The man shook his head. “I walk the Span every day,” he said.
“Aren’t you afraid?” asked Ashok.
“Of course,” the man replied. “That’s why I do it-gives me a little bit of a thrill. Are you crossing?” the man asked.
Slowly, Ashok nodded. His trance broken, he found the spell of panic and terror had passed. Feeling weak, he turned and walked toward Hevalor with the human trailing behind him.
He went down the stairs and headed for Tower Athanon. Within, he asked one of the guards where Ilvani’s quarters were.
He climbed the stairs nearly to the top of the tower and knocked on the second door to his left. There was no response.
Ashok raised his hand to knock again, but he stopped with his knuckles brushing the wood. He sat down in front of Ilvani’s door and stretched his legs out in front of him. His boots were scuffed and stained with mud and old blood. He leaned against the door and waited.
Outside, the Pendron bell sounded. Ashok closed his eyes and immediately an image of Chanoch’s chained body came into his mind. He opened his eyes and stared straight ahead until his breathing quieted.
After a while, his back started to ache, and his legs cramped from sitting. Ashok stood and walked back and forth around the tower. He considered going outside to one of the archways but dismissed it. The hypnotic effect of the height was not what he needed. What he needed was calm. What he wanted was to jump off the tower and let the wind rush past him. He didn’t care where he landed.
Behind him, he heard a door open. Ashok turned and saw Ilvani looking at him. She stepped back into her room and left the door standing wide. On the strength of that invitation, Ashok followed her inside.
Her room was torn apart. Trunks containing clothing, books, and parchment writings were upended and scattered all over the floor. Her bed was covered with twisted blankets, their edges torn and flecked with blood. A ladder leaning against the far wall led up to a small sitting ledge.
Ilvani perched on the ledge, her legs swinging free above the ladder. Behind her, a crescent-shaped window looked out over the city.
Ashok picked a careful path across the room and stopped in front of the ladder. He climbed up slowly, waiting for her to tell him no, but she only watched him. When he reached the top, she scooted as far back against the wall as she could.
Ilvani wore a dress of crimson velvet. Its collar came up almost to her chin and pressed flush against her skin, emphasizing her unhealthy slenderness. She spread her skirt over her knees to make a lap and brought her green bag from a corner near the window.
Ashok settled himself opposite her and looked out the window. The view was breathtaking. He could see the training yard, the towers, and the rest of the city spread below them like a dark storm.
“You have the entire city here,” Ashok said. “You can almost touch it.” He looked at Ilvani, but she was absorbed in arranging the bag. “Did you paint the picture of Ikemmu that hangs in Uwan’s chamber?”
“Yes,” she said. Her voice sounded like she’d been sleeping. “He took it before I had them all in.”
“Who took it? Uwan?” Ashok said.
She nodded. “He’s always taking things before they’re ready,” she said. Her thin fingers worked the string on the bag. She tossed the cord aside and without warning turned the bag upside down, dumping its contents all over the ledge between them.
Her glass orb, the one with the red silk, rolled across the ledge along with others like it, clear and bottle green and flat black. Ashok put out a hand so they wouldn’t roll away. There were other things too-all containers, Ashok noticed. Miniature chests with tiny locks and gold catches; plain wooden boxes, their warped lids tied with string; layers of cloth wrapped tightly and knotted.
“What is all this?” Ashok asked.
Ilvani counted each of the containers out loud. “One impressive feast,” she said, pointing to a coin-sized silver box. “Two shiny baubles in my ears; three swords blocking the way.” She touched a fragile bit of parchment folded to look like a box. “Four interlocking braids; five shadow hounds.” And on and on-twenty boxes of nonsense that she counted as if her life depended upon finding them all.
“What does it mean?” Ashok said when she’d finished.
“They’re all trapped in here,” she said. “Every wind, every soul. I keep them here. Whether they like it or not.”
Ashok picked up one of the strange boxes. The wooden lid came loose. He looked inside.
“Empty,” he said. He picked up a clear glass sphere. “They’re all empty.”
“Of course,” Ilvani said. She held up the wooden box. “Uwan,” she said.
“Uwan gave that to you?”
“It is Uwan,” Ilvani said. She stuck a finger beneath the lid. “The first time he showed me this room. Said it was all mine.” Her clean hair was pale red in color, but she’d made no attempt to even out the chopped strands.
Ashok held up the clear glass sphere. “Are they your memories, Ilvani?” he asked.
“Every wind, every soul,” she said, and laughed. “A lot to take in-I have to put them somewhere. Out of sight, so they don’t crowd everything.” She pressed the heel of her hand against her temple. “Not enough room.”
“No, I suppose not,” Ashok said. “Which one is your brother, Ilvani?”
“What?” she said, looking at him as if noticing his presence for the first time. “Natan? He’s not here,” she said.
“Which box did you put him in?” Ashok said.
She smiled. On her face it was a painful expression. “He doesn’t fit,” she said. “I could never fit him into any box.”
“He misses you,” Ashok said. “He hasn’t seen you since … Well, it’s been a long time.”
“Exactly,” Ilvani said in a brusque tone. “One day too many. He wouldn’t recognize me.”
“I think you’re wrong,” Ashok said. “I don’t think it matters how much time has passed. Natan will know you when he sees you.”
“How do you say that?” Ilvani asked. “You’re just putting words together because they look pretty. You don’t really want to see them.”
“You’re right.” Ashok sighed. “I don’t want to talk at all.”
“That’s why I let you in,” Ilvani said, sounding as if he’d betrayed her. She picked at the frayed hem of her dress. “I felt a spirit leave while I slept. Then I heard you crying.”
Ashok’s body tensed. “How did you know about that?” he said.
“You can take anything out of the wind,” she said, “and put it in a box.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Ashok said. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Too late,” she said. “You came in here and everything spilled off your face and cluttered the room.”
Ashok groped for a distraction, anything among the boxes to tempt her. His gaze strayed to the view out the window. “I didn’t know there were any windows shaped like this in the tower,” he said. He hadn’t known there were any windows at all, none that had glass.
“It’s the eye,” Ilvani said. She leaned forward, surprising him by putting a skeletal finger against his cheek. She traced a crescent around his eye. “The eye of Ikemmu,” she said.
Ashok remembered the eye at the top of Tower Athanon, the one that seemed to absorb the entire city with its gaze. “You mean it’s an illusion?” he said. “The eye is really a window?” He thought about it and laughed without meaning to.
“What’s funny?” Ilvani said. “I didn’t know there were such words.”
“It’s just … I thought it was Uwan who watched everything from up here,” Ashok said. “He’s the Watching Blade, he could see the whole city. But it’s you who was looking all along.”
There was at least one artist in Ikemmu, Ashok thought.
“I see the city, and I see them,” Ilvani said. “The ones with wings. I see them in the sky when it’s dark.”
“The winged folk-the pictures carved on the tower,” Ashok said. “Are they angels?”
“No,” Ilvani said. “The feathers burst from their backs and they pull themselves up and up. Their arms are
