Dante nodded. He pointed inside the cave and mouthed the word "Winden." Blays squinted, then nodded back. Dante had suffered a few scrapes in the fall, but they'd scabbed over. He cut his arm and summoned every shadow that would listen. He sent them into the stone, rebuilding the shelf he'd used to catch himself. It grew over the water like a branch. Blays maneuvered beneath it, paddling hard to prevent himself from being lobbed against the rocks.
Dante went in for Winden. When he took her up, pain blazed in his ribs like a flaming spear. He dropped to one knee, hissing. Catching his breath, he gathered his strength. And lifted.
Blays was right beside the shelf. The higher swells threatened to batter his canoe against it. Dante moved to its ledge, waited for the canoe to rise, and stepped over the gunwale. He collapsed to the bottom in a controlled fall, holding tight to Winden. When the stars of pain faded from his eyes, he took up an oar, paddling one-handed. Blays drove his paddle into the sea with military precision. The cliffs drifted away behind them.
Lanterns burned around the tower, but the search of the sea had ended. Blays and Dante fought free of the eddies closer to shore and hove southeast, putting plenty of space between themselves and Deladi's bay.
"What took you so long?" Dante said.
Blays glanced over his shoulder. "First there was the matter of stealing the boat. Then came the business of waiting for the hundreds of people hunting you to move along."
"Did you hear me, then?"
"Hear you? I spotted the cave. You have a habit of seeking them out to hide in. Not unlike a number of other nasty creatures."
"Before I jumped, I yelled for you," Dante said. "I said I was going to the cliffs."
Blays laughed. "I didn't hear a damn thing. But it was hard to miss the million-odd armed men shining their lanterns down at the sea. There were so many lights it looked like the stars had come down to see what all the fuss was about."
"Well, I'm glad you got here before the tide could finish us off." Dante winced and set down his paddle.
"You all right?"
"A little beaten up. You?"
"Same." They were sailing past the bay now and Blays kept up his water-eating pace. "I suppose the assassination attempt is off."
"After tonight, there's no way we can get near Vordon. I say we hike back to Kandak and grow us a Star Tree. By then, Deladi may have settled down enough to come back and take a shot at him."
Blays turned and gave him a long, assessing look. "Agreed. Before that, though, we need to find a place to sleep. You look like something the dog coughed up."
Despite the day's hardships, Blays was able to paddle for another hour before finally relenting and turning toward shore. They landed on a gritty beach and dragged the canoe into the trees. Dante's mind and body were leaden. He helped lift Winden out of the damp canoe, broke off a few fronds to sleep on, and fell unconscious.
The pain in his ribs awoke him hours later. Surf washed on the beach. The sun was up. And so was Winden.
"Blays told me what happened," she said. "Thank you for getting me out of there."
Dante shrugged. Pain stabbed his ribs; he clutched at them. This provided a nice distraction from the guilt of having almost abandoned her.
"We're not above all kinds of dirty tricks," he said. "Not if it means living to see the next sunrise. But once you're with us, we're behind you all the way."
She turned west, toward Deladi. The trees were much too thick to see the tower. "You want to go back to Kandak?"
"For now." Dante gestured to the nether and found it renewed. Shadows zipped from the undersides of the leaves and sank into his shirt over his damaged ribs. The pain eased. "Our first order of business is to grow a Star Tree. Once that's accomplished, then we can throw our newly-saved lives at Vordon."
"About that." Blays padded up to them, eyelids puffy. "Growing a Star Tree would be a pretty big deal, wouldn't it? The kind of thing that might convince other peoples that we're on the side of right."
Dante drew back his head. "And if they're not impressed by the accomplishment, we could offer them a deal: if you don't support the Kandeans, you don't get any fruit."
"That sounds less like a deal and more like blackmail."
"Why do they deserve the fruit? It's a fair exchange. If they can cure the ronone, they won't have to trade for shaden anymore."
"I didn't say I disagreed. I just like to know the difference between shaking someone's hand and twisting their arm."
