Chapter 9
The brilliant blue of water lies in front of me, glittering so fiercely, I have to shade my eyes against the glare. We’re standing on a cliff overlooking a vast ocean, a warm breeze curling around us. The sky is a crystalline shade of azure, a rainbow sheen tinting it. Except it’s not, in fact, a rainbow. When I squint at it, confused, it shimmers, almost like a bubble covering the entire sky. What exactly is that? I try to peer closer, but a sudden tingling stops me. I whirl to find that the pathways have completely disappeared—vanished the way they came—and in their place stands Bala, Myter at his side, with the children and a group of people I assume are their parents, all glancing around in open-mouthed awe. Bala’s eyes, though, remain on mine, his presence as calm and gentle as ever.
“This is where we leave you, Angoro Deka,” Myter says, her voice layered over once more. “We will continue on and take this group to their new homes.”
It has been my greatest honor bringing you here,a deep, warm voice continues in my mind. I know, without the slightest doubt, that it belongs to Bala, that he is actively projecting his thoughts into mine. The god bows gently to me. May we meet again on the pathways.
I hope that as well,I reply, startled when I realize I actually mean it.
Despite my confused feelings about Lamin and his betrayal, I somehow hold no ill will against Bala, even though he is part of the very pantheon that sent Lamin. All the other gods I’ve met left me with a sense of awe. With the desire to worship and abase myself to them. But Bala only seems filled with gentleness and compassion. He doesn’t seem to want me to worship or serve him. He doesn’t even seem to have any true desires of his own. He just is. Like the sun or wind or any other element. He simply exists.
Ixa seems to feel the same way, because he nods as he ambles up to me. Ixa too, he adds cheerfully. Ixa hope we meet again.
As the god gives us another quiet bow, a thought occurs to me. “Wait, is this where we meet the other gods?”
“No,” Myter says, pointing up. “Sarla’s godsworn will take you the rest of the way.”
I frown, glancing around. I see only the clear blue skies and the water sparkling around us. “I don’t understand. Where are the—”
But Myter is already gone, as are Bala and the children. We’re alone on the cliff now. Then Lamin points. “Look,” he says. “Here they come.”
I follow the direction of his finger, and my jaw drops. The sky is shimmering again. Or, rather, something is shimmering inside it. A city. The more I stare at it, the more my astonished mind confirms it. There, suspended in the sky, is a city—the most majestic I’ve ever seen. Gleaming buildings the color of gems rise from verdant mountains, the bases of which are wreathed by clouds. Waterfalls cascade into the ocean below, graceful birds with iridescent wings flittering through them. Trees the width of entire streets sprout up, elegant apartments carved into their crystalline trunks. It’s as if everything is interconnected, all part of the same, massive organism.
“Is it the Blissful Lands?” Britta asks, awed, as she stares at the city.
Lamin shakes his head. “No,” he replies, an eager smile easing the tension from his features. “That is Laba, the Seat of the Gods and the capital of Maiwuri. Come.” He waves us closer to the edge of the cliff. “Sarla’s riders will be here soon.”
Even as he says this, a pair of glasslike gates I hadn’t noticed opens underneath one of the waterfalls in the middle of the city and a group of gigantic gray creatures flies out, riders on their backs. Each creature is flat, with a sleek, triangular body dominated by glistening wings that undulate in the air currents. Tiny, almost unnoticeable gray eyes take up each side of the creature’s snub-nosed faces, and as for their mouths, I can find no sign of any, although they all have curved silver horns protruding from their heads and spots or stripes on their skin. Except for a glimpse of similar creatures dancing in the waters surrounding Hemaira, I’ve never seen anything like them before.
I’m not surprised to see that the riders have the same pale, shimmering skin as Lamin. I turn to him. “This isn’t over,” I say. “Our conversation. You’ve deceived me since we first met, deceived all of us.”
“It was never malicious,” Lamin replies hurriedly, that worry returning to his features. “I never harmed any of you.”
“That remains to be seen,” says Keita, his expression forbidding. He hasn’t forgiven Lamin yet either.
But we can’t concentrate on that right now. “All right,” I say. “Let’s meet these new godsworn.”
“Deka…” Lamin is hesitant when he turns to me. “They don’t mean you any harm either.”
I give him as frosty a look as I can summon. “That’s what everyone always says.”
Lamin nods, his expression decidedly miserable now, but when the creatures begin their descent toward us, their wings gliding lazily across the currents, he swiftly kneels, his frown melting into a relieved smile. He crosses his arms over his chest in greeting when the frontmost rider, a tall, severe-looking woman of sixty or so, hops off her creature and nears.
“High priestess,” he says respectfully. “I have returned.”
But the woman just humphs. “Lamin Chernor Bah. Is that how you greet your aunt after all this time?”
Aunt?Britta mouths this word when I glance at the others, shocked.
A smile twitches up the side of Lamin’s face. He surges up and sweeps the woman into a tight embrace. “Aunt Kadeh,” he declares. “I’m home.”
The woman breaks out into a glowing smile, all traces of severity erased from her expression as she begins raining kisses over his forehead and cheeks. “Oh my boy, my beloved baby. You’re finally back.”
“That’s Lamin’s aunt?” Li’s whisper is loud enough for everyone to hear.
