Kal pressed a hand to her side, feeling the slight bulge where she’d hidden the kaldurite in the lining of her coat. She’d almost thrown the stones away. But if the witches valued them so much, they must be worth something. She just didn’t know why yet.
Bitch, we’re gonna be rich.
Kal adjusted her pack and picked her way down a narrow path. All her life, she’d been scheming to escape. Now, she’d give anything to turn back the clock and have her old life back. To have Durian back.
Well. She had to keep going.
Ilion was her best chance. The port city was a four-day hike if she pushed hard. From there, she could buy passage on a ship headed anywhere—Kirith, Old Sarpedon, even all the way to snowy Sundland. Change her name, disappear. Start over where the witches couldn’t find her.
If such a place existed.
The landscape grew wilder as she continued north, a treeless badland sculpted by wind and rain into twisted spires. Buttes rose from the earth, their sides scored by centuries of erosion. Deep gullies cut between them, creating a maze that only the most seasoned prospectors could navigate.
Rockhunting was a cutthroat business. People set traps on streambeds using boards studded with rusty nails. Roads were often blocked with illegal gates, though she and Durian would just climb over. There were a million stories about buried treasure in the Zamir Hills, and they’d actually found rusty lockboxes a few times, but all were empty.
Now the last rays of sunlight caught the high pinnacles, making them gleam like the edge of a knife. Shadows pooled in the valleys and the temperature plummeted. Night fell quickly out here, a liquid chill that crept into your bones. Kal thrust her hands into the pockets of her peacoat.
When she reached a flat outcrop, she decided it was a good place to rest. She shrugged off her pack, wincing as she rolled her shoulders. The rock still held a bit of warmth from the sun. She took out a sandwich wrapped in wax paper and leaned against her pack.
“Thank you, Bastian,” she mumbled through a mouthful of egg and paprika.
Her thoughts drifted to the pair from the riverboat. The cypher and the well-dressed man. He wasn’t a witch. His eyes weren’t silver. But there had been something about him. A commanding authority.
How many people were hunting her?
She took a swig from her thermos. She’d need to refill it tomorrow at one of the springs. Standing, Kal took her bearings. The cluster of stars called Amira’s Hourglass was just visible, faint pinpricks of light in the deepening blue. As long as she kept it in front of her, she’d stay on course for Ilion.
The wind picked up, lifting springy curls from her forehead. In the distance, a hawk rode the thermals, wings rigid as it hunted for prey. She scanned the skies but saw nothing else.
Everyone in Pota Pras feared the Sinn, but in all her years of exploring, Kal had only seen them a handful of times. She and Durian had found their tunnels, yes—smooth-bored passageways through solid rock that no human tool could create. Yet the creatures themselves were elusive.
“Maybe they’re not as common as people think,” Durian had once said. “Or maybe they just want to be left the fuck alone.”
Kal reached for her pack to get moving again when it slid across the ground, all on its own, and came to rest at the feet of the witch with all the piercings in her face. The other one with metal teeth stood beside her. He picked up Kal’s pack and shook it upside down. The rest of Bastian’s sandwiches spilled out, along with her life’s savings. He eagerly tore the lid off the kopi tin, then scowled and upended it. Paper bills fluttered in the wind.
“Where are the stones?” the pierced witch demanded.
Kal slid a hand into her coat pocket, fingers brushing the pistol grip. Her heart was beating so hard she could feel the vibration across her entire chest. “I threw them away.”
“Don’t you lie to me. You’ll take us to the exact place where you found them or I’ll peel the skin from your body and feed it to you.”
It didn’t sound like an idle threat. For a heartbeat, Kal almost turned over the stones. Told them everything. But even if she did that, she knew they would kill her, just as they had killed Durian.
She backed away, buying time. “How’d you find me?”
The male witch smirked. “Do you honestly believe we weren’t watching your house?”
Her chest froze. Bastian.
“Don’t look at me like that, we didn’t hurt your brother. What do you think we are, monsters?” He laughed, silver teeth gleaming in the darkness.
“Just leave me alone. I don’t have any more!”
He ignored that. “We thought you might lead us to the mine, but my partner Ash here is tired of following you. She thinks it would be a lot quicker if you just take us there now. So what do you say, Kal?”
The red-haired witch, Ash, raised her hand, fingers splayed. Cold skittered across Kal’s skin, raising goosebumps along her arms, but nothing else happened. With an angry snarl, the male witch started striding toward her. Without thinking, Kal drew the gun. She pointed it at him and squeezed the trigger. The crack echoed through the gullies. Her hand was shaking and the shot missed. She steadied the aim with both hands and fired again. This time he staggered, blood blossoming against his white coat.
She stared at that for a moment in shock. She’d never shot anyone before. But he was still fucking coming and her finger clenched convulsively on the trigger, firing again and again. Muzzle flashes lit the darkness in strobing bursts. When the hammer fell on an empty chamber, she turned and ran.
