Her mouth dropped open, dread running cold fingers up her back. “That’s not supposed to happen.”
“None of this is.”
He had her there. Lore drew her knees up to her chest. So they’d been wrong. The elemental gods weren’t too weak to speak, to come back as nothing but magic. They’d just needed more time.
The noose around their necks was tightening.
“Maybe you can stop, then. Since you know what to watch out for—”
“Due to a deal we made with the Prime Minister of Caldien, refusing to channel is unfortunately not an option.”
“Why in every hell would you make a deal with the Prime Minister?”
“Because he has one of the pieces of the Fount.” He sighed. “And he promised to rescue you and Alie.”
Well, there was an easy solution. Kind of. “I don’t need rescuing. I’m almost to the Mount.”
“Somehow, I don’t think that will convince Gabe.”
His name struck something in her, like she’d been punched in the stomach. “How is he?”
“Taking to this better than I am.” But Malcolm didn’t sound like he thought that was a positive development.
The outline of the cliffs showed through his middle. He was fading, waking up; soon he would be gone.
“Tell him not to do it.” It came in a rush, and it hurt to say,killing any chance she’d had at seeing him. “If using the power is making the gods stronger, tell him not to use it.”
“I don’t think that’s going to work, Lore.” Nearly mournful as he faded away. “I think we’re past that.”
She opened her eyes.
Night had fallen on the Harbor while she was sleeping. The scant sunlight was gone, though the darkness wasn’t as profound here as the Second Isle, where ash nearly covered the moon. When Lore crept to the paneless window, she could just make out the glow of stars. Out on the water, the ash grew thicker the closer you drew to the Mount, but it seemed the islands themselves got a reprieve. She wondered if it had something to do with the mines on the First and Second, stirring up dust and latent magic.
On the cot, Dani was fast asleep, her arms flung up over her head, her mouth open. Her face was softer than Lore had ever seen it, even at the tea with Alie. All the malice drained out of her, all the anger and determination.
Lore slipped out the door.
Sersha hadn’t been forthcoming with actual directions, just saying that Raihan’s hut wasdown the way; Lore assumed that meant on the same dirt street as their own. She’d just have to peer in the windows of every hut until she saw one that looked like it could belong to the Ferryman. But as she exited their rough cabin, a sound rose on the breeze.
Singing.
It was subtle, a gentle lilting right at the edge of her hearing, almost too soft to hear at all. The same hum she’d felt when she stepped off the ship, sharpened into melody by the silence of night.
Lore followed it.
The song rose as she walked, harmonies leading her on. Down the dirt road, almost to its end, a little hut set off from the others, right at the edge of the burnt woods. The song hit a crescendo, louder than it had been but still so soft.
She put her hand on the door.
The song fell away.
Lore pulled her makeshift lockpick from her boot, gave the door an experimental push to test the bolt’s strength.
It opened.
Nerves bundled in her gut, Lore hesitated just before the threshold. What would Raihan do if she waltzed into his home with a rusty shiv? He didn’t seem a neighborly sort; he’d barely said two full sentences on the ship. She didn’t think they had any guns here, but barging into a man’s home unannounced was sure a way to find out.
She peeked through the door.
