't make any decisions without Lilik. After she has a chance to rest.”

The following silence seemed full of barbs. I sighed, not interested in arguing. Mostly I wanted to eat, sleep, and come to terms with Paono abandoning me. Thoughts of him chewed at my insides, the gnawing of little teeth.

Raav plucked a few of the mussels from the fire, blowing on his fingers to cool them. He tilted his chin toward the water while he tucked the shellfish into a leather pouch. “Walk with me?”

“Sure.” Reluctantly, I accepted his hand. We strolled to the water line, me swaying like a drunk, then turn to follow the line of foam laid by the waves. The surf was gentle tonight, rolling ashore as if caressing the island.

Near the lava flow, the warm steam felt delicious on my face. My aching muscles could stand for a good long soak in hot water. Once the mussels had cooled, he pried the top half of the shell off one and offered it to me.

“I’m surprised you found me so soon,” I said after I swallowed the meat in two bites.

Raav’s feet scuffed in the gravel. “Gut feeling, I guess. I saw the cliff and figured it was the sort of obstacle you’d take on. Anyway, ten days isn’t really that quick. Feels long, considering our situation.”

Ten days? How long was I in that crack? It had to be two or three at least. No wonder I was so weak.

“I’m sorry about Paono, Lilik. I wanted you to know that he defended you in the beginning, got hurt for it, too. He cares about you. Or he did, very much.” He stepped in front of me, laying hands on my shoulders. “Something tipped him to the other side. He’s with Mieshk now. An acolyte like the others, saying that you brought this—” Raav gestured toward Ioene’s burning cone. “—down on us. That it’s your fault we’re marooned here. I think those are Katrikki’s ideas coming out of his mouth, personally. They’ve been spending time together. A lot of time.”

. . . Katrikki? I nearly staggered with the shock.

“But we’ve been friends since . . . all our lives I guess.”

Raav looked to the side. His eyes glinted in the starlight, and the steam that had condensed on his cheeks shone, highlighting the strong, straight lines of his face. “Boys can be stupid, Lilik. Sometimes other things become more important than friendship.”

My scream was locked in my throat—this couldn't be happening. Could he be making it up? Trying to put a wedge between Paono and me? What reason could he possibly have for that?

“Katrikki convinced the crew to stop beating him. I think that's why they started . . . spending time together.”

My mind locked on an image of Paono and Katrikki standing together. Kissing. I wanted to throw up.

“Did any of you actually invite him to come?” I was casting for minnows, hoping that there’d been a mistake.

“I’ll tell you the truth because I want you to trust me. No, we didn’t. The things he said recently . . . We didn’t want to risk telling him our plans. But if you want, we can try to go back for him.”

My hand strayed toward Paono’s pendant, but I jerked it away. I shook my head—if I believed what Raav said, it was too late. Paono didn't care about me now that Katrikki had her ice-blond tresses wrapped around him. Or at least, there was too much doubt for me to endanger my new allies. Eyes on the horizon, I forced away the hurt.

“Do you know that Mieshk has the Effigy?” I asked.

“No. What? How?”

“I saw she had it when she attacked the captain. I—I lost the figurine before we got to Ioene. Or rather, she stole it.”

“She stole it?” His face hardened.

I shrugged. “Looks like it. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you the truth. I was scared.”

He looked down at my upturned face, eyes intense and unblinking. After a moment, he spoke. “I’ve kept your first secret. I’ll keep this one, too.”

“Thank you.”

“You trust me, then?”

Swallowing, I nodded.

“Then will you let me know what’s going on with your hands?”

I didn’t see a reason to hide it. Besides, Raav might have ideas about what was happening to me. I turned my palms upward.

He traced the shimmering scars with a fingertip. “What happened?”

“I fell when I was climbing.”

“And they healed like this?”

“Yeah.” I turned and lifted up my shirt, exposing the knobs of my spine. “Is it the same?”

Raav’s breath sucked in; I should have warned him before starting to remove my clothing.

He ran a finger down my spine. I shivered.

“Yes. The same,” he whispered.

I tugged my shirt down. It took me a moment to find my words. “I think it might have to do with the nightstrands.”

“Maybe.” Raav cleared his throat and glanced back at the fire. “Should we go back?”

He brushed the hair off my cheek. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“You think she’s using it? It’s supposed to go inside a reliquary.”

He shrugged. “Only the Yiltaks know the figurine’s history. Maybe there’s more to its abilities. Maybe she’s using it to manipulate the strands in other ways.”

Just what I’d been thinking. “Forcing them onto me, you mean?”

“Maybe. Or maybe they came to you for protection from her.”

The whisper in my mind was so loud that I stumbled.

Yes.

Chapter Twenty

I WOKE TO a firm hand on my shoulder.

“Lilik, we have to go.” Raav’s voice was quiet but urgent.

I barely remembered falling asleep. After eating, I’d relaxed in the hot sea water. After, when I’d almost fallen into the fire, the others had helped me to bed in the cave.

“Now? Huh?” My eyes were pasted shut.

Muscles I’d never felt before hurt when I tried to sit. With a hand against my lower back, Raav pushed me up. Knuckles digging into my eye sockets, I rubbed them clear. Blinked. Loose on my lap, my open hands cast a thin white glow. Heiklet and Islilla stared, curious. I closed my fingers over my palms. Tkira ignored everything but the small pile of equipment under her hands.

“It’s Makal,” Raav said “He’s gone. Taken the raft.”

“Wha—”

Tkira glared toward the exit. “It’s my fault. He overheard us planning and came crying about his da. I know Brik. Wasn’t surprised to hear that he beat up his son.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Heiklet said. “None of us objected to him. Anyway, once he knew our plan, we were better off bringing him than leaving him to squeal.”

I inhaled to clear my muddy thoughts. “So you think he went back to guide the others to us?”

Raav’s eyes flashed. “I know he did.”

I clenched my fists, snuffing their light. Makal had been causing trouble since we’d passed between the Istanik Harbor guardstones. If I’d been thinking more clearly, I might have questioned why he’d come along.

“Then they know where we are,” I said.

“Everyone else is packed,” Raav said. “We waited to wake you until we were almost ready. There are some of those nuts left—”

“Wait. You ate them?”

“Sure.” Raav grimaced and pretended to swallow something foul. “Bitter, but we can’t be picky anymore, right?”

Oh no. They wouldn't be happy in a couple hours. “Next time, ask before you eat something. It will save you a bellyache.”

Raav cast an uneasy glance at the other traders. None seemed to have heard.

“You’ll live.”

As I glanced around the shelter, I recalled the sense of homecoming I’d felt yesterday. I’d made this place into a sanctuary, found a way to be strong here, even alone. But now we were moving on again. I wondered how many times this would happen. Would we always be running?

No use worrying about it now. I piled the remaining nuts inside my cloak and scanned the cave for anything else I should take.

Outside, a shout rose over the rumble of the surf.

“ . . . got your raft back. Just let us be!”

Rot. That sounded like Gaff. Heiklet and I crowded out the door, leaving Raav and Tkira to follow.

The scene on the beach was chaos. Savage and screaming, Mieshk’s followers splashed from the sea, half a dozen or more either in the water or on shore already. Mieshk stood alone on the raft, torch in one hand, scepter in the other.

I yelled and ran for Gaff, standing alone between the campfire and the rucksacks the others had packed. My friends’ feet pounded beside me.

We fell upon our gear, flinging packs aside in search of anything that would serve as a weapon. Gaff snared his crutch in one hand and clutched a rock in the other while Tkira twirled a heavy stick like a club. Islilla moved slightly behind, ready with a sharp stone.

Upon reaching the line of seaweed that marked high tide, Mieshk’s followers stopped, brandishing fishing spears and clubs. Mieshk, unsteady on the raft’s rocking platform, raised her arms higher.

Heiklet circled behind Gaff and Tkira. She grabbed a bundle of foilwood twigs and shoved them into the fire to light the ends. I searched the area for rocks. Finding nothing, I came up with a double handful of gravel.

“There she is!” a follower yelled, pointing at me. “The one that done this!”

“Consorting with the renegade—they are all traitors! Bind them!” Mieshk shrieked.

“She is not a god,” Raav yelled as he rushed from the shelter. “After this, she won’t even be an heir. Think about this!”

He’d found the sleeves I’d torn from my jacket and shoved rocks inside, knotting the cuffs to secure them. When he whirled the weapons around, the heavy ends made a whooshing sound in the air.

“Lilik, Heiklet, Islilla, run! We’ll hold them off.” Gaff yelled.

I would not abandon my friends. Instead, I edged closer to Tkira.

Mieshk’s men spread out. They carried rope along with their weapons. Behind the row of men, Makal wore a vicious grin. Anger flashed, hot, through my body—all sense had fled these people when the Evaeni sank.

“What is wrong with you?” Islilla screamed, stepping onto a boulder. “This isn’t how Kiriilti—”

“They’re resisting,” Mieshk shrilled. “You are free to use all necessary force. Any man that takes a prisoner earns double rations and my blessing.”

The men roared and attacked. Raav, Gaff, and Tkira closed ranks into a tight knot. Heiklet brandished her burning twigs. When the attackers drew close, I threw my gravel. It bounced harmlessly off a crewman’s chest.

Frantic, I pawed through our equipment. We had rucksacks, water bottles. No spear guns. No daggers. I yanked a cheese knife from one of the packs only to fumble it and watch while Gaff accidentally kicked it away. Scrambling, I tore through strewn packs and the scattered remains of the campfire in search of something heavy to swing.

After less than a second, they were on us. The grunts of hand to hand fighting filled my ears, the rasp of gravel over leather. Islilla cried out when something—a thrown rock?—smacked her injured arm. I leaped to put myself between her and the attackers.

A sickening crunch brought the scuffle to a sudden halt. One of Mieshk’s men crumpled.

Even in the dark and from ten paces away, I could see the caved hollow in his skull, the blood, black in Ioene’s glow, that spilled down his face. Raav stood over him, eyes white-rimmed and face stricken. He dropped his makeshift bolo onto the corpse at his feet.

The hiss of the lava flow seemed to swell. Even Mieshk stared without speaking.

Heiklet ran forward and shoved an attacker. “Just leave us!”

In the following moments, Islilla sprinted to the fire and grabbed one of our rucksacks, staggering under the weight. I dashed over, swallowing back vomit.

Raav had killed a man.

He had to have known the damage his weapon could do, right? Fight them off . . . that’s all we’d intended. Just scare them away so we could escape. Not murder.

I grabbed the rucksack from Islilla and slung it over my shoulder. Raav was still frozen over the dead man as if paralyzed by his own violence. Waking from their own shock, the remaining attackers shifted, dropped into fighting crouches. I dashed forward and dragged Raav by his shirt. He stumbled backward, still staring, with his remaining weapon swinging back and forth in a tight-clenched fist.

A click of metal on metal, and one of the fishing spears whizzed through the air, barely missing my shoulder.

“Run!” I yelled. My group grabbed our gear, turned, and fled with Raav and Tkira guarding the rear against another advance. Mieshk’s men gave chase, but their steps faltered. They no longer had the heart to blindly throw themselves at Raav and his skull-crushing stones.

When we reached the thicket of night foliage, I crashed through first, leading the way into Ioene’s arms. By the time we’d gone another hundred paces, sounds of pursuit had vanished.

After staggering across scree and thicket and detouring wide around steaming vents, we stepped between a pair of standing boulders and out onto a wide plain of cracked earth. Dead rock, a lava flow frozen long ago, stretched across Ioene’s flank, twisted whorls and deep gashes where the molten stone had cooled. I ran my hand across the striations where Ioene’s blood had hardened. My palm tickled when the scars touched stone.

Heiklet collapsed to a seat on the rough ground. “Sorry, everyone. I need a rest.” Her hand quivered when she brushed the hair from her forehead.

“We all do,” I said. In truth, I was surprised Heiklet and Islilla had made it so far without complaint. Traders were used to balancing ledgers and reading navigation charts, not trekking across the wilderness. Even fleet captains simply stood behind the wheelhouse and directed a helmsman to follow bearings. As tired as I felt, Heiklet and Islilla—and maybe even Raav—must have been exhausted.

Gaff grunted and tossed his crutch aside as he sat. The trouser leg he folded over the stump of his knee had loosened; he leaned forward to fix the ties. “No one following anyway. Raav saw to that.”

An awkward hush descended on the group. No one made eye contact with Raav, who remained standing, arms crossed. He stared out over the ocean, his face was wooden in profile, unreadable.

How would I feel in his situation? I’d probably be crying, tearing my hair out with the guilt. But Raav just stood there, as if daring us to judge him. I fought the urge to edge away from him.

Tkira swung a pack off her shoulder. “We need a plan.”

She’d directed this comment at Gaff, which made sense. The adults would consider themselves the leaders due to age. And the traders would also assume they deserved the authority, due to status. In fact, I was probably the only person in the group who didn't expect to lead.

“They’ll come after us again,” Raav said, eyes still on the sea. “They won’t let Anker die without a response.”

The horror that had been bubbling away deep in my belly rose to the surface. “You knew him?”

“I worked with him installing lanterns after we arrived. He was a blacksmith. Came from Araok. Yes, I knew him.” He whirled to face us, his gaze tossed out blazing cinders. “Go ahead and say it. I’m a murderer. That’s what you all are thinking.”

“Raav, I—”

“Don’t make excuses, Lilik. It’s obvious. So why don’t we have this out now.”

Islilla stood. She sucked in a deep breath, filling her bird-boned chest.

“You killed a man, and you don’t seem to care. And now it’s on all our heads.”

Raav nodded. “Anyone else?”

Tkira had unloaded the contents of her pack, spreading out water flasks, a packet of jerky, a knife, and a blanket. The second mate turned the hammer over, testing its heft. “You could have swung at his knees instead of his head. We were trying to avoid being taken back by that Ulstat wench. Not trying to start a war.”

At the mention of war, the others shifted uncomfortably. Was that what this would come to? Marooned up here with little chance of survival, we’d make matters worse by warring among ourselves? It didn’t seem possible, but then again, it hadn’t seemed possible that a nightcaller would name herself an ancestor-god.

I watched Raav’s face, the way he stared the others down. Though his face was locked in anger, I thought I saw hurt lurking beneath. No one had bothered to ask him anything. Instead, they’d simply accused.

“Did you mean it, Raav?” I asked. “Or was it an accident?”

He uncrossed his arms. “Thank you for asking. No—” He glared at the group. “—I didn’t mean to swing at his head. I’m not a fighter. I was just doing my best to protect us. Anker is dead. I considered him a friend. But now all I’ll remember is how his eyes looked when I smashed his skull.”

His eyes might have been wet—I couldn’t tell in the dark. The night air was warm on my skin, stirred by the pulsing heat in Ioene’s heart. Even so, I felt hot waves of emotion washing off him. His glare shattered into a plea for acceptance, and before I stopped to think, I was on my feet with arms wrapped around him.

Raav’s hands fell on my lower back. He clutched me close, pressing his face into my hair. Damp breath fell on my scalp, and his heart thudded against my cheek.

Metal scraped across stone, a hollow ringing sound. As if to signal an end to the matter, Tkira began fussing with the contents of another pack. “Two blacksmith hammers. A reel of fishing line and two hooks. Six water skins, two blankets, and a spare overcoat. Three bandages. A nightforged dagger—they’ll be angry we took that—and two boning knives. Anyone think to grab a flint and steel, or are we too damn stupid?”

“Least we’ve got the glowy hands,” Gaff said casually. “Won’t have trouble seeing in the dark.”

A flush crept into my cheeks.

“Ignore it,” Raav whispered. “Conversation for later.”

As I relaxed my embrace and stepped away from him, his fingers trailed across my sides. I shivered.

Heiklet, still sprawled on the hardened lava, looked up at me. “So what’s next? Where do we go?”

My eyebrows drew together. “Well . . . That’s a big question.”

“Whatever these guys say—” Heiklet gestured at the rest of the group. “—we came because we needed your help. We want to survive. What does the Nocturnai lore say?”

The others, even Gaff and Tkira, were paying attention.

“Find a place to sleep, I guess.”

“Right,” Gaff muttered. “We’d never have thought of that on our own.”

Tkira chuckled, but it wasn’t a friendly laugh. She finished repacking the rucksacks and tossed one to Raav and the other to Gaff. “The nuts won't last long in our stomachs.” Her scarred face twisted when she looked at me. “Maybe our gutterborn friend can tell us where to find more.”

Despite hearing the insult all my life—and frankly, calling myself gutterborn more often or not—my anger blazed at Tkira’s tone. She’d been almost kind to me after my injury. But I wouldn’t forget how she’d acted with the stowaway, indicating what sort of person she was.

“Yeah, well, you’ll wish they weren’t in your stomachs soon,” I retorted. “The cramps will start soon. We’ll want water and a place to rest while you empty your guts.”

Raav planted his feet wider. “If we actually want to survive the next decade, maybe we should let Lilik teach us the basics.”

Islilla’s face went white. “A decade? What about finding a way home?” She clenched her uninjured fist at her side.

Heiklet touched her friend’s shoulder. Together, they looked strangely like children. Delicate and lost.

“He didn’t mean it like that,” she said. “We’ll find a way back. But we should plan for the worst.”

Raav rolled his shoulders, a mischievous grin brushing his lips. “So, Lilik. Where do we find water and shelter? Command me.” The look in his eyes sent little barbs of fire into me.

Cheeks hot, I looked away—I was being a total idiot, drawn to this trader because I’d just lost Paono.

“Near the shore. Better chance of finding fresh water the lower we get.”

“All right, then.” Raav helped Heiklet and Islilla to their feet. “Lead on, Lilik.”

As I started down the frozen river of rock, I ignored a long look that passed between the adults. They’d be more humble once they started vomiting.

Sharp stone ridges pushed through the soles of my shoes, making me grateful my father had talked me into buying a pair with good, hardened leather; Heiklet jerked a foot up more than once when it landed on a knife of rock.

From somewhere down below, the breeze picked up the perfume of kivi blossoms. When the currents shifted, tumbling down from above, they carried the fire-scents of the volcano, ash, and cinder stinging my nose. Occasionally, the mountain shook, a deep rumble that sent pebbles dancing on the frozen lava.

Once we neared the shore, I led them crosswise to the flow. Single file, we leaped across trenches and balanced along ridges, sometimes scrambling on hands and feet to cross deeper folds in the stone.

The others grumbled at my choice of route. I pretended not to hear. We needed to get across the flow and into the broken landscape beyond.

A patch of Eikkas tresses spread like joyous rot at the flow’s edge, oily and shining and stretching tendrils onto bare rock. Tkira nearly jumped into it, and I considered letting her suffer the consequences, but I sprinted over and grabbed her shirt. Her scar was white against her face when she whirled on me, offended.

I pointed at the tresses. “Your skin would burn from the plants’ oil. It’s unpleasant. Trust me.”

Tkira didn’t answer. But she didn’t jump either.

By the time we skirted the patch of tresses and clambered off the flow, Raav was bent double and groaning. Islilla’s face was slick, shining wet in the light of the rising moon. Gaff stumbled and vomited a few hundred paces later.

At the next flat spot, I called a halt. The ailing group members collapsed, moaning and shaking. Only Heiklet seemed unaffected.

“Did you eat the nuts?” I asked.

“I left mine for Islilla.” She stared at the others. “Are they going to be okay?”

“As long as they have enough water.”

Heiklet jumped for the packs, dumping them out on the rocky jumble. She examined the water skins, shaking each. “Three full.”

Not enough. We had probably ten water skins total. Full, they’d probably get our friends through this.

“Get them to drink as much as they can hold. We’ll have to look for a spring.”

Heiklet held a water skin to Islilla’s mouth. I noticed her eyes no longer skidded off as she looked at me. “What if we get lost?”

“We’ll try to come straight back, but if we miss them, we’ll go until we find the lava flow and then retrace our way past the tresses.” I settled the empty water skins in a pack, along with a single knife and my cloak. The blankets I folded and set next to Raav. He could figure out who needed them. “Let’s go.”

Heiklet stood, shoulders straight despite her fatigue. We’d been walking for most of a day, and the girl had to be close to collapse. But two pairs of eyes would do more for spotting water, and that’s what our companions needed.

We set off across the scree slope, walking side by side. Every few hundred paces, I scrambled atop a boulder and scanned the landscape for the telltale glint of water.

“So,” I said while we walked, “you can look at me now. Are the strands gone?”

“No. But I’m getting used to them.”

“I’m glad.”

“Lilik . . . ?” Heiklet stopped walking. “Why can’t you see them? You’re a nightcaller.”

I’d known this was coming, but I hadn’t figured out a good story to explain it. Telling the truth was risky. Heiklet might be kind, but that didn’t mean she’d forgive me for lying.

“Mistress Nyralit said something is wrong with the aether. That's my only idea.” The lie was cold on my tongue, like a ten-day rain. But I didn’t know what else to do.

“Any idea why they’re attracted to you?”

None I wanted to acknowledge. “Not really.”

“I think they need something from you. Maybe it has something to do with the eruptions. Or with the rest of us being unable to call.”

Her suggestion was strangely similar to Raav’s: they’d come to me for protection. I bent my knees, ready for another shouted whisper in my mind. None came. Maybe the other had been my old story-telling habit, run wild in my exhausted delirium.

“But the strands are just wisps of night aether. Lines of power. They aren’t alive.” At least, that’s what Mistress Nyralit had taught us.

Heiklet shrugged. “Maybe not. But if you didn't call them, it must be the other way around. They came.”

“I guess.” I started walking again.

“I think they’re changing you.”

Filling my nostrils with cool sea mist, I kept my eyes on the terrain before my feet. What other revelations did Heiklet have bottled up inside? How long had she waited to bring these things up?

“What do you mean?”

“Your hands and spine. Everybody sees, but they’re all too afraid to ask about it.”

“They’re scars. I don’t know why I’m healing this way.”

“Okay, well, it’s not just your scars. It’s in your eyes, too. I don’t think anybody else has noticed. But when I look at you—when we look at each other, I mean—I feel like I’m seeing the moon over the ocean. I’m relaxed. Soothed. I guess that’s part of the reason I can look past the—past your little nightstrand problem.”

I smiled at that, and Heiklet giggled. Yes, quite a nightstrand problem. Who would have guessed that the only untalented nightcaller on the expedition would end up drowning in strands, totally unable to get rid of them?

“You know what I think it is?” she said. “I think you’re being nightforged. Infused just like a sword blade.”

Me, nightforged? I wiped my hands on the coarse weave of my trousers to dry the sweat. When my scars slipped over the fabric, the skin tingled.

“Well,” I mumbled, “thanks for being honest.”

Heiklet nodded. “We have to tell the truth with each other now, don’t you think?”

The truth. Right. And wasn’t I doing a superb job of it? I gestured toward a nearby boulder. “Probably a good view from up there.”

“Do you need a boost?” She marched to the boulder and clasped her hands at knee-height, ready to provide a foothold. Though I stepped into the cradle offered by her hands, I pulled hard with both arms to make sure I put almost no weight on her.

Up above, I spied a faint reflection, moonlight glinting through the tangled sticks of a dormant bush.

“There,” I said, “Water, I think.”

We hurried across the remaining distance and shoved through the webbed mess of sticks. Yes. Water. The spring trickled from a deep cleft in a rocky buttress, the gap wide enough for two people to walk shoulder to shoulder. I cringed from the dark slot, remembering my recent encounter with a similar chasm.

Outside the cleft, the spring pooled in a hollow about the size of a washtub. The water was cool and delicious, like icy nectar sliding down my throat. This time, I didn’t have to fight the urge to vomit. Things were definitely looking better. I had allies, and they’d come with blankets and supplies. Together, we might actually find a way home. Over time we could recruit more voyagers into our group of renegades. Without followers, Mieshk had nothing. We could take back the camp.

I smiled wryly and took another drink—I was getting ahead of myself.

With the water skins brimming, the rucksack was heavy. My shoulders cramped under the burden. Several times on the way back, Heiklet offered to take a turn carrying, but I wouldn’t let her. The rucksack probably weighed half as much as she did. We retraced our route without difficulty and stumbled upon the miserable group. Tkira was just crawling back out of the bushes, having emptied her stomach again.

“Problem, Lilik,” Raav said.

I swung the backpack off my shoulders and tossed a water skin to Heiklet who started around the group, urging everyone to sip.

“What’s wrong?” My calf along his thigh, I tipped a swallow past his lips.

He pointed a shaky hand back the way we’d come. A line of torches moved along the coast, spaced every fifty paces or so up the slope. Combing the terrain. No surprise that we were being hunted, but I’d expected to evade a blundering group, not an organized search.

“Oh.”

There were at least twenty of them, probably crew and oarsmen. After the fight on the beach, Mieshk would send her strongest.

“They’ll be here in an hour or two,” I said. “We can’t stay.”

Raav’s lips were dark and full in his pale face. He tried to sit, trembled, and collapsed. “I don’t think we have a choice—I can’t even sit up.”

Chapter Twenty-One

THE TORCH LINE moved steadily toward us. With a searcher positioned every fifty paces, moving in strict formation across the hill, they’d find us for sure. Not even the darkness and brambles could hide a group our size.

Could I distract them? Mieshk would send strong, heavy hunters. I was small and quick and could squeeze through spots that would trap bigger men like corks in bottles. But that would mean splitting the group.

“You’ll feel better in another hour or two,” I said. “They may not get here before then.”

Raav’s head rolled on his neck. He stared at me with vacant eyes.

I grabbed his shoulders and squeezed. “We’ll figure something out.”

He blinked, long and slow. His lips parted, and then he was on his belly scrambling for the bushes. He heaved and gagged. After a long pause, he crawled back.

“What if I distract them?” I said.

Raav touched my cheek. His fingertip was cold. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

My heart caught in my throat.

“Okay—okay . . . I won’t,” I whispered, taking his hand in mine.

His smile was thin, like over-watered porridge. We remained like that for a long time, watching the torches advance.

From the clearing’s edge came the crash of breaking sticks. Even Gaff, who’d spent the most time in the bushes, sat bolt upright.

“Sorry I scared you,” Heiklet said, hands on her knees while she caught her breath. “I got a little lost on the way back.”

I hadn’t even realized that she’d left. Her shirt was torn and her forearms scratched and bleeding.

“Where did you—”

“Come on,” she said. “We have to get them to the spring. There’s a way to hide.”

I stepped toward her. “What? You went back? So fast?”

“I thought that more water might help them move.” The backpack sloshed when Heiklet dropped it to the rocky soil. “Heavy,” she said blandly.

Even Islilla raised her eyebrows.

“Let’s go!” Heiklet pulled on Gaff’s shirt, urging him to stand. The oarsman groaned and tried to roll away from her.

“Lilik, get them up.” Her voice held the commanding tone of a trader. Heiklet’s family might not have held trader status for long, but she was growing into her position. The look in her eyes dismissed any reluctance I had to following her.

I grasped Raav by the forearms and dragged him up to crouch. “What did you find?”

“The crevice. It’s a passage.”

“To where? What would keep the searchers from following us?”

“We don’t have much time.” Heiklet tugged again at Gaff. The oarsman batted at her. “The torches are moving faster than we can walk.”

Heiklet wouldn't get Gaff upright on her own. Hurrying over, I shoved my hands under him. Together, we levered him upright and stuck his crutch beneath his arm. The man swayed, but seemed to decide that fighting us would take more effort than walking.

Islilla crawled to her feet on her own, and by the time we’d badgered a silent and sweat-soaked Tkira into standing, Raav had staggered to the break in the brush where the path exited the clearing.

“Okay,” I said. “You lead, Heiklet.”

She guided the others, a stumbling, moaning parade, through the thicket and out onto the scree slope. I took the rear, just beyond Tkira, urging her on. The jumble of rocks made for shaky footing. Heiklet wove back and forth, searching out the easiest path. Stones clattered when she shoved loose rocks aside. Sometimes, she stopped to help our sick friends over difficult sections. Every few hundred paces, I clambered up higher to check the searchers’ progress. The torch line gained on us, slowly but inexorably.