Dante raised an eyebrow at Winden. "What do you think?"
She considered this. "Control of the Star Tree would finally give others a reason to ally with Kandak rather than the Tauren. But it would also give Tauren a reason to take Kandak for good."
"I can't tell if that's a yes or a no."
"This idea, we should bring it to Niles. He knows more about the others than I do."
Dante prevented his eyes from rolling. "I have some experience with warfare. To beat a more powerful foe, you isolate them from their allies while finding ways to enlist more of your own."
"This sounds wise," she said. "But he is the one who negotiates Kandak's alliances."
"He's wanted our help all along. He should take our advice."
She tipped her head in a way that neither agreed nor argued. Dante healed his sore shoulder, then tended to the numerous cuts and aches the others had suffered. They'd left some of their packs in the inn and the rest in the tower, including almost all their food. All they had left was a box of san paste spiked with shaden. They gathered fruit from the shore, then began the hike up the long slopes toward the Dreaming Peaks.
Dante hadn't gotten as much sleep as he would have liked, but compared to the absurdly long, insanely dangerous activities of the previous day, the march through the grasslands felt like an outing to the beach. As the afternoon waned, they veered toward Iladi Forest to make camp in the cover of the trees.
After they'd hacked out shelters and fed themselves, Dante got out one of the Star Tree seeds and sat next to Winden. "Want to give this thing a whirl?"
"We can't grow this so close to Tauren territory," she said. "But you mean to learn how it's done?"
"Exactly. The Dresh made it sound like harvesting the Star Trees is a real process. It'll take us days to get back to Kandak. We might as well make use of them."
He laid out the four seeds. They were all roughly the same size. Each bore a star on one side. With no obvious difference between them, he put three away and set the fourth between himself and Winden.
Dante sent his mind into the curve of the seed. The outer layers held traces of nether, no more or less than an average rock, leaf, or bone. But he found a small chamber inside the seed. Filled entirely with shadows. There was another chamber beside it. And others after that.
They were arranged in a spiral. As he moved inward, he counted eleven shadow-filled chambers. A twelfth lay at the very center of the seed. This chamber was no larger than the pip of an orange. Unlike the others, it was empty.
He withdrew and gestured to Winden. She send her focus within it, exploring. A minute later, she sat back, lips pursed.
"Remind you of anything?" Dante said.
"A shaden. The spiral, it's just like it."
"The Star Tree on Spearpoint looked like it was made out of shell. Is it possible the ancient Dresh harvested the shaden into the tree itself?"
Winden laughed. "I should know this? If so, I could have saved us a great deal of time."
"It makes sense, doesn't it? Did you see how the central chamber is empty? If we fill it with nether, I think the seed will sprout."
"Could be."
"All the others are filled. Isn't it the obvious step?"
"That's what it suggests," Winden said. "But it may not be so straightforward. Harvested plants—the further they are from their origins, the more difficult they are to grow. If the Star Trees are truly part shaden, nothing about the seeds will be as they seem."
"Fair enough. But we have to sta
rt somewhere. May as well rule out the direct routes first."
He cut the back of his hand, pooling nether in his palm. He eased it into the seed, channeling it toward the center chamber, feeding it in drop by drop. As soon as the space filled completely, the nether bled away, escaping from the seed like steam, lost to the dirt around it. Dante withdrew, heart pounding. And watched helplessly as the nether evaporated from the other chambers as well. In seconds, the seed was empty. Nothing remained but the typical nether that lurked in all things.
Winden sucked in a breath. "What did you do?"
"You tell me. You're the Harvester!"
"I think one thing's clear," Blays said. "Whatever you did, you shouldn't do it again."
Dante turned his head. "You saw that, too?"
"To my eternal disappointment."
"I don't suppose you have any insight."
"You suppose correctly."
Dante poked and prodded at the seed with the nether, refilling the chambers, but the shadows simply leeched back into the surroundings. The night air was still and heavy. Dante sat back, layered in prickly sweat.
"Winden, why don't you try harvesting it?" he said.
