City of Thirst

by Carrie Ryan

  He spun, his attention falling to Fin. “And you, boy, what is it that you want?”

  Fin’s eyes went wide, as though he was surprised to have been noticed. “Um… I… uh… like she said. I want to stop the Syphon.”

  The Salt Sand King threw his head back, cackling like the popping of dried wood on a fire. “You cannot lie to your King; you realize this, yunh?”

  When Fin only blinked in response, the Salt Sand King laughed louder. “What is it you do not understand? That I am your King? Or that what you just said was a lie?” He held.is rag-wrapped arms wide. “Because both are true. Yunh?”

  “I…” Fin glanced at Marrill but then darted his eyes away. “Er… wasn’t lying.” His cheeks seemed to darken, and it took a moment for Marrill to understand.

  She gasped. He’d lied. About wanting to stop the Syphon. Even though they both knew that was the only way to save her world. “Fin?”

  But the Salt Sand King wasn’t finished. He stalked toward Fin. “You don’t want to stop the Syphon, because you know using it is the only way for you to be remembered.” He poked his clawed hand at Fin’s chest. “Because you don’t understand the gift that you have. How important your skills can be. What I had to give up for you to have the power to slip in and out of memory.”

  Marrill’s heart stopped. Fin’s mouth dropped open. She could see his lips trembling, his fingers quivering.

  “I know who you are,” the Salt Sand King hissed. “I know what you are. Yunh?”

  But before the Salt Sand King could say anything more, Ardent strode between the two. “Enough of this nonsense,” he said with a swipe of his hand. “You will tell us how to find the Syphon of Monerva.”

  A shiver passed down Marrill’s spine at the sharpness of Ardent’s voice. Whatever the King had been saying vanished in the wake of it. “Remind me to never tick him off,” Remy breathed beside her.

  The Salt Sand King cackled. “Directions, yunh? That’s what you’re asking for? You poor, poor wizard. You don’t even know how lost you truly are, do you?” He cocked his head toward Marrill. “Never trust a wizard, and now you know why,” he chortled. “The Dawn Wizard buried the Syphon deep, he did. And only two folks know the trick to getting in or out.” He paused. “Well, three folks now that I’ve shared that tidbit with that ironclad gent.”

  “You helped him, but you won’t help us?” Ardent practically growled the question.

  “Perhaps I already have helped you as well. Yunh?” the Salt Sand King countered. “Everything in pairs, you see? You and he! The Dawn Wizard and me! And two doors, land and sea!”

  “Enough!” Ardent shouted. Marrill cringed at the force of the word. “Stop playing games.”

  The Salt Sand King hopped from one foot to the other. “But a game it has become, yunh? The pieces are set, the moves already arranged. And you”—he threw his arm toward the wizard—“have already lost!”

  For a moment, nothing happened. And then a strange sucking noise seemed to pierce the air, almost like a giant inhaling. Not even like inhaling. Like a giant coughing, but in reverse. Smoke leaked from the gaps in the Salt Sand King’s bandages.

  And suddenly Marrill knew exactly what would happen next. She lunged toward Ardent, snagging his sleeve and yanking him to the side. “Fire can hide!” she shouted.

  They made it only two steps before the Salt Sand King exploded into flames.

  Ardent pulled Marrill behind his robes as heat blasted over them. “Run!” he shouted, shoving her toward the ring of ships circling the clearing.

  Marrill didn’t need to be told twice. She sprinted hard, not caring that every breath seared her throat. Ahead, a patch of ground blazed to life, causing her to skid and pivot.

  But there was fire there, too. It wavered and flickered and paced beside her, like a thing alive—a creature stalking her. And then it wasn’t like a creature—it was a creature: an enormous burning tiger, its coat orange fire and black smoke, its eyes burning with green flame.

  A scream clawed up Marrill’s throat. Her muscles tensed, ready to run. But if this creature was anything like the real tigers she’d studied while her family lived in India, she knew running would be the worst move possible.

  Instead she dropped her eyes and hunched her shoulders. “It’s okay,” she murmured, slowly backing away. The creature padded a slow arc around her, catching more of the plain ablaze with every step.

