Vessel

white haze, and she did not focus on anyone’s face. She seemed to stare at the air between the tents and the stars. “He came to us with no talk of friendship and no words of peace. He demanded obedience to his will,” the girl said. Her speaking voice was as beautiful as her singing voice. The words fell as if in a melody. “But ignorance alone would not condemn him. This man . . . this boy . . . this vessel abandoned his clan! Do you claim knowledge of this traitor?”

Ilia spoke. “This stranger claims to be the raven, the god Korbyn. His companion is yet unnamed.”

“He is not alone?” the girl asked. “Speak, companion, so I may know you.”

All eyes turned to Liyana, except for the girl’s. She continued to focus on nothing. Shrinking back, Liyana looked at Korbyn for help. His face was unreadable. “I am Liyana, vessel of the Goat Clan.” She heard murmurs around her. She added, “But I did not abandon my clan, and neither did Fennik!”

“A person who would abandon her people surely would not hesitate to lie to save herself.” Unwinding herself from the silk on her throne, the girl rose. Instantly two men flanked her side. Cupping her elbows with their hands, they guided her across the circle, past Fennik, and stopped in front of Liyana and Korbyn. Her milky eyes still did not fix on them. She’s blind, Liyana thought. She had never heard of a blind vessel. “You, trickster god, know all about lies. What lies did you tell these vessels to convince them to leave their clans?”

“Shockingly, none,” Korbyn said. He sounded vaguely surprised at himself.

She drew herself tall, her petite frame stiffening. “I am Pia, vessel to Oyri. Are you here to tell me your lies?” The power in her voice sent her words soaring across the camp.

Liyana noticed that the warriors had surrounded them again. Several had raised their bows. “My clan left me,” she said. “Bayla didn’t come. We do not lie!” She inched closer to Korbyn until her arm brushed against his. His hand found hers. She wondered if he was reassuring her or himself. His face remained calm.

“Five deities have been captured and imprisoned in false vessels,” Korbyn said. “We need five vessels to save them: Goat, Horse, Silk, Scorpion, and Falcon. We seek your help in the rescue of your goddess.”

“We do not believe my goddess needs rescuing,” Pia said. “She is Oyri. She is our strength and our light and our song.” She spread her arms wide and sang the final words.

Liyana heard Korbyn sigh. “For the first time in my existence, I tell the truth, and I am greeted with lack of belief. This is the universe laughing at me.”

“I believed you from the start,” Liyana said, continuing to hold his hand.

He looked at her, and he smiled. “Yes, you did.” His smile was like Pia’s song, beautiful and pure. It lit up his whole face, erasing the shadows that had deepened ever since they had entered the Silk Clan’s camp—truly, ever since they’d entered the Horse Clan’s camp. For an instant, she couldn’t breathe. She was lost in that smile.

As if her words had given him strength, Korbyn raised his voice, and she heard his old cheerfulness. “I am indeed attempting the greatest trick of my career, but the trick is not on you. It is on the thief who is stealing the heart of the desert.”

“We do not believe that is—” Pia began.

Enough, Liyana thought. She’d told the truth. Korbyn had told the truth. While they wasted time, Bayla remained trapped. Liyana interrupted Pia. “What you believe doesn’t matter. You can prove him right or wrong. Summon your goddess. If she does not come, then join us. If she does come, then punish us as you see fit.”

The Silk Clan was silent.

Softly Korbyn said, “You truly trust me.”

She met his glorious eyes. “Yes, I do.”

The moment hung in the air, and he laughed, the sound full of joy. She hadn’t heard that laugh in days. She began to smile as if his laugh were bubbling inside of her. “Go ahead,” Korbyn said to Pia. “Summon Oyri.”

“Very well,” Pia said. “I shall.”

Guards closed in on Liyana and Korbyn, and suddenly Liyana wished she hadn’t spoken. She lost sight of Pia through the wall of guards.

Ilia pulled a strip of white cloth from her pocket, and she tied it over Korbyn’s mouth. He didn’t protest. Liyana flinched as Ilia raised a cloth to her mouth. “Is this necessary?” she asked.

