The Straits of Galahesh: Book Two of The Lays of Anuskaya by Bradley P. Beaulieu Page A

himself.
    “I’m trapped, Rabiah, as Khamal was. As Sariya and Muqallad are. We are together again, as we were for centuries.”
    “As Khamal was, not you.”
    “I’m not so sure.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “Neither do I.” Nasim reached up and scratched his scalp vigorously. It did little to shake the feelings of confusion from his mind, but it brought him back to himself. He realized they were drifting beyond the island. “Summon the winds. Bring us in.”
    She glanced at the sail, clearly nervous.
    “You won’t have trouble now. Just be careful not to allow it too close to you.”
    She nodded. Rabiah. Beautiful Rabiah.
    She took up the reins and summoned the wind to guide the ship. They landed on a grassy plain to the north of Alayazhar. Part of him wanted to view the city, but another, the part that was terrified of this place, was simply not ready for it.
    As he swung over the gunwale of the skiff and onto solid land, Rabiah rubbed her hand along his back. “We’ll find a way.”
    Rabiah always seemed to know his mind. He looked into her eyes and in them saw compassion and hope, both of which, Nasim thought, were wholly misplaced.

CHAPTER NINE
     
    N asim debated on building a shelter, but he was afraid to do so, at least until he knew more. The aether was too thin here—so thin that he dared not risk communing with a hezhan again until he and the others had become accustomed to it.
    Sukharam left to find firewood, and when he returned with a thick bundle of branches, he told them of the keening he’d heard to the south. “It was haunting,” Sukharam said, “like a lone wolf baying for its pack.”
    Nasim gathered a pile of brown needles from the wood and ran a steel across the flint he’d brought from Trevitze. Sparks flew. On the third strike, it took, and he began building the fire quickly. “It’s most likely a dhoshahezhan crossed over from Adhiya.”
    “Will it be drawn here?” Sukharam asked.
    Nasim shook his head as the fire built. “From what I remember, the hezhan are confused here. They’ll give chase if you come too close, but they don’t search for life as they do from beyond the veil. Here, they have it already, so in a way, they are content.”
    “In a way?” Rabiah asked as she squatted down on the far side of the fire.
    Nasim shrugged, struggling to find words. “They’re also conflicted. They want to return to Adhiya, even though they yearned to touch Erahm while there. I think they know this place is not natural. They know this is not the way of things. And they yearn for the freedoms they had while drifting in the currents of the world beyond.”
    They brought out the blankets from the oiled canvas sacks and laid them out around the fire.
    “Where will we go?” Sukharam asked. He was sitting on his blanket, his arms around his knees. Although he had a look of cold discomfort about him, he was staring straight into Nasim’s eyes. It was good to see. Perhaps when they’d reached the island, Sukharam had crossed some sort of threshold as well.
    Rabiah, lying on her blanket, her head propped up by her hand, stared intently at Nasim as well.
    “Tomorrow we go to Alayazhar. There is a celestia on a ridge near the bay. More than anyone’s, the celestia was Khamal’s. It was his demesne, his source of strength and the place he felt most comfortable. If there was any place he would have left me clues, it would be there.”
    Sukharam asked more about the island, the last time Nasim had been here, the memories he’d inherited from Khamal; and Nasim did the best he could to appease him, but what Sukharam was looking for wasn’t something Nasim could grant. He wanted to know what they would do and how they would do it. These were perfectly reasonable questions. Nasim just didn’t know how to answer them.
    “We’ll know more tomorrow,” Nasim finally said. “Get some rest. It will be a long hike to the city and back.”
    Sukharam eventually fell asleep, but Rabiah