Finally, we heard the trickle of water.

When we reached the spring, we gathered in a semi-circle around Heiklet. Behind the girl, Ioene’s crown spouted a jet of lava high into the night sky. I glared into the deep gash, not at all eager to shove myself into another narrow fissure.

“Lilik goes first,” Heiklet said. “We can use her hands for light.”

Raav’s voice was thready, lacking the usual resonance. “Lilik was right? What keeps them from following us?”

“Doubt,” Heiklet said confidently. “No one will guess we’d trap ourselves in there.”

“Which brings up the question . . .” Tkira said.

The second mate looked ready to wrap her callused hands around Heiklet’s throat, but that was an improvement over emptying her stomach every five minutes. In fact, everyone seemed perkier, past the worst cramps and vomiting.

Given the improvement, I wondered if Tkira was right. Why trap ourselves?

“You assume it’s a dead end,” Heiklet said. “But there’s fresh air coming from the other side. I smelled it.”

“You’ve been in?” I asked.

“Far enough to know there’s an exit.”

Gaff snorted. “Just by feeling the air? You sure you weren’t noticing a breeze coming in from behind?”

Heiklet said nothing. She looked to me.

“We can stay ahead of them for another hour or two,” I said. “But you're weak. We need to find food.”

“Even if they do check the cave, they’ll have to walk single file, maybe double at best,” Heiklet said. “We won’t have to fight them all at once.”

At the mention of fighting, Raav’s cheek twitched.

“We won’t have to fight at all,” I said quickly. “Heiklet's right. They won't expect us to go in.”

The others looked skeptical, but we didn't have many choices. Someone had to go first. I stepped around the pool and squeezed into the crevice. Immediately, the walls pressed in, closing around me like a vice. The sky narrowed to a thin slice of stars.

My heart raced, but I kept my nervousness from my face as I encouraged the others. The volcano’s fire highlighted five anxious faces. One by one, they stepped into shadow.

The passageway stretched out before us, continuing through hardened stone deep into Ioene’s belly. My palms washed the rocky chimney with a pale glow like starlight. Tkira muttered words I couldn’t make out, the whisper echoing down the passage.

Each time I dropped to hands and knees to scramble over a rough portion of the passage, the others fidgeted uncomfortably in the sudden dark. The chasm narrowed, squeezing, and soon I turned sideways to pass a constriction.

“Gonna be wedged like olives in an oil press,” Gaff complained. But somehow, the man hopped through.

Beyond the rocky throat, we entered a larger chamber. The walls pulled back, arching over the space and pinching down to just a slit above. Our footsteps echoed hollowly. On the chamber’s opposite side, a thigh-high triangle of dark exited the cavern.

“Is it through there, Heiklet?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I didn’t come this far.”

“But what about the fresh air?” Gaff said. “I thought you felt an exit.”

“I did. It was sooner.” Heiklet shuffled to the low passage and placed her hands in front of the gap. “Feel,” she said.

Crouching before the hole, I closed my eyes and leaned my face toward the gap. Yes, there were air currents. Cool, and the scent of an ocean breeze was unmistakable.

“She’s right. There’s—wait . . .”

With the light from my palms cast upon the stone wall above the passage, letters emerged. Ancient writing had been carved into the rock in a flowing script.

“It’s like the writing on the forges,” I said, awed. Over the years, many smiths and glassworkers had etched their creations with the inscriptions. As a result, almost anyone from the Kiriilt Islands would recognize the lettering.

Raav crouched before the stone panel. “Do you know what it says?”

I shook my head. “No one’s ever deciphered the script.”

“But it must mean this goes somewhere,” Raav said.

“Or maybe it says ‘Dead end. Don’t bother,’” Tkira added.

Heiklet tiptoed forward. “I’ll go. I’m smallest. Least likely to get stuck.”

“Good idea,” I said, feeling guilty at my abrupt relief. Heiklet was the best choice. If the passage got much smaller, there’d be no way to turn around. Plus, it was much harder to worm backward than to wriggle forward. My throat constricted at the thought.

Heiklet stooped and shuffled into the breach. The sounds of her progress gradually faded, and we sat on the gravel-strewn floor to wait. Beside me, Raav’s warmth was reassuring.

“I wonder if Katrikki is done stewing about you leaving her.” Islilla looked at Raav, smirking when she spoke. She seemed to enjoy the thought of Katrikki’s unhappiness. I doubted the other traders were any nicer to Islilla and Heiklet than they’d been to me. She hadn’t talked much since the beach—or on the voyage for that matter. This bitterness had probably been building for a while.

Raav raised a single shoulder in a shrug. “Our relationship was always a bit . . . complicated.”

Islilla snorted. “If by complicated, you mean she was insanely jealous that her sister snuck off with you to spend the night while Katrikki was stuck with a live-in chaperone to protect her so-called innocence.”

Katrikki’s sister? Spending the night? An icy bolt stabbed my chest. I forced my eyes to the floor, acting as if I weren’t paying attention to the conversation. I had no right to be upset; it wasn’t like I had anything with Raav. But still . . .

He cast me a surreptitious glance. Though I didn’t consciously mean to, I shifted away from him.

“I’m sure it was hard for Katrikki to be both the baby of the family and the likely heir. Anyway, the thing with her sister . . .” He tossed a pebble. “It wasn’t really like that.”

“Right . . . I’m sure you two were out all night talking about the sea lanes.”

A result of pent frustration or not, Islilla needed to stop. She didn’t realize that her teasing was stretching Raav like a drawn bowstring. He was ready to snap.

“I don’t blame you though,” Islilla continued. “She’d have been a good match for you. The sister. House Korpit is faring well in the commodities market. And everybody feels terrible about the thing with your brother—”

“Enough!” Raav sprang to his feet and stalked to the chamber’s opposite wall. His balled fists were shaking.

Islilla clamped her mouth shut. In the wan light from my hands, her eyes glinted white, wide. I felt a fleeting pang of sympathy for her. She was young, and apparently in need of instruction in tact.

Despite myself, I glanced at Raav. He was a dark presence, everything shadowed except for his gaze. His eyes bored into me, so intense that I had to look away. My skin tingled. What was going on in his head? Maybe he’d seen me as a distraction for the months away from this Korpit sister? If so, was he angry with Islilla for destroying his chances?

Or maybe Islilla had the story wrong. Maybe he’d had a good reason to meet the Korpit girl at night. Right, Lilik. Hidden inside my shoes, my toes curled in anger. How stupid could I be?

Gaff grunted. “Traders.”

“By the time I was twenty-five, my first son was crewing an Ulstat trade vessel,” Tkira said. “Gossip and scandal are luxuries of idleness and wealth.”

I blinked, shocked to imagine Tkira as a mother. I wondered where her children were now. Apparently, the others shared my surprise, as an awkward silence filled the cavern.

No one spoke until the scraping sounds and a few weak grunts exited the passage. Heiklet squirmed out, head first, her clothing crooked and face smeared with dirt.

She grinned wide enough to brighten the chamber. “It’s amazing,” she said.

“What is?” I asked.

“Just wait. I don’t want to spoil it.”

Heiklet motioned for Gaff to follow first, and without pausing to rest, backed into the narrow tunnel. I nodded, immediately understanding. By crawling through the constrictions in reverse, she’d be able to help pull the big man through the tight spots. Raav followed. Because of his height and wide shoulders, the passage’s low ceiling forced him down to hands and knees before the darkness swallowed his retreating form.

Tkira glowered at me while we waited our turn. The burns she’d received on her arms during the eruption would hurt when she crawled through. I winced at the thought. If it were anyone else, I’d feel sorry for her.

“I still don’t like this plan,” she said.

“Well, I didn’t like your plan for Geren, either. But here we are.”

“Geren?”

“The boy you tried to kill.”

She rolled her eyes. “The stowaway, you mean.”

“The least you could do is say his name.”

A sneer on her face, Tkira stalked closer. “So, you think I did wrong by Geren, do you?”

“If it weren’t for the people who helped him escape, you would have murdered him.”

“A gullible one, aren’t you?”

“What?” I was done sitting while she looked down at me. Jumping to my feet, I got in her face.

Tkira laughed. “You’re too easy to rile, Lilik.”’

I wanted to slap her. Instead, I clutched my upper arms, digging my nails in. Turning aside, I stomped to the exit, listening to Raav’s progress.

“Lilik,” she said more quietly. “We never planned to hurt that boy. The only thing I did was convince Altak to keep from telling you. We had enough help for the escape, no sense risking it by telling more people.”

I couldn’t look at her. Not yet. I didn’t have reason to be embarrassed, but I felt the fool anyway.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last.

Finally, I turned. Short hair stiffened by salt and sweat, and with hands wide as a man’s from coiling lines and hefting cargo year after year, Tkira was as unlikely an ally as I could imagine. She disagreed with all our plans. With Mieshk, Tkira’s strength would surely have earned her privileges. But she’d chosen me instead. Right now, I needed to live up to that choice.

“I’ll back down the tunnel like Heiklet did. If you get caught, Islilla can push while I pull.” I cast a questioning glance at Islilla.

She lifted the broken arm. “Works okay for crawling.”

Tkira snarled before she nodded. “Fine.”

I shuffled backward into the passage, crouching lower and lower until the roof forced me to hands and knees. Shortly, Tkira’s hard-edged form snuffed the almost undetectable starlight that filtered through the slit in the cavern’s roof.

I swallowed and crawled on, casting the tunnel in a strobe of light and dark each time I raised a hand to move it farther back.

Eventually, the ceiling dropped again. Crawling on elbows with my belly scraping the tunnel floor, I wiggled painstakingly backward. Tkira grunted near my face, obviously in pain from her burns. Her breath stank of vomit.

Three times, she asked for help, a tight voice and a gruff request. I wanted to tell her I didn’t like this any better than she did but held my tongue. A hardened sailor forced to rely on people she considered children, her pride was sorely wounded. Not only that, half of us were traders. Soft, arrogant, and far more powerful back in the Kiriilt Islands than Tkira would ever be.

It must have stung, relying on us. I vowed to treat her with more respect. A life spent at sea, far away from her children, had hardened her. But I had no doubt it had given her wisdom, too. We needed her knowledge.

When a puff of fresh air gusted over my head, I sucked deep. After a quarter hour trapped with Tkira’s vomit breath, it was sweeter than ice-cold juice pressed from ripe harvest apples. Pressing up, I found I could move on hands and knees again.

Soon, the walls widened until I felt air on all sides. I climbed to my feet, turned.

And gasped.

Even Tkira let out a satisfied grunt when she stood. In front of us, a deep lagoon pooled, fully encircled by steep black cliffs. The water shone from within, home to hundreds of phosphorescent jellyfish. A deeper blue light surrounded the jellyfish’s aquamarine glow, probably cast by the glowing algae that lit boat wakes and eddies of waves. But here, the water was as still as a mirror. Utterly calm.

Shelves of rock ringed the water at varying heights. Unlike the most of the island’s stone, with a harsh, porous texture and peppered by sharp ridges and uncomfortable potholes, this rock looked smooth as polished wood. At the amphitheater’s far side, a handful of springs gurgled from the rock. Dark clefts around the perimeter looked like entrances to other tunnels or just shallow caves.

But as perfect a haven as the lagoon seemed, the greatest surprise perched on the highest shelf. Structures, at least a half dozen of them lined the wall. The buildings, lit from beneath by the water’s blue-green glow, crowded together near the lip of the rock ledge. Tall, with domed roofs and precisely cut stones, they looked as if they’d been built by the same people who constructed the forges. High on the rock wall above the buildings, a huge mural showed Ioene in full eruption, ash and flame reaching for the heavens while the aurora blazed in the sky. Writings, all in the ancient script, flowed beneath the depiction.

As if that weren’t already amazing, the painting glowed. Red flame, blue-green shimmer of the aurora. And in the center of the picture was a lone figure, larger than life-sized.

Standing on the island’s skirt, where the black-pumice beach met the lapping sea, the figure glowed like the moon on water. I held my palms up. The color was identical.

Heiklet bent over her knees, laughing with delight at our expressions. “It’s incredible, isn’t it.”

“Did you check the buildings?” I asked.

“Not yet. Let’s go together.”

Tkira glanced back and forth between me and the mural. Her gaze met mine, and she shrugged before looking away. “We’re better off getting our defenses in place first,” she said.

Heiklet sobered, crestfallen, and Islilla drew herself up to retort.

I cut her off with a sharp glance. Heiklet’s friend had caused enough strife for one day. Besides, Tkira was right and ought to be recognized for it.

“There’s nothing to keep Mieshk’s people from coming through,” Tkira said. “If not today, eventually.”

“But we chose the tunnel because we decided they wouldn’t follow us,” Islilla said.

“We should assume the worst and deal with it.” Raav stepped next to Tkira. “They’ll find the passage and follow us through. So what do we do? Stand at the hole and bludgeon them when they come out?”

His nostrils flared. I felt bad for him, knowing he was mentally reliving Anker’s death. But then my thoughts returned to Katrikki’s sister, and my sympathy withered. It was petty, but my pride had been hurt.

The reminder of the beach fight sobered the mood.

“What do you want to do, Raav?” Heiklet said gently.

He looked down at the water. “I want to climb on board the Evaeni and sail home.”

Gaff thumped his crutch on the stone as if in thought. “I don’t see that—”

Voices, distant and echoing, made the big oarsman swallow his words. It didn’t sound like Mieshk’s hunters had entered the tunnel—yet. More likely, the searchers had gathered at the spring for a rest. Still . . .

I scanned the lagoon for options. The dark hollows on the far side might lead out, but we had no way of knowing. Our best chance was to stand here.

Tkira crept to the passage’s exit. She laid a finger on the arch of stone that crowned the tunnel. “Weaknesses. Here and here,” she whispered while she pointed. “If we swing the hammers just right . . .”

“A cave-in? It cuts off our only exit.” Raav whispered. “Plus, they’ll hear us.”

Gaff surveyed the ring of cliffs that circled the haven. “Good defenses. And there’s water here. Not the worst spot to be trapped.”

“The jellyfish are edible,” I said. “Just not very tasty.”

“Better a collapse than another fight.” Gaff pawed through the rucksacks and came up with the pair of blacksmithing hammers.

“Wait.” Tkira said, the sharp angles of her face lit by the blue-green glow from the water. “I’ll check the other passages. Might be another way out.”

No. They lead nowhere. A thousand voices whispered at once, filling my head like wind howling through a cavern.

“What?” I spoke out loud before realizing it. Raav and Tkira stared at me.

“I said that I’d check the other caves,” Tkira said.

I shook my head. “They’re dead ends.”

“And you know this because . . .”

Bring us to the passage.

Terrified I’d lost my mind, I grabbed handfuls of my hair and tugged. My scars tingled.

Touch Ioene and we can help you. A single voice now, male, speaking clearly in my mind.

The comforting tone muffled my rising panic. As if sleepwalking, I shuffled to the passage’s entrance and placed a palm on the rock wall. A strange heat spread up my arm.

Heiklet gasped. I ignored her.

Abruptly, the wall shuddered.

“Get back!” Gaff yelled while hopping away.

I closed my eyes and kept the contact. Rock grated, dust filled the air, and with a roar the tunnel collapsed.

Abzill, Takanom. Souls gone to join the fires of Ioene in sacrifice to the congregation. The voice pinched off as if squeezed from my mind.

“What are you?” I asked quietly.

There was no answer.

“The nightstrands,” Heiklet said. “When she touched the rock, two of them slithered off and into the cracks.”

“Huh,” Gaff grunted. He slapped me on the shoulder and then stumped over to sit on the edge of the ledge. “Nice work.”

I stared at the rubble. What was happening to me?

Chapter Twenty-Two

“YOU CAN’T TELL me you didn’t notice the glowing girl in the picture up there,” Raav said when he offered me a hand up the rocky step. We’d divided into pairs to search the buildings and lagoon. I would have ignored his help if I didn't worry I’d slip and embarrass myself.

He clasped me firmly around the wrist and pulled, wrapping his other arm around my waist to steady me.

“Can I talk to you later about Mareti Korpit?” he asked, leaning down to my ear. He was so close I felt the air move when he breathed.

“I don’t see what there is talk about. But anyway, what makes you think it’s a girl?”

Raav shrugged and stepped back. “You’re a girl and you glow. Also, you can collapse tunnels and wear nightstrands like clothing. I’d paint a picture of you if I could.”

“It’s not me.”

He smiled crookedly. “Tell the truth, Lilik. You’re actually one thousand years old and this is your first time visiting home since you posed for that picture.”

“Pretty sad, isn’t it? I’ve been alive for a thousand years and my family still sells eggs for a living.”

Raav chuckled, which improved my mood despite my desire to stay irritated. Maybe we could be friends, but nothing beyond that.

I sighed. The group was a lot better off than we’d been a few hours ago, but my initial numbness and shock after fleeing the beach was fading, allowing the significance of recent events to slam me. It would take more than Raav’s jokes to fix the situation. Voyagers were attacking one another. Raav had killed someone. Mieshk Ulstat had declared herself a god, was commanding people to hunt us, and those people were listening.

And, as if my glowing, tingling scars weren’t weird enough, now I was some kind of nightcaller after all, except that I couldn’t actually see or control the strands.

“Did they teach the sentinels anything about the strands? Anything you didn’t already know, I mean?” I asked as we ducked into a building.

“Curious about your newfound powers?” His smile drained away when I didn’t return it. “Nothing more than what the strandmistress taught you, I’m sure. So how’d you—I mean, what did you do to make them collapse the tunnel?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really understand it.”

That and the voices made me seriously uncomfortable. I needed time to think. I’d read almost everything that had been written about Ioene, which meant that the answer was probably locked away somewhere in my memories.

Or, I could accept that no one from the Kiriilt Islands had ever experienced this. The world was full of mysteries—like the nightstrands and the ancient forges, the endless maelstrom in the Stornisk Sea, and the monks on the rocky, mist-cloaked ledges of the Jalakyrisi Spicelands who pulled truth from the tides’ sway. Heiklet thought the strands had chosen me—that they were somehow alive. I wasn’t ready to take that step.

“But you must have some ideas,” Raav said.

“I’m not ready to talk about it.”

“Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

Inside the building, the wash of blue light from the lagoon painted the walls and stone shelves a cool azure. Unlike the forges, these buildings contained furniture. An ewer stood next to a basin, and there was an oven complete with a tray for coals and vents to control air flow.

I ran my hand over the back of a chair. Curlicues and whorls were carved into the wooden flesh, buffed smooth. When I pressed my palm against the patterns, a sensation of cool sparks traveled up my arm.

“You think the forge-builders made these buildings, too?” he asked.

“I guess so.”

“What keeps this stuff from falling apart? I mean, how long has it been?”

“The first Nocturnai was five hundred and forty-four years ago. So longer than that.”

Raav lowered himself carefully into a chair and laid his palms on a stone-topped table. “Back home, I only went into the kitchen to warn the cooks when my brother was in a bad mood. He expected meals to be perfect. On a good day, he docked the staff’s pay for errors. Bad days, he had them whipped.”

From the little I’d heard about Raav’s brother, I already hated him. I wondered how Raav managed to live under his roof but didn’t want to talk any more about his past. Inevitably, it would bring up Mareti Korpit.

“All we need now is to find another exit. We need wood and supplies. Food, mostly.” I peeked into a back room. Shelves lined the walls, and a stool had been left in a corner. Storage.

“And what happens after we’ve solved the problem of surviving.”

Raav clasped his hands on the tabletop. He looked at me from under a disheveled fringe of hair. He really needed a haircut. Not that we had any scissors.

“I don’t know. We don’t have a boat or the wood to build one, unless we want to build a raft out of chairs.” I nudged the chair I’d been admiring earlier. “If the others do manage to put together something seaworthy, I doubt they’ll invite us on the voyage.”

“Well, at least we’ll have each other.” Raav grinned, but he didn’t make eye contact.

I stepped into the storeroom to escape the awkwardness.

“Hard to believe all this was here,” I said.

“How much of the island has been explored, Lilik? We found this. What if there were other settlements?”

“And the wood they used doesn’t fall apart. We just need to find more.” Excitement built in my chest. Building materials. Supplies. We might still make it home.

Raav smiled. “It’s something to hope for, anyway.”

A loud whoop echoed off the lagoon’s walls. I ducked out for a look. Gaff watched from a ledge midway up the wall, while Tkira, stripped to her underclothes, flew through the air with limbs flapping. She tucked her burn-riddled arms to her body and hit the lagoon’s water with a splash followed by a loud slap when the water rushed back in to cover her entry. The school of jellyfish parted, fleeing for the walls. Tkira returned to the surface and treaded water.

“It’s warm,” she called. “And there’s a tunnel to the sea underneath the cliff.”

Heiklet, sitting with feet dangling over the high ledge, giggled. I couldn’t help but smile. It felt nice to have friends and sanctuary. And hope.

Three buildings held sleeping bunks. Unfortunately, when we paired off, Heiklet and Islilla took one room and Gaff and Tkira another. That left me sharing with Raav. To give me privacy, he offset his sleep schedule from mine. After I dozed off, he’d sneak in, and in the mornings he’d wait until I’d left the building to rise. But it was still awkward, especially when I saw Heiklet and Islilla whispering.

Each day, we sent two people through the underwater tunnel to forage for nuts, kivi fruit, and mussels. Added to this, a few dormant day-season plants stored energy within edible tubers through the long-dark. And if you were careful gathering the stuff—Gaff donated a strip cut from his overtunic to protect our hands—even Eikkas tresses could be eaten after their irritating oils were removed by boiling in sea water.

A storage building held a few metal tools, including scissors. Heiklet agreed to trim Raav’s hair after I refused. She did a nice job. Even if I grumbled to myself about it, I liked seeing his eyes. Beautiful things should be appreciated.

The moon narrowed to a crescent, but the water’s glow cast enough light for us to see when outside. Inside, we burned lamps. In the back room of a sleeping hut, a whole shelf was stocked with glass phials holding various oils. Whoever built the haven hadn’t held our superstitions about the allowable colors for fire—most of the oils burned in beautiful hues from purple to a stunning, shimmery silver.

A few times when we were alone, Raav tried to start a conversation about Mareti, but I pushed his efforts aside. It didn’t matter. We could be friends without me knowing everything about his love life.

Each night before we slept, the group gathered on the lowest ledge where we could watch the jellyfish move through a graceful dance. We talked about small things. The patterns in the aurora. Ioene’s moods—the volcano spouted daily, grumbling and shaking, but none of the outbursts matched the first violent eruption that had marooned us.

I liked the gatherings, and on the night when the moon’s crescent was so narrow I was sure it would be gone from the sky the next, I arrived early with a long stick to stir the waters. The glowing algae eddied behind it, flaring a deeper blue with hints of lavender. It was time to think about our next step. About finding a way home, maybe.

One by one, the others joined me.

When everyone was present, I stood to get their attention. “So . . . Any proposals for what we do next? We’re too comfortable here. Even if Mieshk can’t get to us, we can’t stop the spring storms from hitting the island.”

Tkira looked at Gaff and shrugged. Despite her initial abrasiveness, she’d loosened up since we’d found safety. She seemed happier than she had aboard the Evaeni. Maybe she enjoyed the freedom from a constant list of tasks handed down by the captain. Still, she must have missed home, even if home was a tiny shipboard cabin. Tkira had to have friends at various ports, plus some contact with her children. I wanted to ask about her life before the eruption, but I hadn’t had the chance or the courage.

Gaff, on the other hand, chafed at the confinement. He volunteered for extra foraging duty and asked constant questions about the Nocturnai logs. For all that, though, he rarely shared his thoughts.

"I say we start searching for other ancient settlements,” Raav said. “We can use this spot as a base for exploring.”

“We’re not worried about Mieshk?” Tkira asked.

“Yes and no. Even if they heard the cave-in, they probably thought it was another earthquake.” Raav clasped his arms around his knees and propped his chin on his hands. “The underwater tunnel is the only entrance. It’s invisible if you don’t know what you’re looking for. But if we start exploring the island in earnest, we’ll be exposed.”

I stirred up another swirl of phosphorescence. “We’ve been risking our sanctuary every time we leave to forage. But you’re right. A bigger expedition puts us in more danger. We need to know what they’re doing. I thought we’d see them searching this part of the coast by now. What if they haven’t come because they’re starving and too weak to bother with us anymore? Should we let them die just because they were stupid enough to follow Mieshk?”

I was thinking of Paono, I realized. But there were other people we might lure away from Mieshk. Between Gaff with his crutch, Islilla and her sling, and Tkira and her healing burns, we were a ragged bunch. We could use a few able bodies on our scouting ventures.

Islilla scuffed her feet on the smooth stone. “I doubt any of them would care if we starved.”

“You don’t really think that’s true.”

She dropped her eyes. “Fine. I guess they can’t all be crazy.”

Raav straightened one of his long legs. “Lilik is right. We’re better than them. Shouldn’t we try to help those who’ll accept it?”

Tkira scowled. “We don’t have a raft, and I’m not swimming back to the village. Don’t see why you want to stir that snakes’ nest anyway.”

“Let’s forget the village for now,” I said. “And we don’t have to contact them. What if we go back to the beach where they attacked us. Watch to see if anyone visits and what they do if they come.”

Gaff shrugged. “If they’ve stopped returning, we could forage in that direction as well. And maybe stop watching over our shoulders so much.”

We’d been traveling the coast in the opposite direction from the village. Being able to explore in both directions would open many options.

“Great,” I said. “I volunteer.”

“Why you?” Gaff asked.

“Because I know the area around the lava flow. I spent a week there before you guys came.”

“We shouldn’t forget, in that time you managed to narrowly avoid drowning only to fall down a crack and nearly die of thirst,” Raav added.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m still the best choice.” Besides, I wanted the quiet time. A couple nights out, away from the reminders about Raav and Mareti. Away from Tkira’s abrasive moods.

“All right,” Tkira said. “I nominate Lilik as scout.”

“We shouldn’t break the pair rule,” Heiklet said. “Especially not for this.”

Since our first day in the lagoon, we’d been strict about not leaving the sanctuary alone. It had been my suggestion, and now I regretted it. Resigned, I waited for someone to suggest that Raav join me.

“May I come with you?” Heiklet asked in a near whisper.

The others looked as shocked as I felt.

“I’m small and quiet,” she said. “If you’re the best choice, that makes me second.”

“You aren’t scared?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. But how else will I get over it?”

“I’d be happy to have you with me, Heiklet,” I said.

“It’s settled then,” Gaff said. “Tomorrow you two head out.”

Raav paced a slow circle, loitering until we were alone.

“I think you should tell them about the figurine,” he said. “No one will hold it against you now.”

“But what if they do? All we have is each other. I don’t want to break our group in two.”

He shrugged. “Your choice. But secrets have a way of turning sour when they’re kept in dark corners.”

His hands were in his pockets, and the blue light from the water accentuated the lines of his face.

“You can tell me about Mareti if you like,” I said. “I’ll listen this time.”

He inhaled deeply. “Let’s go back to our room.”

Inside the building, I sat on my bunk while Raav lay upon his. He pillowed his head with his hands, staring at the ceiling. We’d decided to burn the green lamp oil to remind us of the fields on Stanik Island, and patterns of color swirled on the ceiling.

“It starts with my brother, actually. He’s twelve years older than me. Waikert scows sank my father’s ship when I was an infant. So Frask took charge of me.”

“I’m sorry about your father,” I said.

He waved away the concern. “I don’t remember him. The important thing is Frask. My mother is the head of the household, but only in name. Frask runs everything. He’s a brutal man. Extremely harsh. When I was ten, my mother was caught flirting with a commoner. He tied her to a chair and hit her over and over. I tried to stop him, and he said he’d only quit if I punished her myself.”

