“Cheebye,” she whispered. “Cheebye.”
Her nerves were trying to suffocate her. This was pathetic. She was Sanao Mokoya. Daughter of the Protector, ex-prophet, former instigator of rebellion in the heart of the capital. She had passed through hellfire and survived. What was all her training for, all those years of honing her discipline, if the smallest, stupidest things—like a quarrel with her brother, for example—could bring her to ruin?
Still kneeling, she kept her eyes shut and moved her lips through a calming recitation. A last-resort tactic. The words she muttered were so familiar to her, they had been bleached of all meaning.
Remember you, bright seeker of knowledge, the First Sutra, the Sutra of Five Natures.
The Slack is all, and all is the Slack.
It knows no beginning and no end, no time and no space.
All that is, exists through the grace of the Slack. All that moves, moves through the grace of the Slack.
The firmament is divided into the five natures of the Slack, and in them is written all the ways of things and the natural world.
First is the nature of earth. Know it through the weight of mountains and stone, the nature of things when they are at rest.
Second is the nature of water. Know it through the strength of storms and rivers, the nature of things that are in motion.
Third is the nature of fire. Know it through the rising of air and the melt of winter ice, the nature of things that gives them their temperature.
Fourth is the nature of forests. Know it through the beat of your heart and the warmth of your blood, the nature of things that grow and live.
Fifth is the nature of metal. Know it through the speed of lightning and the pull of iron, the nature of things that spark and attract.
Know the ways of the five natures, and you will know the ways of the world. For the lines and knots of the Slack are the lines and knots of the world, and all that is shaped is shaped through the twining of the red threads of fortune.
It was a long spiel. So long that by the time her attention had slogged all the way to its odious end, her lungs had stopped trying to collapse upon themselves. Her head still hurt, lines of stress running from the crown to the joints of neck and shoulder, but her legs held when she stood.
Phoenix came and pressed her massive snout against Mokoya, whining in distress. “Shh,” Mokoya said, palms gentle against the pebbled skin of the creature’s nose. “Everything will be okay. I’m here. Nothing can hurt you.”
The raptor pack circled them. They were almost as tall as Mokoya when dismounted. Unlike her, they seemed to be largely unaffected by the naga’s passage.
Mokoya marked the spot where the beast had disappeared. She could spin this into a triumph. No more hunting, no more groping through unsympathetic desert searching for signs. She had found the naga’s nest. And the best part of it: defying the reports they’d heard, the naga was average for its kind. They’d hunted bigger; they’d certainly captured bigger. This wasn’t the otherworldly monstrosity Mokoya had been fearing. Adi’s crew could definitely handle this one without problems.
Mokoya raised her left wrist to deliver the good news, then remembered what she’d done to the transmitter. Cheebye.
Wait. No. There was still the talker. How could she have forgotten?
Phoenix lowered herself to the sand at Mokoya’s command. She reached into the saddlebag and rooted around until she collided with the talker’s small round mass, the bronze hard and warm against her palm. Tensing through metal-nature infused the object with life-giving electricity. Its geometric lines lit up, plates separating into a loose sphere. Slackcraft. Mokoya turned the plates until they formed the configuration twinned with Adi’s talker.
Several seconds passed. Adi’s voice welled up from the glowing sphere. “Mokoya! Kanina—is that you or a ghost?”
“It’s me, Adi. I’m not dead yet.”
An annoyed noise, another expletive. “Eh, hello, I let you go by yourself doesn’t mean you can ignore me, okay? What happened to Yongcheow’s stupid machine?”
“Something,” Mokoya demurred. “An accident.” She leaned against Phoenix’s warm, patient bulk. Get to the point. “Adi, I’m coming back. I found the nest. I did it, all right? I found the naga’s nest.”