As we approached the city, the first rays of the rising sun struck the towers. I gasped. Small crystals in the stone seemed to catch fire, and the entire city shone like a dark river against the snowy mountain. It was beautiful, though not an inviting sort of beauty. In that land of sky and fading stars, with its strange, enchanted stone, the city was forbidding. More than forbidding—I had an overpowering sense of being unwanted, as if a thousand pairs of angry eyes were boring into my back. The feeling was so strong I swayed, almost losing balance.
Ragtooth, oblivious to my distress, charged ahead, nose to the ground. Gritting my teeth, I stepped off the uneven stairs and followed. My boots crunched through the snow, deafeningly loud, it seemed, in that empty place. The snow was crusted and hard, the wind having swept away any loose powder. I thought—I thought—I could just make out the suggestion of someone else’s trail.
I surveyed the landscape, the scoured pinnacles and craggy ridges, the city tucked against a half-moon-shaped hollow in the mountainside. I had a strange urge to shout River’s name. A ludicrous instinct—River was my enemy. He had used me, and when I was no longer of value to him, he had tossed me aside.
I fought back the swell of fury and grief. I couldn’t lose control, not now, after coming so far. I squinted into the brightening sunlight. Where was he?
It doesn’t matter, a small voice inside me said. If River had already found the talisman, all was lost. But if he hadn’t—
Then I might.
“Biter,” I called. Lusha’s raven settled on my outstretched arm. “Do you know what we have to do?”
The bird gazed at me with emotionless black eyes. I had never cared for Lusha’s ravens, and they, for all I could tell, had never cared for me. But now I felt a strange kinship, as if the creature carried part of my sister inside itself. Biter croaked softly, cocking his head. Then he took off, soaring above the towers of the witch city, where he was lost to sight.
“All right, Ragtooth,” I said. “Biter will search from the skies. That leaves us to search from the ground.”
We set off, Ragtooth leaping through the drifts, his tail flicking back and forth. My tired, aching body protested as I forced it up a small rise, toward a squat tower with windows but no visible door. It was still hidden from the sun by the shadow of the land.
Something about the strange black stone mesmerized me. It was like no material I had ever seen—the smoothness of obsidian and the density of coal. Everything about it said stay away. The tower was not for human eyes. I was not meant to be here. And yet, in spite of this, or perhaps because of it, I felt compelled to touch it. I reached out.
My fingers passed through the stone.
I leaped back as if stung. The tower shuddered, wavering slightly before settling back into shape. There were four windows now, where before there had been five.
A slow shudder traveled from my neck to the base of my spine. The tower was made of shadow. It was impossible. Apparently, that didn’t matter in this impossible place.
I took a step back as another shudder raised the hair on my neck. The entire city was like this, its tiered pagodas and open-walled observatories, and unidentifiable beasts guarding it all. Was it truly a shadow city, or were my human eyes unable to comprehend the truth of it—like a monster in a dream that lurked always at the edge of sight? Every instinct screamed at me to turn back. Stay away. The angry eyes seemed to bore deeper.
Ragtooth let out a fierce growl. I whirled, following his gaze.
Standing on a raised promontory, his tahrskin chuba streaming behind him like a dark banner, was River.
TWENTY-NINE
I DOVE BEHIND the tower before I realized how ridiculous that was—taking shelter behind an apparition. Nevertheless, I poked my head around cautiously. River had not seen me—he stood with his back to me, gazing over the city. I could make out only a sliver of his profile. His arms were crossed, his chin propped in one hand, as if lost in thought.
My mind worked frantically. What did I do now? I couldn’t very well search the mountain with River standing guard. Besides that, I had no idea what I was looking for. River had—purposely, no doubt—refused to give any of us even the most basic description of the talisman.
An idea blossomed.
Slowly, I stood up, ignoring Ragtooth’s growls. The fox tangled himself in my legs as I walked, trying to trip me.
“Stop that,” I hissed. “Trust me, Ragtooth. I have a plan.”
The fox gave my boot a spiteful nip, but he allowed me to pass.
River could see me now, if he turned his head. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to hide. I silenced those instincts, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, on taking calm, even strides. I could have been out for a stroll in Aunt Behe’s goji patch. Only the shaking of my hands belied my act.
No big deal, I thought. I just climbed the world’s tallest mountain on a mission to stop you from destroying the Empire. What’s new with you, River?
A mad giggle threatened to escape me. I scanned the area for Azar-at, but to my infinite relief, the fire demon was nowhere to be seen. As I drew near, River cocked his head, as if listening to something. His hearing had always been unnaturally sensitive—why had I never wondered at that? Or any of the other small things that hinted that he was something more—or less—than human? He turned, and his gaze met mine.
“Kamzin!”
Even at a distance, I could see the shock on his face. He stood there a moment, staring. Then he leaped from the rock—a drop of perhaps twenty feet—and strode toward me without pausing. I forced myself to stand still, unflinching.
“Kamzin, how did you—”
“I know what you are,” I said. “We broke the memory spell. Mara told us everything.”
River’s expression faded from stunned to wary. For the first time since I had known him, he seemed at a loss for words. Then his eyes narrowed.
“So,” he said, “you know what I am. But you don’t know everything, Kamzin.”
“I know that you lied to me.” A tear rolled down my face, and I brushed it away angrily.
“I had to. I needed your help.”
“How?” I shook my head, lost. “How did you do it, River? Is that even your name?”
“Yes.” He took another step toward me, but stopped when he saw me flinch. “It is my name. Though Shara is borrowed.”
I searched his eyes. Part of me wanted to take another step back, to put more distance between us. But another, stronger part held me in place.
“How did you deceive the emperor and his court?” I demanded. “Whatever you are, whatever you’ve done, you owe me an explanation, after all we’ve been through.”
“I know.” He ran his hand through his hair, as if pondering how to begin. The gesture, absent and unaffected, was so familiar that I found myself faltering. I had expected to confront a witch, a dark creature who had deceived me since our first meeting. Instead, I had found only River.
“Gaining a place at court wasn’t difficult,” he said. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the wind. “I chose to assume the Shara name for good reason—they are an ancient line, with as many branches as a willow. The family I chose were shy, modest people with few acquaintances at court. With Azar-at’s help, I altered their memories so they would recognize me as their brother and son. It wasn’t difficult, from there, to insert myself into the emperor’s inner circle.”