Raav stopped speaking. His eyes seemed focused on a point far beyond the roof of our small room.

“I had to use a knotted rope and hit hard enough to draw blood, but it was kinder than Frask’s blows. She cried with gratitude over my so-called mercy.”

I didn’t know what to say. Trader business happened behind closed doors in houses built of marble. I was under no illusion that their lives were idyllic, but I hadn’t imagined something like Raav described.

The lamp hissed when its flame licked a drop of condensation from the glass hood.

“Here.” Raav sat up. He lifted his shirt to expose his back. Scars crisscrossed his skin.

I gasped.

“I was not a very obedient boy,” he said.

My mouth tasted bitter. I reached across the space between our bunks and touched one of his scars. Raav shivered. Goosebumps rose on his lamp-lit skin.

“Anyway,” he said, replacing his shirt and lying back down, “things weren’t easy for Mareti either. She doesn’t have the knack for accounting that Katrikki does. She’s not ruthless enough to head a trader House. So they’ve revoked her heir-status and named Katrikki in her place. That’s probably for the best, because the life of an heir would crush Mareti. She’s too kind. Dreamy-headed.”

Hearing Mareti described that way blew fresh air on the little flame of jealousy that I nurtured. It had been easier to tell myself I didn’t want anything from Raav when I envisioned him falling for some shallow, over-privileged girl.

“We kissed once, at some gala or another. Sneaked off into the gardens. That’s it,” he said. “I wanted more, but Mareti didn’t. Up until the day we left, I would have fallen at her feet if she’d asked. That’s the truth.”

He turned his head and stared at me.

“But people move on, Lilik. I hardly remember what she looks like now. If we were home tomorrow, and she offered her love, I don’t know what I’d do. The certainty I used to feel about her is long gone.”

I tried to see the situation from Raav’s perspective. “I guess that people assume you want to attach yourself to the Korpit fortune.” Everyone knew they were among the richest families in the Island whereas Raav’s House had fallen in status.

“That’s why Katrikki chose me as her sentinel. To keep me out of her family’s money pot. Frask has already made noise about disinheriting me because he thinks I’m weak. No big loss—given his recent history of trade deals, we won’t have much left in a few years.”

I looked at the ceiling. “If you don’t marry into another House, what happens to you?”

He adjusted his head on the pillow formed by his hands. “I used to think that making my own way would be torture. Without a strong starting position, I figured I’d have to scratch my way up in the trading markets, beat my head against wall after wall just to amass a fraction of my brother’s assets. Now . . .” He gestured around the small room. “Now I guess I can separate luxury from necessity, and poverty doesn’t seem so bad.”

I smiled sadly. “I suppose we’ve all learned similar lessons. Thanks for telling me. Sorry I didn’t let you before.”

“Good night, Lilik. Sleep well.” Raav rolled away from me. “And thanks for listening.”

Even after I blew out the lamp, I watched his back, the rise and fall of air moving in and out of his lungs. Down inside, Raav was nothing like I’d imagined.

My scars tingled, both on my palms and along the knobs of my spine. Eventually, I laid a hand on the wall, wondering if the nightstrands would speak to me again.

Chapter Twenty-Three

HEIKLET AND I swam through the tunnel after a light breakfast of baked jellyfish. Not the best meal—disgusting actually—but it was quick. After crawling onto the beach, we rested on a driftwood log. Face to the sea, I closed my eyes. Mist from distant breakers that crashed on the lava shoals freshened the air. It was a good day to be moving.

We brought a single backpack. Inside, I’d tucked two water skins, a waterproof canister filled with foilwood nut cakes, a handful of leaf-wrapped mussels, and my cloak. Our quick swim and the oiled leather of the pack had kept out most of the water, but I shook a few drops from the cloak and strapped it on the outside of the pack to dry. To divide the weight, Heiklet slung the water skins across her body.

Speaking little, we fell into a pace that was quick without feeling rushed. After about an hour’s walk along the coast, we rounded a bend and spotted the glow of the lava river. We left the beach and, pushing through brush and scrambling over scree, we traversed cross-country until we reached the spring near my first shelter. From the rocky shelf, we saw no evidence of fires or activity, but we spoke in whispers nonetheless.

After shoving the pack and water skins under an overhang, we crept forward through the foilwood tangle. I pushed the sticks aside for Heiklet, careful not to bend them to the point of snapping. Our feet rustled softly in the leaves, a quiet sound nearly lost in the hiss of lava running into the sea.

Crouched at the thicket’s fringe, I peered up and down the shore. Anker’s body was gone, which was a relief. I’d never seen a dead person. Well, unless you counted Anker himself, in those panicked moments of the fight. I didn’t know how I’d react to his lifeless form.

The beach appeared empty, just a stretch of black gravel broken by tufts of dried seaweed and the occasional thrust of a larger, wave-battered rock.

“Wait here for a minute,” I whispered. I hopped down from the brush-choked shelf, feet crunching in the pumice, and stepped toward the water to see farther down the coast.

The ocean’s scent was stronger here than near the lagoon, probably due to the piles of seaweed at the tide line. Out to sea, jellyfish danced and twirled in the swirling waters where the wave motion mixed with hot jets from the lava. The stars glittered. Altogether a welcome change from the lagoon’s crowded confines. Heiklet was the ideal companion for a day like this. Quiet and pleasant. Not much older than my brother Jaret, in many ways she reminded me of him.

I strode up the beach to the leaning boulders and peeked inside, raising my palms to light the interior. The bed shelf was just as I remembered, padded with a mat of sticks atop leaves and seaweed. On the floor—

Wait. I dropped to a crouch and held my hands over the fire right. The coals were still warm. Hot, even. Reap and rot. My feet slipped as they paddled the gravel, digging deep trenches while I scrambled back toward Heiklet.

My stomach leaped into my throat when a shriek pierced the air. I pushed my legs faster, long strides flying over the beach.

“Run! There’s too many—”

Something clamped down over Heiklet’s words, cutting her off. I froze.

Another scream, this one muffled. Near the spot I’d left her, a pair of dark figures dropped to the beach, coming into aggressive crouches.

I stared, paralyzed. Heiklet. The men shuffled forward.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

I couldn’t fight two grown men, plus however many were with Heiklet. Flight was my only choice, get away and return with help. I whirled and sprinted down the shore. Behind me, running strides crunched in the gravel, gaining.

I cut hard inland, nearly losing my footing. With terror digging talons into my back, I vaulted with a crash into a thorny tangle. Sticks clawed at my arms, legs, and face. I plowed on with blind panic, stumbled and went down onto a bed of rocks that felt like knives. Rolled. Scrambled forward. Behind me, my pursuers grunted and complained when they entered the patch of thorns.

I couldn’t outrun them, had to do something besides run like a terrified rabbit before the hunting hounds. I needed to use my knowledge or my size.

The thought flashed to life, a chance to use my advantages. If I could make it.

Veering toward Ioene’s cone, I willed my cramping legs to pump as I scrambled up talus and scree, bound for the intricate folds and cliffs of the island’s shoulder. Atop the first steep pitch of land, I shoved a boulder back down the slope. It smashed into the scree, loosing a clattering avalanche of smaller stones. The men below cursed and ran sideways.

Not pausing, I continued up with heaving breath. A couple more obstacles like that, and I might make it.

At the next vantage, I sprang onto a boulder and glanced back. The men weren’t far behind, perhaps a minute or two. They scrabbled up the mountainside, using hands and feet and not speaking. I could hear their breath rasping in and out. Wiping the sweat from my eyes, I shook my head. These people were determined. Mightily determined. And my carelessness had delivered Heiklet to them. What would happen to my friend?

Keep it together, Lilik. Guilt could come later. I’d be no help to her if I were captured, too.

Hefting a pair of rocks the size of large goose eggs, I threw my hardest. The men raised their hands to deflect the missiles, and I used the moment to jump from the boulder and continue on. I was over halfway there.

By the time I neared the cliffs marking my high point on the day I’d fallen into the crack, I caught a hint of sulfur in the air. Good. The vent was still releasing steam.

I tore off my sleeveless jacket and wrapped it around my nose and mouth. It wouldn’t work for long—I’d get woozy from the poison gas almost as fast as the men would. But I didn’t need long.

I stopped when I saw the mist rising, ghostly, from the hole in the ground. Chest heaving, I turned to face my pursuers. One, two, three . . . I counted slowly to twenty while they approached. When I could see the shadows in the hollows of their faces, I spun and continued up, just fast enough to convince them I was still attempting to flee.

One of the men let out a low growl. The steam was closer now, stinging my throat through the cloth.

When I felt the first brush of lightheadedness, I cut sharply to the right, leaping from boulder to boulder. My legs seized and ached and wobbled, but I ignored the pain.

“Strange.”

I heard just the one word, probably carried to my ears by a lucky swirl of air. After another hundred paces, I climbed a small hill of rubble. Pulling the jacket from my face, I sniffed the air. No hint of sulfur. No damp poison seeping into my body.

I squinted and spotted the men’s collapsed forms, slumped across the rocky slope.

Crumpling to a seat, I dropped my head to my knees. Safe, for now. I’d managed it.

My leg muscles cramped and throbbed while I watched the motionless forms. My scrapes and cuts settled into a dull burn. Time stretched out like a ray of moonlight cast over the endless dark sea, and still they didn’t move.

The realization crept into my heart like tea suffusing water, darkening what had once been clear. I’d escaped, yes. Those men wouldn’t chase me anymore. In truth, those men would never chase anyone again. The last time I’d blundered into the poisonous air, I’d been rescued from the fumes by falling down a crevice. But without that salvation . . .

I stared. Were they dead already?

When I next inhaled, it was a shaky breath full of the desire to cry. But I wouldn’t. Not now. These people had set an ambush, captured Heiklet. Like it or not, she’d put her faith in me, and I’d failed her.

We had to rescue her, and every moment that I sat mourning my actions was a delay I couldn’t afford. I pushed to my feet, legs like liquid under my weight, and began picking my way down the slope, leaving the dead men behind me.

Regrets are a privilege earned by survivors.

Chapter Twenty-Four

RAAV WAS SWIMMING when I surfaced.

“Lilik!”

Warm hands landed on my shoulders. “What happened? You’re bleeding.” He flopped onto the pool’s edge, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me out. “Bring water! Now!” he called.

From behind, hurried footsteps scuffed over the stone ledge. A water skin touched my lower lip, gentle as a mother’s caressed. Raav’s concerned face hovered over me, lit by the wavy blue light that filled the lagoon. Home. Sanctuary. I closed my eyelids, sank down deep, let him care for me.

After he’d gone over my face and limbs, Raav patted my cheek. When I opened my eyes, the group circled me.

“Tell us what happened, Lilik. Then you can rest.”

Heiklet. I had to get up. Help. Organize the rescue.

I muscled into a seated position, gagging when my head swam. Raav slipped behind me and, crouching, propped his forearms under my armpits to support my weight.

“They took Heiklet.”

He dropped to a seat and nudged me to lean back against his chest. “You mean, they captured her and you got away?”

I nodded. “We didn’t see anyone or we never would have gotten so close to the beach.”

“Did they follow you back?” Gaff said, already holding his crutch like a club.

“No. I—I managed to lose them.” I couldn’t admit I’d killed two men. Deep in my soul, I clutched at tatters of hope. Maybe the wind had shifted, blowing the noxious tendrils of steam away. But even if my heart wanted to believe that, I knew the truth.

“We have to rescue her,” I said. “It’s all my fault.”

Raav squeezed my elbows. “We all agreed on the plan.”

“Rescue. Okay,” Gaff said. “We’ve got to find a way around the lava flow. Foilwood raft?”

“Wait.” Raav’s chest vibrated when he spoke. “They’ve got ten times our people, and they’ll be waiting for our attempt. We need a better plan than rushing headlong into their camp. Anyone?”

No one spoke. There was no good answer. Legs splayed to either side of me, Raav wrapped me close. He turned one of my arms palm up. “Look,” he whispered in my ear.

Lines of starlight crisscrossed my skin. Every scratch and scrape had healed and shimmered in the night.

“Oh,” I said.

“Some had already closed when I wiped the blood away.”

I swallowed, turning my hands to hide the glow. “We can’t abandon Heiklet. She went out there for the good of the group.”

Gaff lowered down to a seat. “They may still have her at the beach. If we’re quick, we might catch them before they take her to the village. Did they look ready to move, Lilik?”

The lagoon’s water rose a couple finger’s widths, gurgling when it filled pockets and cracks. Soon after, it drained back out. There must have been large waves washing the island. I made a quick count of the days we’d been on Ioene. Three or four weeks, maybe. There’d be a few more months before storm season. The waves now were likely just a fluke swell.

“Lilik?” Raav squeezed me gently.

Right—my fatigue was making my mind wander. Would they still have Heiklet on the beach? “I didn’t see a raft. There were hot coals in the shelter. I’d guess that Mieshk left a few men to watch the coast on this side of the flow. Could be quite a while before the raft comes back.”

Gaff grunted. “Could be. How many men you think?”

My mouth moved, but no words came out. However many there’d been, there were two less now.

“I led two of them off,” I said. “Don’t know how many were guarding Heiklet. I couldn’t see her. Just heard her scream—” My voice cracked and died in my throat.

I tried to stand. My legs quivered, then wobbled, then collapsed. Raav scooped me up like a child. “Lilik’s too weak to lead us back right now. We’ll plan while she’s resting.”

He carried me to our room and laid me on a bunk, pulled a blanket over me.

“Hey, Lilik?” he asked, grasping my hand gently. “I felt like you were holding something back. Is there anything else we should know?”

I mouthed the words, too soft to hear.

“Huh?”

He leaned so close he nearly covered me.

“I killed them. The two that chased me after the others grabbed Heiklet.”

Raav’s whole body stiffened. His arms shook when he lowered his face and kissed me on the cheek. “I’m sorry, Lilik. So sorry.”

I stared at the ceiling. “I was only thinking about escape.”

“Shh. It hurts, I know. We can talk about it later. And the others don’t have to know. It will be just you and me.”

“Thank you.” Exhaustion flooded me, cold seawater filling my veins. A single tear leaked from the corner of my eye, and I turned to face the wall.

Someone crept into the room while I rested—an earthenware plate clacked when set on the floor beside my bunk. I didn’t turn over.

I drifted in and out of sleep, floating in guilt when awake, and when I slept, strange dreams needled me, visions of nightstrands tunneling into my flesh, chewing on my muscles, turning me a strange, glimmering white inside and out.

The stone-carved bunk beneath me hummed against my scars, an almost-tickle that was neither annoying nor soothing. I imagined that, in time, I’d get used to it.

Finally, when the crescent moon rose over the amphitheater’s rim, silver light pressing in through the room’s windows, I sat up and nibbled a nut cake.

My heart felt shredded by shards of volcanic glass. I’d lost Paono, my best friend, because I was too afraid to share the truth with him. Next, I’d doomed Heiklet with my carelessness. I’d killed two men without stopping to question my actions. And to balance it all, what good had I done? I’d taught five people which foods they could eat, and in return, they were exiled from the rest of the expedition. Some recompense.

I pulled a lamp down from the shelf and lit it. Silver flame flared, flecked with gold. When I knelt, cold stone pressed against my kneecaps.

I’d never believed in the trader deities. I still didn’t. And no other imported religions had taken root in me either. Sometimes it seemed I was alone in my lack of belief. Many Kiriilti, farmers especially, built shrines to the spirits of fecundity worshiped in the Waikert jungles, even though the savages attacked our cities and burned our fields. Even the traders had superstitions beyond their ancestor-gods. They tossed offerings overboard when they sailed near the Stornisk maelstrom, casks of wine and crates of grain meant to appease the dark god who stirred the water into endless froth.

Every once in a while, I’d joined my father at the beach, sitting cross-legged to ask for blessings from the creator spirits who pushed the islands from the deep. An old belief lost to most. My father learned it from his grandmother and kept the tradition to honor her. But for me, the ritual was nothing more than a chance to spend time with my father. To enjoy the sun rising above the sea mists, and to watch dolphins ride the gently folding surf.

Now I wished more than ever that I’d found a god. I needed guidance. Comfort. Lacking religion, I prayed to the one thing that had filled my dreams since childhood.

“Blessed Ioene,” I said. “Help me accept my actions. Help me atone. If I am ever to return home, help me bring comfort to the families of the men I killed. Help me understand the way forward.”

The earth shook beneath me, and I dropped my palms to the floor for balance. A vibration like a song thrummed up my arms, swelling where my collarbones formed a hollow at the base of my neck.

Following the song, the whispers rose to a roar. Indecipherable. A babble. Shh! One voice screamed, louder than the others. I jerked my hands from the floor, and the noise stopped.

Keep trying. A single whisper blew through my mind like a breeze. Male, again. Maybe the same voice as the one I’d heard before the tunnel collapse. You are a channeler.

I squeaked and then spoke tentatively. “Nightstrands?”

The voice was gone. A shiver crawled my spine and fled out my fingers and toes.

Once again, I set my hands on the floor. Yes! You don’t need that, but it helps.

“Can you hear me?”

Channelers don’t need to speak. We can hear your thoughts if you direct them properly. But yes, I can hear you.

“What’s a channeler? Who are you?”

So many questions. You, Lilik, are a channeler. A type of soul priestess. In raw power, as strong as the long-ago masters. We are the builders. The Vanished. I am our speaker.

“Lilik?” Islilla poked her head in the door. “You’re awake. I thought I heard you.” She turned. “Raav! She’s up.”

These things need time to explain, Lilik. Speak to your friends.

I nodded dumbly. From outside, I heard scrapes and grunts. Raav shuffled in the door carrying a storage chest. He looked at my disheveled state and chuckled before setting down the trunk.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

“I . . .” I blinked. “I guess.”

His eyes were warm. “Good. You deserve it. So . . .”

My thoughts still echoed with the whispered words. I felt disconnected from myself as if watching the scene from afar.

“Do we have a plan?” my distant self said.

“Well, yes and no. While you were sleeping, Tkira hiked far enough to see the beach. It seems we have a problem. But at least Heiklet is still on our side of the lava.”

“A problem?”

Tkira ducked inside. “Mieshk is moving in. As far as I can tell, they’ve relocated the whole camp onto your little beach. Bonfires. Crates of supplies. The whole deal.”

“An invading army,” I said.

Raav nodded. “Instead of building a seaworthy ship, Mieshk has a fleet of shore-huggers.”

I looked back and forth between Raav and Tkira. “She traded away her chance to get home just to attack us?”

Raav shrugged. “Seems so.”

“We can’t stay here with her so close,” Tkira said. “Even if they never find the lagoon, foraging is too dangerous now. We need to discuss our options.”

“Heiklet comes first, right?” I felt like butter in a churn, spun so quickly that I didn’t know which way was up.

The nightstrands’ speaker had called me a soul priestess. Did he mean that the nightstrands were the souls of the civilization that lived here before? The Vanished? I shuddered, horrified. We’d been journeying here to create nightforged goods for five hundred years, calling the strands to us and infusing our creations with them. Had we been imprisoning these souls the whole time?

“Yes, Heiklet first,” she answered.

“Just give me a few minutes,” I said to Tkira. “There’s something I have to do. Something I have to learn.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

THE LAMP STILL sputtered, silver flame dancing on a wick that had grown too short. I twisted the little brass knob to pull more cotton from the oil reservoir, and the flame steadied. Tiny sparks of gold rose within it.

I knelt and laid my palms on the floor. “We’ve been enslaving you.”

Yes. But you didn’t know. You’re innocent.

“I’m sorry.”

We forgave your kind hundreds of years ago.

“You’re the reason the nightforged weapons are so responsive. You give them awareness. I’ve heard that a nightforged sword seems to swing an instant before the wielder decides which way to cut.”

And many other things. But the more you think about it, the more you’ll regret. None of you knew what we were, and we had no way to tell you. Our dead have always spoken through channelers—

“Wait. Stop there. I took a test to see if I could call the nightstrands. I can’t. I have no talent.”

You misunderstand. The soul priestesses you call “nightcallers” are not channelers. If they were, we’d have made our plight clear centuries ago. There are two types of soul magic, channeling and compulsion. In our time, the girls gifted with the power of compulsion were exceedingly rare. Not so much amongst your kind.”

“We’ve been coming here for over five hundred years, and I’m the first channeler since . . .”

Since we were exterminated, yes. Though as to the honor of being first, I’m sorry to say that another preceded you off your ship. The speaker sounded almost amused.

“What? There are two of us here?” Immediately, I thought of Mieshk. Was she the other? Maybe the nightstrands had approached her initially, filling her head with claims of being the first channeler in a thousand years. It might explain why she’d named herself a deity.

I believe the boy, Paono, is an acquaintance of yours.

What? Paono?

Ah-hah. You projected your thoughts! In time, you’ll be able to control it. Yes, Paono. His talent is faint, whereas yours is a bonfire, but I do believe that he beat you onto the dock. Second channeler in a thousand years still isn’t bad.

“Thanks?”

But on to serious things. Do you want to get home, Lilik?

In that moment, my heart forgot to beat.

“More than anything,” I whispered. “I don’t want to die. I want to see my family. I want all of us, the whole expedition, to return to the Kiriilt Islands safe and whole.”

You cannot return together. Some of you are already dead, as you know too well. Mieshk will end her life here whether she succeeds in her conquest or not. But many of you can sail before the storms.

“How? Will you help?” I jumped to my feet and paced, forgetting the contact with the ground.

The speaker’s voice was faint without the amplification my scars provided when in contact with the earth. In return for your help with our plight, yes. But the things we will ask will be difficult. Our proposal may seem shocking at first.

“More than hearing voices in my head?”

Yes, I imagine it will be worse.

A span of silence followed his words. As I ordered my response, a slight breeze set the lamp’s flame dancing. The room’s walls seemed abruptly colder. My pulse sped, though I couldn’t say why. Air squeezed through my throat, whistling.

Calm, Lilik. You felt that, I see. Your body is tuning itself to our emotions. I should have warned you.

“What’s wrong?” My mouth tasted like I’d been sucking on a piece of rusty iron, and my palms were slimy. I felt terrified.

It will pass. Mieshk just snared another spirit to feed to Ioene. The next sensation will be grief for the volunteer who joins the aurora to balance the surge of fire. I’m sorry, Lilik. You aren’t trained for this. In our time, channelers were identified as infants. You would have been prepared.

“I don’t understand.”

It’s an ancient balance. I will explain when we have time.

I had to shove words past the wall in my throat. “The fire . . .”

We at once fear it and hunger for it. Lilik, before you return to your friends, you need to know one other thing. You are our sanctuary, just as this lagoon is yours. The farther you are from Mieshk, the better. She tempts us, tugging at our resistance.

“We’re planning to leave this place as soon as we rescue Heiklet.”

If we succumb to Mieshk’s call, there is no hope for either of our people. Consider the greater good. Sometimes, a group member must be sacrificed—

“I will not leave her.”

A cold shiver traveled my spine. Maybe I was feeling their anger, or maybe it was doubt creeping through my body. It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t abandon her. It was my fault she’d been captured.

Spoken like a true leader. I cannot begrudge you such loyalty. Consider this, at least. If you will not sacrifice your friend, perhaps you can sacrifice your pride. Let your friends shoulder the danger of the rescue. And try to think of which allies you might still have amongst Mieshk’s group.

Mistress Nyralit? Paono?

While I was pondering how I might contact one of them without endangering myself further, a wash of sadness hit me. So terrible that I choked and stumbled to my bunk. Mourning for the soul of the volunteer.

“I am so sorry,” I whispered.

As am I. For pressing our grief upon you, and for the loss of our brethren. Remember this when you make your choices, Lilik. The living and the dead depend on you.

The realization of my responsibility hit like a sledgehammer. My body started to tremble.

If you weren’t capable, you wouldn’t still be here. Against the odds, you landed on the shores of Ioene. You’ve survived Mieshk’s assaults. Other people have sought your leadership because they sense your potential. You must always consider the consequences of your decisions, but you must never forget your abilities either.

Lilik, you must go now. Rally your group and rescue the young soul priestess if that is your decision. But waste no more time.

“Wait. One more thing,” I said. “What does Mieshk want? Why is she doing this?”

The speaker’s voice was unbearably sad. She wants the impossible. This happened during our time, too, when madness and the talent for compulsion surfaced in the same individual. Mieshk wants Ioene’s fire to course through her veins, and she’ll kill every one of you in her attempts. You gave her the power to attempt it.

“What? How?”

The figurine. Carved by the last mad priestess. It makes her commands nearly irresistible. We cling to you to save our sanity; the dead have always bonded with channelers. If she captures you, she’ll summon the cataclysm. Remember this when you walk into her clutches to save your friend.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“WE’LL PACK TRAVELING supplies, stash them outside, and then head for Mieshk’s camp,” I said. “After we rescue Heiklet, we’ll empty the cache rather than swim back inside. If we’re pursued, it might make the difference between capture and escape.”

The group had gathered on the shelf down by the water. A storage trunk stood open, its contents arrayed on the stone while our rucksacks lay in a neat line. Raav pulled a snug-fitting leather shirt from one of the packs. Hardened ribs and metal accents on the piece made it almost sturdy enough to count as armor. When I shrugged, he looked pointedly at my scars as if to suggest I could use a little extra protection. Fine, maybe I could. I rolled my eyes and snatched the garment from him.

Tkira snorted. “I guess that’s your opinion on our plan. Anyone else want to add to this discussion, or are you all too cowed by Lilik’s sudden evidence of a spine?”

“Last time we listened to her, Heiklet got captured.” Islilla met my gaze. “Why should she make the plan? We have enough food to hide out here for a few days. Why not focus on Heiklet and then get ready to leave?”

Lead, Lilik, I thought. Have faith in your abilities. “It’s complicated. A lot to explain, and I don’t understand much of it. But the longer I’m near Mieshk, the more dangerous things get.”

Their gazes flitted to the buildings and around the ring of cliffs that protected our haven. I could tell that they were questioning my logic.

“I’m not saying we proceed without a plan. I have ideas on the rescue to share. But we can’t take any more time than absolutely necessary.”

Gaff scratched the back of his neck. “Talking in riddles about you and Mieshk. As far as I’m concerned, asking us to follow you without a good explanation isn’t so different from that Ulstat girl naming herself a deity. And Islilla is right. This is a safe spot to retreat to immediately after the rescue. Why leave it?”

Around the circle, nods confirmed agreement. I was losing them.

Looking to Raav first, I drew breath. “If I don’t get farther from Mieshk, she’ll bury the island in lava.” I gritted my teeth. “The nightstrands told me.”

“Uh . . .” Gaff said.

Raav returned the metal scraper he’d been examining to the trunk. “I’m not sure I understand.”

I swallowed throat dry. “I’m not sure I do either. If Heiklet hadn’t seen the strands enter the stone just before the tunnel collapsed, I’d probably think I’d gone insane.”

“They talk to you?” Islilla asked. Her eyes were wide, luminous in her small face.

I nodded. “They say I’m a channeler.”

A lava spout erupted from the mountain’s crown. Firelight sprayed across the heavens, scarlet against the cool wash of the aurora. I wondered if that was the burst of energy from the soul Mieshk had taken.

“What’s a channeler?” Raav asked. “Like a nightcaller?”

My eyes wandered to the mural. Did all channelers glow?

I shrugged. “I guess it’s similar. I don’t really know. The strands claim they’re the spirits of the people who built this place. They call themselves the Vanished. Mieshk is causing the eruptions by using her calling talent to force them to bond with the volcano. The closer I am to her, the harder it is for them to resist.”

As I finished speaking, a sort of awe settled over the group.

After a moment, Gaff snorted, a noise halfway between a laugh and an exasperated sigh. “Oh, why not? Say we believe you. The nightstrands tell us to leave, I guess we ought to listen. We still have the problem of getting Heiklet away from that scarecrow of an Ulstat, though.”