“You have submitted to judgment,” Ilia said. “This must be.”

Korbyn squeezed her fingers as if to reassure her, and then he released her hand and held out his arms so that the guards could bind his wrists with rope.

I trust him, she reminded herself. The Silk Clan goddess will not come.

Opening her mouth, Liyana let Ilia gag her. Mirroring Korbyn, she held out her arms so that her hands could be tied as well. She met Korbyn’s eyes. His eyes were warm on hers, as warm as an embrace, as if he saw only her.

They were led to Fennik. Hands on their shoulders pushed them down to their knees. She knelt on the hard salt-sand between Fennik and Korbyn. Fennik’s eyes were wild, and she could smell his sweat. On her other side, though, Korbyn seemed calm.

She thought of the accusations of the Horse Clan and the Silk Clan. He may be known as the trickster, she thought, but his tricks helped the desert clans. She knew a story about him, one of Jidali’s favorites, that said he was responsible for giving the clans fire. Once, long ago, only gods could start fires. Each clan treasured their fire, carrying it from camp to camp with greatest care. If the fire was lost before the clan’s deity returned, the result was disaster. This happened to the Raven Clan—a sandstorm wiped out their fire. So, on his next visit to the desert, the raven stole a chunk of flint from the mountains of the sky serpents and gave it to his clan so they would always be able to make fire for themselves. He then stole flint for each of the other clans. The sky serpents were furious that every clan now had a piece of their mountains, and they guarded their territory even more jealously against intruders. But the raven’s trick was done, and he never returned to face their wrath.

She wondered how much truth there was in the stories. Staring into his eyes, she decided she didn’t care. Oyri, goddess of the Silk Clan, would not come. She had to believe that for Bayla’s sake, if not her own.

Drums started across the circle. Surprised, Liyana tore her gaze away from Korbyn. She’d expected a delay. Pia must have people to say farewell to. Parents. Siblings. Friends. A teacher. But instead she spoke to no one. Alone in the center of the sand, Pia affixed silver bells to her ankles. She was barefoot, and her skirt was composed of strips of silk that fluttered around her like feathers. Her arms were bare to expose her tattoos. She reached up toward the night sky. “Begin!” Pia cried.

Ilia began to chant. In the circle, Pia twirled and leaped. As she danced, she sang a soaring tune that repeated the summoning words. She looked and sounded like a wild bird.

She’s magnificent, Liyana thought—and a tendril of fear crept into her heart. Pia was what a vessel should be. It did not matter that she was blind. She flowed and soared with effortless beauty. Every movement was perfect, and she danced with transcendent grace. She was the wind itself. As the drums beat louder, Pia leaped higher and spun faster. Her white hair whipped around her, and the silk skirt swirled and flowed. Her silver bells rang out, echoing across the desert.

Liyana thought of her bells, the ones she had left behind for her family. She’d worn those bells with such pride. She had believed that she’d molded herself into the ideal vessel. But now, seeing Pia . . . This was what she should have been. Maybe Bayla had deemed Liyana unfit.

Barely breathing, Liyana waited for the moment when the goddess would take Pia’s body. Pia danced faster and faster, and her voice cascaded from impossibly high notes. With each moment, Liyana became more convinced that this would be the moment.

Suddenly Pia fluttered her arms down to her side like a bird settling her wings. She raised her head, and the drums stilled. Ilia fell silent.

“Untie our guests,” Pia said. Her voice was crystal clear. The clan was silent. “I will accompany them and henceforth be dead to you.” Her final words fell like stones into water, and ripple-like, their effect spread through the clan. The men, women, and children of the Silk Clan bowed low with their fists over their hearts, and then one after another, they turned their backs on the center of the circle.

Alone, Pia swept into a tent. Liyana noticed that she raised her arms only once, to feel for the tent flap. Otherwise she moved with a smooth surety that no one and nothing would be in her way.

Liyana felt a blade slice through the ropes. Fingers untied the gag. She spat the cloth out into her hands, and