Theodora sits in the front seat, glancing between the map in her hands and the land below. “Are we close?” I call over the breeze.
She looks back at me, as though surprised I am awake. “I think so, but this is our second pass. Keep an eye on the sea cliffs, will you? We’re looking for a cavern near the waterline, but it’s hard to find in the dark.”
I peer down at the cliffs, black and dramatic above the booming waves. They are formed of old lava rock, brittle and broken. Years ago, Chakrana was forged in fire, but the jungle has covered much of the country, leaving only the old tunnels beneath the surface. They stretch for miles and miles. “How did you find the lytheum in the first place?”
“Luck and legend, put together,” Theodora replies, and the gleam is back in her eye. “Which doesn’t sound very scientific, unless you know anything about science. Lytheum salts are often found in ashstone and other pyroxenes. So I knew to look near volcanic activity . . . but of course in Chakrana, that’s almost everywhere. You’re laughing at me.”
“What? No!” I try to press my lips flat, but she’s caught me off guard. Or maybe it’s the height making me giddy. “I just . . . haven’t seen you this happy in a while. Talking about . . . pyroxenes.”
She gives me a sidelong look. “I prefer them to politics.”
“So do I,” I insist. “Go on.”
Theodora frowns, but she can’t resist. “Well. By chance, I overheard a story from one of my father’s lieutenants about a village nearby called Kwai Goo. The Chakran name translates to Happy Valley, and that made me start thinking. You’re still laughing.”
“I’m smiling,” I say, and then I do laugh. “Only because you’re always thinking. That’s not a bad thing!”
“Know your enemy and know yourself, and you’ll have nothing to fear,” she says archly. “But if you know everything, you’ll have a hundred new questions by morning. Xavier used to say that to me,” she adds, more quietly now. Then she scrubs a hand down over her face. “Anyway, with some research, I found that the water source for the village ran through these tunnels. I had some of my engineers trace the river back till they found a band of ashstone.”
“Kwai Goo.” I look out over the dark jungle, fascinated. “What’s it like?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are they really happy there?”
“They might have been,” Theodora says. Her shoulders rise and fall, but her sigh is lost in the sound of the wind. “Before the armée came through.”
Rage flickers through me, ugly, familiar as the ache of my oldest scars. But Theodora carries the same pain, doesn’t she? So do Leo, and Akra . . . even Le Trépas. The country is steeped in it: the pain of choosing between vengeance and forgiveness. Sometimes I envy the dead—after all, souls move on after three days. Then again, they never have a chance to change their minds.
“There it is,” Theodora says then. “The cave.”
As we bank toward the cliff face, a shadow resolves into the deep mouth of a black cavern. The avion dips, the gleaming waves racing up as though to swallow us. At the last minute, the warbird turns, slipping through a cleft in the sea-swept rocks. If the tide was higher, I’m not sure we would have found it.
We land with a heavy crunch on the broken floor of the cave. Salt air wraps around us; above, a slice of sky gleams through a crack in the earth. The shadows shift as the waves roll in and out, filling tide pools, then sucking them dry, and black crabs and golden souls skitter over the rocks.
Theodora slides from the avion, feet plashing in the shallows. I follow more slowly, my ribs twinging as I find my footing on the slick stone. Opening the storage space at the front of the avion, Theodora pulls out a pack covered in rubber tubing. She slips it onto her back, taking hold of a metal wand attached to the end of the slim tube.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Flamethrower,” she says softly, checking the nozzle. I glance around the cavern; the souls are thick around us, but of course Le Trépas is not all we have to fear.
“Do you think there are revenants here?”
With a smile, she flicks the trigger. A burst of fire blooms and fades in the dark. “I hope so. Can you get the other pack, or is it too much to carry?”
Reaching into the belly of the avion, I fish out a canvas bag that clinks gently as I lift it. The handle of a miner’s pick sticks out the top. It isn’t heavy, but my side aches when I sling it over my shoulders. Still, I’m not about to complain when the wound is a result of my own actions.
The path twists upward from the pools in a steep set of stairs. I follow Theodora, keeping my eyes on the worn steps. Had the villagers from Kwai Goo carved them to visit the tide pools, gathering seaweed and prying limpets from the rock? No . . . not the villagers. I stop at a switchback, scraping at the algae with the tip of my toe. Carved symbols dance before my eyes, half covered by mud and shadows: the graceful twisting characters of Old Chakran. It was monks who used to carve stories into stone.
“I think there’s a temple nearby,” I say, my voice echoing in the cavern.
“Temple Fourteen,” Theodora replies. “Dedicated to the Keeper of Knowledge.”
I stare at her back, but she only continues up the steps. “How do you know that?”
“Luck and legend,” she calls back over her shoulder, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “Though this time, the story is Monsieur Audrinne’s.”
“This is where Le Trépas found the Book of Knowledge?” I narrow my eyes,
