“And no one guessed what you are? Not even the emperor, not his shamans?”
A faint smile crossed his face. “The emperor is clever, Kamzin, but unless given a good reason, he pays little attention to anyone other than himself. He is an obsessive man—obsessed with his youth, his reputation. I gave him no reason to question me.”
I shook my head. “Why did you do it? To spy on him?”
“Initially. With the binding spell weakening, we knew that the emperor would be searching for a way to repair it.”
“The talisman.” I laughed humorlessly. River’s plan had been flawless. Not only had he learned the entirety of the emperor’s plan, but he had ensured that he would be the one to carry it out. It was as clever as it was chilling.
“Yes. Which is not really a talisman at all, but the bones of an ancient king, my ancestor. The most powerful witch who ever lived.”
I felt a surge of triumph. Now I knew what I was looking for. “Are you’re sure they’re here?”
River closed his eyes briefly. “Yes. I feel something—I think it’s him.”
“But you haven’t found anything yet.”
“I reached the summit last night,” he said. “I had to wait for sunrise to begin my search. After dark, the city has no shape.”
Another shiver traveled through me.
“Kamzin.” He touched me. I shook him off, hating what I still felt when his hand met mine. Hating him.
“I’m not stupid,” I spat. “I know I can’t stop you. But I’m going to try. I’ll die trying, if I have to. Because I can’t let you do this. If the witches get their powers back, they will destroy everything that belongs to the emperor. They’ll destroy Azmiri.”
“You don’t understand.” River ran his hand across his face. I noticed, for the first time, how tired he looked. It was subtle, but it was there—in the shadows under his eyes, the tension in his mouth. He was still beautiful, still the same indomitable River. But even he was weary, after all that had happened. “How could you?”
“Why don’t you explain it, then?” I said, my voice rising. “Stop lying to me, River. I’m so tired of your lies, I can’t—”
“All right.” He grabbed my arm, and this time, I didn’t draw back. He pulled me close; our faces were only inches apart. “You want to know the truth? The real reason that Emperor Lozong took our powers?”
“I already know,” I snapped. “The witches terrorized the Empire. They couldn’t be reasoned with. The emperor wanted to protect us. It was the only right thing to do.”
“Right?” River laughed, but there was little amusement in it. “The emperor stole from us! Took all but the most rudimentary of our magics away. Trapped us in our human forms and banished us to a nightmarish place. Is that right?”
“Then you deny that the witches ever hurt anyone?” I gazed at him incredulously. “You deny that they attacked Azmiri, that they nearly razed it to the ground?”
He made a frustrated sound. “I don’t know. It’s true that some of my kind are brutal, thoughtless creatures, delighting in cruelty and trickery. I understand that better than most—after the time I spent among humans, I can see my family, myself even, more clearly than they’re able to see themselves.”
I shook my head. “And yet you still wonder why the emperor bound the witches’ powers?”
“He didn’t bind them. As I said—he stole them.”
I blinked, uncomprehending. “What are you talking about?”
River’s gaze drifted over me. “Where are your bells?”
I was momentarily thrown. “I don’t have them,” I lied, even as I felt one rustle traitorously against my collarbone. “There was no point.”
River smiled sadly at that. “Yes. You are as hopeless at magic, Kamzin, as you are spectacularly adept at other things. A fact for which I’m grateful—I’m glad I don’t have to fight you.”
I swallowed against a lump in my throat. “What do the kinnika have to do with stolen magic?”
“Everything,” he said. “They are stolen magic. So is every other talisman used by shamans.”
I stared.
“You’re mad,” I said finally. “The shamans have their own power.”
River gave a short laugh. “Some do—a trivial, rudimentary power, nothing compared to ours. In the old days, the shamans would heal animals, tame dragons, brew potions to ward off illness—small magics, the extent of their abilities. Now that they’ve come to rely on talismans, their power is much greater. But not because their own gifts have grown.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t comprehend it. “Magic needs talismans to harness and direct the flow of power from the shaman. That’s always been true. Chirri called them ‘the cardinal links.’”
“Forget about what you learned from Chirri. What I’m telling you is the truth: the emperor stole our powers and trapped them within commonplace objects. Objects that could be sold, or traded, or distributed at his discretion. These are the talismans you speak of so highly. It’s true that talismans existed, in some form, before they were imbued with our magic, but these were mere objects of superstition peddled by charlatans. The emperor attacked the witches not because of our supposedly evil deeds, but because he wanted our power. As his empire grew, he became increasingly fearful of us. He had his armies, his powerful weaponry, his great cities, but we had an ancient magic he could not understand. And so he stole it.”
I did step back then, because it was too much. I couldn’t process it. I thought of the talismans I had used—fumbling, unsure—in my lessons with Chirri. I thought of the kinnika. Could this be true? Could they be vessels of dark magic, and not mere tools to channel a shaman’s own power? I had certainly never felt any power stir within me, but then I had always assumed that was because I had as much talent for magic as a badger had for flight.
“I’m not asking you to believe me,” River said. “Because I know you will, eventually. But do you understand?”
“But does this mean—” I couldn’t speak. “It means the emperor’s shamans will be defenseless if the spell breaks? We’ll all be defenseless?”
River gazed at me for a long moment.
“I’m sorry, Kamzin,” he said.
“River, please.” I was close to tears now. “I don’t understand this, or what the emperor did all those years ago. But let me help you. Tem can give you your powers back—I’m sure he could, if he tried. Just you—not the others. I know that you don’t want to hurt anyone. Please, let me help you.”
He brushed a strand of hair back from my face. “I wish you could. But there is only one way for me to be free.”
I shook my head, unable to look away from him. “Please don’t do this.”
His expression was dark. The amusement was gone, replaced by something flat and cold. “You shouldn’t have followed me here, Kamzin.”
A sharp cry overhead. Biter fluttered into view, his wings beating madly at the thin air. River and I both looked up as the raven circled, then darted away, flying toward a wind-scoured cliff just below the summit of the mountain.