“You agree then? We’ll leave as soon as we’re ready?”

The big man looked around the lagoon, sucking his teeth. “We weren’t going to stay forever, anyway.”

The others nodded, and relief passed through me like cool water.

“So . . .” I said. “How about that rescue plan?”

The floats were Gaff’s idea. With foilwood bundles propping us under the armpits, we could approach Mieshk’s camp from the sea, low enough to the water that the waves would hide us. Mieshk’s people wouldn’t expect us from that side. We decided to formulate the rest of the plan once we got a closer look at the camp, but I had some ideas.

We left Islilla and Raav to gather supplies from the lagoon while Tkira, Gaff, and I swam out the tunnel. Tkira clambered up the jumble of cliffs that thrust up from the shore, intending to examine the movements at Mieshk’s camp. Gaff and I headed the other direction, walking a short distance before finding a spot to harvest foilwood. While he snapped twigs from a thicket near the beach, I struck up a rubble-choked gully. Sweat trickled down from my hairline and sticks broke free in my hands, as I let my thoughts unfold.

So much had happened, and I felt so alone. I wanted to be wrapped in my father’s hug and to play dice with Jaret. I missed exploring with Paono, finding surprises in the gutterborn slums. Street musicians who could play like songbirds. Dark alcoves where a flowering vine had somehow rooted.

Paono. Thinking about him made my chest ache.

In the gully below, rocks shifted and grated against one another. A twig snapped, and I jumped. I spotted Gaff. He was struggling up the rubble, hopping on one foot where the ground was too uneven to use his crutch. I sighed and clambered toward him. Obviously, the man had something to say, and I didn’t want him to twist an ankle trying to reach me.

“Well?” I asked once in earshot of him.

He made note of the surrounding boulders and talus and the rather sparse stand of foilwood. “Interesting choice of a spot to collect your twigs.”

A light blush warmed my cheeks. “I needed time to think.”

“Understood, girl. I figured as much. Just give me a minute to say what I got to say, and I’ll leave you be.”

“All right.”

Gaff’s face was stern. “If you’re going to be our leader, you’ve got to stop keeping secrets.”

“Secrets?” I snapped off a twig and added it to my small pile as if to prove that I was actually working up here.

“It’s obvious you’ve been hiding things since the beginning. Probably such a habit now you don’t even recognize it. Take this business with the nightstrands. You say they talk to you. Okay, but when we ask for details, you claim you don’t understand.”

“But I really don’t.”

“Then let us help you figure it out instead of dodging our questions. We wouldn’t follow you if we didn’t honestly believe you’ve got the smarts and integrity for it. Sure would help if you let us in, though.”

Absently, I picked at the bark on one of my twigs.

“You’re hiding something, and I’d be willing to bet it’s because you’re ashamed,” he said. “But we’ve got to get past that. So cough it up.”

The words just fell out of my mouth. “It’s my fault that Mieshk is so powerful. I brought a particular figurine on the voyage to . . . help me call the strands. Mieshk stole it and she’s using it to force the nightstrands into the volcano.”

I waited for the inevitable anger and judgment. He’d have more questions about the figurine. Or maybe accusations. I’d all but admitted that the eruption and sinking of the Evaeni were my fault. If he followed what I’d said to its logical conclusion that is.

“Well, that scratches the surface, I suppose. You’re expecting me to hate you for that, huh?”

I threw a rock at the smooth face of a boulder. “Yeah.”

“Well, quit it. Fact is, we’re stuck here, and it seems you and your nightstrands are the only advantages we’ve got.”

“But I—”

He held out a hand. “Now wait. I’m not saying you’re innocent. My guess is there’s more to the story.” Gaff set his crutch down and sat beside me. “But it’s a good start. You’ve got to start trusting us, Lilik. We came for your help surviving on this island. We stayed because we believe in you.”

“I’m still trying to figure things out.”

“And you’re afraid of being wrong. You’re afraid that we’ll decide you’re a fraud and not worth following.”

I snapped another twig. “I guess.”

Had I always been so distrusting? Maybe it had started when Paono turned traitor. Or maybe earlier, when my lies had gotten too big for me to manage.

Tucked up in the gully’s folds, I couldn’t see the beach. Occasionally, the breeze carried a whiff of salt-tang, but mostly the air smelled like earth and stone and the night foliage that thrived on Ioene’s heat.

“It’s scary, the things that are happening to me,” I said.

“I don’t doubt it. But you can handle it, kid.”

“I hope so.” I watched the ash cloud billow, cloaking half the stars. “Thanks, Gaff.”

The man snorted. “I’m just being selfish. I want off this rotted island more than anything, and you’re the key.” He nodded up the gully. “Keep climbing if you want. Take some time. I’ll collect your share of sticks.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

IN OUR TIME, priestesses skilled in compulsion—the ones like your nightcallers—were called Mavek’s Hands. Mavek was their leader, and she kept them under iron control. Only the highest circle of girls could execute the official duties, and the others were held to a strict schedule of prayer and meditation.

During the long-night, there are two forces at play. You can still see their manifestations in the mountain’s fire and the aurora. The fire represents power and vitality, and the aurora embodies tranquility.

Ordinarily, when a person dies, their spirit melds with the night aether. It’s a pleasant existence, detached from earthly life but still aware of it. Most of us are content. But especially in the long-night, the fire tempts us with the promise of a return to the vital beings we once were. It makes us act irrationally, turning us from detached observers to malevolent poltergeist. You saw what we can do with the cave-in. A soul that takes the fire’s mana can use it to harm the living.

There are two ways to manage the fire’s temptation. One is to seek a channeler. By speaking through the soul priestess, the spirit finds a window back into life and a way to commune with the living. In our time, spirits that didn’t seek help on their own were forcibly helped by Mavek’s Hands. After a trial where the descendants were offered a chance to plead for leniency, the soul’s fate was chosen. Using their power of compulsion, the priestesses banished the most troublesome souls to the aurora’s calm. Dissolution. Others were allowed refuge in an artifact controlled by the descendants, similar to your nightforging process. This binding cannot be undone, but the fate was considered preferable to dissolution in the aurora.

I lay on the flat top of a boulder and listened to the speaker’s story. Overhead, the stars were pinpricks of cold light, doused here and there with the blue-green shimmer of the aurora. Dissolution into calm. What a strange notion.

“What happened if Mavek’s Hands didn’t banish a soul in time?”

Ioene’s fire is greedy. Delve too deep, and she takes you in.

“It causes eruptions?”

And earthquakes. Upheaval. The storms that lash the island are energy left over from our cataclysm. One thousand years later, the island still suffers.

“Why are the aurora flaring now?”

Because of our sacrifices, of course. You felt some of this in the emotions we shared with you earlier. For every soul that Mieshk Ulstat throws into the fire, one of us must go to the aurora to dull Ioene’s wrath. It’s the only way we’ve kept you alive long enough to help us.

My heart was sinking to the bottom of an ice-cold sea. I felt sick. I should have listened the first time I heard voices down in the crevice. While they’d been choosing nonexistence to buy enough time to get through my thick, stubborn skull, I’d been worrying about inconsequential things like whether Paono was cuddled up with some trader.

You had no training, Lilik. You didn’t know how to listen. Remember, we forgave your kind long before you were born. Don’t indulge your regrets when you have the chance to finally change our fate.

“You said a mad priestess carved the figurine?”

Mavek was wise, but she underestimated the brashness of youth. Some of her younger acolytes grew tired of their lives of prayer and began acting on their own. We rounded them up and condemned them to exile, but not before one of them created the effigy and filled it with fire-touched souls. Their vitality is like a magnet, which is why it’s been used by talentless girls for so many years. We are often able to resist its pull, but in the hands of a powerful priestess like Mieshk Ulstat, the only hope we have is you. And Paono, I suppose, if we could manage to worm into his bull-headed thoughts.

I pressed my fingertips into the stone beneath me, wishing that thoughts of Paono didn’t tear at my heart.

You haven’t asked why he can channel—I’m surprised at your restraint. You know that only girls can call the strands, so it must seem curious that a boy has this talent.

“I suppose.”

You don’t need to pretend he didn’t hurt you, Lilik. We were human once, too. We know what friendship means. At any rate, compulsion is restricted to young women. Ordinarily, channeling is as well. But there are rare cases of extreme empathy in young men. Only the noblest boys showed the talent in our time. Think about that before you decide that your friendship is over. Paono may surprise you.

My jaw tightened, and I realized I was about to cry. Angry with myself, I hopped down from the rock.

“I should get back to Gaff,” I said. “He needs help collecting the foilwood.”

Wait. Lilik, time is short. I told you earlier that you would have to make hard decisions. This is the first. Will you accept one of us as your guide? She will meld with you and mix her memories with yours. You may feel violated by her presence. It will be disorienting. But if I must explain everything in this manner, it will take weeks to teach you what you need to know.

To me that didn’t seem a hard decision at all. The memory of a builder mixed with mine? It would be incredible.

I can see the smile on your face. Don’t think it will be easy. The things we remember . . . We ended in tragedy, Lilik.

Right. I nodded, sobered. “I still want to do it.”

Go to your friends first. You’ll want them around while you become accustomed to the experience.

When I returned to the beach, Tkira had finished her scouting mission and was adding to the foilwood collection. Piled on the gravel, our combined efforts looked like a sleeping sea monster. Gaff nodded at the mound and picked up a pair of scissors and a blanket.

I grabbed a knife to pare small twigs off the larger branches. “See anything, Tkira?”

She yanked on another stick, breaking it free with a crack. “Same. Fires up and down the beach. They’ve set lookouts to watch the inland approaches.”

Gaff nodded while cutting a strip from the blanket. He wrapped it around a bundle of sticks, securing it with a complicated sailor’s knot. “They don’t expect us from the water. That’s good.”

We worked for a couple hours to finish the floats, then hid them under an overhanging boulder before swimming back inside. The cool water in the lagoon’s tunnel set my scars tingling. Jellyfish drifted before my eyes. When I broke free from the lagoon’s surface, I was pleased to see Raav’s and Islilla’s progress. Five rucksacks were stuffed with gear, and another was half-filled. Heiklet’s, I assumed, if we managed to rescue her.

We climbed from the water and stood, dripping, on the smooth stone. Raav smiled a greeting, his eyes like warm coals on a cold morning.

“Listen,” I said before anyone had a chance to speak. “I’m sorry. There’s obviously more happening with me than I’ve been willing to talk about. It’s time to get it all out so we can make the right decisions.”

After my escape from the men, I’d started wearing a long-sleeved tunic to hide my new scars. I peeled it off, leaving just the sleeveless linen shift I wore beneath. The web of scars shimmered from my fingertips to my armpits. “I told you they call me a channeler. I think this is part of it.”

“If you’re looking for opinions, I’ll start,” Raav said. “I think it’s beautiful.”

My lips twitched in a smile. “Thank you. But that’s not what I mean.”

“I know,” he said. “I just don’t want you to be embarrassed.”

Gaff lifted a pack, checking the weight. Probably trying to put me at ease by diffusing the others’ scrutiny.

“At first I thought I was imagining the voices.”

I explained everything I knew, including my fear that I was making the wrong decision to go near Mieshk’s camp. If I were captured, Mieshk could bring the whole mountain down on our heads. Before I finished, I explained what the Vanished had offered: to meld a spirit’s memories with mine.

The others listened without interrupting. When I stopped speaking, Tkira scooped a handful of gravel from a dish on the rocky shelf. She dribbled the pebbles into an open palm. “Maybe you should stay here when we go after Heiklet,” she said.

I opened my mouth to protest, but Gaff raised a hand and cut me off.

“Or maybe these Vanished memories are the advantage we need to pull off the rescue,” he said. “Plus, the nightstrands may have information on Mieshk’s movements. Look at us. A group of cripples and injured. We shouldn’t discount anything that might help us.”

“We need a diversion,” I said. “I have an idea for that, and it will keep me out of the fight.”

“Which is?” Tkira said.

“Paono. He’s still with them. He can help from the inside.”

Tkira looked genuinely confused. “He thinks you’re a traitor.”

I shook my head. “He’s never been able to stay mad at me forever.”

“You’re willing to risk everything on that assessment?”

“I think we have to trust Lilik on this,” Raav said. “She knows him best.”

Tkira shrugged. “Fine.”

Raav squeezed my shoulder, and we sat quietly for a moment.

“So you gonna go commune with your dead souls, or what?” Gaff asked.

Yeah. I guess it was time for that. My pulse throbbed in my neck. I would see Ioene as she looked when the Vanished lived. The notion both terrified and exhilarated me.

“Raav, will you come with me?” I said. “The speaker for the Vanished said I’d want someone close. To help me keep myself grounded when she blends with me.”

He slipped his hand down my arm. “I’ll stay as long as you need.”

Wavelets lapped at the lagoon’s rim, and high on the mountain, a vent spouted ash with a growl, sending a new wave of dark across the stars. I trembled when I stood. Raav wrapped his arm around my waist while we climbed to the room we’d shared for the last few days.

He lit a lamp when we entered the building. I took a seat on the bunk, cool stone beneath my hands.

“Do you need anything? A water skin?” He sat beside me, close enough to lend comfort without pressing into my space.

“I . . . No. Just don’t laugh when I start talking to the air, okay? They claim I’ll learn to project my thoughts someday . . .”

He smiled. “I would never laugh at you—unless you wanted me to.”

The reassurance didn’t help much. I still struggled to find my voice.

“I’m ready for the guide,” I said, finally. The words hung in the room.

Oh, we know. I heard you talking to your friend. But it was humorous to watch you “talk to the air” as you called it.

Great. I hoped this new guide wouldn’t enjoy mocking me as much as the speaker did.

Are you ready, Lilik? Really ready? Once she bonds with you, you will need to practice discerning her memories from yours. You also need to know that she goes to you willingly. She can’t leave unless you let her. But after this is over, I hope you’ll release her.

“I—yes, I’m ready.”

Abruptly, coolness like seawater on a hot afternoon seeped into my limbs, my palms, the knobs on my spine. It sank through muscle and bone and then diffused, melding with my warm flesh and beating heart.

Memories flooded my mind, overwhelmed my senses. I remembered platters of orange and green fruit spread beneath the afternoon sun. Steamed fish lay on beds of vegetables, and I could smell the warm, yeast-laden scent of fresh-baked bread wafting from a dozen baskets. I’d just set a silver cup back onto the table. A deep red drop of honeyed juice slid down the side. I caught it with a fingertip before it stained the tablecloth.

Behind me, Ioene towered, lush with foliage. Steam vented from her rounded crown.

Rounded? I shook free of the memory and recalled my own images of the harsh angles of Ioene’s summit, of fires blazing in the night. Vertigo slammed me.

The speaker’s low voice returned. Her name was Zyri. We chose her because your ages are similar. Or rather, when she died, she was near to your age. She has seen much in the thousand years since, but we hoped that you might still find kinship with her ghost.

“Kinship,” I whispered.

Or perhaps we hope too much. Regardless, her memories may be easier to navigate because of your similarity.

“No. I mean, yes. You are not hoping too much. I’m glad you made the choice you did. I hope for kinship, too.”

When Raav squeezed my hand, I had an abrupt memory of another boy. Tyrak. Pain stabbed my heart. My breath came in quick gasps. They’d warned me that many memories would hurt, but I’d never imagined how much.

I opened my eyes again. The room’s gray walls, lit a flickering violet by the lamp, pressed in.

“Help me to the beach,” I gasped.

Raav lifted me easily. The muscles of his arms and chest flexed against my body while he carried me out beneath the stars.

“She needs to get through the tunnel.” He tried to keep his voice even, but I could hear the concern.

Islilla squeaked when she saw me. I must have looked terrible. Zyri had a younger sister, I remembered. Black-haired with a pointy little nose. She was on Zyri’s ship when it sank, but Zyri didn’t see her drown. Oh, tides. I couldn’t handle this. Images of the disaster pummeled my mind. I saw waves eating Zyri’s companions. Choking sounds and the crash of splintering wood.

“Raav!” My voice cracked.

“Shh,” he whispered into my hair. Slipping me into the lagoon’s waters, he lowered in beside me and grabbed my hand. “Can you swim?”

I nodded. At least, I hoped I could. Because I was drowning in here.

He towed me more than I swam, but I made it. When we reached the open shore, he carried me onto the beach gravel. We sat, and he held me.

The sea’s black waters stretched out to the star-flecked horizon, marred only by the glint of scattered waves and the occasional luminescent patch of jellyfish. And yet, I remembered the clear days of that last summer, of Zyri’s summer. Triangular sails pulled small boats to and fro. In the distant haze, other islands broke from the water. Autumn was coming—already, the sun set for a few hours every night. Soon, Zyri’s people—my people—would trade light silk garments for the lined jackets and thick-woven pants that kept us warm through the long-night’s chill. In a few more months, we’d sow the night crops along the lines of heat that crisscrossed the island.

I jumped when the speaker’s words filled my head.

Lilik. You must take control of the memories. They are no different than your own. You can ignore them or decide to think about them later. Zyri is your guide only. She can’t act. Possibly, she can’t even think. While she is joined with you, she is only a gathering of recollections. When you become too disoriented, push her out.

“Lilik?” Raav still held my hand.

I looked over at him. Instantly, uncontrollably, an image of that other boy, of Tyrak, lay over his face. Tyrak was handsome, similar to Raav in many ways, but with a silvery shimmer in the hollows of his face where the shade revealed the glow of a channeler. Tyrak. So long gone. The memories plunged deeper, into kisses shared on a private section of beach. My chest ached and my belly tingled when I remembered his hands on the small of my back. We’d been friends for so long, and then this sudden love had come like a rogue wave, slamming us together.

“Raav!” I clutched at him, digging fingers into the flesh of his arms, holding on as if I were falling.

“Yes, I’m here.”

He gathered me close. I bit my lip. Hard. Concentrate, Lilik. Fixing my eyes on his face, I pushed away the memory of Tyrak, of the way he smelled like fresh cut wood and the gentle curls of hair over his ears.

“They weren’t together when they died,” I whispered. “He traveled up the coast on an errand the day of the first eruption. No one saw him again. And Zyri was forced onto the ship by her parents. The last of their people hoped to sail to another home. Zyri’s ship sank just offshore. Waves the height of five men.”

I shook in Raav’s arms, shuddering at the memory of being pulled beneath, held down by the roiling surf until I breathed the sea into my lungs.

“Shh, Lilik. Shh.” Raav’s breath tickled my ear.

“Just before the last of their people set sail, the channelers called Tyrak’s soul back to give his last words. But Zyri and Tyrak weren’t family. She wasn’t allowed to attend, but she heard from the priestesses that all his ghost did was call for her.”

I slowly released Raav’s arms, cringing at the red semicircles my fingernails had pressed into his skin. A different memory. A different time. Tyrak’s arms around me. Firm and warm. He bent his face to mine, and his breath was shaky when our lips touched. A tear escaped the corner of my eye.

“Lilik! Breathe. Come back. You’re white as the moon.”

Another pair of lips landed on mine. Supple and warm as a summer day. Raav’s tongue brushed my lower lip, and I shivered. Tyrak vanished like smoke fleeing a puff of wind. I wrapped my hands behind Raav’s neck and sank into him.

Too quickly, he pulled away. “Lilik.” His voice was hoarse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.”

I couldn’t speak. The words piled up in my mind, but nothing stumbled off my tongue. My body quivered. He pulled me into a hug, friendly but not intimate. I laid my head on his chest.

“You’re strong, Lilik. Strong enough to hold another’s pain. Strong enough that sometimes I want to pour myself into you just to feel you hold me up. If anyone can handle this, you can.”

His heart thumped under my ear. Muscles flexed and relaxed when he adjusted position. Slowly, my trembling stopped. A sense of peace crept over me, and I sighed, thinking how nice it would be to spend hours like this.

Zyri’s memories were harder to accept than I’d imagined. It tore at my heart to think about everything she lost. Tyrak, a friend for so long, and in the last months before the cataclysm, he’d been so much more. Her love for him was like nothing I’d ever felt. Like drinking starlight and holding the sky in your hand.

While I relaxed in Raav’s arms, I thought of someone else, too. Paono. By appearance, Tyrak reminded me of Raav. But the years of Zyri and Tyrak’s shared history, the unbreakable friendship that came before their love . . . I wondered whether things could ever have been different for Paono and me. If the Vanished helped my friends and me escape, would Paono and I, like Zyri and Tyrak, never have the chance to say goodbye?

Chapter Twenty-Eight

WITH A FLOAT in each armpit, I felt like a seabird drying its wings in the morning sun. Except the water was frigid, sucking the breath from my body. Without the floats holding half my torso above the sea, I would never have made the swim.

Despite the trimming we’d done on the larger branches, stubs of smaller twigs jabbed my inner arms and armpits. Now and then, I stopped and clumsily treaded water while rotating the floats. But all that really did was make them poke me in different, uncomfortable ways.

We traveled far enough from shore that our heads and shoulders would be—we hoped—lost in the disorganized wave that rippled the sea’s surface. To the left, Ioene towered and fumed. To the right, the sea stretched away like black silk.

I was glad that Gaff had no trouble keeping pace despite his limitation. In fact, I suspected that he’d easily outdistance Islilla, the weakest swimmer, if he weren’t holding back. She no longer wore a sling on her arm, but her legs weren’t used to the work. Gaff kicked with both legs together like a whale pushing its tail up and down. While we advanced, the group clustered around me, listening to my stories.

I kept Zyri’s memories largely submerged, floating beneath my own, and dipped in only for glimpses. Slowly, like the subtle melt of the night sky into dawn, the picture of ancient Ioene formed in my mind, and I explained what I could to the others.

Out to sea, low humps of smaller islands once laid placidly in the warm waters of the summer ocean. After Zyri had died, the eruptions had leveled many of these little islets. Zyri remembered these events in a detached way. The spirits of the Vanished knew most of what had happened since their extermination, but the memories were similar to my recollections of the Nocturnai logs: they were things that had happened to other people.

After the major eruptions, the ferocious storms that now pounded the north in the spring had worn down the remaining island stumps such that no land showed above the sea. Many of Zyri’s people had built huts on the long-gone beaches. They sailed to these retreats for holidays, to celebrate and relax.

Zyri? I asked the question in my thoughts, though I expected no answer. The speaker for the Vanished had considered it unlikely that Zyri could think while bound to me.

In some ways, Zyri’s bonding reminded me of the generations of nightcallers who had imprisoned the strands in mundane objects. She will meld with you and mix her memories with yours.

“Nightforging . . .” I said. “How could we?”

“The Vanished told you to move past it, Lilik.” Gaff turned on his side and swam with both floats beneath his ribs. “No use holding onto guilt for things you couldn’t control.”

“This history is interesting and all, but how about some insights on the rescue,” Tkira said. “We’ll be too close to their camp to talk soon.”

“I guess I could look deeper . . .”

Raav paddled over next to me. “I’ll help you if you get overwhelmed,” he whispered.

By that, I wondered if he meant he’d kiss me again. I assumed not with everyone watching. Still, I wouldn’t mind too much if he did.

I opened the sea gates wide to let Zyri fill my thoughts. For a long time after the girl’s death, none of the souls understood how to exist in their new forms because no channelers guided them. Zyri had swirled on the currents of aether surrounding Ioene, brushing up against the other spirits and their memories, reaching for a purpose.

And then, the first Nocturnai had come. There were no channelers, but among the newcomers were a few whose blood pulsed with familiarity. Descendants. As gifted as Mavek’s Hands had been. When they called, the strands came, only to realize the horror of being forced into artifacts for which they had no affinity.

“The nightcallers are distant descendants of the Vanished, of the type of priestesses gifted with compulsion,” I said aloud. “The survivors must have landed in the Kiriilt Islands when they fled the cataclysm. I wonder why there’s no record of them.”

“And I wonder when they’re going to tell us how to get home.” Tkira sneered when she spoke.

“Wait . . .” I trailed off, thinking.

The cool water had chilled my muscles, making my legs stiff and wooden. I kicked harder to get my heart pumping while I tried to fit the puzzle pieces together. The others fell behind.

The ancestor-gods. Mieshk was using the old superstition to cement her authority. Maybe the trader custom of deifying their ancestors from the Vanished who escaped the cataclysm. Many of Mavek’s Hands had been exiled just before the eruptions. Maybe that coven had fled south, giving rise to the trader lines and their nightcalling talent. I thought of my mother, born and raised in the Outer Isles where tiny fishing villages and artists’ colonies clung to hard rock. Perhaps another line of ancestry—and the channeling talent—ran through the Outer Isles and dipped roots into the more settled Kiriilti Islands as well.

That insight explained much, but it wasn’t helping us form the plan. I delved back into Zyri’s life, trawling for ideas. She remembered a city on the mountain’s opposite side. A harbor the size of Istanik’s.

Yes! I could follow Zyri’s memories to the city. There’d be construction materials. Shelter. No need to delve into the island’s heart in hopes of blindly stumbling upon another haven.

I let her recollections of the city blossom in my mind. Built on the steep walls of a massive harbor, tier upon tier of buildings stretched up to the bowl’s rim. Connecting the harbor to the ocean, a deep channel cut between vertical walls. Carvings decorated the cliffs, scenes of everyday life. Beyond the channel, sails pulled boats on the trade winds, waves breaking against their bows. Another memory flashed, of Zyri’s ship fleeing through that breach in the cliffs while boulders rained from above. The landslide had blocked the entrance, sealing off the harbor and hiding the city from sight. But . . . wait . . . before the final stones had fallen, Zyri had looked back.

“There were still boats at the docks,” I said. “Speaker! Are they still . . .?”

I recalled the wood that hadn’t decayed even after a thousand years. It was almost too much to hope for. I held my breath.

You speak of Ashkalan, don’t you? Our city. I don’t know, Lilik. We don’t perceive the mundane world as you do. We’d hoped to lead you there. But we spoke already about the choices you must make. And your first was to rescue your friend.

The sounds of huffed breath and light splashes filled the air. The others had caught up while I’d stopped to speak to the speaker.

“I don’t want to get our hopes up,” I said. “But there was a place. A city. Huge. Zyri remembers boats! I mean—-it would be a miracle. So much has changed here since her ship sank—”

I shook my head. It was wrong to recount the girl’s death to the others. Just reliving it through the memories felt like I was violating her last moments of life. Disrespecting her death.

“I’m sorry you died, Zyri.” Islilla swam up and stared into my eyes as if she could see the other girl within.

I smiled at her kindness, deciding not to tell her I didn’t think Zyri could hear.

“Look.” Raav pointed along the coast where a jut of land hid the remaining shoreline. A faint glow haloed the mountain’s rising flank. “Their fires.”

Gaff spun to face us. “All right, kids. Essential information only from now on and keep your voices low. Chances are they won’t hear anything over the hiss of steam and their fires.”

“So we’re going ahead with this plan?” Tkira asked. “Lilik goes ashore and tries to get her friend to set the diversion. Meanwhile, we try to forget that she’s the only thing keeping Mieshk from destroying the island.”

Gaff shifted one of his floats. “We agreed we’d use all our advantages.”

Tkira rolled her eyes. “Just making sure.”

“You have anything to add, speaker?” I asked. I’d hoped Zyri’s memories would give me an idea for the rescue, especially after I insisted on coming. Failing that, maybe the other Vanished would help.

Did I mention I’m not sure you’re sane?

“I believe so.”

We’re doing what we can to reach Paono. If we break his mental barriers, you’ll be the first—actually, Paono will be the first to know. Followed by the entire Vanished civilization. Then you.

“Thanks.”

Silently, we swam wide around the point. I couldn’t help but stare. Mieshk’s people had ten bonfires strung up and down the beach. In the middle, the largest fire I’d seen blazed atop a platform of stacked stones. Supplies were stacked near it. Lumps on the beach gravel appeared to be people sleeping, while others milled around the fire, tossing on sticks.

