Chapter Eight
Eight
As I walked to the Keep a little more than two weeks later, I kept noticing the result of the birds’ absence. Beetles everywhere. A disconcerting number of cobwebs. The lack of birdsong I hadn’t realized I expected.
I reached the Keep, climbing swiftly to the fifth floor. Paz accompanied me. Daziel was at knockball practice, having taken to the game immediately—he’d announced after his first practice he planned to become a professional player. Who would have expected a demon to be so sporty?
Paz, on the other hand, was not charmed. He disliked all the running around, preferring to stay curled on someone’s shoulder, so on knockball days he stayed with me.
No one else was in the scroll room; it was six, and while I often ran into the others at odd times, it wasn’t unusual to be here alone.
We all came as our schedules allowed. I bent over the replicated fragments, moving them round and round.
So many of them looked identical—how could we manually match them together?
Surely a spell would be better, if only we could get one to work.
But despite every attempt, we’d come no closer the whole time I’d been at the Lyceum.
I shifted a few fragments, then sat back with a sigh, gazing out the window.
To the west, the Lersach River ran dark green, and on the far shore, the vineyards and mulberry trees of the silk farms rippled in the wind.
I stroked Paz’s head. He snoozed gently, little rings of smoke rising from his snout.
When I looked back at the scrolls, the fragments I’d grouped together had separated. I blinked. How was that possible? I must have only thought I’d put them together. I tried again, then moved to a different section. When I looked back, my earlier attempts had been undone.
Was I losing my mind? What was going on?
As I worked, wind howled past the windows, rain smacking big, loose droplets against the glass. I bent my head closer to the parchment, then glanced at the windows—all tightly closed. No way for any wind to slip inside.
So why did I now feel it swirling around my ankles, tugging at my feet? I looked down, baffled. It felt like the wind was inside me, blowing me toward the door. Urging me to go outside.
I hesitated.
The wind kept tugging.
Slowly, I rose—just to see what would happen. It led me across the room, and I paused in the doorway. This was probably a bad idea, following a force I didn’t understand. Probably I should ignore the strange tugging wind. Following it would be impulsive and irrational.
But illogical or not, I felt like I could sense the wind’s yearning. And I was too curious to ignore it. After all, how many people had ever been pulled by the wind before? How could I resist?
Paz cheeped, uncertain. I stroked his head. “It’s okay,” I murmured. “We’re not going to do anything dangerous. We’re just going to…walk.” I could stop anytime I liked if it felt like things were getting risky.
Pulling on my blazer, I left the Keep. The wind tugged at my braids, pushed against my calves, steered me by my back.
I hadn’t felt such a strong wind yet. Maybe this was the Clo, the first of the Trio Winds, which came in early winter.
They were supposed to be so strong and fierce they could brush the whole world clean.
I had no problem letting it lead me across campus and over the land bridge. I hesitated when it led me out of the Scholars’ Quarter into the larger city beyond. The rain had grown from droplets to a steady drizzle, and part of me wanted to go home, to be safe and dry.
But then I would always wonder.
I walked for over two hours, even as the rain increased, even as I started to shiver in the cold and the wet.
Water dripped over my eyes and mouth. Paz made nervous sounds, and I moved him to the inside pocket of my blazer, murmuring comforting words.
I could have given up—I wasn’t trapped in the wind’s thrall—but every time I considered stopping, I also thought about how rare this was and how it might never happen again.
I was driven by the same kernel of curiosity that made me want to decipher the scrolls: a desperate curiosity, a longing for knowledge.
I wanted to know what the wind whispered.
I didn’t want to turn my back and spend the rest of my life wondering.
The wind and rain stopped.
I was in a city park I’d never visited. Larger than most, so big you could almost believe you weren’t in a city—a deception helped by the valley in the center and the sides rimming it that almost hid the rest of Talum.
On the crest of a hill in the distance stood a tiny gazebo; to my left, the rocky hillside opened to reveal a cave.
I entered, breathing in the cool scent of running water and growing green things, complementary to the rain dripping off me.
A waterfall trickled down the glazed black rock, collecting in a shallow pool that must have then drained into the earth.
The water ran over a carving of three gazelles running.
This was, I realized, the Naphtali Quarter, my mother’s people.
I’d never visited before. Above the gazelles the three Great Beasts had been carved in sharp relief—the massive land beast, the Behemoth; the sea monster, the Leviathan; and the ruler of the air, the Ziz.
And there, in the shadows tucked away in the craggy rock face, a deeper shadow caught my attention. I stepped toward it, my breath quickening. There was an intensity to the blackness unlike any I’d seen before.
Paz started cheeping, but I kept moving forward, fascinated by the opening leading deeper inside the cave.
“What are you doing?”
