Our boots crunched over rocks hidden in the grass—we’d left the farmlands far behind. This ground was too rocky to till, and too remote to make getting to markets in larger towns easy. Clouds scudded overhead, a mixture of white and gray that blocked the sun like a heavy blanket, breezes endlessly teasing them into new shapes that threatened rain in every leaden shadow. The farther we got from the forest as the afternoon wore on, the more the wind picked up, slowing our progress as we leaned into it. Birds flew overhead in small brown clusters, like seeds scattered against the gray sky.
Hal didn’t talk much—at least not to me. A few times I caught him with a far-off smile on his face and an ear to the wind. I always looked away. It felt like eavesdropping, even though I couldn’t hear a thing, and every time I witnessed his gift, it reminded me I wasn’t who I’d thought. The ache of it grew bigger each time. I forced myself to turn my thoughts to the Fatestone, to fuel my determination. If I found it, I could have my people back. My life. Everything.
Still, my mood grew darker and more anxious the farther we walked. Conversations replayed over and over in my mind. Could I have said something different to talk Ina out of killing the king? Why hadn’t she told me about her pregnancy, and how could she be willing to die trying to murder the king knowing she carried another life inside her? When those unanswerable questions weren’t consuming me, intrusive thoughts of burned bodies and blood-spattered slush rose up unbidden, forcing me to relive the carnage I wanted desperately to erase from my past.
Now, more than ever, I felt lost and alone out in the world. I thought about saying a prayer for comfort, but which god was I even supposed to ask now that I didn’t know who I belonged to?
“What’s wrong?” Hal finally asked.
“Nothing,” I said. Talking about it wasn’t going to change anything.
“Tamer breakfast not sitting well with you? Cloudy weather bringing you down?” he guessed, even though he had to know it was more than that.
I didn’t know how to communicate the mess of memories and emotions tearing me apart. He couldn’t understand what it was like to be responsible for the deaths of countless souls. He had useful gifts, things that helped him get by in the world, not magic that left a trail of death and destruction in its wake.
“Talk to me, Asra. It’s no good holding all of it in. The things that brought you here can’t have been easy.” His voice was gentle.
“I wish I could do something to get us to Orzai faster. I’m useless. Worse than mortal. I’m not even who I thought I was. All I have is the ability to mix herbs. What good is that?” The anger in my own voice surprised me. I’d never had such ugly thoughts about myself before, but in my other life, I’d known my place. I’d known who I was and how to help people. All that had been taken away.
“But you can mix herbs with magic,” he said, as though that made any difference at all. “And you healed someone who would have died without your intervention.”
“I was only able to heal Kaja because I’d drawn so much magic out of that dying demigod in the Sanctum. And anyone can learn to mix herbs and magic. Even mortals, if they study as clerics of earth like my mentor did. Your heritage gave you gifts—the Farhearing, the wind manipulation, the compulsion—some of which barely have a cost to you. I wish I were mortal. At least then I could take a manifest. Be like everyone else. At least have another form to use to flee or to defend myself.”
“No mortal could have done all you did,” Hal said. “You helped us get out of Valenko unscathed. You talked sense into your friend. You bargained with the Tamers and defeated a corrupt demigod, then used that power to heal. That’s amazing.”
I sighed. “Yet here I am, back on the road in search of yet another person who has a vendetta against the king.”
“From what little I know of Ina, I’m pretty sure Nismae is nothing like her. Nis has an agenda, certainly. And always several irons in the fire, knives up both her sleeves, and half a dozen spies in every city. But she’s never let that stop her from being a good sister,” Hal said.
“Ina wasn’t my sister,” I said. She was both so much more and, in the end, so much less. Whatever I was to her, it wasn’t enough.
“My point is that Nismae has her preoccupations, but she wouldn’t desert me. Like your friend, she has her secrets that she chooses to reveal only at her own discretion, but she would never let those come between us. She’s forthright when it matters most.”
“You’re lucky to have her,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. In his attempts to frame his sister as a source of hope, he’d only reminded me of what I lacked.
“Yes, I am. She’ll help you, too, though. I’m sure of it. She has to know something that will help you uncover your parentage,” he said.
“She’ll probably tell me I’m descended from some forgotten god of dung.” I kicked a rock and sent it flying across the road.
Hal chortled. “That would explain how well you fertilized those plants in the Tamers’ forest!”
I couldn’t help a smile. “Maybe for my next act I should see if I can conjure fewmets to use as a starter for our fire tonight.”
“That’s the spirit! We might as well enjoy the journey while we’re on it,” he said. “Here we are, free, out on the open road!” He stretched out his arms as though the dull, rocky landscape was something we should be thrilled to be a part of, as though he could see the sun shining from some far-off place beyond the clouds. “Look at us! We can shout obscenities about the king and no one can throw us in jail! For example, it would probably take an entire team of plow horses to dislodge the enormous stick from his rear!”
I covered my mouth with my hand, pretending to be shocked even as a smile crept onto my face.
“We can do dances that have been banned in Corovja!” Hal gyrated in a way that was both peculiar and suggestive in equal measure.
That time, I couldn’t help giggling. He looked ridiculous.
“We can pretend to be feral Mynarian war steeds galloping for freedom from the oppression of idiots who wear tin cans on their heads!” He whinnied and cantered zigzags across the road in front of me.
“Stop it,” I said, laughing. All the awful things that had happened should have outweighed my ability to feel any lightness or humor.
“Why? There’s no one here to see us! No one to tell us what to do! We could keep going clear past Orzai and Corovja to the Zir Canyon and see who can spit farthest off the edge!”
I laughed so hard my cheeks started to ache.
“We can sing bawdy tavern songs inappropriate for a fine young lady such as yourself!” He broke into a song called “The Tavern Lamb,” which involved a wide variety of intoxicating drinks, a woman who enjoyed them all, and several mentions of sheep’s wool that were clearly metaphors for something else entirely.
“You’re hurting me!” I gasped to catch my breath.
He walked backward in front of me, grinning. Despite my conviction that I didn’t deserve it, the laughter eased the burdens I carried with me, unknotting the tangle of leaden feelings in my chest. Even my satchel felt lighter on my shoulder, and the part of me that Ina carried with her ached a little bit less.
“You needed that,” Hal observed.
“Maybe I did,” I replied. In that moment, my gratitude for him was overwhelming, but fear followed close on its heels. I liked him. His appearance in my life had been a blessing, but how long could I expect to have his company? Certainly not past the time it took to get to Orzai and introduce me to his sister. The moment I had a clue about the location of the Fatestone, I’d have to press on to Atheon, wherever that was.
Nothing was permanent, and the things we thought were solid could be ripped out from beneath us at any moment.
Perhaps that was why I felt compelled to take his hand.
It was warm, and his long fingers wove comfortably through mine.