The man turned back to Norbu. “It’s fortunate you brought him to us. The healer believes we have caught it in time.”
“Caught what in time?” Tem said. But the elder was speaking quietly to the healer, who disappeared after Norbu.
“Do you know how long this will take?” I said, suddenly nervous at the thought of being delayed here for long. The elder was kind, if a little odd, and the people were not as unfriendly as I had feared. But still, there was something about Jangsa—its brokenness, perhaps, or its atmosphere of decay frozen in time—that repelled me.
“Don’t worry, Thaken’s daughter.” The elder’s sharp features relaxed into a smile. “There’s no healer wiser than Yachen. Now you must eat. You will be hungry, after journeying all the way from Azmiri.”
I glanced at Tem. He gave an almost imperceptible shrug.
Smothering my anxiety, I nodded and followed the elder into the house.
ELEVEN
THE GHOST MARCH began at the doorstep of the elder’s house, and then moved on—or, rather, spread—from there. I had often attended the Ghost Marches in Azmiri, where a small, orderly procession of villagers bearing food offerings for visiting spirits wove its way through the streets of the village, coming to a stop in the square, where minstrels serenaded them—and any ghosts in attendance—with drums and bells and kangling. An hour or two would pass, and then the villagers would go home to bed, leaving the food and the instruments in the square for the spirits to enjoy. Through the night, the wind would move over them, giving the illusion—if illusion it was—of ghostly hands tugging at the strings.
Jangsa’s Ghost March was nothing like that.
Bonfires burned at street corners, contorting the shadows of those who passed. Ghosts feared light, so the fires were kept low, providing barely enough to see by, and your eyes played strange tricks with the shifting darkness. Food of every description sat untouched upon offering tables, so much of it that I no longer wondered why the people of Jangsa seemed so thin. People danced in the square just below the elder’s house, weaving intricate patterns that I couldn’t follow. Some hid their faces behind enormous, skeletal masks. Drummers improvised melodies that bled together, then clashed, then bled together again. Lanterns floated through the air, makeshift and flimsy. Some caught fire as they drifted into the sky, their ascent slowing, slowing, until finally it stopped, and they fell like tiny stars.
“Are you coming?” Tem said.
I turned away from the view out the window. “No.”
“Kamzin, how many chances will we have to attend a Ghost March in Jangsa?”
“I’m not sure I care for the living inhabitants of this place, Tem. Now you want me to go dancing with the dead ones?”
“We don’t have to dance. We can just watch.”
I looked back at the window, indecisive. “I should check on Norbu.”
“He’s asleep,” Tem said. “His wound looks better. The healer cleaned it with some sort of salve—I don’t know what it was, but it smelled awful—and then I helped her with a purification chant. She says all he needs now is rest. Besides, River said he would look in on him.”
“Who knows if that’s true,” I muttered. When the elder had invited River to attend the Ghost March, he had merely muttered something about disliking crowds, and disappeared in the direction of the rooms we had been given for the night. I had not seen him since. I wondered if he put as much effort into avoiding gatherings back in the Three Cities.
“What about you?” I said. “Did you tell the healer about your cough?”
“I didn’t think of it.”
“Tem.”
“I’ll speak with her later, promise.” He tugged at my hand. “Come on.”
I gazed at him. His chin-length hair, which normally shielded half his face, was damp from washing. It was brushed back, framing the angular planes of his face and his dark amber eyes, which had an ebony ring around the irises. It was unusual to see him that way, and not for the first time I noticed how handsome he had become. Tem had been short and plump as a boy, with a round, doll-like face, but all that had changed in the last year or two. He was well on his way to becoming a near mirror image of his tall, broad-shouldered father—who, despite being widely disliked, was privately acknowledged by the women of Azmiri as the most attractive man in the village. Though I would never tell Tem any of this—he didn’t take kindly to being compared to his father in any respect.
“I really don’t think it’s a wise idea,” I said.
“You don’t think something is a wise idea?” He smiled again, and I felt something inside me relax. With a sigh, I allowed him to lead me out into the night.
I regretted it almost immediately. The square was a chaotic swirl of dancers—some masked and whirling in tight circles around the fire, so rapidly I was amazed they didn’t fall over from dizziness, others dressed in plain clothes with only a few rows of bone beads around their necks. The masked dancers wielded curved swords that flashed as they sliced through the air. Children danced too, on the outskirts of the square. Though there were tables piled with food and drink, none of the villagers touched a morsel. The smell of incense and souring yak milk mingled with the smoke.
“Oh,” Tem said. I followed his gaze, and stopped short.
River was dancing with one of the village girls. She had flashing eyes and hair like spun silk, and was almost painfully beautiful. Tem and I were not the only ones watching them—a knot of girls hovered at the edge of the dance, some smiling, others wearing envious frowns. River’s expression was difficult to make out. He and the girl wove in and out of the dancers like fish in a stream, appearing and disappearing amidst the swirl of light and shadow, as if they belonged to it. I felt an unexpected twinge of anger.
“What’s he doing?” I said.
“You have to ask?” Tem was gazing at the girl in River’s arms with a look that only increased my irritation. He shook his head slightly and turned back to me. “Are you all right?”
“Of course I am,” I said, a little too quickly. “I just don’t understand him, that’s all. I don’t trust these people, and I thought he didn’t either.”
Tem’s gaze drifted to the girl again. I could see he didn’t share my feelings where she was concerned.
“Let’s dance,” I said, gripping his hand.
“I thought you—”
“I changed my mind.”
I dragged him into the square. The dancers followed no discernible pattern, clusters of twos or threes or fours weaving together and stamping their feet in time to the music. The only constant was the gaps they left between each other, which were supposed to be for any ghosts who wished to take part. Tem grasped my arms and we spun around, folding ourselves into the dance.
Almost immediately, I let out a yelp. He had crushed my toes beneath his boot. “Tem!”