Page 14 of All the Wandering Light

Mara gave me the same puzzled look he turned on the yak when she made a sudden sound. “As I said, abilities that meet the master’s need. Tsering’s familiar could understand every one of his commands—even when Tsering spoke in the barbarian dialect. He once retrieved a satchel of maps Tsering had left back at the palace. At the time, we were weeks from the Three Cities. We never did figure out how he did it.”

“I’ve never known Ragtooth to be capable of anything like that,” I said dubiously. “Though he did fetch my mittens once. Well, after he gnawed holes in them.”

“From what I’ve read, a familiar’s capabilities are also proportionate to those of its master.”

“From what you’ve read.” Clearly, initiating any sort of conversation with Mara had been a mistake.

“Yes.” Mara stretched, furling the scroll, then he moved to Lusha’s side where she sat by the telescope.

Tem seemed to be on the edge of laughter. “Kamzin—”

“Oh, forget it.” I was too tired to get worked up over Mara’s remarks. He and Lusha rustled through the star charts, murmuring. Their voices melted together with the wind’s, which was calm tonight, playing gently over the oilcloth of the tents.

I leaned back on my hands. For a moment, seated next to a warm fire with a full belly, my fears for Azmiri, and the dangerous journey ahead, seemed like little more than the fading wisps of a nightmare. It struck me for the first time that I had climbed Raksha and made it back alive.

The peak of the great mountain gleamed white in the moonlight. I had stood there—it felt impossible now, looking up at it. And I had done it without the help of a fire demon, or any aptitude for magic. I dug my fingers into the earth, excitement sparking inside me—the sort of feeling that had lain dormant for days. The realization that I had been the only human to set foot on that peak filled me with determination. If I could climb Raksha, could I do other impossible things? Could I protect Azmiri from the witches? Could I face River again?

A cold, familiar weight settled in my chest. I saw River on the summit of Raksha, the fierce wind pulling at his hair and chuba. He hadn’t hurt me, even when I tried to stop him. Would he hurt Azmiri?

I thought of the evenings we’d sat together after a long day’s march, watching the stars wink into existence. His mismatched eyes sparkling as I teased him, or for no reason in particular—River often seemed at the threshold of laughter, which rippled over his features like sunlight on water.

I didn’t know what River would do. I didn’t know him—the face he’d shown me had been a lie. All I knew now was that he was my enemy. I drew my knees to my chest, an odd sort of loneliness washing over me.

“Can you really do what you said?” I asked Tem. “Amplify the magic in the witch bell?”

Tem touched the kinnika. He had strung them on a new cord, and they rested in their familiar place around his neck. His face, as he held the witch bell, was slightly troubled. “Yes.”

I wanted to feel relief. Our plan, meager as it was, hinged on Tem’s magic—his ability to use the kinnika to defend Azmiri. But something made me uneasy.

“I thought about what you said about amplifying talismans,” I said slowly. “I do remember Chirri mentioning it. But it wasn’t anything like this—the Janyim scrolls deal only with healing spells.”

Tem nodded. “I know. But magic is magic. I can do it, Kamzin. I know I can.”

I bit my lip. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him. It was that, sometimes, I didn’t want to. Tem’s knack for magic was something I had never understood. This had become even more true since we left Azmiri. Tem had been forced to call on spells he had never used, and magical talents he had never explored. And, in a few weeks, he had exceeded anything even Chirri was capable of.

“What will you do if we get through this?” I said.

Tem blinked. “I don’t really think about it.”

“All right, I’ll go first,” I said lightly. “I’ll sleep in every day until noon, and spend the rest of the time stuffing myself with Aunt Behe’s spiced bean cakes.”

Tem laughed. “You’d do that for a day, and then you’d be so bored you’d go charging off to Mount Karranak to chase feral dragons.”

I laughed too, because he was right. We were quiet for a long moment. The kinnika tinkled faintly.

“I’d go to the Three Cities.” Tem’s voice was so quiet I could barely hear him. “I’d take the Trials.”

“The Trials?” It caught me by surprise. The Trials were the examinations taken by all those seeking to apprentice to the royal shamans. I had never heard Tem even mention them. But then, there were many subjects Tem didn’t speak about, most of them pertaining to himself.

“I mean, if I could do anything,” Tem said quickly, as if he regretted having spoken. “But my father would never allow it.”

“Your father doesn’t have to matter,” I said. “You’re almost seventeen.”

“It’s just a thought I had.” Tem turned back to the kinnika. “It’s not something I would actually do.”

I bit back a response. I wanted to tell him that I thought he would pass the Trials in record time. That he could probably best the emperor’s shamans, let alone their apprentices. But I knew Tem well enough to recognize that he wouldn’t be pushed to say anything more on the subject. He leaned over the kinnika, muttering an incantation I didn’t recognize.

“I thought you already cast the warding spells,” I said.