The girl sat and stared at the ocean from underneath the bones of a monster long dead, for there is a reason they call this place the Sea of Skulls. Water swirled around her ankles and stained the bottom of her dress the color of rusted blood. The skeletal monster loomed above her, its remains an arc against the hot sun that scorched the black earth around them. I remembered the elephant-like daeva she had slain mere feet from where I stood, staring out at the world through unseeing eyes with loops of viscera halfway out its stomach. I held my breath, but no foul odors wafted from the spot. No flies buzzed from where its carcass used to lie. Despite the blazing heat, I could see no maggots combing the earth for flesh. Only the bones from other monsters remained—dead monuments, offerings to the sea.
“No. I found the people strange. I found them suspicious of all those who don’t look and act like them. Doubtless they held the same opinions of me but for the opposite reason. You came from Drycht; you understand full well the tyranny of the old guard, the inflexibility of the ruling class. The bourgeois of Kneave entertain more liberties; a Drychta might kill an asha and believe it only follows the will of gods. A Kneavan will claim the higher ground and preach clemency but kill when no one else sees. The runeberry trade influenced Murkwick’s beliefs, but the rest of Odalia takes its cues from its capital city. Even Knightscross.
“But the world will always look different when you open your eyes to what you previously refused to see. It was the same for you, wasn’t it? When King Aadil outlawed the songs that made you famous everywhere else and they took you from your mother’s house to languish in his dungeons for three months.”
“How did you know that?” From above us, the skeletal beast watched, knowing.
She gestured at my heartsglass, at the colors that ebbed in and out of view. She smiled. “You are easy enough to read. I did not like Kneave, but entering that city for the first time remains one of the strangest and most exhilarating experiences of my life. Perhaps because everything felt so new. Perhaps because I was realizing how much wider the world was than the Knightscross-shaped one I had occupied.
“I never got over my dislike of crowds, though I have performed before them hundreds of times. I never liked being the center of attention, which is unusual for an asha. But despite the people’s aversion to us, I had fond memories of my first night in Kneave.”
“Why is that?”
“In my life, I have only ever been attracted to two men. And what is even more unusual was that I met both that very same night in Kneave, though not in the best circumstances.”
5
Kneave was the capital of Odalia, and a celebration was in progress when Lady Mykaela guided us through the winding streets, she riding on her palomino and Fox riding behind me on the gray dapple she’d purchased in Murkwick. I had never seen so many people packed together in so small a space before.
Knightscross constructed its houses according to the natural paths of the land, and so I was used to broad roads. I’ve lived in Kion for many years, but I’ve never grown used to the narrow, constrained lanes of busy cities like Odalia. Adding to the feeling of close confinement are the groups of people who have gathered to watch noisy bands of musicians cavorting through the streets, dressed in confusing swirls of clothing and color. Some carried tambourines, while others chose drums or trumpets. All were not shy about making as much noise as was possible.
People built small fires around the city square and took turns leaping over them while others watched and applauded, laughing. The sight of those flames, coupled with the smallness of the spaces and the largeness of the crowds, alarmed me. I clung to my brother, fearful that the fires might spread, that parts of the city might burn before long. Despite the heat and the smoke surrounding us, his skin was cold to the touch.
“They celebrate the spring equinox,” Fox said as boys and girls alike leapfrogged over the pyres, daring each other to jump higher at every turn. “Fire is a cleansing tool, and to leap over it is to clean themselves of all sickness and evil in anticipation of the coming year.”
“But we don’t do this in Knightscross.” The closest thing we have to a large fire was my father’s forge, and I could only imagine his reaction should the villagers elect to jump over it.
“Farmland is not an appropriate venue for fire building, Tea.”
“I’m not sure cities are made the same way.”
The festivities quieted somewhat when we passed. People stopped to stare—at Lady Mykaela’s empty heartsglass and then at the silver tints of mine. They tried to melt back into the crowd, to give us room, though the paths were small and gave them difficulty. Fox received a few of those stares for his lack of heartsglass and for the plain silver sword at his hip, as none of the revelers wore weapons that I could see. Not for his absence of shadow, I tried to convince myself, and certainly not because they knew he was dead.
Kneave was nothing like Knightscross. It may seem ridiculous to imagine I could compare the two. But Knightscross was all I’d ever known, and not even my books prepared me for the shock of the city. My village was simple and muted against a backdrop of forests and stone, where the forge and the gossip were the noisiest sounds.
But the city of Kneave wore its people for emphasis, like giant exclamation marks that walked in every street and loitered at every corner. Its citizens attired themselves in bright and stunning dresses that called to the eyes. None of the women back home wore veils; it would be an awkward garment to wear when working in the fields. Some of the Kneavan women wore these loosely about their persons, and others wore them coiled so tightly about their heads that I could not tell the color of their hair or even if they had any. A few took this a step further; they had on masks and long, flowing robes that hid everything but their eyes.
Many of the people’s faces were smooth and polished, at times prettier and handsomer than they first appeared. It felt to me that there was something strange about their features—they were a little too refined and a little too contrived, like a whetstone had given them precision but also left them too sharp for nature to allow for. To my eyes, it was like each person wore two faces that shared the exact same space, one pressing down on top of the other—one too pretty and affected to be natural, and the other too flawed and regular to be artificial.
“Glamour,” Lady Mykaela said over her shoulder without looking up from her book. I would later learn that it was her habit to read as she walked and read as she rode. She had given me a book from her collection so I could do the same, but I was unused to riding horses, and sore buttocks soon distracted me from turning the pages. “The smallest of magics. Harmless for the most part. It allows the people their vanities, but we asha can see them all the same.”