“You’re far more charming now than you were on the boat, at least. Talking will do that.”
“Even with all the silver, navigating is a hard job. The lines change without warning sometimes, like currents. And I didn’t want to talk to your friend, frankly. She’s unpleasant.”
“She’s not my friend.” Lore didn’t comment on theunpleasantpart. It was true, but a small part of her resented him for it anyway. This situation had chewed Dani up and spat her out, too.
“So are you one of those channelers from Auverraine, or something?” he asked. “The Mort?”
“Or something.” Her voice was flat, a closed door to that line of questioning.
He didn’t press. “I came from Kadmar to Auverraine to study Mortem channelers,” he said. “Well, ostensibly. It was mostly to escape being impressed into the Kirythean army, once they took over. I graduated from the Kadmaran university with a degree in artifact study.” He kicked aside a dead branch in their path. “The Empire was very interested in using my skills. I was very interested in not letting them.”
“No one but the Church is allowed to handle any artifacts in Auverraine. I can’t imagine you got very far in your research.”
“No, but I got far enough from the Empire. For a time, at least.” The lighter flickered in his hand, casting deep shadows across his face. “Kadmar—and everywhere else that’s not Auverraine or Kirythea, really—has a more… loose relationship with religion. We see the gods as people making use of power, not necessarily divine beings worthy of worship.” He shrugged. “At least, that’s what it was like before Kirythea took over. Who knows what it’s like now.”
He said it flippantly, but pain lurked beneath his voice.
“So I assume Emperor Ouran caught you eventually?”
Raihan barked a laugh. “No. That was King August.”
“Ah.” Unwarranted embarrassment colored her cheeks. “That makes more sense.”
“And it wasn’t even because of my heretical line of work,” Raihan said darkly. “He wasn’t keen on anyone being in Auverraine without proper papers. Especially from a Kirythean-occupied country. Never mind that those were the people who most needed somewhere to go.”
“Mercy was never his strong point.”
“It’s not a quality that Kings or Emperors hold in high regard.”
Their path turned uphill, and neither of them spoke for a while in favor of breathing hard until it turned downward again.Hunger clawed in Lore’s middle; it’d been a long time since her last meal of dried meat on the Second Isle.
“So,” Raihan began when they’d both caught their breath, “it sounds like you were in the Citadel before you ended up here. Were you a courtier, before you somehow got the ability to channel?”
Now it was her turn to bark a laugh. “Yeah. Sure.”
Raihan didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t ask again, like he thought she might go back on their tenuous bargain if he was too curious. Part of her felt bad; he’d been kind, all things considered. But the idea of having to explain everything made her feel like she might collapse in the middle of this path and not get up again.
The ground leveled, as much as she could tell in the scant light. On one side, the hill they’d just climbed down; on the other, another steep rise. “Looks like this is the valley.”
“Indeed it is.” Raihan gestured to her. “Is it moving?”
Lore produced the silver instrument she’d grabbed from her pocket. The pin swung a bit before pointing back at her. “No change.”
“Hmm.” He looked out over the dark trees. “What are you trying to do with it, exactly?”
“I need to find something. Something that should make this thing point like it’s never pointed before.”
Clearly, he wanted to ask her more about that, but Raihan just nodded. “Walk around with it. See if it starts to react.”
“Very scientific of you.”
“Science is little more than doing strange things and seeing what comes of them.”
Lore balanced the instrument in her palm.Burnt tree, the book said. That didn’t narrow it down much. Every tree on this damn island was some degree of burnt, scarred from the Godsfall. Still, Lore started forward, hoping she’d somehow draw close enough to the right place without stumbling and breaking a leg. Thesinging was nearly manic, but though it’d led her here, it didn’t help with the specifics.
Slipping into channeling-space took less thought than breathing. It looked different now. There was the gold of Spiritum, but also snatches of blue. The occasional flash of orange and iridescent white; flickers of green, but those were harder to make out.
She’d grown used to finding tiny sparks of Spiritum in dead matter, the dregs of life still held deep in death. So the tree to her right caught her attention.