Winden narrowed one eye. "Because it's dead."
"Then that means there's nothing to lose."
She looked dubious about that, but gave it a try, feeding the nether into the seed. It didn't so much as stir. After several efforts, she shook her head.
"Maybe that one was flawed," Dante said. "What if we tried another?"
Winden scrunched up her mouth. "I fear it would be the same. It's like I said—plants as extreme as these, they're very delicate. They may only grow in certain places. The one the Dresh had was in the lowlands. Perhaps like the snails they're grown from, the trees prefer to be near the sea. I think we should wait until we're back in Kandak to try again."
This wasn't at all what he wanted to hear. She was the Harvester, though. And as far as he knew, the three remaining seeds were the last ones on the island. He couldn't allow his impatience to rob him of the cure.
They slept, rose, and continued uphill. The day was another quiet one. After the last week of nonstop troubles, Dante welcomed it. As they walked, he thought about the seeds. When they rested, he attempted to reinfuse the empty seed with nether, but it was like Winden said. By all indications, he'd broken it.
"The twelve chambers," he said after they'd made camp that night. "In Gask and Mallon, we believe in the Celeset. The River of the Heavens. Twelve gods reside there, dividing the sky between them. Do you have anything like that here?"
Winden chewed on a mealy, bulbous fruit that tasted like stale bread. "Here, there is no River of Heavens. But there is Kaval and His Eleven. I've told you of Mora and Loda. There are nine others, too. Each commands a piece of the land, the sea, and the air. But Kaval is the only one who can reach the heavens and what lies beyond."
"In that context, does the seed's shape mean anything to you?"
"Nothing leaps to mind."
"Is there a hierarchy to the Eleven? Or are they all equally subordinate to Kaval?"
She rolled her eyes up and to the right, thinking. "The least of them is considered to be Doga. He who cares for the toads, the snakes, and every creature that people despise. The central chamber, it's the smallest. Perhaps it is his."
"If it was, would that mean anything to you?"
"Such as?"
He gestured searchingly. "Perhaps we need to fill it with the nether from a toad."
This time, Winden's eye-roll was pure exasperation. "Does that really sound like it could possibly be true?"
"This is your land, not mine. I'd like to see you navigate your way around Narashtovik."
The following day, as they neared the Boat-Growers' territory, they veered west into the open plains. Dante patrolled the forest's edge with a team of dead hopping rats, ensuring they weren't being watched. The day after that, with no new progress on the seeds, they ascended the Dreaming Peaks.
On its southern approach, the bridge spanning the river had been torn from its moorings. Instead, they'd strung a rope across, which the Kandean guard used to convey a small raft to them. By the time they ferried themselves along the rope to the north side, Niles had arrived to greet them.
"You left from the north and returned from the south?" he said. "No wonder it took you so long."
"We made it to Spearpoint Rock." Winden's face shined with wonder, as if she couldn't believe her own words. "And then climbed the High Tower itself."
Breathlessly, she relayed the story. Niles' response switched between laughter and drop-jawed disbelief. By the end, he was looking at all three of them as if they'd stepped down from the stars.
"This was why we needed you," he said, gripping first Dante's arm, then Blays'. He turned to Winden, smiling. His eyes brightened with tears. "And you. You would have made Larsin so proud."
Blays' eyebrows vaulted up his brow. "You're Larsin's daughter?"
"Adopted," Winden said. "When I was found in the Tauren wilds, he was the only one who'd take me in."
"So that means you and Dante are siblings?"
Dante snorted. "Don't look so surprised. Knowing my dad, he probably left bastard Galands in every corner of the world."
Niles' brow furrowed. "Don't speak of him that way. It was the ronone that kept him here."
"He could have visited."
"For what? A few days, only to leave again? He was afraid you'd follow him back here. And that you would get sick, too."
"None of this matters," Dante said. "What happened, happened. It's behind us. What matters now is growing these seeds—and curing the island."
Niles pressed his lips together. "You could do that here in the Dreaming Peaks. After all, the people of the Mists are the ones who gave us the answers."
