really going, the wind helped it spread. “So if they know that won’t work?”
“Then I imagine they’ll try a few things until they find one that does.” He said it like it didn’t matter, like he wasn’t worried, but Yulla had heard that tone before. She’d heard it in Abba’s voice, when the poison winds came and swirling walls of sand and dust and grit threatened to blanket Kaladim, ruin the crops, make the water undrinkable. She’d heard it in Amma’s voice a few years gone, when sickness had gripped the city and death had visited every third house.
This was how you spoke when you didn’t want the people near you to be frightened, even though Lady Fear had her talons stuck deep in your heart.
The anger came upon Yulla like a desert storm, boiling through her the way thunderheads rose into a clear sky. It scaled up and over the fear that had been gnawing at her gut since the Wind had chased her away from her own cellar door. The witch-women had trapped her up here, cut her off from her family, from safety. The terror that had been hovering since Ember pointed out her name carved into the wood... that terror twisted , took a hard, sharp turn, became fury.
Added to that was the memory of the Fire Child—Ember’s sister—being dragged along behind them, the way she’d seen cruel owners dragging skittish dogs. Mother Sun gives us light and warmth and life, and this is how they repay her. She showed no mercy to Father Sea when he betrayed her; why would she let any of us live when she finds out humans harmed her children?
She spun and pounded at the door, kicking it, clawing at that strange glassy surface even though her nails found no purchase. She slapped at it until her palms felt bruised, then did it again with the sides of her fists. The skin on her knuckles split with the force of her knocks, and it was the warm blood trickling down her fingers and along the backs of her hands that finally made her stop.
The effort left her winded. Some of the scrapes she’d acquired in her exploration down below were singing their displeasure. When she stuck a bloodied knuckle into her mouth, she realized Ember had retreated into an even farther corner. He watched her warily—not afraid, but the way you might look at an unfamiliar animal whose movements you couldn’t predict. Or like Kell first thing in the morning, before you knew which side of the bed she’d woken up on.
“I suppose that wasn’t very ladylike,” she said, when her breathing calmed.
“It was impressive.”
“It didn’t do anything, though.” Leaning against the door, Yulla sank to the ground. If nothing else, the smooth ensorcelled surface kept splinters from digging into her back on the way down. “The marks are still there, and I don’t think their spell lets sound through to the other side, either. If it had someone would have come upstairs by now. There has to be something we can do. I just have to think .”
Her stomach yowled again, and with its complaint came a wave of hunger-born nausea.
“Are you all right?” asked Ember. It dawned on Yulla that maybe he’d never heard the sound of an empty stomach before.
“Fine. Just hungry.” She took a few deep breaths to counteract the queasiness. When she was sure she could speak without retching, she grinned ruefully. “When I came up above, I thought I’d be home in time for breakfast. That was hours ago.”
Ember swept a hand toward the table between them, and its spread of bread and cheese and fruit. “So eat.”
If she could have backed away any farther, she would have. “I... No, I can’t. That’s—” Sacred, she almost said, but the word felt silly after all the ways she’d been—and was still—violating the precepts of these holiest days. “It’s for you,” she said instead. “For you and your siblings.”
“Ah.” A spray of long thin breadsticks had been arranged in a glass like a bouquet of flowers. Ember plucked one, held it up so Yulla could
“Then I imagine they’ll try a few things until they find one that does.” He said it like it didn’t matter, like he wasn’t worried, but Yulla had heard that tone before. She’d heard it in Abba’s voice, when the poison winds came and swirling walls of sand and dust and grit threatened to blanket Kaladim, ruin the crops, make the water undrinkable. She’d heard it in Amma’s voice a few years gone, when sickness had gripped the city and death had visited every third house.
This was how you spoke when you didn’t want the people near you to be frightened, even though Lady Fear had her talons stuck deep in your heart.
The anger came upon Yulla like a desert storm, boiling through her the way thunderheads rose into a clear sky. It scaled up and over the fear that had been gnawing at her gut since the Wind had chased her away from her own cellar door. The witch-women had trapped her up here, cut her off from her family, from safety. The terror that had been hovering since Ember pointed out her name carved into the wood... that terror twisted , took a hard, sharp turn, became fury.
Added to that was the memory of the Fire Child—Ember’s sister—being dragged along behind them, the way she’d seen cruel owners dragging skittish dogs. Mother Sun gives us light and warmth and life, and this is how they repay her. She showed no mercy to Father Sea when he betrayed her; why would she let any of us live when she finds out humans harmed her children?
She spun and pounded at the door, kicking it, clawing at that strange glassy surface even though her nails found no purchase. She slapped at it until her palms felt bruised, then did it again with the sides of her fists. The skin on her knuckles split with the force of her knocks, and it was the warm blood trickling down her fingers and along the backs of her hands that finally made her stop.
The effort left her winded. Some of the scrapes she’d acquired in her exploration down below were singing their displeasure. When she stuck a bloodied knuckle into her mouth, she realized Ember had retreated into an even farther corner. He watched her warily—not afraid, but the way you might look at an unfamiliar animal whose movements you couldn’t predict. Or like Kell first thing in the morning, before you knew which side of the bed she’d woken up on.
“I suppose that wasn’t very ladylike,” she said, when her breathing calmed.
“It was impressive.”
“It didn’t do anything, though.” Leaning against the door, Yulla sank to the ground. If nothing else, the smooth ensorcelled surface kept splinters from digging into her back on the way down. “The marks are still there, and I don’t think their spell lets sound through to the other side, either. If it had someone would have come upstairs by now. There has to be something we can do. I just have to think .”
Her stomach yowled again, and with its complaint came a wave of hunger-born nausea.
“Are you all right?” asked Ember. It dawned on Yulla that maybe he’d never heard the sound of an empty stomach before.
“Fine. Just hungry.” She took a few deep breaths to counteract the queasiness. When she was sure she could speak without retching, she grinned ruefully. “When I came up above, I thought I’d be home in time for breakfast. That was hours ago.”
Ember swept a hand toward the table between them, and its spread of bread and cheese and fruit. “So eat.”
If she could have backed away any farther, she would have. “I... No, I can’t. That’s—” Sacred, she almost said, but the word felt silly after all the ways she’d been—and was still—violating the precepts of these holiest days. “It’s for you,” she said instead. “For you and your siblings.”
“Ah.” A spray of long thin breadsticks had been arranged in a glass like a bouquet of flowers. Ember plucked one, held it up so Yulla could
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