The Drowning City: The Necromancer Chronicles Book One by Amanda Downum Page B

the river had been wilder then, more dangerous. The gentle inexorable rush of the bound
     Mir was all Zhirin had ever known, all she had ever needed.
    When the water reached her shoulders, she left off combing and lay back, floating in the river’s embrace. The Mir’s voice
     filled her head and she sank, and listened, and let it take her pain.
    Xinai crossed the river after sunset, as shadows chased the last vermilion light into the west. Her heart was a stone in her
     chest—she was surprised the skiff didn’t sink under its weight.
    The steersmen poled in silence, lanterns doused. Insects droned across the water and frogs and night-herons splashed along
     the shore; an owl’s deep
bu-whooh
echoed in the trees. Sounds she’d heard only in dreams for the last twelve years. She’d seen a dozen rivers in the north,
     but none of them sounded like the Mir.
    She raised a hand to the charm around her neck, the leather pouch that held her great-grandmother’s ashes, and her mother’s
     before her. The bag thrummed softly against her skin.
Tomorrow
, she promised them.
Tomorrow I’ll take you home
. The wall of trees rose above them as they neared the shore, eclipsing more stars.
    She touched another charm, a beaded owl feather, and the darkness fell away. Colors faded to ghostly hints,but the river became
     a road of moonlight and the stars lined the treetops with gray and pierced the canopy with slivers of light. Her charms could
     best even Adam’s keen senses, though she had no way of making the effect permanent. As the skiff scraped onto the muddy bank
     she leapt ashore, avoiding rocks and tangled reeds easily.
    Selei snorted quietly. “Always the show-off, eh, child?” The old woman stepped off more carefully, leaning on a steersman’s
     arm. The ground squelched beneath their feet.
    “Shall we wait for you, Grandmother?” the man asked.
    “No. We’ll find our own way back.”
    He nodded and bowed, and the boat moved away with a slurp of mud.
    “Where are we going?” Xinai asked softly. Selei had been withdrawn ever since the explosion at the market that afternoon,
     her good eye distant and unhappy. Xinai had wanted to listen to what the city had to say about it, but the witch had kept
     her close all day.
    “Cay Xian.” She raised a hand when Xinai would have spoken. “From here we go in silence. The Khas watches these hills, and
     it will be worse after what happened today. We’ll speak when we reach the village.”
    Xinai nodded, swallowing a frown, and followed Selei into the trees.
    They climbed twisting hill-paths for more than an hour, or so Xinai guessed from the few glimpses of the moon she caught.
     The shadows under the canopy were thick enough to strain even her owl’s eyes. Xian lands bordered her family’s holdings, and
     the sounds and scents of the jungle welcomed her home.
    She’d taken what comfort she could in the cold forests of the north, but it was never the same.
    The path widened and the darkness ahead gave way to brighter grays. Cay Xian was close. Dust itched on her feet, grated between
     her toes. Boots were fine in the city, but in the jungle toes would rot in closed shoes. She missed the extra blades.
    Something rustled in the trees and Xinai’s hands dropped to her belt knives even as Selei called for her to stop. She recognized
     the squeal of a lantern hinge a second too late. Light blossomed blinding-white in front of her and she cursed, turning away
     as tears leaked down her cheeks. Selei’s calloused hand closed on her wrist, trapping her knife in the sheath.
    “They’re with us,” she said. “And hood that lantern, you fool. Do you think we’re not watched?”
    “Not at the moment, Grandmother,” a man said. “Phailin distracted the Khas’s soldiers.”
    Grandmother—not the honorific, but a kinship. Xinai hadn’t realized Selei had a grandson.
    The lantern dimmed and Xinai released the charm. Red and gold spots swam in front of her eyes. Rubbing