I didn’t want to die.
Traitors to the Nocturnai are executed.
I couldn’t help remembering Moanet’s words while I paced the confines of my hut. The others had carried me from the beach while I slept. It had been a day since, and I’d searched my belongings at least ten times. The figurine was gone.
Constructed of mortared stone, my hut had a single window and door. I’d pulled a blanket from the bed, snagging it on the rough-cut corners of the window frame as a makeshift curtain. The door had no lock, so I’d wedged a chair beneath the knob. It wouldn’t keep out a determined intruder, but I was less likely to be surprised by a casual visitor.
Turning when I reached the wall, I stalked in the opposite direction. Back and forth. Back and forth. The blow to the head excused me from the first calling shift, but my lies would be unearthed soon enough.
I had to do something, but I’d discarded every option but one: escape.
Remaining meant my death. Possibly Paono’s, too. But I could leave, and no one would know about the figurine. They’d assume I got lost. Fell into the ocean. I was just a gutterborn, after all. Most voyagers would expect me to do something stupid.
It meant surviving, alone, on Ioene. But it meant surviving.
Rooting through my trunk, I laid supplies on top of my cot. Two changes of clothes, thin linen shifts, loose trousers, and belted tunics to go over the top. A warm coat. My extra pair of shoes. I needed a way to carry it all, so I dug out my sewing kit and laid it beside my spare cloak. After so many years of making and repairing my own clothes, it should be straightforward to create a rucksack from the cloak’s fabric and ties.
I paused to look over my preparations and made a mental list of extra things I needed to gather. My sewing kit included only needles and thread—I’d need scissors to cut the cloak. Or better—more versatile—a knife. I shouldn’t leave without a water skin, plus food to last me until I could put my foraging knowledge to work. Those three things could come from the dining hall—I doubted anyone would notice me leaving with extra. But as for torch-making supplies—rags and lamp oil—that would require some thought. Most likely, I’d have to sneak into one of the storage buildings.
All right. I’d done what I could for the moment. Inhaling, I removed the chair from beneath the doorknob and stepped outside. A simple bench stood on my porch. Taking a seat, I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders to keep up the injured act. By watching the crew prepare the village, I’d find out where various supplies were stored, maybe even gather ideas for other items I needed.
The village perched above the beach on a jut of rock and earth. Though night foliage choked much of the island, a tangle of springy, scratching branches prickling with leaves so dark they were nearly black, the subterranean lines of heat that fed the thickets veered around the outcrop, leaving the earth bare. Plants that had taken root in the daylight had long since withered. A few dry stalks threaded between the floorboards of my narrow porch, casting thin-armed shadows in the flickering light of nearby lamps.
The huts lined a central pathway. Previous expeditions had cleared the volcanic rubble, leaving packed earth and a few large boulders. Three huts down, a pair of men were mending a hole in a roof punched by falling debris during one of Ioene’s outbursts. Our voyage was lucky that few buildings had been damaged. Some expeditions had to rebuild entire portions of the village.
Unlike the huts, the ancient forges, built by a long-ago civilization, were impervious to Ioene’s eruptions. I’d read stories of lava beading and running from their domed stone walls like water on an oiled surface. Boulders bounced off without leaving a scratch. Inside, the firepots and bellows were as clean and usable as they’d been when the first Nocturnai dropped anchor in the bay.
The memory of reading those accounts by lamplight, finger running beneath scrawled lines of text, struck me in a wave of melancholy. I’d loved the dust-smell and the crinkle of pages unturned for years.
A minor quake shook the island, jarring me from my thoughts.
“Sitting up, I see.” Raav stepped out from the side of my hut. He hopped up onto my porch and took a seat on the edge.
I checked that the door was shut, hiding the traveling clothes laid out on my bed. “Where’s Katrikki?” I’d expected the sentinels to be busy with their callers until we left Ioene—not that I’d seen Paono since we’d arrived.
Raav rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his long, elegant fingers together. He had nice hands. Too bad I was leaving.
