Burning Bright by Megan Derr Page B

as best he was able, he tried to think. It was the first time in days he thought he could successfully manage the feat.
    Where would the Vessels go? Probably for the first ship that would take them. It was the surest way—that they knew of—to avoid capture. Certainly, it would make catching them more difficult, though not as impossible as they probably hoped.
    Dym opened his eyes, and then swam across the pool and climbed out on the side closest to his dressing chamber. Krasny and Sonya had wound down to looks and hissed words, though Sonya looked as though she might resort to violence at any moment. She must have gone to see Zarya, then; it was the only thing that put her in such a volatile state.
    Ignoring them, Dym pulled on black breeches and stockings and sat down to pull on knee-high boots, already dreading the snow he would have to endure if they were pulled out into the country. Standing again, he rifled through his clothes until he found the long-sleeved dark gray undershirt he sought, over which he pulled a black thigh-length tunic that was split up the sides and embroidered with swirls of silvery smoke.
    He attached his master keys to his belt and then moved to a chest on the opposite side of the chamber and pulled out a sword belt. At his left hip he affixed a sword; to the right he attached a whip. It wasn't something he used often—weapons in general were not something he preferred to be anywhere near—but it had its uses when blades simply would not suffice.
    Finally, he pulled down a heavy winter cloak and swung it around his shoulders, securing it with a cloak pin made of gold and shaped like a fire feather. The hood was deep and lined with the same black fur that lined the rest of the cloak.
    Leaving the dressing chamber and the pair still arguing, he went into his study to fetch coin and other necessities to tuck into the hidden pockets of his cloak. He turned to leave the study and stopped short when he saw Krasny standing in the doorway. "If you will give me an hour, I will join you. Do you have any idea where we are going?"
    Dym shook his head. "No, I was going to fetch fire feathers, then go have a word with Zholty. He should be doing something if he will not go out into the field."
    Krasny nodded. "Then I will find you when I am ready to leave."
    "If I can make him cooperate, we will probably return here to the cathedral. Thank you."
    Nodding again, Krasny departed. Dym half expected Sonya to burst in next and sighed softly when she never appeared. Leaving the study, he went quickly to his office in the cathedral and fetched the needed fire feathers. He could feel their power, but could not quite catch it—yet. Two day, at most, and he would have his magic back.
    Then the Vessel hunt would resume in earnest, and the matter would be that much closer to concluding—finally.
     
    Why does looking at you hurt?
    Dym's breath caught, his chest twisting and aching, eyes stinging. Why had he dared to hope that it might be any different. That Eminence would understand what he had been trying to do, would forgive him his error, would ... stop being angry, would stop hating him.
    Apparently it was not to be.
    He wiped the tears on his cheeks away with the heels of his hands. He was still High Priest, and he had a duty. Whatever his own turmoil, he had to remember that. There was no time for wallowing in misery. The sacrifices must be made.
    How many more times would he have to repeat those words?
    Leaving his office and locking the door behind him, he headed quickly for the palace and up the stairs to the royal library where he knew Zholty would be sulking. As expected, Zholty was in the farthest corner where floor to ceiling windows took up the entire corner, looking down upon the hedge maze and the fountain that displayed an image of the Dragons of the Three Storms in vivid ocean tones. "Your grace," he greeted.
    "What do you want, High Priest?" Zholty asked, slowly looking up from the book he was