Page 50 of All the Wandering Light

“Lusha?”

She held the rock out to me. “We’re not too late.”

“What?”

“Take it.”

I did, still confused. “I don’t—”

“Look at it.”

I looked from her to the rock, nonplussed. What I held was a lump of stone about twice the size of my fist. It was no shape in particular, a nonshape, rounded on one side and squarish on the other, with haphazard lumps in between, and its texture was a tangle of smooth planes and rough angles. It was, in short, the most ordinary rock I had ever seen, as cold as the mountain from which it had been drawn, and gray as gray could be, lifeless, dead.

“Be careful,” Lusha snapped as I transferred the rock to my other hand. She took it back, holding the thing as if it were a precious gem, and stuffed it into her satchel.

“Um, Lusha—”

“Let’s go.” She was already turning, already walking away.

With one last glance at the broken part of the mountain, where perhaps a fallen star had lain, I followed. Lusha moved like someone possessed, lowering herself back down the mountain without even waiting to see if I was keeping up—which, given that we were tied together, was inconvenient. I hurried after her, trying to match her pace before she dragged me over the edge on my back. I alternated between terror that Lusha would put a foot wrong and pitch down the slope, and a grim satisfaction at the prospect of her own arrogance being the cause of another broken ankle.

“Slow down,” I admonished, as a careless step caused her to lose her footing. I wrapped my hand around the rope and hauled her back against the mountainside just in time.

She gave me a fierce look. “I will not slow down. We have to get this to Tem.”

I wanted to ask what she expected Tem to do with a lump of rock, but kept quiet. Lusha was already behaving recklessly enough, and I didn’t want to distract her further with an argument. We continued in silence, barely any slack in the rope between us. When we reached the bottom of the face, Lusha stumbled. Mingma appeared out of nowhere, steadying her, Tem close behind.

Lusha handed Tem the satchel. “Seal this.”

“Seal it?”

“Yes. Cast a spell to contain its power.”

“She thinks the rock is going to make a run for it.” I leaned against the mountainside, out of breath from the frenzied descent. Lusha was panting too, and swaying slightly, but that didn’t dim the determination in her eyes.

Tem dug the rock out of Lusha’s satchel and eyed it curiously. He brushed a hand over its surface, murmuring something—an incantation, or perhaps a question.

“That’s it?” Mingma said. His tone changed as Lusha’s gaze turned to him. “It’s—ah, unexpected.”

“It’s a joke,” I said, no longer constrained by any worry for Lusha’s safety. “The star’s gone. After all this searching, all this time, we’ve ended up with nothing. There’s no hope of recasting the binding spell now.”

“Yes, there is.” Lusha’s normally cool gaze was fierce. “This is the star. We have to bind it so that it doesn’t escape.”

Tem glanced up, frowning. “I don’t sense anything. I suppose I could try a spell to search for traces of hidden magic.”

“Lusha, open your eyes,” I said. “What I saw was glowing. That looks like what Aunt Behe uses to grind yerma.”

“What do you know about this, Kamzin?” she said in that now-familiar icy tone. “I’ve read the accounts of fallen stars. I can recognize the signs.”

“You’re seeing what you want to see,” I snapped. “If Tem doesn’t sense anything—”

“I’d like to have a look at the impact site,” Mingma said. “Perhaps some fragment of the star remains.”

Tem was turning the rock over in his hands, looking thoughtful. “Maybe if I tried—”

It was all I heard.

The wind sang, the mountain unfurling below me as I rose out of the shadow of the valley. The sky was a patchwork of stars and clouds, but the fading light didn’t hinder me, for I knew where I was going. I had seen it, though not with my own eyes.