As for Mieshk, there was no mistaking her scarecrow figure and stick-straight gait, even at a distance. She strode up and down the beach, imperious. I suspected she still had that stupid rod clutched across her chest.

Their boats—shallow draft vessels as much low-railed rafts than anything—had been pulled up halfway onto the beach. Once the boats shielded us from sight, we swam toward shore using the vessels as cover. Raav left his floats and the small rucksack of supplies with Gaff and slipped between two of the boats, touching down in the shallows.

Slowly, he stood higher and peered up and down the shore. After a few minutes, he returned to the group.

“They have Heiklet down near the lava end of the beach. She’s—” He cleared his throat, a pained expression on his face. “It looks like they’ve fashioned a whip.”

I swallowed a sour taste. “I’ll go now.”

“Wait,” Gaff hissed. “Don’t forget that if things go wrong, you just run. Don’t try to salvage the situation. We’ll regroup back at the sanctuary.”

I nodded.

“But Lilik,” he said. “Don’t let anything go wrong.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

CROUCHED BENEATH a rock overhang near the freshwater spring, I winced as stone crystals chewed into my back. My thighs cramped from the sprint across the beach. I’d come ashore amid steam from the lava flow, running—I hoped—like a shadow through the fog. But each footfall in the gravel had sounded like the roar of a landslide. Each movement had been the hulking gait of a wounded yak. My heart crammed into my throat, beating erratically. I couldn’t swallow. At any moment, Mieshk’s lieutenants would burst from the thicket and skewer me with their fishing spears.

But none came, not yet, and while the moon rose from the sea, I waited. Moonlight spilled across the land, deepening shadows and glinting off stone and water. Finally, I let myself believe I’d made it without detection.

I’d spotted Paono before wading ashore. He worked at the camp’s fringe, sorting crates and bundles and toting buckets to a stash at the edge of the beach. When I saw him pick up two buckets, disappear into the foliage near the spring, and return with his load sloshing, I knew where I’d attempt to make contact. Unfortunately, he’d been called off to another task just as I crept ashore. I assumed he’d resume filling the buckets afterward, but if he didn’t show in an hour, I’d advance on the beach and figure out another way to get his attention.

I shivered when the cool breeze licked my wet skin, but I worried more for the others. The longer I remained ashore, the greater the chances that one of them would be noticed. Cold and slow from their prolonged time in the water, they’d be easy to catch.

Sticks cracked, and I heard voices. My heart fluttered—I’d expected Paono to come alone. Now that the moon had risen, the overhang wouldn’t hide me from more than a casual glance. Panicked, I retreated to the brush on the far side of the clearing. My breath rasped in and out while I panted and threaded backward through tunnels in the thicket.

When they clambered up onto the rocky shelf, I froze. My view filtered by the brush, it was hard to pick out features, but Paono’s silhouette was unmistakable. He stood with the particular ease I’d always envied.

In the few short weeks we’d been apart, Paono had broadened through the shoulders while his jawline hardened. Soft curls of hair had grown over his eyebrows. In that moment, I missed him more than I missed the sunlight. Thoughts of Tyrak brushed my mind. He used to weave kivi flowers into silly necklaces for Zyri. She loved the perfume that drifted up and ringed her head.

Paono’s companion giggled. Katrikki fell into him and set her hands on his chest. They staggered forward, wrapped around each other. He laid a hand on her hip.

Next to the spring water pool, Katrikki planted her feet. She tilted her face up, waiting for a kiss that didn’t come.

“What’s that?” Paono was looking right at me. “Fireflies?”

Oh, rot. I’d been so shocked and revolted by the scene I hadn’t remembered to close my hands to block the glow. I pressed deeper into the brush, clamping my palms against my thighs.

“I think there’s someone here,” Paono said, advancing.

He wasn’t going to leave without investigating. I could run, but given my lack of a head start, he’d catch me.

“Hi.” I stood from the bushes, knowing how stupid I looked with sticks shoved through my hair and my sodden shirt clinging.

Katrikki lips pulled back from razor-straight teeth. “It’s Lilik! What a nice surprise.” She scurried forward and snatched Paono’s hand.

Instantly tense, Paono tried to turn and check whether they’d been followed, but Katrikki’s weight on his arm anchored him.

“What are you doing here? Mieshk will kill you!” he hissed.

For a moment, I saw my old friend in his eyes. I saw home, the spires of Istanik against the deep blue sky, flocks of birds wheeling around their roosts. A meat pie floated in my mind, flaky crust studded with raisins. Inside, gravy steamed, thick with cream. Paono and I always split one when he brought home extra coin from the crabbing.

“I . . .” My jaw locked up and my eyes stung.

Paono stomped across the rocky shelf, dragging Katrikki behind him. He crashed through the brush and grabbed my wrist in his free hand. With both of us in tow, he shoved deeper into the thicket, stopping only when there was an opening large enough for all of us to sit. Katrikki grimaced when he pulled her down.

He released my wrist but kept Katrikki’s fingers entwined with his.

I didn’t know what to say. The last time we spoke, he’d told me to stay away from him. He’d been so angry that he’d abandoned me in the middle of a volcanic eruption.

My best friend had changed. The gentleness in his eyes was gone. Corded muscles stood out on his forearms. He had a trader clinging to him.

I wanted to cry.

“I heard that you called me a traitor.” My voice sounded like a whiny little girl.

Paono glanced sideways at his new girlfriend. “Lilik, why did you come?”

“Why do you think? For Heiklet. I wouldn’t abandon someone that’s loyal to me.” My unshed tears burned in my eyes. Yes, I’d made a mistake. I should have told him about the figurine earlier. But when I had told him the truth, he’d left me because of it.

I glared, daring him to argue about loyalty.

“You really want to go into this now?” he said. “Because we could have a long talk about fault and blame.” His face was made of hard lines, chipped from stone.

“Fine. No.” I spat the words. “I came to rescue Heiklet. That’s all.”

“Well, honorable or not, it was a stupid idea. It’s too dangerous.”

“Yeah, so? What do you care if I get hurt? You hate me, right?”

His nostrils flared when he sighed. “Lilik, someone had to stay behind to protect you. I couldn’t do it if Mieshk didn’t trust me. I’m sorry I called you a traitor, but I assumed you would understand. I assumed you would also realize that someone on the inside would set Heiklet free. It’s just taking more time than I’d hoped.”

“I—”

“I’m still not sorry for leaving you under that boulder, though. You have a long way to go to earn my forgiveness.”

“I already said I was sorry.” It was a pathetic defense considering what he’d just told me.

“Okay. You’re sorry.” He glanced back toward the encampment, maybe checking the approach to the thicket. Maybe dismissing my words as useless.

I wished I could show Paono my heart. Hand over my soul and let him search it through and through. Because I regretted everything, and the guilt was a black stain I couldn’t wipe away, but nothing would take back my mistake. All I could do now was try to be better, to fix this.

“I mean it,” I whispered.

Katrikki leaned against his shoulder and tucked her long hair behind her ear. “And now you’re here for Heiklet. So what’s your great plan?”

I stared at her, expecting Paono to tell her to butt out. This conversation was between me and him. But he said nothing, simply raised his eyebrows.

“Why do you want to know?” My words sounded petulant, but I couldn’t help it. “So you can run off and tell Mieshk?”

Paono’s upper lip curled. “That’s unfair, Lilik. Apologize, or we leave now. I’ll guard the approach to the spring long enough for you to get away.”

I waited for him to say something else, something that showed he hadn’t actually chosen her over me. Fistfuls of leaves crunched in my hands.

“You have no idea what Katrikki is thinking,” he said. “No right to assume that she’s allied with Mieshk.”

“Except that both of you are part of Mieshk’s army,” I said.

“We didn’t have a choice. None of your new friends invited us when they stole the raft.”

My jaw muscles hurt from clenching my teeth. With no answer for the accusation, I just glared.

“Apologize, Lilik. I know you’re stubborn, but I won’t let you mistreat her.” He wrapped an arm around Katrikki’s shoulders.

I wrapped my arms over my chest to hide the sight of my breaking heart. “Fine. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Paono said. “Katrikki? You okay?”

The trader nodded. I felt humiliated.

It was all I could do to keep from sneering when I spoke. “If either of you betrays me, you’ll hurt my friends, too. It may not be polite or kind or fair, but I have a duty to protect them and choose carefully who I trust. It’s not personal.” Except it was. Nothing could make me like Katrikki Korpit.

“Take the chance, Lilik,” Paono said. “Think about all our years together. Would I be with someone who was following Mieshk?”

He was with her. Somehow, hearing him say it hurt more than watching them show it. I felt as if a gray curtain had finally fallen on our friendship. The inside of my chest was a sodden landscape, ruined, as if floodwaters had just retreated and left a jumbled, wet mess behind. All that remained was my duty.

And my duty was to save the friends I had left.

“If you trust her, I’ll try. So. You’ll help us?”

Paono and Katrikki shared a glance.

He nodded at me. “Like I said, you should have let us free her. We’ll help if it means you get out of here sooner. The voices say you’re the one to lead the Nocturnai off this island, so as far as I’m concerned, the only thing that matters is keeping you safe.”

I dropped the twig I’d been fiddling with. “You hear them? They told me they haven’t been able to break through to you.”

He can hear us! Why didn’t the fool say anything?

“Since around the time you ran away,” Paono said. “They’ve been yelling at me, and I don’t know how to make them stop.”

“Did you try talking back?” I asked.

“What voices?” Katrikki looked nervous, but she kept her white-knuckled grip on his hand.

“I’ll tell you later.” He laid his free hand against her cheek before returning his attention to me. “You mean, just talk? Like I have imaginary friends? Have you considered how stupid I’d look?”

I snapped another twig off the brush behind me. “Just try it,” I said.

He ignored my suggestion. “The voices say that while you go to the city, I have to get your statue away from Mieshk.”

What? No. Paono wasn’t made for that sort of thing. He was a hard worker. Dependable. A crab pot hoister, not some hero.

I spoke to the air. “Leave him out of it, speaker.”

“Huh?” Katrikki said.

“Just having a conversation with my imaginary friend,” I said evenly.

You have your duties and choices. Paono has his. And so far, he’s proved he’ll do what’s best for the greater good, while you’ve come back here for a single girl.

“But—”

Don’t deny it.

I pressed my lips together. The Vanished would not make me feel guilty or foolish for refusing to leave Heiklet with Mieshk.

The speaker’s voice was gentler when he spoke again. I’m sorry, Lilik. I would have made the same choice when I was alive. It is difficult for us—you’ve endured the pain we feel when we must sacrifice one of our numbers to balance the souls that Mieshk feeds to Ioene. We’ve become hardened to the notion that individuals must be lost to save the whole.

I shrugged. “I won’t leave her behind.”

I understand. Now will you please focus? You are vulnerable.

I sighed and forced my eyes to Paono’s. “Mieshk won’t make it easy for you to get the figurine.”

“I don’t have a choice if we want to survive. She’s using it to make Ioene erupt.”

“Yes, but if we get off this island, what do we care if she buries herself and her followers in lava?” Even as I said it, I knew that wasn’t true. Most of her followers were innocent crew, seaborn commoners who did Mieshk’s bidding because they were scared—hardly a reason to condemn them to death.

“You can’t pretend you don’t care about the others,” Paono said, proving he knew me too well.

“But it’s not fair that you have to risk yourself for them.”

“It isn’t just for them, though. The voices told you about the cataclysm, right?”

In my memory, fire fell from the sky while water poured into Zyri’s lungs. Waves the height of mountains reflected the red glare of a world ablaze.

I shuddered. “Yeah, they mentioned it.”

“Then you understand that we can’t predict the effects. They might reach as far as Stanik.”

Thinking of home, of the tens of thousands of people awaiting our return with a hold full of weapons to protect the islands, my heart ached. Even without a cataclysm to send tidal waves crashing onto our shores, how were we going to fend off the sea tribes without nightforging?

I shook my head. Worries for another time.

“Okay, say I agree. You get the figurine and we meet in the city. In Ashkalan. We’ll send someone to guide you.” I paused, my next words clinging in my throat like a sideways fish bone. “Katrikki, too. We’ll sail once you arrive.”

Paono’s brows drew together. “Didn’t they tell you?”

“Tell me what?” I said.

He spoke quietly. “We have to make a choice.”

Releasing Katrikki’s hand, Paono grabbed my fingers and held them gently. The other girl bristled, but she kept quiet about it.

“Assuming there’s a way off this island,” he said, “only one of us can return home.”

I snatched my hand away. “What? No!”

“It’s true, Lilik. Even without the figurine, Mieshk has a powerful pull. The spirits need a channeler. They’ve been so long without. I’ll come to the city, help you prepare, but . . .” He shrugged as he trailed off.

“They told you all this?”

Paono nodded.

We told him many things. We just didn’t realize he was actually listening.

Only one of us? Really? The night pushed in on me, crushing.

“I won’t leave you here,” I said. “I just won’t.”

I’d rather die than admit to Nan that she’d never see her grandson again and that it was all my fault.

“I’ll stay,” I said abruptly.

Paono shook his head. “Here’s the thing—I can’t leave you, either. I can’t choose to leave you, anyway. But one of us has to stay. Otherwise, everyone on Ioene dies. Cataclysm.”

“So . . . you want to put it on me? Make me choose?”

His eyes were deep hollows. “You’re stronger than me. Always have been.”

“Stop it. I don’t want to listen to this. The problem is Mieshk. We have to . . .” I started to tremble.

“Kill her? Don’t think I haven’t considered it. And I’d do it, too.” Paono’s shoulders tensed, pushing Katrikki’s head upright when her pillow shifted. “But she’s too powerful right now. Whoever goes home needs to raise a rescue and a force capable of beating her.”

I pulled my knees to my chest. The night air was cold and comfortless.

Your friend speaks true, Lilik. If there were any alternative, don’t think we wouldn’t suggest it.

“Now, what about Heiklet?” Paono said quietly. “The longer you’re here, the greater the chance they find you.”

I was gray and dead inside. I didn’t want to talk. No matter what happened, Paono and I were destined to be apart. I wanted to tuck inside myself. To hide deep down in the empty spaces of my soul.

“You’re strong, Lilik,” he said. “Everyone on this island needs you right now. We can think about ourselves later.”

I stared at Ioene’s cone, at the fountains of lava and fire-lit ash. Duty. Paono was right. We needed to move forward. Rescue Heiklet and find a way off Ioene. Nothing mattered more than that. I raised my chin, a ghost of a girl.

“A diversion,” I said flatly. “Any ideas?”

Paono bit his thumb. “A couple. But what if that just gives warning you’re coming? Mieshk is insane, but she’s not stupid.”

I shrugged. “We don’t have much choice—Heiklet’s too well-guarded. We can’t get her away without a distraction.”

He tapped a finger on his knee. “Promise me you’ll call things off if the distraction isn’t working. There will still be a chance we can free her later.”

The lava’s hissing mixed with the burbling of the nearby spring. I rolled the twig between my fingers.

“Okay,” I agreed after a moment. “I promise. Wait until the moon is a hand’s span off the horizon. But don’t get caught. Please.”

Paono gathered his legs underneath him. He held his hand out to shake as if we were business partners agreeing on a trade. I hoped the shadows hid my trembling lip.

“Stay safe,” I said.

“Good luck, Lily-pad.”

He hadn’t called me that in years. Using the nickname now, it sounded more like a goodbye than an endearment.

Paono and Katrikki left, hand in hand. I turned away, unable to watch them go.

Chapter Thirty

I HID NEAR the beach, waiting, as the moon climbed silently into the sky.

When it hung a hand’s width above the horizon, the boats at the far end of the beach leaped into flames with a roar. Blue and purple sparks swirled with the red and orange of burning wood, the blazes towering over the beach. Even hundreds of paces away, the heat washed over me.

Heiklet’s guards spun. Flame-lit faces showed shock, anger, and finally, fear. The men pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, a wall between the small girl and the panicked scene down the beach.

“It’s the attack!” one called.

“Hold steady!” This last shout came from the large man anchoring the line of guards. He carried a blacksmithing hammer and his arms like ships’ masts proved he knew how to swing it. Anker’s friend, most likely.

Behind the wall of men, Heiklet lay in the gravel. Her feet were tied together, and another thick rope bound her outstretched hands to a pole driven into the earth. The light from the fire revealed cuts on her cheeks. Her eyes were closed, swollen shut. She didn’t move despite the commotion.

The guards hadn’t budged. Deep down, I’d known it wouldn’t be that easy. I thought about my promise to Paono. Should we call it off?

My friends moved before I had the chance. Inky shapes rose from the water, slipping onto shore. They approached the guards from the rear.

Raav and Tkira led. Raav’s jaw was set, and a pair of rocks once again stuffed the sleeve of my old shirt, swinging from his fist. Same beach, same weapon. I prayed that he wouldn’t have to kill again.

One of the guards glanced over his shoulder—first mate Brik, Makal’s father. He growled. “From behind!” he yelled.

Tkira yelled, feral, and jumped for Brik. She whipped a hammer around, connecting with the big man’s shoulder and forcing the spear gun from his hand. Kicking it away, she swung again, a blow to the ribs that landed with a hollow thunk. Brik grunted and doubled over, coughing and wheezing.

“Careful!” Raav yelled. “Aim to disable.”

Three men circled him, but none seemed willing to brave the whipping rocks he twirled like a heavy flail. They held planks and hammers, nothing they could use at range.

Gaff tackled the remaining guard. They rolled back and forth across the gravel, throwing punches and kicks. Gaff outweighed the other man. Even with his missing leg, he had the upper hand. Blood streamed from the guard’s nose.

Grunts and snarls filled the air. I peered up the beach where Mieshk’s followers scurried around the fires. The distraction would hold, but not for long. We had to move fast, not get stuck in a prolonged fight.

“Islilla, untie Heiklet!” Despite my earlier promise to stay hidden, I burst from the brush and ran for the spear gun. Hefting it, I aimed at the big blacksmith.

“Back off!”

He circled Raav, ignoring me. I jabbed the spear into his back. “Back off, all of you, or he’s dead.”

My finger hovered over the trigger. Raav’s eyes met mine, and his went wide at what he saw. I would kill the man if necessary. I’d murdered before.

“Now!” I shrieked like a crow with its talons ripped out. A seep of blood spread across the blacksmith’s back where I shoved the spear’s tip into his flesh.

The blacksmith’s hammer hit the beach gravel. He raised his hands. Ready for a sudden attempt to disarm me, I pressed harder on the spear, my trigger finger quivering.

“The others, too,” I said.

One after the other, Raav’s attackers dropped their weapons. Brik dropped to his knees with Tkira’s hammer ready to come down on his skull. He glared at her from beneath lowered brows.

We’d won. I couldn’t believe it. From the side, I heard the wet sound of Gaff’s fist connecting with slack flesh. “Gaff,” I said. “Come hit this one, too.”

Raav choked up on his weapon, stopping the weighted end from swinging. “They’ve given up. There’s no need—”

“Don’t argue. We don’t have time to tie them up.”

“But—”

I didn’t see it coming. One of Raav’s attackers leaped from the side and knocked the spear gun from my hand. When the weapon hit the gravel, the spear skittered across the gravel. The man’s weight fell on me like a heavy potato sack. My knees locked and folded and then he was on top of me, breathing in my ear and jamming his knee into the small of my back.

“Wench,” he said.

My cheek pressed into sharp gravel. Down the beach, a curtain of flame stretched along the tide line, boats disintegrating into burning flotsam. Only three remained unburned, those nearest our scuffle.

I flailed around like a frog pierced by a gig. The man on top of me chuckled. He shoved my head down, sweat-slicked palm pressing against my ear. From behind, I heard the grunts of further struggle. Gaff cursed.

“Come on, we can’t lose this thing! Fight!” Tkira’s voice rasped. A rush of air followed her words as if she’d been punched in the gut.

“Heiklet, wake up!” Islilla pleaded. “I can’t carry you.”

Through my pinned skull I felt the vibrations of running feet in the gravel. My hopes sank. Reinforcements.

“Brik, Gant, back off!”

Katrikki’s imperious tone was unmistakable.

I went cold. What had the guards said? It’s the attack, not it’s an attack. They’d known we were coming. I never should have trusted the trader.

“Mieshk won’t want them harmed,” Katrikki continued. “Not yet at least.”

Raav’s voice was lower than I’d ever heard it. “You faithless little—”

“Shut up, Raav,” she said. “I said get off of her, Gant!”

The weight lifted from my back. I pulled air into my aching chest, and black spots danced across the spinning scene.

The point of a fishing spear touched my cheek. Moonlight glinted off the barbed tip. Katrikki held one spear gun in each shaking hand. The other was trained on Raav.

“Anyone else makes a move, I’ll shoot them both,” she said.

My breath came in gasps. I wanted to shove her down and grind my heel into her throat.

Slowly, I clenched and released my fists, easing handfuls of gravel into my tight-squeezed palms. Rolling onto my side, I levered up onto an elbow.

“Stay down!” she shrieked.

“Just wanted to see your face. I need to know what a snake looks like.”

Katrikki’s hand trembled more violently. I ignored her and pushed up to a crouch. This was all my fault, my plan, my responsibility. I didn’t intend to get shot, but I wouldn’t let her win, either.

“Mieshk wants to bargain with you, Lilik.” Katrikki’s gaze flitted over the group. “Everyone back up. Lower your weapons. We’re too few already. If we’re going to make it home, we need everyone’s strength.”

“Mieshk wants no such thing, Katrikki.” My voice was almost a growl. “You know she needs someone to burn on her pyre.”

To the side, feet rasped on gravel as Tkira edged toward Heiklet and Islilla. Katrikki didn’t notice.

I swallowed—if I kept Katrikki’s attention while Tkira scooped up Heiklet, we could run for the remaining boats. Katrikki had two shots, and they’d probably miss. She wouldn’t have practiced with anything so vulgar as fishing tackle. Just feather comforters and five-course dinners for the Korpit heir.

“Slavering after Mieshk’s attention. Just like a trader.” I glared at her. “So what’s the deal with Paono? Just enjoying your little fling with a gutterborn? Does it make you feel naughty? Dirty maybe?”

Her upper lip curled, and the gun’s aim wavered. I’d hit a nerve.

“Because I’ll tell you something, Katrikki,” I continued. “You’re already filthy. A sick piece of trader rot.”

Her aim steadied. I may have stepped too far.

“Maybe I shouldn’t wait for Mieshk to kill you.” Katrikki cocked her head to bring her eye closer to the line of her outstretched arm. Aiming. She wasn’t that bad at it—I may have underestimated her skill.

One of Heiklet’s guards waved a hand to catch Katrikki’s attention. “Not an option, Trader Korpit.” He pointed down the beach.

Silhouetted against the blaze, a mob of men marched in our direction. The leaders of the group broke into a trot. They’d be here within a minute.

While Katrikki was looking the other way, I sprang to my feet and slammed into her, clubbing her upper arms with my fists to knock the weapons down. A spear gun crunched to the beach. She staggered and whipped her free hand over to grab the remaining weapon before she dropped it.

Katrikki backpedaled. Her eyes grew wider, and she mouthed a word: No.

“Yes,” I said, flinging the gravel I was carrying at her face.

Her hands flew up to protect her eyes, and the spear sailed from its housing, zinging past me and skipping harmlessly off the beach.

“Rot, Lilik!” she hissed. “You’re screwing this up.”

“I hope so.”

Without her weapons, she was no longer a threat. We might get out of here after all. “Everyone, run!” I shouted. “The last boat is ours. Raav and Gaff on the oars. Tkira brings Heiklet. Go!”

Raav sprinted for the tide line. A guard cut him off. Feigning surprise, Raav stopped short, pretending to stumble backward. The other man fell for the ruse and stepped forward, directly into Raav’s roundhouse kick. The man sagged, planted a hand on the ground, and then crumpled.

“It won’t work!” Katrikki said, pitched for my ears alone. “There are fifty people coming. You can’t row faster than a boat filled with oarsmen. I wish you’d trusted me.”

Trust her? I had, and this was the result. The nerve of her statement obliterated my last traces of self-control. I whirled and stomped toward her. The look on her face told me everything. She knew I was coming for revenge.

Katrikki raised her palms, gesturing for mercy. I bore down on her—I’d never punched anyone in my life, but I was ready.

I raised my fist, expecting her to flinch. Instead, she reached out and grabbed my shoulders. She yanked me close and spoke into my ear.

“They had you beaten. I gave you the chance to get clear. Don’t waste it.”

I stiffened. What?

She shoved me backward. “Go!” she whispered. Katrikki flicked her gaze toward the approaching horde.

Did she mean it, or was she just trying to save herself? She was right; we’d been beaten or nearly so. And she’d got the guards off of us.

“Go!” she hissed again.

Maybe she was lying. Maybe she wasn’t. Either way, my rage had waned. My friends were halfway to the boat.

As I turned to run, I heard a roar behind me.

“Traitor!”

The big blacksmith was on his feet again. He marched toward Katrikki, mountainous arms ending in fists of rock.

“What?” Katrikki looked so offended that the blacksmith hesitated.

“Don’t even think about playing the white-hankied innocent. I saw you talking to her. Pushing her toward the boat.”

He latched Katrikki by the upper arms. She screamed.

Paono sprinted forward from the approaching group. “Katrikki!”

No! I couldn’t watch. Nothing I could do would save him and delaying would only doom my friends. Teeth gritted, I forced my legs to pump.

The mob grew closer, feet pounding in the gravel. Mieshk’s voice rose above the hubbub, a high wail.

“They’ll be aboard before we catch them. Oarsmen to another raft! We’ll cut them up and use them for bait. A gift from Ioene to bring us the food we need to survive.”

Ahead, my friends neared the shallows. Tkira and Islilla dragged Heiklet with her arms draped over their shoulders. The nightcaller stumbled along, conscious now. I funneled my anger into my legs and caught the group, cold sea pouring into my shoes when we splashed for the boat.

Above the din, Paono called out. I wanted to shut my ears to his voice, to forget that we were leaving him at Mieshk’s mercy.

“Give Katrikki to me,” he said.

The big man shook Katrikki’s arm. “No way—”

“Blacksmith.” Mieshk spoke as if the man were a dead thing washed up by the tide. “Hand the girl over to Paono. Her betrayal hurts him the worst. He has first rights to her punishment.”

Thank the tides! Mieshk hadn’t figured Paono out. Maybe he and Katrikki had planned this, or maybe she’d betrayed him, too. It didn’t matter. Right now, we had to get clear of this beach.

Raav and Tkira heaved Heiklet into the bottom of the boat. One by one, the others vaulted over the low rail and plowed forward to make room for the person behind.

Gaff slapped my back when I clambered into the boat, so short of breath I could barely talk. “Row!” I puffed. I craned my neck to check our pursuers. Cold fear stabbed me—Mieshk’s oarsmen were already to the other boat. We’d never outdistance them.

My shoulders slumped.

“Lilik.” Raav held up a makeshift bow. He’d crafted it from a foilwood stick, stringing it with the cord from our supplies.

“We’ve got arrows carrying oil-soaked rags,” Tkira said. “Lots, since none of us is much of a shot. Gives us a chance.”

The boat jerked forward. I fell off my bench and into the bottom of the shallow hull, mostly atop Heiklet, who moaned. Gaff, sitting behind me now, held a pair of oars clutched in his horse-sized hands. We skimmed out of the shallows.

“Okay, slow,” Raav said. “I need to aim.” He plucked a tuft of shaved bark from within the oiled leather pouch at his neck. After fluffing it on the bench I’d just vacated, he struck sparks from the flint and steel. A wisp of smoke curled up to join the pall of smoke that hung over the shore.