I spun. Daziel stood in the cave’s entrance, his face pale. I’d never seen him look worried before. Paz chirped in delight and jumped over to Daziel’s arm.
“Betrayer,” I murmured, then to Daziel, “I’m listening to the wind. I think it wanted to show me—”
When I turned, the opening was gone. I blinked. “There was a crack. Right there.”
Daziel crouched where I gestured, pressing his hand to the wall. Paz scampered up his shoulder, diffusely lighting the area with a warm orangish glow.
Daziel turned back to me, gaze focused. “Why did you listen to the wind?”
I spread my hands, surprised by his intensity. “Who could ignore it?”
He didn’t smile at my teasing tone. “This whole city was built by people who try to ignore it. You don’t live with the wind; you live against it. You build stone walls to keep it out, you talk about shields—”
“That’s not fair,” I interrupted, stung by his admonishing tone.
I hated being scolded—and Daziel was supposed to be the one baffled by norms and customs. Him lecturing me unbalanced our dynamic.
“Talumizans are proud of the winds. The Maestril, the spring wind, is part of the ecosystem. It blows away the grit other winds blow in and dries out the earth for the harvest.”
“But why did you follow this one?”
I didn’t understand why he was harrying me over this. “Don’t you think if most people felt the wind tugging them, they’d want to know why?”
“People with sense would think strange magic best ignored.”
I couldn’t argue there, so I looked back where the crack had been. “What do you think it was? The opening.”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ve heard the whole island is riddled with caves,” I said. “The winds and river made them thousands of years ago, they say—there’s networks everywhere.”
“Then I’d assume it led into the caves,” Daziel said. “Do you think, perhaps, you’d be willing to give up following the winds and head home for tonight?”
I still had no idea what had drawn me here, what—if anything—the wind wanted. Maybe it was all in my head. “I wish I knew what it was. Or at least knew it was something.”
“I suspect it’d be like picking at a scab. Best not to. And maybe don’t wander off after the wind without letting me know in the future.”
I scoffed. “I don’t need a minder.”
“No?” He looked aggrieved. “Because you definitely would have gone into those caves if I hadn’t been here.”
“Oh my god,” I said, infuriated. “I’m capable of making my own decisions. I don’t need you lecturing me about safety.”
Daziel’s expression was fierce. “You’re too impulsive, Naomi. You want to wander into a dark cave without any idea what’s there. You follow the winds through a storm. You let a stranger stay with you with no concern for your safety!”
I felt like I’d been jabbed in a soft spot. I lifted my chin, embarrassed and hurt. “Would you rather I hadn’t taken you in?”
His black eyes sparked. “I’d rather you don’t put yourself in positions where you’re endangered all the time. You trust too easily.”
“Are you telling me I’m in danger from you?” I shot back. If he was going to insult me, I’d give back the same. “That you’d hurt me?”
“I could.” He stepped closer. His heat warmed me like a caress, and copper gleamed across his eyes. “Did you ever consider that?”
My stomach clenched. I hadn’t taken the idea seriously after the first day or two, and I felt foolish to be called out on how maybe I should have.
But it was hard to stay wary of someone who quizzed you on flash cards and cleaned the bathroom and made coffee every morning.
Any wariness I’d had regarding him had been firmly dismantled as he learned to crochet with Gilli and played knockball with the boys.
“Yes,” I said testily, embarrassed even more.
“Why are you making this into a big deal?”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm himself down.
I’d never seen him so serious before, save the night I’d tried to take his seal, and then he’d been angry rather than grave.
Now I watched as he forcibly relaxed his jaw.
When he opened his eyes they were still bright but the opaline glint across them had softened.
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice restrained. “I just wish you’d take your safety more seriously. ”
“Why do you even care about my safety?” It was odd to hear him talk like he wanted to take care of me instead of me making sure he wasn’t chomping chunks out of pint glasses.
“Are you serious?” His brow furrowed, and his mouth pressed into a firm line.
It took the wind out of my sails to realize he did care about my safety, that he’d yelled because he’d been genuinely worried.
It left me feeling wrong-footed by this whole interaction, like I’d discovered a new side of Daziel.
“Do you really think I should be worried about the winds pulling on me?” I asked. “Are you worried?”
He turned his frown toward the carvings of the Ziz, the Behemoth, and the Leviathan. “The birds have left Talum. The winds are behaving oddly. There’s heat storms and strange rain and flowers blooming out of season. I think everyone should be worried.”
His bluntness alarmed me. “What do you think is going on?”
He shrugged. “I think we should all pay attention to anything odd, and if there’s strange magic, don’t tackle it by yourself.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. It didn’t seem positive if a demon from the wilderness was worried about the magic. “I’ll keep that in mind.”