  “Marrill!” a voice called from somewhere behind her. “What are you doing? Run!” The fire tiger crouched. Every flick of its tail sent sparks flying.

  Then it pounced. Marrill dropped to the ground and rolled, throwing her hands over her face. The creature bounded past her, the heat of it singeing the hair from her arms.

  As she lay there catching her breath, a thin, wispy trail of smoke rose up from the ground beside her. Carefully, she pushed onto her hands and knees, crawling slowly backward. The smoke came thicker, wormlike. Snakelike.

  She patted at the ground, searching for a weapon but finding hunks of charred wood instead. They would have to do. She grabbed one in each hand.

  With a sudden burst, the trail of smoke resolved into a serpent. Two sparks glowed for eyes. Burning orange fangs seared the air. Headed straight at her. She flung one of the pieces of charcoal at the creature and ran.

  “This way!” a voice called. Through the smoke, she saw a boy crouched against the hull of one of the ships, waving for her.

  She veered toward him, leaping over a flaming alligator and dodging through a flock of burning bats. Behind her the fire chased, licking and snapping at her heels almost playfully, driving her onward. She reached the ship and the boy pushed her toward a ladder. “Go!” he shouted.

  She shoved the other piece of charcoal in her pocket and climbed. On the deck, she was relieved to find the rest of the Kraken crew, all slightly singed but none seriously burned. Even their beetle guide and the two firefleers were there, bronze bowls clattering as they huddled together.

  Overhead, the old sails flapped and snapped, while around them fire crackled through the grasslands. Serpents of smoke twisted through the air. Green flame eyes moved through the brush. But for some reason, they left the ship alone.

  “What now?” She coughed as she wiped her blackened hands against her shirt. No one seemed to have an answer. “You’re sure you can’t just magic away the fire?” she asked the two wizards.

  They both shook their heads.

  “This fire was given life by the Dawn Wizard,” Ardent said. “One of the greatest of the Dzane. And as you know, what the Dzane have made, only the power of the Dzane can destroy.”

  Tears of frustration and fear pricked Marrill’s eyes. She turned away. Behind her, Rysacg stood by the firefleers, his demeanor as calm and steady as ever. “I don’t suppose you have any ideas?” she asked him.

  “You could try not wanting,” he suggested.

  Marrill could only snort in response. Not wanting was impossible. Especially now, when there was so much at stake. She needed to save her world and save her mom and get home safely with Remy. She wanted to stay on the Stream and keep having adventures, and she wanted it to be possible to have all of that at the same time.

  It all burned so hot inside her that it felt like she’d swallowed the fire of the plain herself. “Everything wants,” she growled at the beetle, stomping her foot. Her outburst startled one of the firefleers, causing it to back swiftly away from her and cower.

  Marrill felt a stab of guilt. “I’m sorry, little one,” she cooed, holding out a hand. Her heart hurt to see it so scared. As upset as she was, the firefleer was basically just an animal, with no idea what was going on. She wished it could just fly away, taking them all with it.

  A thought occurred to her. “Hey, Ardent,” she called. “Could you give the firefleers wings?”

  “Of course,” the wizard said, nodding. “But not useful ones,” he added, before her hopes could rise. “If you’ll recall, I made a promise to the wind when you las
t left the Stream that I would not call on it again; I can’t ask it to support my creations now.” Under his breath, he mumbled, “You’d think the villainous vapor would be willing to renegotiate at some point, but no.”

  Another gust of wind scorched up from the plain, rattling the rigging and bathing the ship in smoke. Marrill choked, her eyes stinging and lungs burning.

  They needed a way out, fast.

  The firefleer nudged her gently. She stroked its leg, wishing it really did have wings. Working ones, anyway. Overhead, the ship’s sails flapped and snapped.

  Suddenly, those thoughts came together in Marrill’s head. Firefleer. Wings. Sail. Hot air. Flying. Marrill’s mind raced back to a memory of being young. Going on a balloon ride with her mom out over Coney Island in New York.

  Hot air lifted the balloon! She nearly wept with joy. “Ardent!” she yelled. The beleaguered wizard was stroking his now soot-covered beard, debating the merits of manual magical manipulation with Annalessa. “Can you attach that sail to the firefleers?” she asked, pointing.