Suddenly, one of Zyri’s memories surfaced. Her family often took holidays on the long-gone smaller islands. While relaxing beneath an awning of thick silk pitched to block the sun, they cooked fish over the campfire. Porpoises leaped in the softly crumbling waves. Zyri wiggled her toes in the warm sand.

I shoved away the recollection. Now was not the time.

The rag on Raav’s first arrow burst into flame, and he aimed the shot high. It arced over the water, dribbling flame that sizzled when it hit the sea. The shot fell at least fifty paces short.

Mieshk’s oarsmen took up the paddles, and they heaved in unison, sending the boat rocketing from the shore. The line fixed to the shore anchor snapped tight with a twang, and the boat jerked to a halt—it would have been comical in another situation. One of the men shouted and speared a knife down on the stern rail. The rope rolled out from beneath the blade.

“Incompetent,” Tkira said. “Maybe we didn’t need the arrows after all.”

“Wait,” Raav said. “Look down the beach. Away from the crowd. Don’t be obvious about it.”

About a hundred paces from the group, Katrikki was sprinting for the water. I squinted, confused. On the beach, Paono rolled on the gravel, clutching his groin and face as if he’d been attacked.

Katrikki splashed into the shallows, casting panicked glances at Mieshk’s group. When the water reached her knees, she dove and swam, seal-like, straight for us.

Was this some attempt to attack our boat and earn back Mieshk’s regard? Or had she and Paono worked out another plan?

Raav’s face was hard. In it, I saw nothing of the boy who’d been so tender with me. “Club her when she gets close. Let her drown.”

I winced at his words. “Wait,” I said. “She claimed she’d intervened because we were losing the fight. We owe her the chance to explain.”

The others stared at me, incredulous. I squared my shoulders. No matter Katrikki’s flaws, if we condemned her without a trial, we were no better than Mieshk.

“Katrikki’s just one girl,” Islilla added. “She can’t sink us single-handedly.”

“Dead weight if you ask me,” Tkira said. “Is that trader going to take a turn rowing?”

Gaff tugged on the oars again, lightly so as not to upset Raav when he stood to fire another arrow. “Better choose fast. She’s a good swimmer.”

Indeed, Katrikki was already more than half the distance to our boat.

Tkira sneered. “Fine. Haul her aboard. We can always throw her off into deeper water.”

As the oarsman on the other boat finished sawing through the anchor line, our little vessel rocked hard to the side. Raav lifted Katrikki over the rail. She slipped into the boat like a fish, corn-silk hair plastered to her shoulders and back. Her clothing sucked tight to a figure that not even I could ignore.

No wonder Paono loved her. I glanced down at my flat chest, the scraggly strands of my typical Istaniker hair.

An angry roar came from the beach. The blacksmith marched toward Paono, lifted him off the gravel, and laid a heavy punch into his gut. He shook Paono hard before dropping him back to the earth.

Katrikki cringed and hid her face in her hands.

“Get that boat blazing, Raav,” Gaff said.

Raav fired a third arrow. It landed within arm’s reach of the boat. The lead oarsman turned around and raised a paddle, ready to deflect the next missile.

Tkira cursed. “This isn’t going to work.”

She was right. We’d be lucky to land a single arrow on the boat when it would take many more to set the mist-dampened wood blazing.

There had to be something else we could do.

“Speaker?” I whispered. “Can you help?”

I’m sorry. Our influence over your world is too limited.

“But you collapsed the tunnel.”

We used our affinity with Ioene for that. The tunnel is part of the island. We can’t sink a boat.

But maybe they could help us set it afire. I snatched the rucksack of supplies and pulled out one of the lamp oil flasks. “What if . . . what about nightforging? You guide our swords, don’t you?”

Yes. If we’ve been bonded to an object, we have a high degree of control. . . .And I think I understand your plan. Yes, we’re willing.

“Islilla,” I said, “get Heiklet awake.”

“I’m awake.” Heiklet’s face was almost unrecognizable. One eye was swollen shut, and a deep purple bruise covered most of her cheek.

“Call a strand and help him or her enter the flask,” I said.

“No reliquary?” she said.

“Speaker?” I asked.

Your brass boxes are effective to keep us confined, but you don’t need them to compel us. It’s the same process.

“No need. Just call and then direct the strand.”

Heiklet nodded, trusting me even after I’d led her into Mieshk’s clutches. I wanted to hug her as she mouthed the words that initiated the calling trance.

It’s a good idea, Lilik. Tie a burning rag around the neck. If one of you can throw that bottle with enough aim to pass over the boat, we can do the rest.

“Actually light it?” I asked. I’d intended to ask for help landing the flask in the raft, figuring the infused strand could help it tip and pour oil onto the wood so that we’d need few arrow hits. Or, failing that, so that we could toss in a tuft of burning tinder when they got close enough.

Of course. What were you planning?

“Nothing. Never mind.”

Heiklet’s skin went white around her bruises, and sweat slimed her forehead. “The flask,” she said.

As soon as I placed it in her hands, she massaged the glass.

“It’s done,” she said after a moment.

“Raav, can you throw well?” I asked.

“No better than I shoot arrows.”

“Let me,” Gaff said. “No one grows up farming potatoes without learning how to throw all sorts of things.”

A farmer? I’d always assumed he was seaborn, a step up from the commoners birthed on land. Interesting, but a story for another time. I wrapped the rag and lit it, and Gaff heaved the bottle over the gap between the boats. It sailed over the oarsmen’s heads. The lead man raised a paddle to bat it aside, but before glass struck wood, the flask disintegrated into a thousand glittering pieces. Fire bloomed in the sky, spraying gobbets of burning oil in a wide circle on and around the boat. Where the oil landed, splotches of fire bloomed on clothing and wood. The oarsmen slapped at the burning patches, stripping off shirts and beating at the flames. I smelled their hair burning.

And so brave Alavie gives her spirit to the aether. We remember and cherish her sacrifice.

“What? Wait—she had to accept dissolution to do that?” I whispered. I knew nightforging was wrong when I asked for their help, but decided it was a better choice than more aurora sacrifices, as the spirit would still exist, though bound to the flask.

I said we had a high degree of control when bonded to an object. However, it is something else entirely to alter that object, as it would be to change the shape of a prison meant to hold you. Only an abrupt change from spirit to nothingness could shatter the glass.

I grabbed a handful of my hair. I hadn’t meant to ask for such a thing.

She went willingly. Many of us have been speaking with her lately. Mieshk’s pull was becoming too much for her to bear, and it was an honorable choice.

That didn’t make it okay, though. I clenched my fists in frustration, vowing to remember her name as the flood of grief spilled from the Vanished into me. Alavie.

“Go!” Tkira yelled. She slapped Gaff on the shoulder. He yanked the oars while she and Raav took up the other sets. The boat darted forward. Water sprayed from the paddles when the flashing oars erupted from the sea, dousing us. I blinked the salt water from my eyes, scanning the beach, desperate for a glimpse of Paono. The other boat, burning and sinking, blocked the view. Men dove from the doomed vessel into the sea.

A hand slipped into mine. Small, fine-boned, and cold. Startled, I looked over at Katrikki. The anguished expression on her face mirrored my emotions. At that moment, I realized she’d been telling the truth. Her actions on the beach were a ruse, intended to help us escape. And I’d nearly ruined it.

I stared at the receding shore. What would happen to Paono? Would he be able to convince Mieshk that delicate Katrikki had overpowered him? And if he did, would the Ulstat continue to value who’d let an asset as important as Katrikki escape?

I squeezed her hand while the beach fell away behind us. I might never like her, but she cared for my friend. We were joined by our fear for him.

Chapter Thirty-One

IN ZYRI’S MEMORY, stone paths crisscrossed the island. People strolled in flowing day-season clothing, following narrow walkways to orchards filled with blossoms and hanging fruit. Where water sprang from rocky outcrops, children played in the pools. Terraced fields with fresh-turned soil stank of the fish meal that the farmers used to fertilize the soil. Zyri held her breath and ran past these, woven sea-grass sandals thumping softly against slate flagstones.

She recalled the night-season as well, though she was younger at the time and only traveled the island with her parents. Through the long months when the sun vanished, the islanders lit the paths with glass globes. Sparks flickered within as if the lamps were filled with glimmering stars. Once, Zyri asked her father to hold her up for a closer look.

Examining this memory, I was astonished to see that the light came from small insects. On Stanik Island, fireflies and glow beetles were dim blue-green dots of light, whereas these insects shone bright enough to light the path for ten paces in either direction.

With so many memories to sort through, I found it easier to navigate if I stopped and closed my eyes while exploring them. Otherwise, the doubling of the landscape, Zyri’s recollections painted over what I saw, dizzied me.

Our small group crashed through brush and scrambled over frozen lava flows, guided by landmarks that existed in both her memories and my world. Cliffs with a particular angle to the sea. A spring that flowed from three places onto a staircase of rock shelves. Occasionally, I crouched and ran fingers over stones flatter than the usual volcanic jumble, remnants of those long ago paths.

Expecting pursuit by sea—Mieshk’s camp had one vessel left—we’d left our boat behind. After a half-hearted attempt at camouflage, mooring it between a group of boulders within the tidal zone, we’d forged off across the island.

Though my navigation slowed our progress, no one complained. Heiklet hobbled forward, leaning on Tkira for support. Islilla followed behind, ready to steady her friend if she stumbled backward. Even Katrikki marched with determination, stopping only to tie her hair back in a practical knot after it caught in the third clutch of brambles.

I glanced behind us often, afraid that Mieshk would find our trail. When we reached yet another boulder field, a forest of massive, jagged stones, I stopped. We’d have to weave our way through, leaving the paths of Zyri’s memories each time we detoured around an obstacle. It would take forever.

“Nightstrands, isn’t there another way?” I muttered.

“Whoa . . .” Katrikki said.

I spun. “What?” My voice was sharper than I’d have liked.

Her eyes dropped from mine. “I wasn’t paying attention last time you—when you spoke, the strands danced.”

Somehow, it had slipped my mind that both Heiklet and Katrikki could see the souls that swarmed me. They’d controlled their reactions, despite how my slithering coat of nightstrands must have looked to them.

“It’s okay,” I said.

Ah, progress. You’ll be a good leader someday, Lilik. In our time, channelers almost always held the high public offices because of their access to so much of our ancestors’ wisdom.

I took a breath. Enough with the history lessons. “Yes, fine. What about my question? Can’t you tell me which way to turn? This is too slow.”

We don’t see as you do. You’ve glanced at Zyri’s memories from her time as a spirit, I assume? We can perceive people, sometimes as clearly as if we still lived. But places are vague and the connections and distances between them fuzzy. One moment, I am near you, and the next I might visit the old city—if I weren’t afraid that I’d succumb to Mieshk’s pull without you to anchor me. Yet I can’t describe the path I’d take in a manner that would have meaning for you.

“Can you warn me if Mieshk is getting close?” I asked. “We’re too vulnerable, traveling like—”

Think about it. She won’t be able to follow your track any faster than you follow Zyri’s memories.

“But you can tell me if they’re—”

Yes. We can tell you. Lilik . . . there is something else. The young nightcaller—she’s exhausted. We see her weaken, but she’s afraid to admit it and slow the group.

Heiklet? I whirled. She looked beaten. Exhausted. But no worse than she had on the boat.

“Heiklet, how do you feel?”

“Tired,” she said. Behind the puffy skin of her injuries, her face looked so young. So hollow.

“Rot,” I whispered.

I dug through the rucksacks and came up with a blanket and the scissors. “She can’t walk anymore,” I explained. ”Paono and I used to tie fabric straps into a chair to carry his Nan on our backs. Raav, Tkira, come here.”

I cut strips and fitted them to their bodies. I had to stand on tiptoes to snug the straps around Raav’s shoulders. “Comfortable? You can take turns carrying her.”

He tugged on the slings, shifting his shoulders while I helped Heiklet settle against him, her head lolling. “I never would have thought of something like this. Seems so long ago that we left Mieshk to find you. We made the right choice.”

He brushed fingers down my forearm. Katrikki’s eyes widened. When I laid a hand on his ribs, she looked away.

The moon slipped behind the mountain, and still we walked. After what felt like a day of searching, we rested at a spring. Heiklet’s face was swollen like a bullfrog’s throat, and several whip lashes leaked blood. I held her hand and whispered comfort. As soon as we reached Ashkalan, she could rest and begin to heal.

Islilla discovered a statue in the nearby brush, a woman standing on a pedestal. Vines twined around her, abloom with five-petaled flowers. The statue was perfect except for a few chips and a missing nose. Abruptly, I recalled an evening when Zyri and Tyrak sat at this very spring. They were just friends then. He was throwing pebbles in the spring’s pool, and Zyri had a strong urge to grab his hand. But she didn’t because she was afraid he didn’t feel the same way. After he died, she regretted waiting so long before she told him how she felt.

“We’re closer than I thought,” I said.

Heiklet smiled up at me, her swollen face pale beneath the bruising. “I can’t wait to see the ship that’s going to sail us home.”

The upper entrance to the city passed through a narrow cleft between cliff bands. Without Zyri’s recollections as a guide, I wouldn’t have spotted it. With luck, that meant we’d be safe from Mieshk after we entered.

Once I saw our destination, we marched at double our pace over the last lava flow. The entrance towered in front of us, a hallway through the stone scarcely wide enough for Gaff to walk without turning sideways. I stepped into the gap. Though the walls pressed in, I felt no panic. This fissure would hide and protect us.

“Speaker?” I said.

You can call me by my name, you know. Peldin. To fix me in your mind, imagine a handsome man of about thirty years. Tall. Some people said I moved with uncanny grace.

“What?”

Peldin chuckled, a warm, low rumble in my mind. I’m sorry. It was just too tempting. I’ve been without a body for so long. It amuses me to remember. Now, what was your question?

“Paono will never find this place without help. Will you give him a guide like Zyri?”

Peldin didn’t respond for a long time. I leaned back against the crevice wall, fighting growing unease.

A bond like you share with Zyri is possible only for the most powerful channelers.

“Then how will he . . .? He won’t last in Mieshk’s camp, especially after he steals the figurine.”

He’s more resourceful than you think, Lilik. If he must leave Mieshk’s camp, he’ll find a way to hide and survive.

“But he doesn’t know how to find food. I’m going back for him.”

Paono doesn’t, but we do. We’ll help him. You can’t risk yourself; these people need a leader.

“But I said we’d wait before setting sail.”

I know. You thought you’d have the chance to say goodbye. I’m sorry.

Throat tight, face burning with anger, I pushed forward along the stone corridor.

Think about your duty, Lilik.

“Just clap shut and leave me alone.”

Ahead, lay the greatest city of the Vanished civilization. And because I couldn’t abandon the people who had put their trust in me, Paono might never see it.

Ashkalan.

In Zyri’s memories, citizens whispered the name with pride and a hint of awe. Even the architects and stonemasons who’d built it were often found admiring their creation, gawking at the sight. Ashkalan’s terraces soared, wide and paved in stone, ringing the dark blue waters of the sheltered harbor. Each wall was straight and true, angled to catch the light of the long-day or the glint of the moon, throwing it back over the sea. Impervious stone laid in tune with Ioene’s lines of power. Even when lava spilled from the mountain’s peak, the molten rock would flow harmlessly over the city, while the citizens sheltered inside.

A low wall edged each terrace, supporting potted flowers and vines that crawled across the capstone. Trees in large urns marked the entrances to staircases connecting the levels. On each tier, buildings lined the rear walls, doors flung open in the long-day to let breezes rustle curtains and carry sweet sea air into back rooms. During the dark months, the flower pots held night foliage and glow globes. The scent of kivi blossom covered the city, and music played in every house.

As I walked along the narrow corridor to the upper city, these dreams of a better time danced in my head. Despite my frustration about Paono, my heart beat faster. I wanted to walk Ashkalan’s avenues, hear the jewelry seller’s cart creaking, smell the spiced flatbreads for sale at the dockside bakery.

At the last moment before entering the city, I closed my eyes. When I opened them, I felt Ashkalan’s ruin as a blow to the chest. My arms were heavy and my legs weak.

The lava flows hadn’t harmed the stonework—the impervious construction had protected the walls as intended. But there’d been no such defense against rockfall or the creeping sprawl of foliage. Boulders had crashed onto the terraces, demolishing the flagstone pavement and crumbling the low walls at the outer edges. Once smooth as cut glass, the buildings’ faces were pitted from years of lashing by storms. Leaf litter drifted in corners like huddled beggars. Hinges had rusted into dust, leaving doors to fall forward into the street. The doorways looked like open mouths, gasping in despair at the ruin that surrounded them.

“Ashkalan,” I whispered.

The others followed me into the city. One by one, they stopped and stared. Islilla went straight to the nearest bench, a cracked stone slab carved with stars and waves. Unable to take her eyes off the sight, she groped blindly for a seat.

“Tides,” Tkira said. “It’s so . . . big. Amazing.”

None of them shared my horror at the devastation because none of them had seen the city in Zyri’s time. To them, the grand scale of the place was a miracle. When I pushed away my guide’s recollections and focused instead on the immense arc of the terraces encircling the harbor, the thirty-story plunge from our lofty perch to the docks below, I understood. No city in the Kiriilt Islands was half as wondrous as Ashkalan.

Maybe we’d had a chance, long ago, to become like the Vanished. But now, we spent almost all our effort fending off the Waikert. During our times of peace, we worked only to scratch our way back to the middling prosperity of two centuries past. Instead of hiring a foreign army while the gutterborn could scarcely afford food, much less the defense tax, the traders ought to hire sergeants and naval captains to train our commoners to fight. Forgive the defense lien. Stop stifling enterprise with the system of trader licensing.

But no matter my ideas, the traders wouldn’t change their ways. The Waikert would keep coming. And now we’d have no new nightforged weapons. Most likely, the powerful trader Houses would sail away to new lives, leaving us to our destruction.

But none of that mattered unless we found a way home. We needed a ship.

“We’ll find a bed for Heiklet near the water,” I said.

After descending a handful of terraces, we stopped to rest on a low wall where Zyri’s people used to sit and listen to orators. The closer we got to the harbor, the more debris cluttered the flagstones and sills and railings. I brushed an armful of pumice from a section of the bench before sitting. It felt good, as if I were cleaning up after a long absence. Zyri had started to influence my thoughts. With her life’s experience stuffed into my head, I wasn’t just Lilik anymore. I’d lived two lives. It would be hard to release Zyri once this was over. Like losing a piece of my soul.

“I see it,” Islilla said abruptly. “A ship.”

The group jumped, startled. Perhaps due to the empty buildings around us, the sense of abandonment that hung over the city, we’d fallen into silence.

“Where?”

“What?”

“Show me!”

Everyone jumped to their feet, climbing onto benches to scan the docks below. Islilla remained seated, simply pointing down at the dock nearest us. From here, the drop appeared straight down, though another dozen terraces separated us from the water level. I planted my palms on the outer wall, tugging to make sure the stones weren’t loose before leaning over.

The docks lay in shadow, hidden from the moonlight by the high walls of the city’s amphitheater. Down in the gloom, the ship was discernible by the faint outline, blue-green algae glowing where wavelets met the vessel’s wood.

“Yes,” Raav whispered.

My knees wobbled. I couldn’t tell much by looking at the vessel. It seemed big enough. The shape of the hull looked like every other boat I’d bothered to notice. But the approval of a trader meant he thought the ship had a chance at being seaworthy.

“Okay, Heiklet first,” I said. “Check the buildings for a bed. Islilla, will you . . .?”

“I’ll stay with her,” the small sentinel said. She smiled, but I knew she was disappointed not to see the ship right away. I made a mental vow to hurry back and relieve her as soon as we finished our initial inspection.

We split up, heading for open doorways. Raav, having left Heiklet resting on a bench, followed close behind me.

Just before ducking into a building, I turned to him. “Will the ship sail us home?” I asked.

Raav’s teeth glinted when he smiled. “I need to see her up close, but my gut tells me yes. To Stanik Island and on past to the Waikert Archipelago if we wanted. You did it.”

He grabbed me by the shoulders, leaned in, and kissed me on the cheek.

I checked to see if anyone was watching, but they were already inside. My cheek cooled where his moist lips had been. I didn’t know whether to wipe away the damp or ignore it. Well, I couldn’t ignore it at any rate, just like I couldn’t ignore the graceful dip in the center of Raav’s upper lip or the way his smile made me stare at the curve of the lower one, but I figured I ought to pretend that his kissing me was no big deal. Starting with not acknowledging it by wiping away the saliva.

“It wasn’t just me. Everyone who escaped Mieshk made this possible. Like Heiklet . . .” My voice cracked.

“She’ll be okay,” Glancing behind me into the building, he gestured with his eyes. “Bed in there.”

I called the others, and Tkira and Raav carried Heiklet into the room. A cot stood against the heavy blocks of the wall. Chisel marks textured the gray stone, calling forth images of the long-ago masons who’d built it.

Heiklet murmured when they laid her down and covered her with a blanket. Eyes half-lidded and vague, she hadn’t spoken in some time. Islilla sat on the ground beside her friend. She stuck a hand under the covers and laid it on Heiklet’s arm.

“We’ll be back soon.” Impulsively, I crouched and hugged Islilla. After laying a hand briefly on Heiklet’s forehead, I led the others back onto the terrace.

Despite our concern for Heiklet, nervous energy sent us hurrying down the stairs. Gaff hobbled at almost a run, hopping and leaning on the stone railing.

On the lowest levels, the air smelled strongly of the sea. The lack of a breeze and the landslide blocking the channel kept the harbor’s water calm, but it was far from stagnant. The tide was out, and even from two stories up, I saw stone pilings bristling with akal mussels. Jellyfish lazed in the calm waters.

The city loomed above, stack after stack of stone buildings climbing the heights, wrapped around the harbor like an oyster cradling a pearl. Even if the ship wasn’t seaworthy, we could do well here. We could clean up the debris. Restore buildings here and there. See Ashkalan renewed, bit by bit.

I tugged on a lock of hair. These yearnings came from the changes that Zyri had worked on my mind. I knew it. It had to stop. No matter how remarkable Ashkalan had once been—how astonishing it was still, one thousand years later—we couldn’t stay. Ioene was not the gentle island she’d been. If the storms or an eruption didn’t ruin us, Mieshk Ulstat would. No place on the island was safe, not even Ashkalan.

Besides, despite Zyri’s recollections, I wanted nothing more than to see my father and Jaret again. Beneath us, the ship that would take me back to them tugged lightly on a mooring chain. I joined the others in the mad dash for the gangway.

Gaff went aboard first, insisting that his time pulling oars in the depths of plenty of decrepit tubs best qualified him to assess the safety. When he stepped on the gangway, I cringed—the wood was one thousand years old. Back on Stanik Island, wooden fences rotted within twenty years, rails sagging from the nails that pinned them to the uprights until the middle turned to mush.

Gaff’s crutch thunked hollowly on the bridge, while his leather shoe sole whispered against the planks. Sounded solid enough—no cracks or groans warned of imminent splintering, and the gangway barely shivered under his weight.

It seemed impossible. I searched Zyri’s memories for the answer. North along the coast, a bay once cut deep into the heart of the island—gone now, obliterated when a whole section of the mountain blew outward, chased by a spray of lava. A Vanished shipyard had graced the bay, derricks and cranes, stacks of timber planks, an orderly row of dry docks. On neighboring hillsides, women and men had worked fields where the pitchplants grew. Brilliant magenta flowers bloomed on vines that swelled black with a particular resin. Zyri remembered it smelling of licorice and pine. After each board was fitted to a ship’s hull, planed to the proper smoothness and pressed into the graceful curve that would slice the water like a knife through cream, men came with buckets of that resin, paintbrushes ready. Once a day for a whole year they coated new-made ships—the wood soaked it up, and you could always recognize a fresh ship by the scent of licorice on the air.

After rubbing my palm on the gangway, I smelled my hand. No hint of resin remained, but it seemed to have done its job. Ships built to sail for a thousand years, and no one needed to press tar into leaky gaps or oil the deck’s wood. I wondered what the traders would give to learn the secrets of their making.

“Well?” Tkira called. “Can we come aboard?”

Gaff had paced a circle around the rail, stomping now and again to test the planks’ integrity. He raised a cautionary hand. “One minute more. Raav, I need the lamp. Want to check below.”

After putting flint and steel to a lamp we’d brought from the sanctuary, Raav adjusted the flame and stepped onto the gangway to hand it across. Gaff disappeared into the hold, the light glowing warmly off ancient timbers and out of glass portholes while he explored the interior.

The others were as impatient as me, shuffling and fidgeting. Katrikki huffed and stepped onto the bridge, but when Raav laid a restraining hand on her shoulder, she retreated.

“Well I’ll be dragged and drowned.” Gaff’s grin was wide as his over-sized hands when he clomped back up onto the deck. “Bunks for twenty, and they’ve still got oars shipped and stowed. Not a leak I can see. Don’t understand it.”

“Then . . .?” Katrikki asked.

“Yes. Welcome aboard.” Gaff gestured grandly, waving us onto the ship.

Closer inspection showed the ship’s age. Though the wood hadn’t rotted—the mast thrust up as straight as that on a trading fleet’s flagship—cleats that would fix the sheets and other lines to the deck had rusted into vague lumps. We’d have to repair those.

I followed Raav into the hold. As we descended, the ship rocked slightly, reacting as our companions moved back and forth upon the deck. Remembering my first below-deck encounter with him, me emptying my stomach into a bucket that wasn’t quite big enough, I blushed.

Gaff had left the lamp at the bottom of the ladder. Grabbing it, we headed deeper into the hold. Sheltered from the weather, below-deck rust was only surface level. The first cabin we entered must have been the galley. Along with a small sink, a long stove with two oven chambers occupied most of a wall, and cabinets complete with sturdy latches for adequate stowage in heavy seas lined the others.

“Lilik?” Raav said suddenly.

“Yes?”

His gaze locked with mine as he laid hands on my upper arms. “What if I don’t want to go back?”

“What?”

“I don’t want to lose the things I have here.”

“Like what? Starvation? Loneliness?”

His serious expression stole the smirk from my lips.

“Like freedom. Until we found this ship, I hadn’t thought about my brother in days. Now all of a sudden, I feel the old Raav creeping back. I’ve spent my life afraid of Frask. Accepting his cruelty because it was expected of me.”

The answer seemed simple. “If you really don’t care about your inheritance, why acknowledge him? Why give him the power?”

“If I could just walk away from my family, start fresh, I would. But I’d need somewhere to begin. Some sort of job. Do you really think that a commoner craftsman would hire me? A shopkeep? They’d assume I’m too soft. Raised with servants that attended to my smallest need. They’re probably right, too.”

“What about the trader markets? You talked about scratching your way up.”

“I can’t touch them until my brother inherits. It’s accepted for siblings of heirs to raise their own fortunes and even acquire the five ships required to found a new House—subject to Council approval, of course. But as long as my mother’s the official head of our House, my brother and I are expected to support her enterprises. If I leave my brother’s home, I’ll be banned from the markets for years.”

“I’ll speak for you in the meantime. My father can help—”

His hands dropped from my arms. “There’s that, too.”

“There’s what?”

“When we go back . . .” He turned his back, leaned his arms on the stove. “That’s it for us. For any chance I might have with you.”

Why? Because I was gutterborn and he was a trader? Did he really care what people thought of us? Until now, I’d been unsure of Raav’s intentions, wondering whether I was nothing but a distraction during our months away from home. And in truth, I was still confused and hurting over Paono. I needed time to sort out my feelings. But the notion that he’d be embarrassed to associate with me stung.

“Say something,” he said after a long silence.

“Unlike you, I’m not worried about what people think.”

Raav moved, fluid, like smoke pushed by the wind. One hand went into my hair and the other around my back. He pressed shaking lips to mine, desperate. The kiss lasted only a few breaths, but I felt every inch of his body against mine, each tremor in his arms. When he drew back, his eyes were closed. He rested his chin on top of my head.