Including the woman. She turns to us. “Only one he has. Raised him from the time he was an infant with my own brood.” Then she looks back up at him, ruffles his hair. “So, you’ve finally returned.”
Clearing his throat, Lamin nods, then glances pointedly at me. “And I brought the Angoro.”
The woman immediately sinks into a deep kneel. “Your eminence,” she says respectfully, “I am Nenneh Kadeh. I am honored to receive you. I hope my nephew has treated you well.” She gives Lamin a pointed glare.
“That remains to be seen,” Belcalis mutters, but I quickly step forward.
“To this point, he has been one of our closest companions,” I reply, an answer that is both truthful and yet not. I still haven’t decided what to do about Lamin.
I turn to the other riders. There are about ten of them, mostly women, all of them wearing flowing white robes with long silver hoods whose patterns match the patterns on the creatures they ride. “So,” I say politely, “am I to assume you are our escort to Maiwuri?”
“Indeed,” Nenneh Kadeh answers. “We were sent here by Sarla, deity of wisdom.”
The words seem to be a signal, because the moment she utters them, it’s as if something takes her over. She abruptly straightens, her gaze seeming far away. When she glances at me again, she suddenly seems like a different person, one whose movements are as fluid and graceful as their gaze is sharp.
A shiver rushes over me as I nod at the god staring through Nenneh Kadeh’s eyes. “Afternoon greetings,” I say calmly. “You must be Sarla.”
It’s almost surreal. Mere hours ago, I had only eight gods to worry about, and now there’s an entire new pantheon with who knows what ambitions I must deal with.
“A pleasure, Angoro,” Sarla says through Nenneh Kadeh’s mouth, their voice low and melodious. “We are most grateful to see that you arrived here safely. Our bonded will see you safely to Maiwuri.”
Nodding, I give them a quick bow. Deep enough to be respectful but not so deep it is obsequious. I will never prostrate myself before a god ever again. “My thanks.”
Sarla nods again, then Nenneh Kadeh’s body sags. The god is gone, and the woman has returned in their place.
Nenneh Kadeh turns to me, smiles. “Well, then, Angoro, shall we?” She points to her creature, massive silver stripes racing down its purple-gray back. “You can ride Maida with me.”
“As long as Ixa can fly alongside,” I automatically say.
Nenneh Kadeh inclines her head. “Your godsworn is, of course, welcome. As are your gryphs,” she says, turning to the others. “They can use the currents behind the horn rays to glide. I assume they will welcome the respite.”
“They will,” I say, walking over. We’re not the only ones exhausted after the events of the past few days. The gryphs and Ixa are as well. I glance up at Nenneh Kadeh, who is almost as tall as her nephew. “How do I get on?”
The priestess demonstrates by walking directly onto one of the creature’s wings, which is flapping wetly across the grass. From their moisture and sheen, I get the sudden sense that it’s as much an aquatic creature as it is an aerial one. “You just walk on. And don’t worry: horn rays’ wings aren’t sensitive.”
I squint at the horn ray, which ripples softly as it blinks its gentle black eyes at me. “All right, Maida,” I whisper, “it’s you and me.”
But as I prepare to get on, a hand stops me. Britta’s. Her eyes are grim as she pulls me to the side, well out of range of Lamin’s aunt. At least, that’s the hope. Given how little we know about the godsworn, we can’t be sure yet what the nature and extent of their abilities are.
After all, we didn’t realize, until Lamin pulled off his mask, that the types of godsworn for each god looked distinctly different.
“Deka,” Britta begins, but I hold up a hand, to both her and Keita, who’s also walked over.
I know it’s possibly a trap,I acknowledge with battle language, the hand gestures we use to communicate with deathshrieks or in situations where speaking isn’t an option. Over the years, it’s expanded into a complete language. That Mother may not be there. Or that we may still be stuck in the shadow vales and this is some sort of illusion. Either way, we’ll figure it out. We always do. But Myter healed me, Britta. And she feels different—her, Bala—even this Sarla. They all feel different from the Oterans. I know it’s painful to hope again, but let’s at least try. If everything they’re saying is the truth, then we’re near to getting my kelai and ending the Gilded Ones and the Idugu once and for all.
And if they’re lying?It’s Keita’s turn to gesture now, and there’s a look in his eyes. A determination.
It matches mine.
We put everything to the flame and burn that pretty floating city to the ground.I add an extra lyricism to my hand movements as I say this.
A smile ghosts over his lips. “You’re so delightful when you’re frightening,” he says out loud, fire gleaming in his eyes as he softly caresses my cheek.
Britta rolls her eyes. “And that right there is me sign to exit,” she mutters, walking away as Keita kisses my cheek, leaving soft little trails of fire.
Warmth washes over me, and I look down, overwhelmed. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched this much, so long since I’ve felt anyone’s skin on mine other than Ixa’s. And the fact that it’s Keita’s hands, Keita’s touch…
It’s all I can do to keep from folding myself into him. “I know,” I manage to say past the heat rising in my body. “It’s the same with you.” I say this last bit with battle language. You’re so handsome when you’re being devious.
“That’s because I’m always trying to match you.” He kisses me one last time, then sighs and takes a step away, letting in the outside world again.
Once my pulse has steadied, I turn to Nenneh Kadeh with a bright if patently false smile. “Shall we?”
The elder just grins. “What are we waiting for, then? Onward, to Maiwuri!”