Page 25 of All the Wandering Light

Lusha started. “The Ashes?”

“Yes.” I gazed at her. “What is it?”

For a moment, she didn’t reply. “There was a star that fell in the Ashes, during the shower. I tracked its trajectory—fallen stars are rare.”

“You see?” I turned to the others. Mara’s expression was skeptical, while Tem looked queasy, or perhaps he was still recovering from the kick I faintly recalled landing in his stomach. He hadn’t said a word during the entire argument. “I’m not delusional.”

“I’m not convinced of that,” Lusha said. “Do you really expect us to go chasing after a fallen star because you had an unusual dream?”

Mara made an irritated sound. “Do we even need to debate this? It’s nonsense.”

“Did River know?” Tem said quietly. “Did he sense you?”

Mara stared. “Don’t tell me you believe her.”

Tem ignored him. He kept his gaze on mine.

I thought back. “No. I don’t think so. I didn’t realize it myself until I woke up. It was like I was seeing everything from his eyes. Like I was gone.” A shiver traveled down my back, and I had that odd sensation again, of being not quite moored to my own body. Being inside River’s mind had been unsettling, to put it mildly. Not least because of the power I had felt at my command, like an untapped reservoir of unfathomable depths. I felt almost drunk from the memory alone. How did River focus on anything else, with that much magic at his disposal? Was he even fully conscious of it?

Tem’s gaze turned inward. I recognized that look—he had worn it often enough in the elder’s library in Azmiri, poring over shamanic scrolls. Lusha glanced from me to Tem. She still didn’t believe me, I could tell, but Tem’s reaction had given her pause. Through my anger, I felt a flicker of surprise. Back in Azmiri, Lusha had barely spared Tem a glance. She had that in common with most of the villagers, who saw Tem as the shy sidekick of the elder’s daughter, if they noticed him at all. But the last few days had altered something in her perception of him—and Mara’s. The chronicler seemed to be waiting for Tem to speak.

“What?” Lusha prompted impatiently.

“I think Kamzin’s mistaken,” he said. My stomach dropped. “I think this has everything to do with Azar-at.”

I blinked. It was the last thing I had expected him to say. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Azar-at connects the two of you. River may have ended their contract, but Azar-at still has part of his soul—maybe the better part of it, for all we know. And now—”

“Now he has part of mine.” The world seemed to shift. I had thought I’d known what I was getting myself into when I agreed to Azar-at’s offer. But now it seemed there were entire worlds of consequences that I couldn’t have imagined.

The fire demon was silent throughout our exchange, its tail stroking the snow. The flickering orange glow of its wide eyes seemed to take us all in at once.

“What are you saying?” Lusha’s face was pale. “Have you heard of this sort of thing happening before?”

“No. It’s rare for shamans to bind themselves to a fire demon,” he said. “And for two people to bind themselves to the same one—I doubt it’s ever happened. But what Kamzin is describing is plausible, given the laws of shamanic magic, at least. When you give away a piece of your soul, it doesn’t die—a soul can’t die, even if it’s divided. It lives on in whatever vessel you choose to hold it. I suppose it’s possible for two souls, cut off like that, to jumble together, at least slightly.”

Mara was now looking at me as if I had contracted something horribly contagious. “Does that mean—could it work the other way? Could River be here now?”

I felt faint. I looked at Azar-at. “Is he here?”

River is gone, the fire demon said. He left.

“What does that mean?” I demanded. “Was he here?”

The creature shifted position, wavering in the breeze. River is gone. There was an odd note in its usually flat tone.

“How long did your vision last?” Tem said.

“A few moments.” My throat felt very dry.

“And can you see his thoughts now?”

“No.”

Tem nodded. “It’s probably the same for him. Or perhaps he can’t see into Kamzin’s mind at all, given that he’s no longer tied to Azar-at. Perhaps it only works one way.”

I felt faint. “I’d prefer that it didn’t work any way.”