Page 66 of All the Wandering Light

“Not Azar-at.” Lusha’s voice was so sharp that one of the soldiers glanced her way. She leaned back against the tree. “Wait until dark.”

Of course she wasn’t going to tell me. I swallowed a retort. In spite of myself, though, I felt a shiver of hope. I knew from experience that when Lusha came up with a plan, it was never halfhearted.

I examined my binds. They were tight enough, but not painfully so, and I thought I could probably wriggle out of them if given time. Whenever I strained, though, one of the soldiers lifted his bow.

Lusha, beside me, hadn’t moved. I could just make out the line of her implacable profile. Something fluttered overhead, and the soldier started, scanning the darkness. But the bird was already gone.

Time passed. The clouds split apart, and I caught glimpses of stars between the branches, tiny pearls snared in a net. Trees were scarce in Azmiri, and mostly of the skinny, sharp-needled variety. It was strange to view the sky through leafy boughs.

I shivered. I was a long way from home. Was Azmiri all right? Losing the star wouldn’t prevent Esha from continuing his attacks.

The constellation Damaya’s Drum disappeared slowly behind the leaves, replaced by the Great Boar. I was tired, so tired. Occasionally, the breeze brought us a murmur of conversation from Elin’s camp. But for the most part, the night was quiet, the trees becalmed. I closed my eyes, intending to rest only briefly.

A twig snapped, jolting me awake. I felt someone’s breath on my cheek, warm and soft. I opened my eyes and choked on a scream.

A girl leaned over me, her face only inches from mine. It was the girl I had seen before, in the tent back in the Ashes—the one with my face. But not just my face—she had my long hair, my height, my clothes. For a moment I could only stare, transfixed. It was like looking into a mirror.

But the girl didn’t start when I did. She leaned back slightly when she realized I was awake, her mouth half-open as if about to speak. She seemed equally fascinated by me. Her hair was a mess—a snarl of leaves and tangles, and there was a scratch across her cheek.

I raised a hand to my own cheek, where a branch had grazed it. The girl reached out and removed a twig from my hair.

“Lusha.” I grabbed her arm. She leaned against the other side of the tree, gazing into the forest.

She turned. “What?”

I expected her to jump at the sight of the girl, but she showed no sign of surprise. I whirled back around.

The girl was gone.

One of the soldiers was gazing at me strangely. Had he been watching me this entire time? If so, how had he failed to notice my double crouching over my sleeping body? I began to shake.

I was going mad.

“Kamzin, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I turned away. “Thought I saw something.”

I folded my arms over my knees, trying to still the shaking. But it emanated from some fundamental part of me, and wouldn’t stop.

I knew what happened to shamans who borrowed magic from fire demons. I had recounted one such story to River, of a woman who went mad and began murdering her neighbors. Was that what was happening to me? Was this how the madness began? The girl had seemed as vivid as Lusha, or the soldiers.

I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood.

A raven landed on a rock in the stream, settling its wings against its back. The bird cocked its head at the closest soldier, as if sizing him up. The man made a threatening gesture. The bird didn’t flinch.

Biter. I recognized that long, curved beak. What was he doing?

I started as another raven landed by my side. The soldier behind me stamped his foot, and the bird leaped to a perch a few feet away.

“Jumpy?” Lusha said.

The soldier flushed at her scornful tone, and tried to assume a semblance of his former stoicism. Biter continued to stare from the rock.

A whisper of motion overhead. I glanced up and found several pairs of beady eyes gazing down at me.

The soldier let out a muffled curse. He had seen them too. But before he could do anything, the birds floated to the ground, forming a rough semicircle around him.

“What is this?” the man said, shifting his bow from one raven to another. They kept moving, darting from tree to ground and back again, croaking eerily. One soared so close to the man’s head that he loosed the arrow by accident—it thunked harmlessly into a tree.