“Katrikki would murder me for telling you this. None of the girls have managed to call the strands, and they’ve all tried. The strandmistress told them to rest for a few shifts.”
I sat up straighter—maybe my situation wasn't so desperate. If the traders couldn’t call the strands, no one would be surprised if I failed, too.
“Any idea what’s wrong?”
Raav waved his hand toward Ioene’s burning summit. “The aurora flared while you slept, and Ioene’s rumbling. The strandmistress thinks the aether may be disrupted.” He smirked. “I suspect nightcaller incompetence. Too bad you’re hurt. I’d like to watch you summon the strands where they failed.”
Yeah, that would be nice. I glanced at the volcano. Fountains of lava sprayed from Ioene’s crown, and the hanging quilt of ash blotted most of the stars.
Raav laid his hand on my knee. A jolt traveled my leg, but his somber face caused it to fizzle.
“There’s another rumor going around, Lilik. Some of the callers are blaming you. They say that your common birth angers Ioene.”
I almost knocked his hand off my knee in my rush of anger. “What? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard.”
“I guess it’s in our trader breeding to assume we’re special.” He withdrew his hand as his heel scuffed in the gravel beneath the porch step. “There’s one more thing . . . Lilik, you have to do better keeping your figurine hidden.”
My stomach did a flip.
“My . . . my figurine?” Cold sweat sprouted at my hairline.
“The Yiltak Effigy. I saw you holding it while you were looking at the stars. Lilik, anyone could have seen it. If the other callers catch you with it, you’re done. Abandoned here at best. Probably hanged.”
“I don’t know what you mean. Effigy?” The words sounded false, even to me.
“The carving is no secret. The Yiltaks have been using it for generations—they’re rarely talented. But hey—” He tapped my shin with the back of his hand as if telling me a joke. “If I planned to rat you out, I would have done it a long time ago.”
Another tremor rattled the island. The rivers of lava oozing down Ioene’s flanks were running higher, flaring hot and red. A whiff of steam curled through the village when a new tongue of molten rock hissed into the sea.
I stared at the volcano while panic beat at my walls. Raav knew. And the carving was no secret. My hands were numb bricks at the ends of my arms.
“Moanet didn’t tell me that.”
Raav chuckled. “Of course she didn’t. The Yiltaks are blind and conceited. They think no one knows their secret. One of these days, a rival House will expose them.” He picked up a rock and tossed it from hand to hand. “So . . . I assume that Moanet Yiltak gave you the figurine because you need it to call the strands. But I'm curious how you passed the trial.”
His expression was amused, as if we were partners in some innocent prank. But after seeing my face, he drew back. “Sorry, Lilik. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I don’t really want to talk about it.” My voice sounded stale. Lifeless.
“Probably better.” He was disappointed but tried hard to hide it. “Confess nothing. You know what happened to the stowaway.”
I tucked the blanket tighter around me. “So you won't tell anyone?”
“Why would I? With the Effigy, you can call the strands as well as anyone. Besides, I find you . . . intriguing. Think I want you dead?”
“I—I guess not,” I stammered
.
In the sky above the fuming volcano, the aurora painted a shifting picture. The breeze swirled, carrying cool sea air followed by hot puffs of Ioene’s breath.
Given his knowledge of my secret, I figured he owed me a chance to pry. “Raav, did the captain help you plan the stowaway’s escape?”
His expression became abruptly guarded. “The stowaway came very close to dying, Lilik. Some people think that he should have. You should forget about him because whoever his allies were, they aren’t safe.”
As he spoke, Ioene ejected a spray of cinders. A growl followed, and then light, air-filled pellets of stone pelted the ground. The men working on the neighboring rooftop held up a sheet of pounded metal to defend themselves from the stinging pebbles. Raav joined me under the porch overhang, and we huddled without speaking until the hail stopped.
He glanced up the line of huts. “I better go.”
