But those were the feelings of Sylina, Arachessen spy. Not Sylina, desperate fugitive.
I took it. His grip was rough and calloused.
“Good,” he said firmly. Like that was that.
He released my hand, and I felt his skin burning against my palm long after. He leaned against the rock again, arms crossed, taking me in.
“Now,” he said, “about the seering.”
Atrius’s army was, apparently, so active right now because they were preparing to leave and continue on their conquering path. He told me this flatly, in simple fact. He withdrew a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket and flattened it best he could against the smooth side of the rock, revealing a map of Glaea. He pointed to a city-state just north of here: Alka.
“You know it?”
“Of course.”
I didn’t bother hiding my distaste. It was a bleak, dark place. The Pythora King had given most city-states to his cronies to rule over in absolute power, and the one that held Alka was a warlord, Aaves, who was among the worst of them. Like most of the Pythora King’s followers, he kept his population drugged and starving and his warriors drugged and strong. Worse, most of the city was built directly into the stone and sea, so the whole place was constructed of narrow tunnels and rickety bridges over brackish, pest-infested waters. I’d been sent on several missions there over the years, and all of them had been miserable.
I could understand why Atrius was concerned about taking Alka. It was so decentralized and so difficult to navigate that numbers alone wouldn’t be enough to hand him victory.
I told him this, and his brow lowered as he inclined his chin.
“You’re right. That’s why we have you.”
“You expect a seer to get you out of this situation.”
He smiled faintly. He said nothing, but his presence said, Yes.
Even if the Bloodborn liked to make use of seers, it was strange to use them in this way—for something so specific. Visions were cryptic and unpredictable. They weren’t instructions or even guideposts—nothing concrete. The images were often difficult to make out and even harder to make sense of. The best seers in the world might have strong enough connections to the gods to be able to ask specific questions and get specific answers—or something close—but I certainly wasn’t one of them. In fact, I didn’t like seering much. Too abstract. I didn’t like to relinquish that much control.
“If I ask the gods how you can conquer Alka,” I said, “they aren’t going to just respond by giving you a map and a set of instructions.”
“I know,” he replied simply.
That was all. He just waited, expectant.
“I gave you an order,” he said.
“Now? And you’ll stand here and watch me?”
“Yes.”
It felt wrong, to seer with him just staring at me, like I was doing something intimate with a very unpleasant audience. But while I was willing to put up a little bit of a fight just to make him trust his victories, I also knew which fights weren’t worth having, and this was one of them.
I sighed.
“Fine,” I said. “Help me build the fire.”
It took a significant amount of preparation to seer to Acaeja. She was a goddess that placed great value on ritual—she lorded over the unknown, after all, and tapping into the unknown took significant focus.
Atrius helped me without complaint, following my commands with surprising amiability. We built a fire on the beach, feeding it until it was a roaring blaze. I tended it with elements of the earth—a handful of sand, a sprinkle of flower petals, the roots of tall grass. When it was time to get the blood sacrifice, Atrius turned away and started walking, before I stopped him.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting the creature for you.”
“I can hunt.”
His presence shifted in the first hint of annoyance I’d seen all night. “We don’t have time to waste.”
That was almost sweet. Weaver bless him.
“Give me that,” I said, motioning to his bow.
I thought he might hesitate, thinking I’d shoot him with it, but he handed it over immediately. He really did underestimate me.
Animals were active at night. When I reached for the threads, I felt them everywhere, lurking in the rocks, in the tall grass. I settled on a rabbit, which crouched in the sparse greenery. If I was relying on eyes alone, I wouldn’t have a sightline to it. But I wasn’t.
One shot, and the rabbit was dead.
I retrieved it, yanked the arrow from its guts, and returned to Atrius. If he was surprised or impressed, he didn’t show it.
“Here.” I gave him back his bow, then opened my hand. “Your knife.”
He gave it to me, and I crouched before the fire, heat nipping at my nose as I sliced open the rabbit’s throat.
My goddess Acaeja, Weaver of Fates, Keeper of the Unknown, I silently incanted. I give you this gift of life. Open your doors to me.
The rabbit’s blood dripped into the fire. I rubbed some of it over my hands, using my thumb to draw it across my face—two lines, one under each eye, just beneath my blindfold. Then I cast the corpse into the flames.
The blaze surged and roared in a sudden burst, making Atrius take a half-step backwards. Good. That meant it was working.
I dragged my bare toes in a circle, all the way around the fire, until I returned to my starting position. Then I sat down before the fire, so close that sweat now trickled down the back of my neck.
“Be back soon,” I said to Atrius, closed my eyes, and fell back.
And back.
And back.
Into darkness.
9
My feet touched glass water, perching on the top but not breaking through. It was dark. Mist surrounded me. A single silver line stretched out before me, flush to the smooth surface of the water, disappearing into the mist.
I walked forward, heel to toe, remaining on the silver line. It was shockingly cold against my bare feet, and a little painful, as if sharp.
The mist grew thicker, and then dissipated.
Now cliffs surrounded me, stretching endlessly into the sky. The water rippled and shifted. The air was thick with the scent of blood. It trickled, too, down the faces of the cliffs, pooling in the water. The path before me narrowed, narrowed, narrowed, until stone squeezed my shoulders.
I knew this place. This was Alka.
Good. The right path.
Give me something more, Weaver, I whispered.
I reached out my presence in all directions. My palms pressed to the stone, searching for cracks and weaknesses.
Another step.
My left hand pushed through the stone. Blink, and the rock gave way to thick, soupy mist. The threads split before me—one continuing forward through the cliffs, another veering off into mist.
I changed courses, following the second thread.
Blink, as the cliffs shattered and fell away.
Before me was a moon, full as a silver coin. Step, and red and black dripped down its surface, trickling into the water. The distant cliffs of Alka drowned in it.