“A yak trampled it on my last expedition. Snapped it in two. Did you hear what I said about choosing your yak carefully?”
We came to the shed where the men had stored River’s balloon. I could just see the brightly colored fabric buried beneath a heap of what looked at first like rubble, but what I soon realized was the entirety of River’s supplies. Packets of tea and dried foodstuffs, some of which spilled out onto the dirt floor, a jumbled pile of knives and whetstones, a satchel of healing herbs tied in loose bundles, and a dozen mysterious wooden chests of varying sizes stacked in several teetering columns.
“I’ll leave you to it,” he said. “Let me know what your sister has left us with.”
“But—”
He was already walking away. Steeling myself, I called, “I never said I would go with you.”
He stopped and turned slowly to face me. In the breeze, his cloak floated behind him like a rippling shadow.
“You never said you wouldn’t.” His gaze was cool again.
I stared him down. There was a part of me—the far more rational part—that questioned my own sanity for doing so, but I would not let him order me around, or dismiss me as he would some fawning courtier. I wouldn’t let myself be that—no matter what he offered me.
He held my gaze for another moment, and then, slowly, he began to smile. I breathed a silent sigh of relief.
“Kamzin,” he said, “will you come with me? Will you show me the way to the mountain?”
“Yes,” I said, trying to keep my voice even as excitement pulsed through me. “On one condition.”
He seemed to find this amusing. I realized that he could not be used to people challenging him. “Name it.”
“I want to know what we’re looking for,” I said. “Why this talisman is so important to the emperor. What properties it has.”
He looked regretful. “I wish I could tell you, truly I do.”
“How am I supposed to trust you if you won’t answer any of my questions?”
“Trust me?” He shook his head, bemused. “You’re worrying about the wrong thing. Trusting me is not something I recommend to anyone.”
And with that, he was gone.
I bit my lip, staring at his retreating back. My thoughts seemed to be spinning in a hundred different directions.
The supplies were a mess. Lusha—or Mara, perhaps—had evidently ransacked them with abandon, and much of the foodstuffs were trampled and ruined. I began piling the crates up, running over the last few days in my mind.
It made no sense that Lusha would abandon her promise to River and sneak off with a man she had just met—a man who, as evidenced last night, she found about as compelling as our great-grandfather Tashi after his third bowl of wine. Yet as I considered everything, sweat beading on my forehead as I shifted the heavy supplies, surprise was not what I felt—it was anger.
Anger at Lusha for keeping secrets. Anger at her for risking her life like this. And anger at how, once again, she was the center around which everything, and everyone else, revolved.
Lusha knew that I wanted to escape Azmiri. She knew that I would have given anything to prove myself to River—and what had she done? Shown up not only me but the Royal Explorer himself. If they beat us to Raksha, and found the talisman, Mara would win the title of Royal Explorer, and become the second-most-powerful man in the Empire. And Lusha would share in the glory.
If they beat us to Raksha. I stabbed at a teetering pile of crates with my foot, steadying them. As highly as Lusha thought of herself, she was no match for me when it came to applying stupid, brute strength to physical obstacles. She could hunt, and read maps, and hike difficult terrain—but I could navigate an icefall on a moonless night, and stick to mountains like sap. It was the one way I had always bested Lusha. She couldn’t climb Raksha, I knew that in my bones. And she had convinced herself—convinced River, convinced Mara—that she could.
I kicked at a whetstone so hard it flew into the air. I didn’t know if I wanted to stop my sister from getting herself killed, or kill her myself.
Ragtooth showed up a few minutes later, nosing around in the box of dried plums. I shooed him out, but he only drew his ears back and hissed at me like a cat.
“Don’t even think about stowing away,” I warned. “You’re not coming.”
Once I set my mind to the task, it didn’t take me long. I wrapped the spring hooks, pitons, and the rest of the climbing gear carefully in oilcloth to prevent rust, and I counted and measured every length of rope I could find. Everything else I organized into piles and tucked away in packs, tallying the items that were missing and would need to be borrowed or bought from the villagers.
“Kamzin?”
It was Tem. He looked paler than usual, and I could just make out the line of the cut through his hair, but he seemed otherwise recovered from last night. His trousers were muddy, and strands of yak hair clung to his chuba. His father must have commanded him to tend to the herds that morning, in spite of his injury. Or, knowing Metok, because of it.
“What are you doing?” he said. “Did Lusha—?”
“Lusha’s gone.” I explained quickly. Tem’s expression grew more and more confused.
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “Why would she betray River Shara? She wouldn’t care about a rivalry between two rich nobles.”
“River thinks it was gold.”
Tem made a skeptical noise. “You believe that?”
“I don’t know.” Lusha certainly wasn’t interested in profit for her own sake. But for the village?
Though she wasn’t the elder yet, Lusha had always seen herself in that light, much to my annoyance. She cared more for Azmiri than she did for her own life. And the village, isolated as it was and far from the trading routes, was certainly not wealthy. If Mara had offered enough gold to make us prosperous, to make medicine shortages and lean winters a thing of the past, would Lusha have accepted?
I shook my head. “Tem, do you still have your grandfather’s ice ax? River needs one, and I don’t think any of Elder’s will suit his grip.”
“You’re going with him.” Tem’s voice was flat.
I looked at him. “Are you surprised?”
“No. You’ve always been completely mad.”
I turned back to the crates. “You made your opinion clear yesterday. Please, let’s not argue anymore. I don’t want it to be the last thing we do.”
“Neither do I.” Tem sighed. “That’s why I’m coming with you.”
I dropped the crate I was lifting, spilling tea leaves across the floor. “What? You are not!”
“I’m your friend. And I’m not letting you do this by yourself.”
“River will never allow it.”
“I bet he will, if you ask him.”
I let out a snort of laughter. “Right. The Royal Explorer will do exactly as I say.”
“I’m coming with you.” Tem’s voice shook slightly, but his gaze was firm. “I’ll follow alone if I have to.”
“Your father will never forgive you.” My voice was low.