I must have dozed off, for suddenly I was jolted back to alertness by a dragon landing on my lap. It sniffed at my hands, then turned to regard me hopefully with its luminous golden eyes. I turned my head and found Tem seated behind me, several feet back from the edge.
“Sorry,” he said. “I asked him to wake you. You have no idea how scary that looks.”
I blinked at my surroundings. I was balanced on a narrow ledge thousands of feet above the ground. It would be an odd place for most people to sleep, I supposed.
I glared at him. “Lusha sent you to keep an eye on me, didn’t she?”
Tem’s silence was reply enough. I turned away from him, leaning my head against the rock and pointedly closing my eyes. He let out a small sigh that turned into a cough.
“I know you’re angry,” he said. “But Lusha only wants to protect you.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be protected,” I muttered. “You’re taking her side, just like everyone else always does.”
“I’m not—”
“I almost died,” I said. “River saved my life.”
I saw Mingma’s face again, felt the hungry chill of the water. It would haunt my dreams for many nights to come.
“I didn’t know,” Tem said quietly. He made a sound as if to speak again, but I turned my face away.
There was a long silence. Tem made no move to leave, though he did call the dragon back to his side. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again, but I kept my eyes closed nevertheless.
It wasn’t long, though, before I began to notice how the rock was digging uncomfortably into my back, and that my stomach was rumbling for breakfast. I snuck a glance at Tem, and was surprised to find that he was leaning his head against his hand, seemingly asleep. As I shifted position, his eyes opened, settling on me. I noticed for the first time how dark the circles under his eyes were. There was a heaviness about his movements, as if his weariness were an invisible pack he carried with him.
“Your cough is worse, isn’t it?” I said.
He rubbed his eyes, which only increased their pinkish hue. “Yes, but that isn’t the problem. I’ve been using magic too often. It’s taking a toll.”
I felt a stab of anxiety. Too many spells wore a shaman thin, to the point where ordinary methods of restoration—sleep, food, a warm fire—were rendered almost useless. It was as if the magic ate away at the shaman’s ability to protect himself from its effects. Shamans who overused magic were in danger of all sorts of ailments, or even death if they were of sufficient age.
“I helped us reach the top of the ice wall,” he said, rubbing his head as if the memory pained him. “That was a tricky bit of magic, what with Lusha’s ankle and my poor climbing skills. I ended up choosing an incantation I’ve used before with the calves, when I want them to herd together. I modified it from a herding spell to a pushing spell, to help propel us up, step by step.”
I stared at him. “You invented a new spell?”
“I don’t know about ‘invented.’ It was the same spell, at the root. Anyway, that wasn’t what tired me, not really. It was trying to undo the spell that was placed on Mara’s memories. I worked at it for an hour last night, and I’m not sure I made any progress. It’s a strange spell, and strong. And it’s as if it was designed to fight against any shaman that tried to break it.”
“Hmm.” I considered this. Chirri had taught me about memory spells once—she had even placed one on me, causing me to forget what I had eaten for breakfast that morning. She had wanted me to break the spell myself, but, true to form, I only made it worse, and eventually forgot what I had eaten for the past month. “Did you try the wayfarer’s incantation?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s something Chirri recommended for spells of the mind—to retrieve memories, or rescue someone from madness. The shaman forms a connection with the afflicted and helps them recover what they’ve lost.”
Tem looked interested. “Could you teach it to me?”
“I’m not sure.” I bit my lip. “I don’t remember it all.”
Tem gave me a small, tired smile. “That’s all right. Don’t worry about it.”
I shook my head. “I owe you an apology. I’m the reason you’re here, caught up in this mess.”
He shrugged. A faint smile spread across his face. “It’s my own fault for inviting myself along.”
“Yes. Next time, keep in mind how crazy I am before you decide to join in my adventures.”
Tem laughed. I felt myself smiling too. I had missed him. Tem and I might argue, but he was always there for me. It wasn’t something I could say about anyone else.
The kinnika tinkled faintly, making me start. Tem, though, barely seemed to notice.
“They’re still doing that,” I said.
He nodded. “I wish I knew what it meant.”
“Maybe nothing,” I said, even as I felt a familiar shiver of unease. “Maybe it’s just an echo.”
Tem unlooped the string of bells from his neck. He grasped the bell that had sounded, which I recognized—the small, singed one next to the black bell.
“I’ve been trying to work out the character at the base,” he said. “It’s not easy—the metal is warped. But I think it’s ‘shadow-kin.’”
It was an old-fashioned term for witch. I gazed at the bell. It seemed so small, so ordinary. “So what does it mean? Are there witches nearby?” I suppressed the urge to glance over my shoulder—it felt wrong even to speak of witches in a place as unearthly as Raksha.
“If so, it seems odd that we haven’t seen any sign of them.”
“We’ve been lucky.” My voice was more hopeful than I felt.
“Yes,” Tem said. “Almost too lucky. We’ve been in witch territory for days now. Don’t you think it’s strange?”
“What are you saying?” A cold weight settled in my stomach. “Do you think they’ve been . . . stalking us? Why wouldn’t they have attacked by now?”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know. I’m so tired, Kamzin. Sometimes I—I feel like I can’t separate what I’m afraid of from what’s right in front of me.”
I stretched my arm toward him. My fingertips could just barely reach his knee, but he caught my hand and held it tight.
Back at the cave, I rooted through the remaining supplies, scrounging a cheerless breakfast of churpi, a rock-hard yak cheese, and dried lentils. Lusha and Mara hovered around the fire just outside the cave, debating whether Mara should go ahead to scout out the ridge they had identified, leaving Lusha behind to rest her ankle. Lusha, unsurprisingly, was not happy with this idea, and as their argument went around in circles, I stopped listening. I was past exhausted and probably could have slept in a snowdrift—instead, I retreated into the cave, grateful for the shelter it provided. I would rest for a few minutes, that was it.