Vessel

windows. But no family came outside.

“You have our hope,” General Xevi said.

The emperor nodded. It was enough. “I will not abuse it.” He twisted in his saddle. Dust rose in clouds from the road, and his army stretched into the distance. “Send a scouting party ahead. Secretly, if you can, so as not to admit any doubt. Send them to the desert mountains. . . . And let us see if they find false hope or true.”

Chapter Eleven

Liyana laid her cheek against the horse’s neck and wished she didn’t hurt so much. With every step the horse took, she felt a throb of pain from her scar, and she had fresh bruises and blisters on her thighs from the saddle. She’d named her horse Misery. Misery collected dust on her hide that mixed with horse sweat. This dust clung to Liyana’s skin—clogging her pores, filling her nose, itching her eyes. Trailing after Korbyn and Fennik, she listened to them argue about what route to take.

“Five days,” Fennik promised. He was pushing for a route that would take them north of the salt flats. He claimed he could hunt there, plus there would be occasional springs of water between the rocks.

Korbyn shook his head. “We cross the salt flats. Three days.”

“They’re a wasteland,” Fennik objected. “Zero animals. Zero plants. I need fresh meat for optimum strength.” He flexed his arm muscles.

“We have supplies,” Korbyn said. “What we don’t have is time. We must reach the Silk, Scorpion, and Falcon Clans before their ceremonies fail. We cross the salt flats.” He kneed his horse and trotted ahead of them, effectively ending the discussion.

To Liyana, Fennik said, “I always pictured the trickster god as more jovial.”

Liyana didn’t reply. Since Fennik had joined them, neither Liyana nor Korbyn had talked much. Instead Fennik had regaled them with tales of breeding horses, training horses, and selling horses. At first Liyana had tried to interject stories of her own clan, but Fennik hadn’t been interested in listening and Korbyn had seemed preoccupied. As her sores from riding all day worsened, it became easier to stay quiet. She missed the conversations with Korbyn, though, and she caught herself watching him as they rode. He wasn’t sleeping well—she’d woken him from nightmares twice last night, squeezing his shoulder so he’d wake without alerting Fennik.

Fennik babbled as cheerfully as if she had encouraged him. “My clan tells the tale of when the trickster god attempted to trick Sendar into trading his favorite horse for a scorpion. The scorpion recognized Sendar’s strength of character and refused to act against him. He stung the trickster instead.” Fennik laughed, a booming sound that seemed to roll across the desert.

On the crest of the next sand dune, Korbyn waited for them. Catching up, Liyana and Fennik reined in alongside him. The other horses, guided by Fennik, slowed as well.

Stretched out before them were the salt flats. Heat waved over the white surface. Liyana felt her eyes water from the glare of the sun on the bright white. She shielded her eyes. Despite the name, the salt flats were not flat. The crumbling flats were split by cracks, the work of salt worms.

Liyana had never seen a salt worm, though she’d heard stories, of course. In most of the desert, they lived so far below the surface that they might as well be myth. But here . . . they tunneled vast networks just below the crusted earth, excreting both salt and the fine threads that the Silk Clan collected for their famous cloth. They also left in their wake a chopped, treacherous terrain. Liyana pointed to one of the broken areas. “What do we do about the salt worms?”

Korbyn shrugged. “We avoid them.” He dismounted and offered water to the horses. Then he redistributed the packs while Fennik checked the hooves and fetlocks of each horse.

“Stories say that some worms can grow up to fifteen feet long,” Liyana said. She ran a curry comb over Misery’s hide. The horse heaved a sigh when Liyana didn’t remove the saddle. She wanted the most placid horse possible for this terrain. “Large enough to swallow a man whole.”

“Stories can lie,” Korbyn said as he mounted a different horse. This one, a sorrel mare, whickered at him, clearly pleased to be exchanging the water containers for a rider. “Your precious Sendar ordered the scorpion to sting me while I slept. He’s not as noble of character as you’d like to believe.” Without waiting for a response, Korbyn kneed his horse, and the mare lurched forward, descending the sand dune. Over his shoulder, Korbyn added, “And the worms can grow much longer than fifteen feet.”

* * *

The sun beat down on Liyana’s back until she felt as if every drop of moisture had been pounded out of her. She unhooked her waterskin from the saddle and drank. As much as she loved the desert, she hated the salt flats. Fennik was right that they were a wasteland. Utterly colorless, they stretched in every direction. Even the stone mountains looked pale, like clouds low on the horizon. Cracks left behind by the worms laced the flats and slowed Liyana, Korbyn, and Fennik—they couldn’t risk a horse stumbling.

After a few hours, they rested the horses. Fennik slid off the back of his horse and poured water into a dish. The water sloshed over the rim and was instantly sucked into the hard ground.

Korbyn jumped off his horse and caught Fennik by the wrist before Fennik could fill the next dish. “The worms are drawn to moisture,” Korbyn said. “Do. Not. Spill.” He released Fennik’s wrist before the horse boy could wrest it away.

Carefully Fennik filled dishes halfway for the other horses. A few drops stained the salt as the horses nuzzled against the dishes, and Liyana held her breath as she watched for worms. As soon as the horses finished, they moved on quickly.

They rode for two days without seeing any salt worms. “I think I’ll kiss the sand,” Liyana said on the dawn of the third day, the day they were to leave the salt flats. “And forswear all salt in my food forevermore.”

“Imagine that it’s sugar,” Korbyn said. “You’re riding across candy.”

“Salt can never be sugar,” Fennik said.

“We should talk about the definition of the word ‘imagine.’ ”

Before Fennik could reply, one of the spare horses caught her hoof on a crack in the salt. Her tired leg kept moving even though her hoof had stopped, and she pitched forward. With a yell, Fennik launched himself off the back of his horse to catch the falling horse’s reins. Startled, his horse reared, which frightened the other horses. One of the other horses tried to bolt, crashed into a nearby horse, and fell onto her side. She scrambled upright.

Liyana struggled to cling to her reins as Misery sidestepped and snorted. She didn’t buck or try to run, thankfully. Soon Liyana was able to loosen her grip on the reins and look over at the others. Fennik was soothing the startled horse, murmuring to her and stroking her neck, while Korbyn rounded up the others.

Beneath the horse who had fallen, Liyana spotted a dark patch. Worse, the patch spread outward, and the darkness stained the salt.

The horse had held a water container, and it had cracked on impact. The precious liquid flowed freely down the horse’s flank. “Water!” Liyana cried. She slid off Misery and ran to the horse. The two boys were instantly beside her, pulling the container off and trying to plug the holes. Fissures zigzagged over it.

At their feet, the liquid was swallowed up by the salt flats.

“Leave it,” Korbyn commanded. He backed away from the container. “Lead the horses away.” He scooped up three sets of reins and began to pull the horses away from the water stain.

“My clan sacrificed to give us that water! Saving it is—” Fennik began to argue.

Beneath Liyana’s feet, she felt the earth tremble. She heard a rumble. She yanked on Misery’s reins. Eyes wide, the mare flexed her knees and refused to budge. Salt pellets rattled and then were tossed into the air as if bounced from below. Misery rolled her eyes and snorted. Her body shook but her knees stayed locked. Liyana stroked her neck and pleaded, “Come on. Just a step and then another. You can do it. Please!”

Beside her, Korbyn shouted at the other horses. Fennik slapped the flanks of another, and yanked on the reins of two more. Several bolted.

“She won’t move!” Liyana yelled. She braced herself and pulled the reins. Misery rolled her eyes back in her head again, exposing only the whites of her eyes.

As the shaking increased, Liyana fell to her knees. The reins slipped out of her fingers. Feet spread to keep