  The wizard looked at her quizzically. “Well, yes, certainly, but I don’t know how we’re going to sail an AMFF.…”

  Coll stepped forward. “I’ll handle the sailing,” he said confidently. He leaned over to Marrill. “What am I sailing again?”

  “You’ll see,” Marrill told him. Quickly, she explained to Ardent just what she wanted. With a zip and a magic snip, the sails came loose, and he fashioned them into balloons and attached them with ropes to the two firefleers.

  “Hot-air balloons?” Remy clapped. “Marrill Aesterwest, you little genius. Okay, math homework is forgiven. This once.”

  A few moments later, Marrill gently coaxed the two firefleers out onto the ship’s old bowsprit—one for Rysacg and one for the rest of them. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “I want a great big glass of ice water! I want an A on my geometry homework! I want a vacation to the CrystalShadow Wastes about now!”

  The others chimed in, shouting their desires. Even Rysacg managed an “I’d like to go home now, please.” The fire roared beneath them, hot air and smoke filling the balloons.

  Rysacg’s took off first, lifting slowly, then drifting higher. He waved a clawed hand in their direction. “I want you to have the best of luck!” he shouted. The flames surged. Marrill had to strain to keep a grip on their own ’fleer as the rest of the crew piled on board.

  She jumped in after them. “I want to find that Syphon!” she yelled, stoking the fire. “I want to save my world and my mom!” Heat blasted her in the face. She felt the jolt of their balloon taking off.

  She let out a wild whoop of success, but it caught in her throat at Remy’s panicked cry of “Plus One!” The babysitter lunged over the rim of the bowl, almost tipping the thing. Coll grabbed her, hauling her back in. She struggled against his grip. “We can’t leave him!” she said, pointing.

  Marrill looked back, mind scrambling. Sure enough, they’d left someone behind. “Come on!” she called to him. “Hurry!”

  But the boy didn’t move. He just stood there, an intense look of regret on his face, watching as the balloon lifted higher and higher. Panic and confusion washed over Marrill. She didn’t understand—why wasn’t he coming?

  “What are you doing?” she cried.

  “It’s okay, Marrill!” he shouted from below. “I have to stay! Just go and stop the Syphon, all right?”

  There was a moment as they rose, just a moment, when she could have jumped. When she could have stayed behind. When it wasn’t too late to save him.

  But then the moment was gone.

  “Fin.” The word formed on her lips, but she couldn’t say for the life of her what meaning it might have held.

  As the balloon climbed higher, she thought she heard the dry crackle of the fire laughing. And she couldn’t for the life of her remember why she would even think about jumping.

  CHAPTER 22

  A Piece on the Game Board

  Fin watched them go, guilt tangling in his gut. After all the times he’d complained about nearly being left, he was the one who had decided to do the leaving. He could still hear Remy’s voice in his head shouting for “Plus One!” The fact that she remembered him enough to care made him smile. But it wasn’t enough to ease the pain of what he hadn’t heard.

  And that was Marrill, shouting his name. Sure, she’d yelled for him to hurry. She’d been concerned for him.

  But she hadn’t remembered him. Not really. She’d forgotten him for real. Despite her promises. He couldn’t help the anger that surged in him. Even if he knew it wasn’t her fault. It was just the way of things. The way of who he was.

  His heart twisted thinking about it. That was why he’d had to stay behind. Because the one thing he wanted more than anything else, more than anything the Wish Machine could give him, was to understand. And that was what the Salt Sand King had promised him.

  He dropped from the ship to the ground. The fire burned hot before him, rising high like a tidal wave. But Fin wasn’t scared, not anymore.

  A voice came from the crackling flames. “I knew you would stay.”

  “You said you know who I am.” Fin swallowed, his throat thick with smoke. “What I am.”

  “You are my piece on the game board,” the fire snapped. “I am your King. You are mine to command.”

  Fin’s back stiffened. He was relatively confident he didn’t have a boss, let alone a king. And he was absolutely certain that if he did, it wasn’t a talking fireball. “I’m no one’s to command.”