“Thanks for not slapping me,” he said.

I nodded dumbly.

After a moment, he continued. “And no, I don’t care what other people think. I’m worried about you. I know you like me—you just haven’t figured out how much. That’s okay. Here on Ioene, I have months to convince you. Years maybe. When we go home, even if my brother disowns me, we’ll be trader and commoner. You might beg your friends or family to give me a job. We might talk. But I’m afraid you’ll stop noticing how much we have in common. How well we work together.”

“I’m not sure what to say, Raav. I—I do like you. There’s just so much going on.”

“If Mieshk weren’t a problem—if we dealt with her—would you stay here with me? Would you think about it? The city is strong enough to protect us through the storm season. We could rebuild this place.”

His words tugged at my soul. We could be like Zyri and Tyrak. Spend lazy evenings on the beach just watching the waves and the stars.

“But Mieshk is here. And she won’t give up as long as she breathes.” A shiver climbed my spine when I recalled the sight of Anker’s skull caved from Raav’s weapon. Ioene had made monsters of us.

He must have felt me stiffen. “I know,” he said. “I wasn’t saying I wanted to kill her. Not really. I just want something to hold on to. Something to think about on the homeward sail. Will you promise to consider me—us—once we’ve returned home?”

I stepped back from his embrace. My body didn’t want to; I wanted to return to that kiss. It didn’t seem fair, though, not until I understood my own heart.

Just then, footsteps slapped the floorboards outside the galley. Katrikki—why did it have to be her?—burst in the room carrying a lamp and a length of rope.

“Problem,” she said.

“What’s that?” Raav asked.

“Take an end.”

She held up the rope, and Raav grabbed a frayed end. Katrikki yanked.

The line was so decayed that it parted without a sound. Dust floated in the air while the ends dangled limply from their hands.

“The sails are the same. Rotten. No use even trying to raise them.”

Silence followed her words.

“Can we row?” I asked, finally.

Katrikki hardly acknowledged my question, staring instead at Raav. Ships were trader business.

Raav squeezed my shoulder. “Takes at least a dozen men at the oars to move a vessel this size. That’s if they’re well-fed. Even with healthy oarsmen, we’d run out of rations before we made it back. We need the wind.”

“What about the sails from the Evaeni?” I asked.

Katrikki shook her head. “Burned. Other than our small handful of blankets, the only cloth we know of is the canvas Mieshk is using for tents.” She grimaced. “Obviously not easy to steal.”

I pushed past her. No, not easy. But just a few short weeks ago, we’d been ready to live under a stack of boulders for the next decade. We would figure this out, too.

Chapter Thirty-Two

ISLILLA COLLIDED WITH us on the stairs. The girl’s face was gray, her eyes wide.

“Hurry,” she said. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

I dashed up to the terrace and darted inside. On the bed, Heiklet thrashed and moaned. Her hands formed claws near her chest, trembling.

“Heiklet!” Gaff knelt beside her. Holding Heiklet’s eyelids open, he examined each eye in turn. “Seen this before,” he said. “Storm. The mainmast snapped and hit one of the sailors in the head.”

“And?” Tkira said, bursting through the door?

Gaff just shook his head.

“Ancestor-gods,” Islilla whispered.

“Show me,” I said, kneeling beside him.

Gently sliding Heiklet’s lids open once again, Gaff slid aside to grant me a view. One of Heiklet’s pupils was larger than the other. Handfuls of the blanket clutched in my fist, I stared helplessly. How had this happened? A couple hours ago, she’d been walking with only a little help. Had I pushed too hard? Should we have trusted the island’s dark to hide us while we let her rest and recuperate?

You made the right choices. The group is safest here.

I shook my head, disgusted with Peldin’s bland assurances. In his mind, only the group mattered. He’d been ready to sacrifice Heiklet from the beginning.

Channeler. Listen to me.

My nostrils flared at his commanding tone. Who was he to instruct me?

Whatever happens to her, this is not your fault. Mieshk did this. It’s self-centered to think otherwise.

“Just clap shut, Peldin.”

Raav laid a hand on my back. Circled around Heiklet’s bed, we held our silence while she writhed.

None of us had training in healing, but we tried everything we could think of: water dribbled through her slack lips; cool rags on her forehead; blankets covering the windows to snuff the moonlight, followed by the blazing glow of half a dozen lanterns.

Prayer, even. I asked for help from every deity I’d ever known.

Sometimes Heiklet woke, but she wasn’t herself. A monster lived behind her eyes. She ranted and drooled and struck at anyone that came near.

I watched Islilla. She sat against the far wall, wide-eyed and stiff. When Heiklet jerked, she started and cringed. It had to have been half a day since we’d entered Ashkalan, and she’d spent it all here.

“Tkira,” I said, pulling her aside. “I think fresh air would do Islilla good.”

Tkira nodded, grim-faced. “I’ll show her the ship.”

The pair departed, Islilla shuffling like a war survivor. Tkira propped the girl up with an arm around her back, a gentle gesture from the sea-sharpened second mate.

“No use pretending,” Gaff said. “We need to think what we’ll do when she passes.”

Raav had the pieces of shredded rope in his hand. He pushed them together. “Not yet. We owe her our belief.”

“Heiklet,” I whispered, brushing the hair from her brow. She thrashed under my touch, tossing her head back and forth.

We kept vigil through the long hours while Heiklet wandered the halls of her life’s end. Islilla and Tkira returned briefly, but after one look at her friend, Islilla shook her head and ran back out into the night.

Heiklet died as the moon set, slipping into the cold waters of the night-dark sea. We carried her silently to a courtyard where the flagstone paving gave way to soft earth. Zyri remembered grass and flowers blooming there in the day-season. With flat stones and tin plates and bare hands, we scraped out a grave, lowering her gently into the trench, sprinkled by tears. She was so small lying there. Just a child who dreamed of a great voyage, a chance to raise her family’s status, an opportunity to save her nation. A life extinguished before she’d a chance to flourish.

I stayed long after we’d buried her, unwilling to leave her alone on her first night in the ground.

When the moon rose again, Raav came for me. “It’s not your fault,” he said.

I couldn’t look at him. “Does fault really matter? She’s gone.”

With hands beneath my elbows, he helped me up. “No, I don’t suppose so.”

Raav held me for a long time. I don’t know if it made me feel better, but it did make me feel less alone.

Finally, I sighed. “A lot of work to do,” I said.

“Heiklet would want us to make it home. To do everything we can.”

Peldin had remained silent since I’d snapped earlier. I was grateful for it. Forcing away my resentment, I gritted my teeth and spoke.

“Peldin?”

Yes?

“Can you speak to her?” I said.

Yes. Once she finds her way to us.

“Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I’ll never forget her bravery. I’ll carry her in my heart forever.”

I will. She won’t be alone, Lilik.

“Thank you.”

Now. It’s time to let go of your grief. You did your best, and she is gone. Focus on our goals.

Like a sudden gust of wind, anger blasted through me. I would not be told how and when to grieve. Throughout Heiklet’s capture, rescue, and death, Peldin had tried to instruct me how to act and feel. No more.

I didn’t know it was within my power until I shut him out. Just like that, he vanished from my thoughts. He tried to contact me, but his nudges were like the pointless fluttering of Zyri’s night-glowing insects against the globe of glass.

A cavern of peace opened inside my mind. The strands’ emotions had been bleeding into my own since they’d first broken through to me. Their sadness for the souls lost to Ioene, their fear of Mieshk and her manipulations, all gone. I was alone with my feelings, and the grief I felt for Heiklet flooded into that cavern, pure, crystalline, and entirely my own.

Chapter Thirty-Three

ISLILLA RAISED a pair of glass goblets. In the lamp’s flickering glow, they shone, iridescent. We were sorting through the remains of an ancient dining room. Inside, the wood, iron, and cloth had fared better than anything exposed to the elements. But none of the pieces of fabric were large or strong enough to work as sailcloth.

“Beautiful,” I said, smiling faintly at her. I struggled to look at her without remembering Heiklet’s face.

The goblets probably had some sort of unexpected magic, just like most artisan-crafted objects we’d found. There’d been the prism that somehow pulled in starlight and held it captive, twinkling brighter the longer we held it in the open air. Before that, I’d found a bowl that sang a simple melody when we poured water in it. Amazing things—I wasn’t clear whether the effects came from nightforging, a soul giving its life to the objects, or whether the artisans had used the opposing energies of Ioene and the aurora. From Zyri, I’d learned that the lines of power created by these forces had allowed stonemasons to make the city’s walls impervious to lava. Given time, I knew I could discover many other secrets of the Vanished. But I had no care for that. I wanted to sail for home and return with an army to avenge my friend.

“Watch.” Islilla wrapped her hand around one of the goblets. When she removed it, a red hand print remained in its place.

“You try.” She held out the other glass out.

Islilla delighted in each of our discoveries, as if by focusing on them, she kept her grief contained. I couldn’t say no to her. When I laid my palm against the glass and then removed it, a yellow print remained.

“They don’t fade unless you shake them,” she said. “I bet it was to tell people’s cups apart at dinners.”

At least she could pretend to be happy. Since Heiklet’s death, I’d sunk deeper and deeper into a swamp of doubt over the ship’s state. Three days of searching through the city, and we’d found nothing to help us set sail. Soon we’d have to start planning the foray into Mieshk’s encampment, but no one wanted to do that.

We have a better chance of swimming home than stealing the tents from over their heads. That’s what Gaff had said. He was probably right.

So where did we go from here? Maybe Raav had the right idea. Bit by bit, we could rebuild Ashkalan. With enough care, the city might shelter us from both the storm season and the long-day.

Or maybe we should consider his other, indirect suggestion. Killing Mieshk would solve a lot of problems.

Yet again, Peldin beat at my defenses. I still hadn’t forgiven him, but sometimes, like now, I considered asking him for advice. The impulse vanished quickly—Peldin wouldn’t be any help with this. Islilla and I had searched a tailor’s store, innumerable linen closets, and even the shop where canvas awnings had been stitched together with a heavy awl. None of the fabric had enough structure to hold up to the winds we’d encounter on the way home.

“Do you want them?” Islilla asked. “The goblets.”

“Huh? Oh . . .” I realized I’d been staring off into space. “No, keep them.”

She smiled and heaved open yet another chest with rotted leather hinges.

Our lamp started to gutter. I lifted it from the niche in the wall and adjusted the wick, throwing dancing light onto the blank stone walls. In Zyri’s time, bright tapestries had covered most interior stonework, making the rooms feel warm and welcoming. Not in all the buildings, of course. Just as in Istanik, some city sections were home to a rougher crowd. There, soot from ill-tended hearth fires stained the bare walls, and in many taverns, straw was strewn over the floor to soak up spilled drinks. And in the uppermost tiers, a different mood pervaded. Within the high chambers, soul priestesses and the occasional male channeler cloistered themselves in dark-draped rooms. Walls hung with silks ranging from black to deep purple gathered whispers into their folds.

“Lilik, I think you need a break.” Islilla laid a hand on my shoulder.

I shook free of my thoughts. Yes, I was focusing too much on my pasts, both of them. Time to clear my head and consider the future.

The moon hung over the harbor, painting the city in ghostly silver. Far below, I spotted the others crawling over the landslide debris that had clogged the channel. This, at least, was going well. Already they had cleared a strip of open water between the harbor and the sea. Not deep enough yet to accommodate the ship’s keel, but both Gaff and Tkira felt confident they’d succeed. They worked at prying rocks from the channel bottom with the long oars found aboard the ship, and when each boulder tumbled into the harbor’s deeper water, they cheered.

A shout echoed, and at first I thought it came from below. Only when the newcomers called again, “Hello? Lilik?” did I realize the sound came from the city’s upper tiers.

I peered. Up where the hidden entrance gained the city, a handful of torches blazed. My heart leaped in fear. We’d discussed stationing a guard above, but we were so few with so much to accomplish. As a group, we’d decided that an occasional patrol would be enough. Every few hours, someone slipped outside the city entrance to look for signs of Mieshk.

A sick feeling welled in my gut. What if Peldin’s demands for attention had been a warning? But I quickly realized that Mieshk wouldn’t yell to announce her arrival. She’d attack. These people had to be friendly. For the first time since Heiklet’s death, hope warmed my chest.

“Islilla!” I called through the door. “Get out here.”

As I reached the nearest staircase, the people up top yelled again and were answered by shouts from the harbor’s mouth.

“Yes, we’re here!” I called. I took the stairs two at a time.

Just when I thought I couldn’t run any longer—my legs were burning from the climb—I spotted him.

“Paono! You made it!”

My feet kept slapping the gravel-strewn flagstones, and within minutes, I flew into his hug. Paono squeezed me tight.

“The strands wouldn’t guide you here. I was so mad. How did you—we thought the entrance would be too hard to find.” The words tumbled out of my mouth.

Paono spoke into my ear. “We’ll talk about it later. You, me, and Katrikki.”

Neither the serious tone nor the mention of her name diminished my joy over seeing him. I looked up at that familiar face and felt I was home. And strangely, when searched for the jealousy I’d felt for his new relationship, nothing came. My friend was safe, and I could see in his eyes he still cared about me. It was enough. I gave a last squeeze before releasing him, and the pendant pressed against my breastbone, no longer uncomfortable.

“Lilik.”

I whipped my head up at Captain Altak’s voice, gravelly and raw. Right . . . the others. I hadn’t even bothered to see who’d come with Paono. Half a dozen crew and craftspeople stood behind him, haggard and sunken-cheeked. Mistress Nyralit had come as well. Her shredded robes were tied around her legs like pantaloons.

“How did you get away?” I asked.

The captain’s heavy shoulders tensed. “It doesn’t matter. We did as little harm as we could.”

The somber lines of his face told me all I needed to know. There’d been a struggle. Quite possibly, people had died.

“Well, you’re here. That’s what matters.” I glanced at Paono. “And you must have destroyed the figurine, or you wouldn’t have come.”

“Sure.” Paono smiled woodenly at the same time that Peldin launched another barrage at my wall. My hopes sunk. Paono hadn’t done his part. Which meant we couldn’t leave. Well, it was just another thing to work out. At least he was safe.

The others crested the last flight of stairs. Katrikki shrieked and ran to Paono, hair flying. She threw her arms around him. He bent his face to hers. I couldn’t hear the words he whispered.

“Raav,” I said, turning aside. “Let’s show Captain Altak his ship.”

An hour or so later, a small group of us huddled together in a room halfway between the harbor and the uppermost terrace. The room’s stone-stacked walls room pressed close, holding Paono’s words tight inside. Rapt, we sat on hard stone benches and listened.

“Something has changed with Mieshk,” Paono said. “Her eyes glow, almost as if they’re on fire. Every time I tried to get close, she’d turn and stare at me. Like she knew my intentions.”

Katrikki laid a hand on his arm, and Mistress Nyralit murmured encouragement. We’d included the strandmistress in our conversation for her expertise on the strands. I didn’t understand why Paono insisted that Katrikki be here, but it wasn’t worth arguing over.

I chewed my lip while Peldin pounded on my mental shell. I’d have to let him in soon, but I didn’t want to split my attention between him and Paono.

“So you came for help?” I asked.

Paono’s eyes were glassy. “I wish I’d had something so noble in mind. I came because I was too scared. You didn’t see what’s happening to her and her followers. For all I know, she’ll soon start sacrificing volunteers to make more willing strands.”

Mistress Nyralit winced at this reminder that the nightstrands were the souls of the deceased. I could only imagine her guilt. I wondered how many spirits she’d forced into weapons and wine glasses during her stint as a nightcaller, not to mention those she’d indirectly condemned by training later generations of callers.

I wanted to be angry at Paono for failing his part of the plan. But what right did I have? He hadn’t asked to be a hero. He’d only come to Ioene because of me. Besides, a few days ago, I’d argued that the role was too risky for someone like him.

“We can’t leave without getting the Effigy from her,” I said. “So how will we do it?”

“We don’t have a working ship anyway,” Paono mumbled.

“Assuming we figure that out,” Katrikki said. “Why is it our responsibility to deal with Mieshk before we escape? Let the nightstrands fight for themselves.”

Peldin renewed his assault on my barrier.

“I know!” I finally hissed, exasperated. “Just wait your turn.”

“Huh?” Mistress Nyralit said.

“The strands. I’ve been blocking their spokesman. We had an argument.”

“Oh.” She looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“Paono, how did you find us?” I asked.

He’d been avoiding the question since he arrived; a small line formed between his brows when I asked again. Paono clasped Katrikki’s hand in both of his. He studied her profile while he spoke to me. “Do you know anything else about channelers, Lilik?”

“Like what?”

“You sense the nightstrands, right?”

“Not like a nightcaller does. It’s just the voices . . . And a sense of presence, I suppose.”

A wave of consternation crossed his face. “Same. But you don’t feel anything else? No . . . no special bonds?”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” I said.

“I’m not sure how to explain it.” Paono released Katrikki’s hand and draped his arm over her shoulder. “I sense you, Lilik. It’s as if there’s a stretchy, shimmering thread that connects us. It’s both cold and hot, and I know how you’re feeling. Some of your thoughts, too. I followed the bond here.”

I realized now why he was holding Katrikki close. I could imagine her feelings about this, and they weren’t kind.

For once, Peldin ceased his scratching at my shield. Silence filled the room. Katrikki looked pained.

“Since when?” I said.

“I first noticed it just after Heiklet’s rescue.” He paused. “You were tired. Scared. Determined to lead.”

“And now? You can feel me still?”

“Your emotions are always there, sometimes a trickle, sometimes a river. I’m sorry for staying with Mieshk instead of joining your group. I didn’t realize how deeply it hurt you.”

My lips and tongue felt rubbery. What else did he know about?

“Yes,” he said. “I think Raav is good for you. You should give him a chance.”

If he sensed that, he must have known how confused my feelings were about him. Were we just friends? Was that enough? Zyri’s memories of Tyrak had thrown my emotions into a tumult.

His eyes met mine, an electric stare. Paono nodded ever so slightly while he squeezed Katrikki’s shoulder. He knew. But he’d chosen her. My throat clamped down.

Or maybe he meant that our friendship was too important to jeopardize by changing its nature.

At this, he nodded again.

I didn’t realize I’d let the wall slip until Peldin’s voice roared in my mind. A life channeler! Able to feel the living as well as the spirits. Not since the time of legends . . . No wonder we haven’t been able to speak to him since the rescue. He’s focusing his bond-sense on you. Lilik, he must be protected.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force the shield back up. It was no use. Peldin filled my head.

It’s got to be you. The figurine. We have no choice but to keep Paono safe. With his talent, the island’s energy can be realigned. Ioene can be healed.

“What is it, Lilik?” Katrikki said. I wondered if I could manage the same concern if I’d just heard that my boyfriend had a deep mental connection with his female best friend.

“The strands,” I said. “They got through.”

And now that you’re finally listening . . . things are about to get bad, Lilik. If you’d let me in earlier, it might not be too late. As it is, I suggest you get your people inside.

“What?” I whispered. “What’s going on?”

Mieshk’s grown too strong. We can’t counteract her anymore. Her scouts followed your friends here—she and a band of guards are on the way. She’ll send Ioene’s wrath directly on the city.

As if on cue, the light patter of pumice landed on the roof.

I jumped up. “Stay inside. I’ll send the others to you.”

“Wait,” Paono said. “What about you?”

“The Vanished can’t speak to you while you’re focusing on me. Stop and they’ll explain everything. Mieshk is coming—I have to get that carving.”

Paono barred my way. “It’s my responsibility.”

“No, I started this.” I tried to push past him. “I’ll stop it.”

Paono wrapped an arm around my torso. His muscles were like metal bands.

“Then we go together,” he said.

“No!” Katrikki rushed to my side, tugged on Paono. He stood rigid as the stone carvings in Ashkalan’s courtyards, his eyes unfocused. Listening to the Vanished, I realized.

“I’m going either way,” he said. “If you teach me, I’ll have a better chance of success.”

I am surrounded by idiots! Peldin said. One of the others stupidly told him he could sense Mieshk if he focused properly. He could predict her actions. You need to convince him to stay.

“I can’t make Paono do anything,” I said. Still, I pleaded with him. “Stay. You know how important you are.”

He nodded. “The Vanished say I can heal the island. So what? Ioene matters to them. Protecting you and Katrikki matters to me.”

“We both go, then.”

No! That’s the worst—

I slammed my walls up, slicing off Peldin’s protest as I marched past Paono, daring my friend to argue. Paono shrugged; he’d known me long enough to sense when to stop arguing. He gathered Katrikki into his arms, whispered in her ear. After a moment, she drew back and nodded, face tear-streaked.

“Bring him back,” she said, eyes on me.

“I will.”

Paono ducked under the lintel, joining me in the hail of pumice and gusts of hot ash. He yelled to the others who were dashing up from the harbor, pointed to the door where Katrikki and Mistress Nyralit waited. I scanned the approaching group for Raav but didn’t see him. He’d wait until the last moment to seek shelter—he was stubborn that way. Thoughts of Zyri and Tyrak surfaced. In the days after his death, she’d wished over and over that he’d said goodbye before leaving.

“Don’t worry. You’ll see him again,” Paono said. “I promise.”

Together, we marched up to the city’s exit to face Mieshk.

Chapter Thirty-Four

BLOWING ASH RASPED against my face. Ioene’s glow painted the world the color of old blood. Squinting into the nightmare beyond the protection of the city’s narrow entrance, I groped for Paono’s hand. He clasped mine firmly, reassuring.

“It’s slowing,” he said.

He was right. The hail of pumice had lessened. Beyond the gap in the cliff, the air smelled of cinders and damp. A short distance along the coast, a steam cloud billowed where a fresh lava flow met the sea.

Knowing that Mieshk had to concentrate to feed Ioene, we’d guessed she’d pause her approach each time she condemned another nightstrand. The volcano would flare, only to taper off while Mieshk and her guard advanced along the trail marked by her scouts. With her trader’s upbringing, she’d have little experience trekking across a rubbled landscape. It gave us time and a respite for Paono to focus his bond-sense.

Abruptly, he jerked.

“I feel her,” he whispered, face twisting in a disgusted grimace. “Though I wish I didn’t have to.”

“And?”

“She’s close. Closer than we hoped.”

“How long?”

“Half an hour. Maybe less.”

I closed my eyes, letting the warm mist envelop me. Half an hour to come up with a plan to get the figurine away from Mieshk and her guards, and all we had was each other. I looked over at Paono and saw my fear reflected in his face. Noticing my attention, he forced a brave expression.

“We’ve changed so much,” I said. “I never imagined we’d become so distant. Ever since the night crossing . . .”

Paono’s jaw clenched with emotion. “I don’t know why we stopped talking, Lilik. It’s strange being so separate from you when for the first time in our lives I know what’s in your heart.”

His bond-sense. I flushed at the reminder.

“Don’t be embarrassed. Please, Lilik. I would never judge you.”

“How can you tell what I’m feeling? You’re supposed to be focusing on Mieshk.”

“I am. But I know you. You say we’ve changed—I disagree. Nothing will change who we are . . .” He squeezed my hand. “Or what we mean to each other.”

My eyes teared. I couldn’t respond. After a few seconds, Paono cleared his throat.

“Mieshk has four guards with her,” he said. “Her most loyal. She’s constantly checking their positions, assuring they’re surrounding her. She’s surprisingly cautious, but blind, too. There’s no doubt in her mind about her guardsmen. If we could turn one . . .”

“How?”

He shook his head. “Too difficult. We’d need to get one alone and somehow convince him.”

“We can’t fight four men plus Mieshk.”

“No,” he said. “But there must be some way to use our advantages. Any ideas?”

Our advantages . . . Breathing deep, I fell into Zyri’s memories.

“Actually . . . Yes.”

Less than a half-hour later, we were ready.

“How close now?” I whispered.

Raising a finger to his lips, Paono held up four fingers on his other hand, then extended his thumb. Four or five minutes.

I nodded and crept away, glancing at our preparations. Before the troublesome coven of Mavek’s Hands were formally exiled from Ioene during Zyri’s time, their leader, Mavek, separated them, cloistering each in a bare-walled meditation cell. For two months or more, the girls were fed nothing but boiled grains and spring water. Built specifically for the purpose of regaining control over the young prodigies, the meditation house perched on the edge of a high cliff overlooking the ocean. Guards watched over the entrances to the cell blocks, but the greatest defense was a cadre of channelers who surrounded the building, offering sanctuary to any souls who might be tempted by the Hands’ powers of compulsion.

Ultimately, the attempt at control failed. The young Hands were no more contrite after the seclusion period. But much of the meditation house still stood, narrow stone hallways and chambers with the wooden roofs long since rotted away.

Working quickly, Paono and I had removed the scouts’ final trail markings—stone cairns and scraps of linen tied around branches—and redirected the trail to the ruins of the meditation house. Ignorant of the true location of Ashkalan, Mieshk would mistake the house’s entrance hall for the narrow cleft her scouts would have reported as the city entrance.

Or so we hoped.

The glow of torches and crunch of footsteps announced Mieshk’s arrival. I tensed. Guessing she’d be too focused on gaining the city to look up, we’d climbed atop the walls to perch where long-gone rafters once rested. Wary of the glow from my palms and forearms, I pulled my sleeves down over my clenched fists.

When Mieshk’s party reached the entrance to the house, I struggled not to gasp. Indeed, her eyes glowed, smoldering red irises within black orbs. Her skin looked infused with Ioene’s fire, taking on notes of deep russet laced with vermillion. If not for her severe angles, I wouldn’t have recognized her.

Curling her lip, she peered down the hallway. I shrank down to hide my silhouette.

“Brik. Forward and report,” she said. “I want to know if they’re still alive.”

The former first mate grunted and detached from the group. Hand on a spear gun, he advanced down the hallway. I shot a panicked look to Paono, who balanced next to the lintel above the door. The heavy stone that bridged the door frame was loose; part of our plan to separate Mieshk from her guards hinged on the narrow hall forcing them to move single-file. Toppling the lintel stone would break their line.

“Nothing here,” Brik called.

Mieshk’s eyes flared. “What?”

“No city.”

“We should be there by now.”

Another of the guards edged into the hall. With a shrug, Paono braced himself and shoved the lintel stone with his feet. The massive block teetered, then tumbled, glancing against the guard’s shoulder and knocking him flat. My stomach turned when I saw the man’s leg smashed beneath. He screamed.

Nearly as thick as the hallway was wide, the stone stuffed the corridor, preventing Brik and the pinned guard from reaching Mieshk.

Two guards down. Two to go. We’d hoped to completely isolate Mieshk from her defenders, but we’d have to improvise.

I ran along the top of the wall with a rock in each hand. Standing, Paono palmed another two. He threw, and the grunt told me he’d connected before I reached the edge of the ruin and looked down.

One of the remaining guards rolled on the ground, hand to his head. Backpedaling, Mieshk stared up at Paono with hate-filled eyes.

I aimed, hurled my first rock. It fell short and rolled to her feet. Abruptly, Mieshk laughed.

“Gutterborn fool,” she said.

Paono leaped from the wall with a yell. He ran to the fallen guard and delivered a kick to the man’s face. The guard spit blood, pushed up to hands and knees, and collapsed when Paono stomped on his spine. A kick to the ribs, and he went limp. Intent on the first enemy, Paono didn’t notice the remaining guard circling behind him.

“Paono!” I yelled, throwing my other rock. It sailed over the man’s head but caught Paono’s attention. My friend spun, threw a punch toward the man’s gut. The guard sidestepped easily, grabbed Paono’s outstretched arm and brought an elbow down hard on his back. Paono wheezed when the air left his lungs.

Rot. With our advantage of surprise gone, we had to win this fight outright. Neither Paono nor I were brawlers. It didn’t look good.