With his chin, he gestured toward the village’s far side. A cluster of voyagers tramped along the packed path. The dim glow of the torches made faces hard to recognize, but Mieshk’s tall, sharp angles were unmistakable. An entourage of deckhands and oarsmen followed behind her.
Raav slipped back the narrow alley as I hurried inside. Right now, Mieshk was the last person I wanted to see.
Chapter Thirteen
ON THE EVAENI, I’d become used to waking in the dark, and now, the molten lava-glow that seeped around the edges of my curtain disoriented me. I rolled off my bunk, blinking away confused stupor, and dragged on a thin jacket over my linen shift. Groggy from my nap, I swiped my hand down my face. The traders’ failure to call the strands gave me time, but I didn’t know how long.
I had to keep moving on my preparations. First, a trip to the dining hall to pilfer a knife and food. After swigging a cup of water from the tin pitcher on my table, I stepped outside.
As I descended the porch stairs, I spotted Paono exiting the dining hall. He walked with hands shoved in his pockets, and abruptly I felt the years peel back. How many times had we gone off together, him walking just like that? He had a habit of picking up interesting pebbles and carrying them in his pockets all day. I'm not sure what happened once he returned home—maybe there was a pile behind Nan’s cottage.
The memories made my chest hurt. I missed him so much.
“Paono!” I called before I could stop myself.
He veered toward me. “Feeling better?”
Reality slammed back in like a wave returning to shore. He’d known but hadn’t even checked in on me. Did he not feel welcome? Did he just not care?
“I—well . . .”
I couldn’t stack another lie on the wall we’d built between us. Paono was my best friend. The only person I could trust with my predicament was right here on Ioene, and instead of confiding in him, I'd been hiding away in my room. Even though I told myself I was keeping the secret to protect him, the truth was I was afraid of what he’d think of me. But wasn’t it better to anger him now than have him learn what I'd done when I was accused and executed?
“No headache for once,” I said. “Up for a walk? I could scout for calling spots.”
His smile was almost shy. "Might as well see the island now that I’m here, huh?”
“Nan would never forgive you for returning without stories. Even if you'd rather keep to your hut.”
The space between us filled with an awkward silence.
“We have to get past this, Lilik. I meant what I said. I’m glad I came, even if it wasn’t my lifelong dream.”
“I know. It’s my fault for not letting it go. Sorry?”
“Friends?” he returned.
I nodded. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll grab my stuff.”
Paono waited while I shoved supplies into a knapsack that he insisted on carrying due to my injury. As I stepped off the porch, he fell in behind to let me set the pace.
According to Mistress Nyralit, a caller's location didn't matter, as long as she stood far enough away from the village to escape the torchlight and the noise. But I wanted to wander, and Paono seemed eager to follow. The excuse of hunting for a calling spot only mattered if someone questioned us.
From the village edge a faint path, trampled by generations of nightcallers, wound through the rubble and the tangle of the night foliage. Kiriilt Islanders had been making pilgrimages for over five centuries. I imagined those long-ago girls striding out into the dark, sentinels on their heels. Back then, voyagers had forged magical art instead of weapons. There’d been no Waikert savages attacking port cities and burning crops, sinking fishing vessels and murdering children.
Paono’s feet crunched behind me, and his breath was a soft hiss. Away from the torches, my eyes adjusted to the dim wash of moonlight and the peak’s red glow. Leaning boulders cast deep shadows. The trail petered out in a scree field, and we hopped from stone to stone, careful to avoid twisted ankles.
Remembering our shared childhood, I veered toward the beach. Paono and I had spent hours and hours combing Stanik Island’s shore for clams and just splashing in the shallows.
Wavelets lapped the shore, a quiet splashing against the distant hiss of lava meeting the sea. Once on the beach, our feet sank and crunched in the crushed pumice.
“Do you want to try to call?” he said. “We don’t have to tell anyone if it doesn’t work.”
“Not yet.”
Paono settled down on the gravel and hugged his knees while I slid a rock next to him and sat.