"I don't think they'll grow here," Winden said. "We'll take them to Kandak."
Dante motioned to take in the islands. "We're thinking you could use the fruit as bargaining tokens to rally other people to our banner. If so, best to keep the Star Tree close to home."
Niles rubbed his jaw. "Aye, that does seem practical."
"We'll be on our way, then. Our raid on the High Tower may have stirred up the Tauren. Best to move as fast as we can before they marshal a response."
"Did you see any sign of pursuit?"
"None. Keep your eyes sharp, though. Vordon knows us. Too many of his people saw us to think he won't connect the raid to Kandak."
They resupplied and headed on. In the great hall, the Dreamers were back in their beds, lost in the Mists. Some of the Kandean warriors had been swapped out for others, but they were no more numerous than when they'd reclaimed the Peaks from the Tauren. After seeing the city of Deladi, and the forces at Vordon's command, Niles' garrison looked paltry. Dante wondered if they'd be able to put up any resistance at all.
* * *
Three days later, they arrived in Kandak. The town looked more or less the same, but on their way down to the beach, they passed a woman cutting the thin, perfectly straight branches from a harvested arrow-tree. A team of fletchers trimmed off twigs, notched the branches' ends, and affixed arrowheads and the white feathers of sea geese. Most of the tips were obsidian, flaked to a razor's edge, but others were shiny iron, likely acquired in trade from one of the Sword of the South's earlier visits.
Dante glanced at the bay. "Given any thought to where we should plant the tree?"
Winden padded through the shade. "On the coast. Not too close to Kandak. Somewhere secret."
"Sounds like you have somewhere specific in mind."
She smiled but would say no more. She acquired a trio of machetes, however, then led them south past the bay, following a trail into the jungle. When this petered out, they hacked their way forward, taking game trails where possible. Within minutes, Dante was sweaty and filthy.
When they came to a stream, he was ready to dive in. Yet he barely had time to wash his face before Winden directed them ups
tream. The growth was so thick it was easier to wade through the shallows.
"You're sure this is a good idea?" Blays said. "Remember, you're going to have to come out here all the time."
Winden swept back her sweaty hair, securing it behind her head. "Then we'll just have to clear a trail."
A low roar sifted through the trees. The stream led to a round pool overhung by a waterfall forty feet wide and ten high. Trees crowded the banks, but a small island in the middle of the pool held nothing but shrubs and grass.
"There," Winden pointed.
Dante eyed the island. "You mean the only place that trees aren't growing?"
"The Star Tree is no normal tree. And look." She nodded to the rocks around the pool's edges. Dozens of crabs sunned themselves, harmoniously picking their way between small snails studding every damp surface. "Everything with a shell loves this place."
"She's the Harvester," Blays said. "We're two city folk who barely know where corn comes from. I say we trust her."
Something in Dante wanted to argue, but he suspected that was nothing more than a desire for control. "Lead on."
Winden tossed her cape aside and waded into the pool, which Dante discovered was much colder than her indifference implied. Holding his pack above his head, he walked until the water reached his throat, then paddled toward the island. Winden climbed ashore, wringing the water from her shirt. It clung to her tightly. Under other circumstances, he might have enjoyed the scene, but knowing his father had helped raise her, he felt compelled to look away.
Blays heaved himself onto the island. They moved toward its grassy center. This was in direct sunlight, defraying the chill of their sodden clothing.
Dante got out the three living seeds. "Well?"
"I've been thinking," Winden said. "The twelfth chamber, maybe it means nothing. Maybe we should simply harvest the seed the way we would any other."
"You know more about this than I do. Let me know if you need a hand."
She got a copper trowel from her bag, its surface worn and green. She dug a shallow hole, placed the seed inside, and covered it loosely. Dante moved his mind within it. Winden drew nether from the grass, surrounding the seed with it. The shadows moved oddly, swooping back, as if wary of what hid inside. Dante could see her urging them forward, but only a trickle of them would touch the seed's surface. And none would enter.
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