“Tahki,” Sornjia said, his eyes still closed. “We have a visitor.”
Tahki frowned. “A visitor?”
Sornjia pointed behind him.
Tahki turned. At the edge of the ruins, Rye stood straight and stiff. He stared at them both, and then took a cautious step forward. Tahki watched him a moment, until he caught a glint of a knife in Rye’s hand. He lurched forward to block him.
“Rye, stop,” Tahki said. “Whatever Dyraien told you, he’s lying. I know you don’t have a reason to trust me, but Sornjia is innocent.”
“Tahki,” Sornjia said. “Let him pass.”
Tahki glanced at his brother.
Rye walked around him and mumbled, “You’re so dramatic.” When he got to Sornjia, he stopped and stared at Pooka, who stared back with her large sky-filled eyes.
“She won’t hurt you,” Sornjia said.
Rye didn’t move.
“Pooka,” Sornjia said. “Can you leave for a minute?”
Pooka inclined her head and nudged Sornjia. He smiled and patted her snout, and then the cat rose to her full height and vanished into the ruins. When she was gone, Rye knelt beside Sornjia. Tahki joined them, ready to defend his brother if needed. But Rye only dug through the leather bag at his side and took out several medical tools. The object he carried wasn’t a knife but a surgical scalpel.
“We need to get the bullet out,” Rye said. “It’s deep. I didn’t have time to grab anything to numb it. It will hurt.”
“I’ll be fine,” Sornjia said.
Rye nodded and leaned forward.
“Rye,” Tahki said.
“Let me work,” Rye said. “Or he’ll bleed to death.” His voice was calm but stern.
Tahki dug his fingers into the cool soil as Rye pressed the knife to Sornjia’s shoulder. Sornjia’s face remained placid as the knife cut his flesh. Tahki’s own shoulder throbbed just at the thought of the knife. He realized, after a moment, that Sornjia was meditating. He’d seen monks sit for hours and hours, putting themselves in a deep trance, able to block out pain and hunger and all other sensations. For the first time, Tahki understood meditation wasn’t a waste of time. It was a way to train your mind, to strengthen your mentality, to control your body when outside forces threatened you.
Something clinked against a rock. The silver bullet fell to the ground, bloody and misshapen. Tahki flinched but also marveled at how something so small could do so much damage. Rye stitched Sornjia’s arm shut and wrapped it in a white bandage. Tahki tugged his bloody shirt over his head and gagged at the smell, but it was too cold not to wear it.
“He needs rest,” Rye said. He gathered his supplies and put them back in the brown leather bag.
“He’ll survive?”
“So long as he doesn’t tear it open, he should be fine.”
Tahki nodded. “Rye, if you’ll just give me a chance to explain.”
“I just said your brother needs rest,” Rye said. He stood and motioned for Tahki to follow. They found a group of rocks far away from Sornjia so they wouldn’t disturb him but could still see him.
“How did you find us?” Tahki asked.
Rye watched Pooka slink over the rocks. She curled her body near Sornjia, her massive form shielding him from the wind. “I followed her paw prints.”
“Won’t Zinc’s men do the same?”
“I told Dyraien I saw you heading toward Edgewater. He sent a few men out that way but wanted everyone else working on the castle.” Rye didn’t take his eyes off Pooka. “What is she?”
“I’m not sure you’ll believe me if I tell you,” Tahki said.
“That’s for me to decide.”
Tahki swallowed. “I think… I think she’s my dead great-grandmother.”
Rye turned his head slowly back to Tahki. “All right. You have my attention.”
Tahki sat against a rock and sighed. “I’m not sure where to start.”
“How about tell me who you are, where you’re from. Start with things that are true, and then we can move on to the lies.” Rye pulled a match from his bag and busied himself by starting a fire.
“Won’t someone see the smoke?”
Rye shook his head. “Not in the fog.” He glanced at Tahki. “Are you going to talk, or should I just take Dyraien’s word as the truth?”
Tahki rubbed his wrist. “What did Dyraien say?”
“He said you killed the queen. That you’re a spy.” Rye hesitated. “I said I’d bring you back to him.”
“And will you? Bring me back to him?”
Rye held his eyes. “Tahki, tell me the truth. I want to hear it from you.”
Tahki sighed. “My full name is Tahki’jie. My father is Lord Aumin’jie.”
Rye frowned, like the name sounded familiar but he couldn’t place it.
“My father is royal ambassador to the Empress of Dhaulen’aii.” He studied Rye’s face, watching every subtle inclination of his eyebrows, every slight tilt of his mouth, every narrowing of his eyes. “I came here without my father’s permission. I forged documents and snuck across the borders, but I’m not a spy. Rye, I swear. I only wanted to enter the fair for a chance to win. I never thought I’d get offered a job by the queen’s son. I know it wasn’t smart, but after I lost, I felt like I’d go home a failure. When Gale offered me this job, I couldn’t believe it. I thought I actually had a chance to become famous.”
Tahki spoke, and Rye listened. He talked in great detail about the thing in his room, about the illusions, about his fight with Pooka. He spoke about the conversation he’d heard between Dyraien and Hona and Zinc. When he got to Nii, Tahki hesitated.
“I need to show you something,” Tahki said. He rose and walked to where Sornjia rested. Rye followed but stayed at a distance. Tahki reached out a hand to Pooka. She growled and he retracted.
“I need to show him,” he said to Pooka.
Pooka lowered her head but still growled. Tahki extend his hand and ran it across her shoulder. The eels boiled up around him, their long, oily bodies forming tiny hands at the tip.