“Paono, I have something—”
“I miss you, Lilik,” he said, talking over my words.
We both stopped speaking, embarrassed.
“You first,” I said, glad for the excuse to delay my confession.
“I’ve hardly seen you since we left Istanik.”
“I had caller training, and you’ve been so busy helping out the crew. Face it, Paono. Even without money involved, you like to work.” I hadn’t realized that until now, but it should have been obvious long ago. Paono’s predawn hours spent pulling crab pots and hauling cargo off the wharfs had less to do with profit and more with his satisfaction in the work itself. He and Raav had something in common after all.
“I guess I do.” He brushed my knee with a single finger. "Lilik, when I was busy at home we still found the time. Something else has changed. It's like we’re sailing in different directions.”
Blown by different winds. We were, weren’t we? Paono and I wanted different things.
“That doesn’t mean we have to stop being friends.”
He threw a pebble into the waves. “I don’t think so either, but I feel like you're avoiding me. At first, I thought you were just nervous about nightcalling or busy with your training or—I don’t know, lots of things. But now I wonder if your new friends are more exciting than me.”
“New friends? The other nightcallers hate me.”
“Back before the sleep shifts changed, Heiklet made a big effort to talk to you.”
“I’ve hardly said a word to her.” Where was he getting this stuff?
He shrugged. “Then she probably feels like I do—not important enough. Think of how you must seem to her. So brave, standing up to everyone who says you don’t belong here. You did better in caller training than all the traders put together—I even heard Mieshk admit that to her sentinel.”
He paused as a larger wave lapped the shore, throwing pebbles up to growl when they rolled back into the sea.
“Heiklet doesn’t think she belongs here either,” he continued. “She’s what, twelve? And the other traders won’t consider her family to be a real House until they’ve been titled for a century.”
“Okay, first of all, I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. But I’m confused. First you say I’m spending too much time with my new friends, but then you tell me I should pay more attention to Heiklet.”
“There are others you haven’t been ignoring.”
“Like?”
This time, he threw a whole handful of pebbles. They hit the
waves with a hiss. “Oh, like Raav.”
So that’s what this was about. Raav again.
The longer I held my silence, the more frustrated I got. The rock I'd chosen as a stool had a water-filled pothole on top and the damp was soaking through the butt of my pants.
Why couldn’t Paono just drop the Raav thing? I shouldn't have to defend my personal interactions. I’d already explained that I was grateful to have Raav as my ally. And Paono already given me his dire warning about not getting hurt. Why rehash it?
“Nothing to say to that, Lilik?” Paono stood and walked closer to the water.
“I’m just not sure it deserves a response. There’s nothing going on between Raav and me. Shouldn’t you be happy that I have at least one other friend?”
“Nothing going on from your end, maybe. Why else would he hang around you so much?”
“I don't know—maybe because I’m an interesting person? Come on, Paono! Give it up.”
A hot gust of wind flowed down the slope behind us. When Paono spun, another red flare from the mountain lit his face. His expression was anguished. Refusing to soften, I crossed my arms over my belly and looked past him to the dark ocean.
“Sorry, Lilik—I didn't mean it that way. I can see hundreds of reasons for someone to want to be near you. You’re amazing. Brave. Loyal. A dreamer who isn’t afraid to catch her fantasies by the tail.”
Never good with direct praise, I was abruptly flustered, casting about for some words to deflect the compliments.
“I—”
“I’m not done.” Paono set his feet wide. “You are amazing, Lilik. No matter what reasons a boy might have for becoming your friend at first, how can he help but want more?”
“You seem to be fine with our relationship. We’ve been friends forever.”
“Am I fine with it, Lilik?”
His eyes locked with mine, and it seemed like the air got hotter. My throat moved as if to speak, but no words came.
Ioene rescued me with a roar. A spout of ash sprayed from her cone, followed by a fountain of lava. The earth beneath us shook, knocking Paono from his feet.
Shattering of the Nocturnai Box Set Page 7
