He gave me an exasperated look. “I’m just glad River was here.”
“Tsh. We would have been fine.” It was, of course, a blatant lie. Looking back, I was astonished at my own foolishness. What would have happened if River hadn’t shown up? I would still be on that ledge with Tem, both of us growing colder and wetter by the minute, with no way of getting him back up the mountain, or even signaling for help.
I stood and found River staring at me. For once, there was no amusement in his gaze. His eyes were narrowed, coolly scrutinizing.
“How did you do that?” he said.
“Do what?”
He made no reply. He took a step toward me, and I had to resist the urge to move back. He seemed to have become a different person.
I glanced down at the calf, just for an excuse to break eye contact. “He wasn’t very heavy. And I’ve climbed this part of the mountain before.”
River just stared at me, as if at any moment he expected me to sprout feathers or burst into flames.
“Kamzin!” It was a disembodied cry, carried on the wind. Lurker soared into view, then circled us, cawing. Several dark shapes were approaching, which soon solidified into Lusha, Father, and three men from the village.
“What happened?” Lusha demanded. Her eyes drifted to River, who turned away slightly, as if to gaze at the view.
“We’re fine, thanks,” I said. One of the men helped Tem to his feet; another roped the calf and dragged it off toward my father’s pens.
Father turned to River. “Was this your doing?”
River made an elegant gesture. “There’s no need to thank me. It was nothing.”
Elder glanced down at the leather harness. “You’ve rescued not only one of my best herdsmen, but my daughter as well. If you hadn’t been here, I’m sure she would have done something foolish.”
I opened my mouth, but River cut in smoothly, “It was my pleasure. Please don’t be too hard on Kamzin. She was a great help.”
I stared at him, so outraged I couldn’t speak.
“Dyonpo, let’s return to the house,” Lusha said smoothly. “Perhaps you would like some butter tea?”
They strode on ahead, leaving me and one of the men to assist Tem. I felt an odd pang as I gazed at their retreating silhouettes—tall and graceful, striding confidently down the uneven mountainside. There was a sort of symmetry between them. Lusha turned her head to speak to River, and then the clouds swallowed them up.
Father glowered at me. “I don’t know what you were thinking,” he said, pushing me ahead of him. “Going after Tem by yourself. You and I will have a talk when we get home.”
I would have started shouting then and there, had not Tem grabbed my arm on the pretext of supporting himself. Moving slowly, we followed the others down the mountainside.
“Thanks for defending me,” I muttered.
Tem looked at me, surprised. “I thought all you cared about was impressing River.”
“No.” My anger drained away, leaving behind exhaustion and little else. I was cold, and wet, and my head was pounding again. “I don’t care about impressing anyone.”
We were on the lee side of the mountain now, and the wind dropped to a murmur. The storm was clearing—clouds snagged against Azmiri and began to fray, revealing little patches of starry sky. I tightened my hold on Tem and guided him toward the lights of the village.
FIVE
I AWOKE WITH a weight pressing against my chest. Ragtooth was curled on top of me, his bushy tail tickling my chin.
“Get off, you hairy lump.” I pushed at the fox, but he only nipped my hand. “Ouch! Why do I even let you in here?”
Ragtooth stretched and yawned, treating me to a good view of his long, sharp teeth. Then he hopped onto the floor.
Sunlight streamed through the cracks in the shutters. It seemed brighter than usual, and only intensified the pounding in my head. I let out a long groan. Judging by the direction of the light, it was nearing midday, which meant I had missed my morning lesson with Chirri. Why had no one come to wake me?
After a few halfhearted attempts, I dragged myself out of bed. As usual, my room was a mess. My toe collided painfully with an ornate sheepskin drum Chirri had given me to practice incantations—it was buried under a pile of robes, and smelled funny from the wine I had spilled on it months ago. My shelves were crowded with other shamanic talismans, all in similar states—some merely gathering dust, others broken and then hidden behind something else in the hopes that Chirri wouldn’t ask after them. Much more interesting objects lined my windowsills—colored stones, feathers, and pressed flowers I had collected when I went with Father to visit other villages, or explored the neighboring mountains with Tem. I liked having a souvenir from each place I traveled to. I could remember the origin of each item, down to the precise mountain shelf or streambank.
I stumbled over another pile of clothes, cursing. The state of my room had only deteriorated since Lusha and I stopped sharing several years ago, but I certainly had no wish to go back to that arrangement. Few people knew how terrible Lusha’s temper was on the rare occasions she became angry, and she had been a tyrant when it came to my mess. One day, after repeated lectures had failed to have any effect on me, I had woken to find our room virtually empty. All my belongings were gone. Lusha serenely refused to answer any questions about their whereabouts. Days later, I found them—scattered across the ground below the nearest cliff.
I poured water into the stone basin on my dressing table. It was cold, and the cold felt good against my aching head. I plunged my face into the water, shivering from both the chill and the relief it brought.
Once I was washed and dressed, I made my way to Lusha’s room. The heavy door, ornately carved with intricate knots and openmouthed skulls, was closed. I considered knocking but decided against it.
“Lusha?” I said, stepping inside.
My sister wasn’t there, though her presence—strong enough to draw all eyes in a crowded room—lingered like scent. The blue shutters were drawn back and neatly tied to the walls. Lusha’s bed was made, and the scrolls and star charts that usually cluttered the low table by the window were rolled up and sorted into their shelves. Her room always felt empty; Lusha had few nonfunctional possessions, apart from two that had belonged to our mother—an ornate jade comb, and a chipped cosmetics box inlaid with gold. But today it felt especially barren.
She was probably in the observatory. Or, more likely, with River, helping to organize their supplies for the journey. The thought made my stomach twist, but not as much as I would have expected.
As I was turning to go, however, something caught my eye. Lusha’s shrine.