The guard landed a fist in Paono’s belly, and I leaped down from the wall, shrieking. My knees buckled as one of my ankles folded under, and I tumbled, smacking my shoulder against the dirt. My arm went numb, shocked by the blow. Flailing, I rolled away just as Mieshk’s foot stomped down where my throat had been. She snarled, a sound like a rabid dog, and fell upon me.

When our flesh touched, both Mieshk and I screamed in agony. Her skin was so hot against mine that I smelled charred flesh. Where my hand landed on her arm, she sizzled like water poured over a hot pan. Gagging, she scrambled backward. For a moment, I could do nothing but lie there and cough.

My hand seared. Where I’d touched her, Mieshk’s flesh was blackened.

Mieshk stood, a red-eyed skeleton backlit by the volcano’s fire. My hand print stood out on her upper arm, looking like hardened lava upon her dusky red skin. What had happened to us?

I had little time to wonder. With a growl, Mieshk turned for Paono and her guard. Paono had one hand around the man’s windpipe, but the guard surprised him with an uppercut that sent Paono stumbling back.

Right into Mieshk.

Screeching in victory, Mieshk’s eyes flared while she drew a nightforged dagger and held it to my friend’s throat. Blood, black in the red glow from the mountain, welled and dripped down Paono’s neck.

The guard he’d been fighting laughed, while the man on the ground began to stir.

“Well, gutterscamp,” Mieshk said, sneering. “It was a nice try. I see you’ve brought me a collection of strands.” She looked me up and down.

In response to her words, I expected Peldin to attack my mental defenses but I felt nothing. Maybe he was devoting all his energy to resisting Mieshk’s pull. I immediately dropped my walls, realizing that without me as sanctuary, the strands had little hope.

I scanned her clothing, looking for a telltale lump showing the location of the figurine.

“Ralver, I require your assistance,” Mieshk said.

Bowing his head, the uninjured guard hurried to her side. From across the fallen lintel stone, I heard Brik’s shout. He’d find a way around the ruins of the house soon enough. Pawing the ground beside me, I searched for something—anything—I might use in our defense.

Clutching Paono’s upper arm—unlike with me, her grasp didn’t burn my friend—Mieshk handed off the dagger to her henchman. The man wrapped an arm around Paono’s chest and pressed the blade to his throat. Eyes wide, Paono said nothing.

“Your nightstrands fight me, Lilik,” Mieshk said. “But it won’t last. They hunger for Ioene as much as I do.”

She slipped a hand into the pocket of her tunic and pulled out my figurine.

“I see you recognize it,” she said with a cruel smile.

I glared, still searching for a stone shard. A handful of gravel. Something. Eying the fallen guard, I scooted toward him. A knife of some sort was sheathed at his belt.

“Any closer and your friend dies now,” Mieshk snapped.

Paono inhaled sharply as the dagger bit into his throat. I froze.

As if from far, far away, I heard Peldin’s voice.

Channel, Lilik.

“What? How?”

You must open wider.

Wider? I didn’t understand.

Caressing the figurine, Mieshk grinned. “Talking to your pets? I see them swirling when you speak.”

Wider. I slapped my palms against Ioene’s soil, recalling my first experiences with the strands, the tingle followed by the voices in my mind. I willed myself to feel them, to allow them deeper into my mind.

The flask. It’s no different.

What flask? Then I remembered. The burning boat. One of the strands had allowed Heiklet to imprison her in the flask of lamp oil. Once bound to an object, a soul could not escape without choosing nonexistence and shattering the prison.

“Alavie,” I whispered.

Yes. She could not have done it without drawing from your strength.

I focused on the nightforged dagger at Paono’s throat. Judging by the ornamentation on the hilt, it had been forged back when the Nocturnai created more art than weapons. An Ulstat family heirloom, most likely.

I wondered if the dagger had been present during the monster-heir’s reign. What horrors had the imprisoned soul been forced to witness?

Remembering the stories I’d heard, the monster-heir’s torture chambers, his twisted rituals requiring dancers to perform on shards of broken glass, my chest ached for the trapped spirit. I reached out with my mind, willing my sympathy and support to replace the hard steel that bound them.

It hurts. The voice, a young girl, was so weak I could scarcely sense her.

“I know,” I said. “You can stop if you want.”

I wouldn’t ask her to erase herself. That wasn’t for me to decide. Even if Mieshk would unleash a new cataclysm upon the world, the soul’s fate was hers alone.

I’m not strong enough.

“You can take whatever you need from me.”

Closing my eyes, I relaxed into openness, my heart bared to the girl who’d been a prisoner of the Ulstats for so long. I imagined I felt her soul joined with mine, just for an instant. Silence fell over me, the only gift I could give the brave child.

With a squeal of metal, the dagger crumpled. Flecks of metal exploded outward, glittering red in the night, while the rest dropped to the ground, a useless hunk of metal.

Stunned, the guard let out a garbled cry. Paono dropped beneath the encircling arm, whirling so that he came up facing his attacker. A hard right cross connected with the guard’s cheek, and the man dropped. Paono sprang for Mieshk, who stared, paralyzed, at the ruined dagger.

“Lilik! Run!” he yelled.

Behind me, someone crashed through foliage. Brik. As I scrambled to my feet, Paono snatched the figurine from Mieshk. Raising it high, he hurled it at the hard stone wall of the ruin. The statuette shattered. Mieshk shrieked.

As I raced away from the clearing, sudden joy nearly knocked me from my feet. Grand, buoyant elation. I could scarcely breathe. I wanted to jump and dance and scream. The strands, finally free from the figurine’s pull, were celebrating.

Turning, I scanned the landscape for my friend.

“Paono!” I called.

I heard a grunt, more crashes. “I’ll catch you,” he yelled. “Go!”

“I’m not leaving you!”

Lilik! Stop shouting! He can sense Mieshk, remember. He’s leading them off, but it’s not easy with you trumpeting like a stuck donkey.

“I can’t abandon him, Peldin.”

You can. The others need you. Paono will be okay. Listen: Mieshk still has many, many strands under her thrall. Not all have been given to the fire. You’re still in grave danger.

Backing slowly up the hill, I searched the dark terrain for a glimpse of my friend. “If she's still that powerful, what did Paono accomplish by smashing the Effigy?”

If she’d kept the figurine, there’d have been a cataclysm as devastating as our last. If she feeds them to Ioene together, the eruption could bury Ashkalan and steal your only chance at escape. You must get off the island.

“We can’t leave,” I said. “No sails, remember?”

A moment, Lilik. We’re conferring.

While I waited, another emotion bled into the strands’ joy, a strange resignation mixed with pride.

“What’s going on, Peldin?”

You saved us, and now we will save you. Bring everyone to the ship.

Chapter Thirty-Five

WE LINED THE dock where the ship floated, moored as she’d been for one thousand years.

“She needs a name,” I said.

“What about Evaeni’s Daughter?” Islilla said.

Both Captain Altak and Mistress Nyralit smiled sadly.

“It’s bad luck, child,” the captain said. “Names of doomed vessels aren’t to be reused. If we make it home, I’ll have a small plaque forged for the Evaeni. It will hang in the sailor’s hall alongside the names of other ships that have sunk.”

“Oh.” Islilla’s chin bobbed in a little nod.

“In Zyri’s time, they named the ships after heroes and ancestors,” I said. “What would you think of calling her Zyri’s Promise?”

It’s perfect. For once, Peldin’s tone lost its sarcastic edge.

The captain nodded. “Zyri’s Promise it is.”

“What do you intend, Peldin?” I asked.

In gratitude for your sacrifices, we offer our own. The Vanished and the living will work together to heal the sails on Zyri’s Promise. Get Katrikki aboard and into the calling trance.

“How long will it take? We need to wait for Paono,” I said.

He gave you the chance to escape. Don’t waste it, Lilik. One of you must stay, remember. We wanted it to be you, but all we can do now is help him survive. As soon as you are beyond Ioene’s reach, he can take shelter.

Everything was happening too fast. “I—”

Lilik! Peldin roared in my mind. If you don’t listen, Paono will be captured before we can do this. He’s exhausted and has only run this long because he cares for you so much.

I winced, my head aching from Peldin’s screaming. “Katrikki . . .” I gestured at the gangway, unable to force any other words out.

We filed onto the ship, the bridge bouncing when it took our weight. Dead cinders peppered the deck, but none had so much as scorched the wood.

“Impervious to rot and fire both,” Captain Altak said. “A treasure beyond treasures.”

Get the caller next to the mainsail. Our volunteers are ready.

When Katrikki looked at me, her eyes widened. “The strands. They’re changing. Moving away from you.”

“They say you need to be in the calling trance,” I said.

“And then what?”

“I’m not sure.” I felt like I was drowning. My thoughts were murky, filled with images of Paono running through the darkness with Mieshk behind.

“Just enter the trance,” Mistress Nyralit laid her hands on Katrikki’s shoulders. “Close your eyes.”

Tell her to guide us into the sail and rigging. We’ll do the rest.

I hesitated. “Wait. How is that any better than what we’ve done to the souls we trapped in our nightcrafted goods?”

Choice. Remember, this was an acceptable practice in our time. Many ancestors chose to bind with family heirlooms as an alternative to the fire’s pull. We do this willingly. Each of the volunteers accepts this fate. They take you as their child, and they are proud to do so.

I paused, a lump in my throat. “Will you—please tell them I’m honored.”

Peldin’s voice was warm and gentle. They know.

Katrikki dropped into the trance, reciting the old words and hovering her hands over the decayed mainsail. The look of astonishment on Mistress Nyralit’s face told me the calling was working.

The strands’ emotions washed through me. The grief of parting. Final goodbyes amongst friends and families. Dead lovers leaping into their new incarnation, twined together.

The calling lasted for what felt like hours. In the meantime, I helped the captain organize the collection and stowing of supplies, the refitting of makeshift cleats and filling of water barrels. When the moon peeked over the hill guarding the harbor, Katrikki finally sagged to the deck.

Tell the captain to raise it, Peldin said. His voice was weary but insistent. Paono can’t keep Mieshk distracted any longer. He needs to lose her and seek shelter.

Captain Altak drew his brows together, skeptical, but he nodded.

“Raise the sail,” he called.

Raav, Tkira, and two of the band who’d come with Paono leaned against the line. I cringed, expecting a tearing sound when the rope parted, but none came. The sail ascended the mainmast, rustle of canvas and quiet whisper of rings against the pole.

“Tides,” Tkira whispered.

Words abandoned me. I plopped onto the deck, staring.

The sheet of sailcloth glowed, magnificent. At the center was a picture of Ioene as she once looked, a steaming, gentle cone atop foliage-draped slopes. At the base, Ashkalan stood flower-decked and grand. Behind the mountain, the sail’s color transitioned from a night sky with stars glittering to the deep azure of the long-day. Though there was no breeze, the sail rippled, tugging lightly.

“We’ll lower it for now. Men, get on the oars until we clear the channel,” Captain Altak called. “Prepare to cast off for Istanik!”

Chapter Thirty-Six

CAPTAIN ALTAK STOOD at the bow of the ship, hands planted on the rail. He leaned forward with tense shoulders. Everyone held their breath as we slipped through the narrow exit between the harbor and the open sea.

A loud crack, the ship jolted to a halt. I stumbled into the water casks that had been hastily lashed to the deck.

“Oars, halt!” the captain yelled.

The shout was echoed by a crew member, passing the command down the ladder and into the hold.

The captain ran along the railing, stopping every few paces to look down into the water.

“Captain?” Tkira asked, awaiting instructions.

“Can’t see anything. Black as tar down there,” he said. “Let’s try easing forward. Could be we already dislodged whatever we hit.”

Tkira nodded curtly. She looked so much more comfortable aboard Zyri’s Promise. Finally back in her element.

“One stroke,” the captain called out. “Slow.”

The steep walls of the channel thrust up to either side of us. Boulders piled in a messy jumble at their feet, the mounds towering the height of three men over the ship’s deck. I hoped the rubble piles were stable.

With a quiet splash of the oars, paddles skimming the shallow water rather than digging, the ship glided forward. One pace and then another. We hit no more rocks.

Captain Altak climbed onto the roof of the captain’s cabin to better see our progress.

“Iron horseshoes, I think we’re going to make it,” he finally said.

A small whoop rose from the crew as we burst from the harbor into the open sea. Light swell passed under Zyri’s Promise, and the deck rolled beneath my feet. My stomach churned. I ignored it.

Behind us, the volcano rumbled. Lava frothed from her cone, a wide spill tumbling down the slope toward the city. We’d made it just in time.

I squinted at the shoreline, hoping to see Paono stumbling onto the beach. Now that we were away from the island, we could drop anchor. Paono had always been an excellent swimmer. I didn’t care what the Vanished said. I wasn’t leaving him behind.

I stood, ready to ask Captain Altak to call the halt, when I heard the voice in my mind.

Lilik. Faint, but unmistakable.

“Paono?” I said. “How?”

A channeler speaks with the dead, a life-channeler with the living. And there’s no need to talk. I can feel your thoughts and emotions, remember?

Then he understood my plan. We were going home together.

No. We knew this from the beginning, Lilik. Someone has to provide a refuge for the strands. Otherwise, they’ll be exterminated and the island destroyed.

Yes, I thought, but why can’t the strands just follow us home?

They’re bound here.

“Then I’ll stay.” It was too strange to think a conversation with him. And by this point, people were used to me talking to the air. “Peldin said that we had to protect you. You’re the only one who can heal the island. Besides, you have no idea how to survive on Ioene. I do.”

The strands will teach me what I need. Lilik, if anyone can organize a rescue, it’s you. I believe that. Until then, I can stay safe. My ability gives me an advantage over Mieshk that you don’t have. It’s better this way.

No. He was wrong. I searched the deck for Katrikki. The two of us together could convince Paono that he was being an idiot.

When she met my gaze, she appeared to immediately understand my need. With a quick pace that only traders or ship’s crew could manage, she crossed the rolling deck.

My mind is made up, Lilik. Please don’t make it harder on me.

Katrikki’s hands slid into mine. Though I didn’t want to touch her, I restrained the urge to pull away. My other hand found Paono’s pendant, still nestled against my chest. That night outside Captain Altak’s chamber when he’d asked me to wear the necklace felt so long ago.

She’s not so bad when you get to know her. I think you could be friends.

It was all so confusing. Was it possible for Paono and I to remain best friends, even with Katrikki? Even with . . . maybe . . . Raav?

I don’t know either. I think it is. But I know I want the best for you, and you’ll always be close to my heart. We can figure out the rest another day. Some other year, when we’re together again.

Another year . . . I couldn’t imagine Paono here alone that long. I wondered if we’d be able to talk like this once I returned home, or if it only worked when I was near him.

I’m so tired—it’s exhausting to speak to you even at this distance. Farther, I don’t think I could manage. Besides, I need to focus on Mieshk.

Off the ship’s stern, Ioene burned against the night sky. Rot. Why did Paono have to be right? One of us needed to stay, and with his abilities, he was the better choice.

“Paono. Wait.”

I thought of the sanctuary, remembering every detail so that Paono could perceive it. Water, food, impervious stone walls to protect him from the eruptions. Alone, he wouldn’t have to forage often, and he could check his bond with Mieshk before venturing out.

It will work, I think.

“So it’s goodbye?”

For now. I love you, Lilik. Whatever form it takes, it will be forever. Take care of Katrikki for me. And give Raav a chance.

“I’ll think about it.”

One more thing. You have to let Zyri go. She’s changing you, Lilik. Neither of you deserves to lose your souls.

And just like that, I knew he was gone. My heart was hollow.

“He’s staying on the island,” I whispered, squeezing Katrikki’s hand.

Her face twisted like crumpled paper. Not pretty, but grief rarely is. I pulled her into a hug. She stumbled as I helped her to a seat on one of the casks. No matter what I might say to criticize her, she loved Paono. For that, I could try not to hate her.

Now that that’s over.

Peldin. Ugh. I was so very weary of having him in my head.

“What do you want?”

Forgive me for having eavesdropped, but Paono is right. Your guide was a temporary arrangement. Time to release her before you’ve gone too far for her to rejoin us.

Paono and now Zyri, too? I blinked my eyes and saw the ocean drenched in long-day sun. Swordfish jumped off the bow of her family’s sailboat. She lounged on a pile of rigging, hard coils of rope pressing into her legs. Birds squawked, begging for the minnows that Zyri’s father used as bait.

A light haze hung over the sea. Ioene’s beaches were vague shapes in the white mist, but Zyri looked anyway, knowing that Tyrak was on one of them. He’d planned to travel with his father to the shipyard to put in an order for a new dinghy. That evening, lava burst from Ioene’s heart. Zyri never saw Tyrak again.

I blinked again, and the vision dissipated.

Ioene growled. Spouts of lava arched across the sky, and the ash cloud had billowed above the horizon.

It’s time, Lilik. You have to be the one to surrender, or she cannot leave you.

I swallowed. “Okay.”

You aren’t relaxing.

He was right. I didn’t want to let her go. Not yet. I didn’t want to lose her and her memories of Tyrak so soon after saying goodbye to Paono.

Another memory intruded. During the long-night when Zyri was just a child, marching footsteps shook the terrace outside her home. She hid under blankets in the corner, behind a woven basket that her mother dragged over. The blankets were woolen, itchy, and Zyri could hardly breathe. Her heart thudded when the door opened. People shouted at her mother. They were looking for talented children. It was time to induct neophytes into Mavek’s Hands.

Zyri’s fear was so strong that I felt sick. I wanted the memory to stop. I bit my knuckle, but still the fear came.

Another memory pounded me. Zyri, crying because Tyrak was dead. They wouldn’t let her look for his body. Wouldn’t let her say goodbye.

Another. Zyri was drowning. Seawater filled her lungs, and she choked, sucked in another lungful. Panic. Fires burning all around, and Zyri coughed, lungs full, heart seizing.

All her pain, her heartache. Her recollections burned in me, excruciating. Why now? It was as if I’d lost all ability to filter them.

“Peldin! Help me! Make it stop!” I hissed the words, ready to sob.

I can’t see what you see. What’s the problem?

Abruptly, I realized Zyri did have control over what she shared. Early on, she’d shown me many wonderful things to go with the tragedies she’d shared. The good memories were the best parts of her life on Ioene—if I loved it like she had, I’d want to save the island and the spirits bound there. But now she wanted freedom, and she shared only the ugly side. In her way, she was helping me break our bond. Teaching me that her life was not a storybook tale to be enjoyed at leisure. She was as real a person as I, and as deserving of her independence.

“Okay, Zyri.” I breathed deep and closed my eyes.

I thought of my father. Hands so big that half a dozen eggs could rest in each. Jaret’s laugh when he tried to bait me into chasing him. Meat pies and the evening market.

I was going home. I fell into myself.

When I opened my eyes, Zyri was gone. The memories she’d shown me were still there, but they were like the scattering of possessions my mother had left behind when she abandoned us, the last remnants of someone long gone. Already, some recollections began to fade, and I knew that eventually I’d forget everything if I didn’t write it down.

Empty, yet strangely content, I turned from the smoking volcano. The oars pulled strongly at the water now, and it wouldn’t be long before we’d cleared the lava shoals.

“I suppose it’s goodbye with you, too,” I said, knowing Peldin would understand I was speaking to him.

Indeed.

“I have a question, first. The mural . . . During your time, Ioene was peaceful and rounded, but the volcano in the picture looks like it does now. The figure . . .”

You want to know if it’s a picture of you.

I nodded.

Despite what you might believe of me, I don’t know everything. This is one of the rare cases. Your lagoon . . . a secretive group lived there. While I am sure some of them are among us now, none have offered their tale. Maybe the mural depicts a prophecy of your coming, or maybe someone wasn’t very good at drawing mountains.

“You’ve been a big help,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Of course, if it were a prophecy, don’t you think it’s somewhat egotistical to assume the glowing person is you? What about Paono?

“I hope you don’t expect me to miss you once we’re separated.”

I don’t have to hope. I just know.

“Goodbye, Peldin.”

Goodbye, Lilik. You did a good job, despite yourself.

Soon after, Captain Altak called for the sail to be raised. Canvas unfurled, rippling in the dead air. Though not a breeze stirred, within moments the boat was cutting across the water as if running before a gale.

Home. I could already imagine the spires of Istanik.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

THE SUN WAS warm on my face when we sailed past the harbor guardstones. Raav stood beside me, his hand against mine on the rail. We'd had little time alone on the voyage because the leagues sped so quickly beneath our keel, and at the sight of Istanik, I wondered if I’d been deluding myself. Traders and commoners didn’t mix. Why assume that anything about our voyage would change that?

Maybe because our voyage changed everything else.

There would be no more Nocturnai. As a result, there’d be upheaval. Without nightforged weapons, the Islands were easy prey for the Waikert. It would take traders and seaborn and gutterborn acting together to solve the problem and protect our shores.

And maybe . . .

For one thousand years, Ioene had been a savage, dangerous place. But it could be healed. The descendants of the Vanished could reclaim their hidden home and their ancestral knowledge. Zyri’s Promise sailed at ten times the speed of the traders’ fastest vessel. Who could say what other secrets the island held?

For the moment, other matters were more pressing. Mieshk still held power on Ioene, endangering the lives of the unfortunate crew who’d fallen under her sway. Worse, if she regained even a fraction of the power the Effigy had given her, she threatened even the Kiriilt Islands.

And for some of us, it was personal. How could I remain on Stanik while Paono was alone in the dark, the sole defense between Mieshk and cataclysm? How could I let Heiklet’s death be for nothing?

Today, there would be tearful hellos. Explanations. Dinners with our families.

Tomorrow our new work would begin.

“Will you and Islilla visit the Srukolks today?” I asked. Heiklet’s family had planned to remain on Stanik Island during the Nocturnai rather than returning to their home island, Orteshk. I didn’t envy Raav the task of carrying them news of her death. I would have liked to go with him, but for now, the barrier between traders and gutterborn was as strong as ever. My presence would not be appreciated.

He nodded, face sober. “I’ll tell them what you said about her. Once we explain what we learned about the strands to the Trader Council, I’ll meet with the Srukolks again. With you channeling, we may be able to contact Heiklet once we return to Ioene. They may be able to speak to her. Gain some peace.”

“And what about Katrikki’s sister?” I asked quietly.

Raav’s pinky finger wrapped mine. “I don’t know,” he said.

A dart of cold stabbed my chest. After everything we’d been through, after the new closeness on the voyage home, did he still have feelings for her? What about our plans? Ashkalan was still out there. Waiting to be awakened.

I jerked my hand away.

“Wait, Lilik. I’m sorry. I don’t mean it that way.” He hugged me around the shoulders. “I don’t know how she’ll react when I tell her I can’t marry her. We have nothing in common, other than hatred for our respective families. I’ve been worrying about how to explain that without hurting her.”

“Have you stopped to wonder how much—or how little—we have in common?”

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “What if I told you that, in your case, I wouldn’t care if we were direct opposites?”

I smiled and looked toward the mist-hazed roofline of the city. After a moment, Raav chuckled and lifted my hand from the rail. He rubbed gently at a smudge of ink on the meaty outer edge of my palm. “Looking forward to a real supply of paper?”

During our voyage home, I’d been recording everything I could remember from Zyri’s time. Unfortunately, paper was worse than scarce. My handwritten words covered the margins of personal books that had somehow survived both the eruption and Mieshk’s war.

“Almost as much as a basket of fresh fried dough sprinkled with cinnamon.”

My smile fell away. While recording Zyri’s experiences, I’d revisited so many memories of Tyrak that I couldn’t help thinking of Paono. I missed him so much. The streets of Istanik would be empty without his smile. Fried dough wouldn’t be as delicious without him.

During the voyage, I’d attempted to make contact with the strands infused into the mainsail. While I could sense their vitality—the same with my pendant, a low hum of life within it—I found no way to speak to the spirits as I had the little girl in Mieshk’s dagger. Maybe I needed to be upon Ioene to open myself wide enough; I hadn’t thought to ask Peldin before we said goodbye. Still, I imagined I’d keep trying, if only to fill the empty spaces left by Paono, Zyri, and the Vanished.

Raav seemed to sense my melancholy. “We’ll rescue them. Even if no one else will help, I’ll beg Frask for a ship—he’ll probably be glad to be rid of me.”

A shout went up from the quay when we were spotted. I can’t imagine what the Istanikers thought, seeing the glowing sail pull the ship forward as if the light breeze were a fierce storm. By the time we reached the quay and threw lines to waiting men and women, people stood ten deep waiting to greet us.

My eyes roved the crowd. Stunned faces. Many worried looks. For every happy reunion, there would be two tearful disappointments. Many people here would not see their beloved sons or daughters or husbands or wives for many months yet. In some cases, never.

We would go back for the survivors. There was no question. If Stanik and Araok Islands couldn’t stomach it, if Raav’s brother refused to help, I’d search as far as the Outer Isles for people willing to take on Mieshk.

I rushed to the gate when the captain lifted away a section of rail. The crowd on the shore raised a bridge for us to cross.

When my foot touched the quay’s solid stone, my knees turned to water. I sagged into the arms of strangers, and a knot of people helped me through the crowd. On a bench in the afternoon breeze, I sat fighting tears.

“Lilik.” His voice was like a warm hearth fire. Like the first embrace of sunlight after months spent above the night line. My father.

I flew into his arms, crying, sobbing, laughing. Jaret bounced around us like a puppy. I buried myself in my family, hardly able to breathe.

“What happened to you?” my father asked. “Tides, Lilik. The sail. It’s . . .”

“It’s the greatest gift that one civilization has ever given another, Da. They sacrificed themselves for us. For me. Because they believed in me. And I won’t let them down.”

I was a failed nightcaller and a fraud. But I was also a survivor, a leader, a daughter, and a friend. I looked up into the deep blue sky and wondered who I would become next.

Next up, Lilik's story continues with Shadowbound. Click here to view the book on Amazon.

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Dear Reader,

Thanks for joining me on Lilik’s journey! If you enjoyed the book, I'd love it if you would leave a review. Even a sentence or two helps! As an indie author, I depend on readers to spread the word about my books, and your support can help me keep writing them.

Thanks again, and I hope to meet you at the end of many future books!

Carrie

PS. On the next page, I’ve included more information on book two, Shadowbound.

Shadowbound

Book Two

Shattering of the Nocturnai

Lilik is a survivor.

After the disastrous expedition to the island volcano, Ioene, she is home with a warning. The malevolent tyrant, Mieshk Ulstat, is gathering devastating magical power. Unchecked, Mieshk will obliterate Kiriilti civilization. But when the ruling Trader Council refuses to heed her, Lilik turns to her own kind: the gutterborn.

As Lilik rallies rebels from the slums, she delves into her abilities as a soul priestess through contact with a nightforged dagger. Tyrak, the soul imprisoned within the blade, mistakes Lilik for his love from centuries past. Through their complicated bond, she learns the arts of swordplay and leadership. But when a surprise attack comes from a rogue trader House, she learns the hard truth of war: no plan survives first contact with the enemy.

Warships lay siege to the city. Traders and gutterborn clash in the streets. And with each passing day, the true enemy just grows stronger.

Click here to purchase Shadowbound and follow Lilik on her next adventure!

Acknowledgements

No author works alone. Many people helped me create this book, either by offering feedback or services directly related to its production, or by lending support when I needed it. I won’t be able to thank everyone, because my life is so full of wonderful people. However, for the direct help on the book itself, I am indebted to my readers, David Forrest, Mary Anne Tarr, Anna Mahlin, and Frances Silversmith. Anna Genoese is an amazing editor, and I remain floored by the cover art created by Amalia Chitulescu. Additionally, many writers offered feedback on critical sections, including members of my online writers’ group, Codex, my fellow winners of the Writers of the Future contest, and my local writers’ group. I would have never have advanced beyond my first, inept paragraphs without the guidance of the wise writers of alt.fiction.original.

As always, I would be nothing without the support of my family and friends. Thank you.