Even the Darkest Stars (Even the Darkest Stars #1)

River gazed at me silently.

“She was the shaman of a village in the Southern Aryas,” I continued. “She lived with her fire demon for years, and eventually she—I don’t know how to describe it, exactly. Father said she became broken. She was powerful, so powerful, but she decided that it wasn’t enough. She began sacrificing animals to the spirits, praying that they would grant her more power. It didn’t work, of course—she was mad to think of it—but still she kept trying. Eventually, she started killing people. She took several lives before the villagers discovered what was happening. When they confronted her, she just laughed. Father said they found the skulls of those she had killed buried beneath the floor of her hut. Perhaps she thought to use them as talismans.”

“That’s a dark tale,” River said. “I’ll admit, I’ve heard similar things about other shamans who have formed contracts with fire demons. The risk seems real enough.”

I gazed at him. “Then you’ve never felt—”

“The desire to start a skull collection? Fortunately not. My guess is this sort of magic doesn’t touch everyone the same way.” He looked thoughtfully at the fire, and seemed to search for words. “It’s more difficult to hold on to feelings, I think, than it used to be. Happiness, fear, grief—it doesn’t really matter what. I feel it, I think I do, but then it fades. As if it’s muffled somehow.” He looked back at me. “Did you think about Aimo last night?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

He sighed slightly. “I didn’t. Not once. It wasn’t until I was walking past that crevasse again with the yak that I remembered. Really remembered, I mean. It’s the same with Norbu—the man has been at my side for three years. I should miss him a great deal more.”

I didn’t know how to reply to this. The cold wind eddied over the campsite, and I tucked my hands into my sleeves.

There was a rustling sound from the tent I shared with Tem. Then, low and muffled, the sound of his cough.

“I should go,” River said, standing. “I don’t like good-byes, they’re bad luck. Give Dargye my thanks, will you? And Tem. He fought bravely back in the pass. I don’t think I ever told him that.”

“What?” I said. But he was already walking away, heading toward his tent. He ducked briefly inside, then reemerged carrying his pack. “River!”

“What?” He approached the yak, pausing every few steps as if trying to anticipate an attack. The beast didn’t even raise her head—she seemed to be sound asleep.

I hurried after him. When I caught up, I grabbed his arm and wrenched him around to face me. “What are you doing?”

“You know what I’m doing,” he said, looking surprised. “What I came here to do. Fetch the emperor’s talisman.”

I sputtered. “You can’t climb Raksha alone!”

“What do you suggest? I won’t ask you to come with me, Kamzin. Not after all that’s happened.”

I stared at him. “So I’m just supposed to turn around and go home?”

He removed one of the satchels from the yak’s load, checked it, then slung it over his shoulder. “Why not? I know why you’re here. You want to be an explorer, to have great adventures. Well, you’ve had a great adventure, haven’t you? And I promise that if I ever make it back to the Three Cities, the emperor will know your name. You’ll be celebrated at court, with your pick of the best expeditions that will take you to the farthest reaches of the Empire. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

I stared at him. He stood before me, offering casually what I had dreamed of my entire life. The breeze stirred his tahrskin chuba. I had gazed at it so often, so often imagined wearing one just like it, the feel and movement of it.

It was what I wanted. And yet—

“If anything goes wrong—” I began.

“If anything goes wrong, I have Azar-at. He’s very reliable.”

I shook my head. I could think of a hundred words for Azar-at, and “reliable” wasn’t one of them. The idea of abandoning River to that creature, whether he had asked for it or not, was too awful to contemplate.

“I’ve warned you before about trusting me,” he said, and his voice had no levity in it now. “You see why. I lied to you. I would do it again, to complete the mission. It’s the most important thing in the world to me. I must succeed, no matter the cost.”

“You think I don’t understand that?” I glared at him. “Azmiri overlooks the Amarin Valley, the path to the Nightwood. If the witches get their powers back, what would stop them from attacking my village, my family? Will the emperor’s armies be able to defend us against creatures that can take any form, or conceal themselves in a hundred ways? Aimo died because of them—they’re the reason she came with us.” I lowered my voice, suddenly fierce. “I won’t let her die for nothing.”

And I won’t let you die either.

He gazed into the shadows. I noticed, suddenly, that Azar-at was there, standing just behind him. Had he been there all along, watching us?

“Kamzin.” He took my hand, drawing me toward him. “If you’re truly determined to come with me, I won’t argue with you. I’d lose—I know you well enough by now to realize that. Besides, I—I don’t really want to leave you behind. But please consider this carefully.”

“I have.” I stepped closer, so that my face was only inches from his. “I don’t do anything halfway. Besides, I’m the better climber.”

He laughed then, a familiar sound, wild and twisting. Somehow, in spite of everything, I felt a stab of excitement. I remembered the Elder of Jangsa’s words. He had said I sought danger, even reveled in it. He had also said I would succeed—though not in a way I would expect.

I thought of Aimo. Was that what he had meant? A success shadowed by sorrow and loss? Or something else entirely?

“Get your pack,” River said. “Let’s begin.”





PART III


RAKSHA





EIGHTEEN


THE ICE GROANED beneath my feet, threatening to cleave in two. I regained my balance and continued trudging forward. One step at a time, that was what I needed to focus on. Not the groaning, creaking, shifting icefall.

The icefall—a deadly mass of broken snow and ice that flowed slowly down the side of a mountain—was the only viable route onto Raksha, according to Mingma’s maps. I had estimated that it should only take River and me an hour or two to cross it, if we kept up a good pace. I thought we could reach the summit of the mountain, and the sky city, in three or four days.

It was pure guesswork. I had no idea what we were facing.

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