wide plateau that covered much of the northern half of Galahesh. There was little breeze and the day was unseasonably warm. They both found themselves unbuttoning their clothes to let in a bit of air. Irkadiy seemed overly conscious of her exposed neck and arms-she caught him glancing at her more than once-but Atiana didn’t care. If she didn’t get some air she was going to pass out.
Atiana had told Irkadiy that she wasn’t sure what they were searching for. She could tell from his sidelong glances that he dearly wished to ask her of their destination, but he was a good man, and he kept his questions to himself.
Atiana wished she knew herself. She only knew after the experience she’d had in the aether, the feeling of being drawn westward as if a spire lay in that direction, had forced her hand. There was no choice now but to go to the area and see what she could see. She had considered coming while taking the dark, but the truth of the matter was she didn’t know how far beyond the straits she could travel, and she was still weak. It would take days before she would trust herself in the aether once more. Were Bahett not returning from his hunt tomorrow, she would have waited, but he would soon learn of her transgression. She’d gone to the drowning chamber and spied on Arvaneh without his leave, which made this ride all the more important.
They came to an area that was lightly wooded with pine and oak, and shortly after that the woods thickened until they were traveling a road that cut through a thick forest.
“Wait,” Irkadiy said.
He reined his pony over and trotted back. He sat in his saddle, considering a road that ran off through the forest.
“What do you suppose this is?”
Atiana shrugged. “A homestead?”
“Look at the ruts. Dozens of wagons have passed this way, and recently.”
The inference was clear. If so many had passed, it may very well be what she was looking for.
They took to the trail. Irkadiy was on edge. They could not see far on the road ahead, and the undergrowth was thick, making it difficult for them to forge a path through it.
After they passed a ridge and the land took them downhill, Irkadiy guided their ponies into the forest until the trail was lost from view. After tying their ponies behind a copse of alder, Irkadiy retrieved his musket from its holster behind his pony’s saddle, and they began walking eastward on foot.
The going was slow, but Atiana felt better for the cover of the forest around them. Clouds had moved in while they rode. A light drizzle fell over the forest, the sound of it like rashers of ham frying over a fire.
Atiana watched the landscape ahead closely. She was aware of her surroundings as she had rarely been, and for a long while she wrote it off to how on edge Irkadiy was and how acutely aware of it she was, but the further they went, the more she realized there was something more.
She had been a Matra for some time now. She had spoken at length to the other Matri about their abilities, and she had tried to learn as many of them as she could. She paid particular attention to her stolen time with Saphia when the others were far away and she could work closely with her. She had tried to attune herself to the aether while outside the drowning basin, with some small amount of success. She could feel the draw of the aether, could feel the presence of the rooks that were placed in or near the drowning chamber, could feel the receding presence of other Matri. She could even feel the subtle shifts in the currents caused by the spire high above Galostina, and this, as strange as it seemed, was what was causing the sharpening of her senses.
And so she knew, well before she saw, that ahead of her lay a spire, and yet it was still strange to look upon it. As she and Irkadiy came to a stop beneath an ancient larch and he parted the lower branches, she saw it.
A tall black tower of obsidian.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“W hy would they build such a thing?” Irkadiy whispered.
Why, indeed? The empire had no need of such things. The lines between the mainland and Oramka and Galahesh were strong. They were naturally guided by the land itself and the relatively calm seas between. And there was no need for one between the northern and southern ends of Galahesh-the straits saw to that. So why? Why would they spend all these resources to build one?
Atiana became suddenly aware that Irkadiy was ignoring the obelisk, his eyes narrowed and distant, as if he were listening more than looking.
Then he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the trail they’d forged coming in. He said nothing, so neither did she.
The sound of the rain-as well as the soft forest floor-covered their retreat, but by the time they’d reached the top of a nearby rise, Atiana became aware of forms mirroring their movement to her right. On her left there were more.
Irkadiy sprinted downslope, trusting Atiana to keep up so they could stay ahead of the pursuit. She followed, nearly keeping pace with him. They came to the trough of the shallow vale and then attacked the incline on the opposite side, which was steep, much steeper than Atiana was used to climbing.
Soon she began to flag. Irkadiy took her wrist and pulled her along, helping her to take the hill.
“Stay!” a voice called from behind them in Yrstanlan.
They pushed. Atiana’s legs were already burning, but fear was driving her onward.
A musket crack sounded as bark exploded from the bole of a nearby tree. Another dug into the dirt near their feet.
“Go on,” Irkadiy said as he shoved her and then spun around.
A glance behind showed him sighting down the length of his musket. The musket fired, white smoke coughing from the muzzle, and one of their pursuers dropped, clutching his chest.
Irkadiy reloaded as he ran, but grunted in pain as a musket shot grazed his leg.
They reached the crest of the hill and were beyond it as several more shots whizzed over their heads. Further down, the slope leveled off at the edge of a marsh. Stands of cattails hugged the edge of the green-coated water.
“Hurry,” she said softly.
They ran and reached the edge of the marsh where Atiana snatched two of the cattails up. She motioned for Irkadiy to follow her and then she stepped into the water, being careful not to splash. She waded deeper into the water and wended her way into the cattail stand. As they slipped through the tall grasses-the cool water rising to their shins and then to their knees-she ripped off the base of the cattails and did the same a goodly length up. “Lie down,” she whispered while handing one of the cattail tubes to Irkadiy. “Breathe through this.”
He took the cattail, doubtful, but they could already hear the pursuit approaching the top of the rise behind them. He swallowed hard, glancing toward the rise, and then lay down, setting his musket in the water next to him. After taking a huge breath, he inserted the makeshift breathing tube into his mouth and lay back. Atiana lay down as well, trying to calm herself as she inserted the tube and breathed through it.
The stands of grasses and cattails would, she hoped, suppress their ripples, and the green muck on the surface would hide the mud they’d kicked up.
She breathed slowly as the fetid water filled her nostrils and her body pressed against the slick muck. She calmed herself as she did in the drowning basin. She slowed her breath, slowed her heart, so that she could hear. She heard little at first except the patter of rain on the water and the weeds. But then she heard a pounding, as of men running. It approached-very close-and then stopped. She dare not open her eyes. The water was much too murky, and she didn’t wish them to sting. So she breathed, and she waited.
Then the pounding resumed, slower this time.
Soon she heard only the pattering. The men had gone on, searching ahead. They would not be fooled for long, though. She waited until they would have moved well beyond the marsh before reaching over and squeezing Irkadiy’s hand and poking her head above the water.
Seeing that they were indeed alone, they stood and cut across the path they had taken earlier during their flight, making their way quickly but quietly toward their ponies.
Atiana whispered, “They may have taken them.”
