“That sounds like an awful situation,” Sornjia said.
She licked her thin lips, a little saliva dripping down her chin. “It was, but it was my own fault. I was a washed-up old hag on the streets when Dyraien found me. He gave me a chance to work on this castle, gave me a chance to get sober again. Well, Rye helped with the sobering part.
“But I wasn’t right for the job. Even though I couldn’t turn the castle into a machine, he kept me on, put me in charge of finding someone to replace me. He said I would manage the new architect. Do you understand what that means? I’m responsible for you.”
Tahki swallowed. “Dyraien won’t find out. I promise.”
“Do you understand the risk of staying here?” Gale said. “If he discovers you’re from Dhaulen’aii, he’ll think you’re a spy. That means you’re dead. I’m dead. Your brother is dead.”
“But you don’t think I’m a spy, do you?”
Gale laughed. “A dead fish would make a better spy than you. You’re too hotheaded for that line of work.”
Tahki let the insult slide. “Dyraien won’t find out. Sornjia will leave right away.”
Sornjia shook his head. “I’m not leaving.”
“Gods, Sornjia, you already almost ruined me once. Don’t do it again.”
“That’s another thing,” Gale said. “You haven’t said ‘gods’ to anyone, have you? Only southern religions use that term.”
Tahki thought of Rye. “No. I haven’t.”
“Good. Now.” She turned to Sornjia. “Why do you feel the need to put my life in danger, young man?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Utmutóta. I don’t mean to put your life in danger, but there’s something wrong with that castle. Something oppressive. Suffocating. It makes the marrow in my bones itch.”
Tahki rubbed his wrist. “Sornjia, whatever crazy dream you had about the castle, it’s not real. I’ve been in every single room. There’s nothing wrong with it. You’re going home, today.”
“I can’t,” Sornjia said.
“Yes, you can.”
“No,” Sornjia said. “I mean, the ship I came over on doesn’t depart until end of summer.”
“Then I’ll forge documents for you.”
“You’ll need special paper for that,” Gale said.
“How long will it take to import?”
“A week, maybe.”
Tahki covered his face with his hands. This was too much for him. Turning the castle into a machine challenged him enough. He didn’t need Sornjia here to endanger him.
“All right,” Gale said. “Here’s what we’ll do: your brother will stay with me. I’ll keep him out of sight. We’ll order the paper, wait for it to arrive. Then you can forge his documents and he’ll be on his way. Dyraien has never visited here. Not once since I built it. And I can tell Rye I don’t want to be disturbed. He’s too respectful to ask why.” She cracked her knotted fingers. “You had better be worth the risk I’m taking.”
Tahki swallowed, feeling more pressured than before. It wasn’t much of a plan, but he could see no other option. He didn’t trust his brother to stay alone. His odd way of speaking drew too much attention.
“I’ll be a grain of rice in a sand dune,” Sornjia said. “No one will see me. I promise.”
“What about Father?”
“He thinks I’m at the winter cottage with you.”
Tahki felt a lump in his stomach. It had been growing larger ever since Dyraien had told him about the project.
“I’ll tell Dyraien I’d like to see your work every morning,” Gale said. “That will give you an excuse to come here and check on him. Until then, you better make progress on the castle, or this deal is off. Understand?”
Tahki nodded and took his leave. As he walked back to the castle, he told himself it would only be for a week. Just a week and things would be back to normal.
HIS THOUGHTS moved in a circular pattern: the castle, Rye, mad queen, Dyraien, a weapon, Sornjia. He stared up at the ceiling with his head against his lumpy pillow. The wind outside thrust across the windowpane. His best ideas came to him right before he fell asleep, so he always had a piece of paper and a pencil beside his bed, ready to jot down ideas.
None came.
He tried to sketch the castle in his mind, but the lines wouldn’t connect. After everything that had happened today, he found himself picturing his brother, remembering how Sornjia would often pop into his room when they were kids with some harebrained idea.
“I think we should drain the courtyard pool,” Sornjia said. “And turn it into a pen for injured animals.”
“They’d all eat each other,” Tahki said.
“We’ll make pens and separate each species.”
“The pool isn’t big enough.”
“Then we’ll dig a bigger pool. We’ll tunnel right to the other end of the world, and all the sands in the desert will drain into the ocean, just like they did thousands of years ago.”
And they’d continue on like that, Sornjia’s words growing stranger, Tahki’s frustration mounting, until their father, in his kind but stern way, told Sornjia he couldn’t save all the animals, and that only helping a few wouldn’t be fair, so it was best to let nature be.
Twins were supposed to have a special connection, but Tahki had no idea what his brother spoke about half the time. No one did, not even their father. Gotem said Sornjia was blessed. All his life, Tahki had felt like the peculiar one, the outcast, while Sornjia sat there prattling on about how plants grew better when you sang to them. In any other part of the world, Sornjia would be locked away for insanity. As children, Tahki hadn’t minded so much. Sometimes it would even benefit him, like if they were playing somewhere they weren’t allowed, Sornjia would know someone was coming before they were found. But this time was different. This time, Tahki’s life was at risk.
A loud thump sounded in the hall. Footsteps tapped outside his closed door. He sat up. Someone stopped in front of his room. He squinted through the dark and saw a shadow beneath the