  “And yet you carry my sigil,” the fire hissed.

  Fin’s fingers twitched—he wanted to pull the bracelet out of his pocket and take a closer look at the symbol—but he kept his hands clenched into fists.

  “You poor lost soldier.” The fire flickered, dimming, and for a moment Fin thought he caught a glimpse of the rag-wrapped creature trapped in the flames. “So lost that you fail to see what you have.”

  Fin lifted his chin. “I’m not lost,” he spat.

  Burning grass snapped and wood popped with laughter. “Are you not? Look around. You stand in the middle of a desert, in the midst of flames. Left behind. Lost to everyone but me.”

  The fire did have a point, Fin realized. But then he shook his head. Fire couldn’t have a point because fire was a thing. Things didn’t have thoughts.

  Of course, fire wasn’t supposed to talk, either, and this one seemed to be doing plenty of that.

  “Stop playing games and tell me who I am,” Fin ordered.

  “But is this not all a game? Do we not move around the board, eliminating others to get what we desire?”

  “Do you ever say anything that’s not in the form of a question?” Fin shot back.

  A whip of fire cracked toward him, popping inches from his face. Fin stumbled back, holding a hand up to his cheek.

  “I can read your desires,” the flame cackled. “They flicker across your face and flush beneath your skin like the crinkling pages of a burning book. But understand this: Your destiny is not to be remembered. Your destiny is to serve me.”

  Fin felt his patience snap. He was tired of people making promises and then breaking them. The Salt Sand King promised to tell him who he was. Marrill promised to remember him. His mom promised to come back for him. “Forget it,” he growled, turning on his heel.

  A blazing wall sprang up before him, circling him in an instant. The heat of it drenched him in sweat. He struggled to draw breath against the searing smoke.

  “I AM THE FLAME THAT FOREVER BURNS THE FIELDS!” shrieked the sound of hissing steam and crackling wood. “I AM THE TONGUE THAT DRINKS ETERNAL! I WILL HAVE MY RIGHT AND DESTINY TO RULE OVER ALL THAT EXISTS!”

  The flames simmered down with a hissing fizzle. “Apologies. Being a fire has made me a bit… overdramatic.”

  “I was going to say ‘hot-tempered,’” Fin offered, unable to resist.

  If he heard the pun, the Salt Sand King ignored it, which Fin thought
was probably for the best. The flames collapsed to burning embers, coating the ground all around him. From the midst of them, the bent form of the Salt Sand King rose, tattered rags glowing red. He pinned Fin with his gaze. “Three things the Dawn Wizard promised me: first, to hone my will into a weapon.”

  The King held his arms out wide and lifted them slowly. At his command, flames leapt from the ground, soaring pillars that roared into the sky. For a moment it felt like the world had only ever been nothing but fire. Fin threw his arms over his face against the intensity of it.

  “Second,” the Salt Sand King continued, “to give me an army of soldiers who can’t be beaten and spies that can’t be seen.” He dropped his arms and the flames fell back to the ground, twisting and flickering as they resolved into the shapes of men and women. All of them with the same symbol burning in their chests: a dragon under a mountain-filled circle.

  “You are a spy in this army. MY army.” The king stepped toward him. “Come at last to fulfill your duty.”

  “Pretty sure not,” Fin said. “I’m a thief, actually. A master thief, now that you mention it.” He puffed his chest with pride.

  “Thief and spy, spy and thief.” The Salt Sand King shrugged. “It’s all the same—you move unseen and unseeable save only to me.”

  Fin hated how much sense that made. A spy and a thief had the same skills, didn’t they? He swallowed, trying to fit this piece of new information in his brain. So he was a soldier? In an army he’d never known existed? Did that mean his mother was a soldier as well? That the forgettable girl was one of the Salt Sand King’s spies?

  “I have a mission for you,” the Salt Sand King continued.

  Fin was already shaking his head. He wasn’t so sure taking orders from a crazed ball of fire was a smart idea. “Uh, no thank—”

  “You’ll like this one, I think. Because I need you to come to the Syphon with me. And when we do, I will help you make your wish.” The offer was made in a hiss of steam.