The pirate captain looked away, out over the city. “No,” he said.
“What? Why not?”
“Because he's dead.” Silas muttered.
Lori sat forward. “You killed him? But why?”
“He took his own life,” Silas said sharply. He shook his head, his eyes wandering back to the coast. “Bit off his tongue and choked on it.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“Well,” Ferran finally grunted. “That's one less assassin to worry about.”
Lori glared at Silas. “You should have let me see him first! I can brew a tonic to loosen the tongue. He didn't have to die.” She felt sick. The boy couldn't have been older than sixteen. The Sixth Race were peculiar, secretive and complicated, but that didn't make them evil. Well, not completely. It was disturbing to think that the boy would kill himself in such a brutal—and desperate—manner. He had been less afraid of death than of telling his secrets. And now none of our questions will be answered!
Silas shrugged uselessly. “What's done is done,” he said. “Though had I known....”
“Well, now you do,” she cut him off. “I should have left him in more capable hands.” If she had known Silas would torture the boy, she would have intervened. Her vow as a Healer was to serve all races. To aid all of the Wind's creations, to mourn their dead, to grieve with their families, to heal the sick, nurture the spirit and strengthen the mind. By the light of the East Wind, we are renewed. She had failed to protect the boy. She should have known better.
Silas cleared his throat, then looked away.
“We need to make haste to the City of Crowns,” Ferran interjected. “It's the only thing we can do now.”
Lori grimaced at his words. She had lived in that city once. She had left in quite a hurry. The thought of going back was less than appealing.
“Shall we take your ship?” Ferran asked. “The Starhound, isn't it?”
“'Tis the Dawn Seeker now," Silas replied. “Starhound ran aground two years ago. Got me a new schooner, light in the water, fast in the shallows.” He grinned. “I've already ordered my crew to make preparations. It will be a month's journey, maybe shorter if we take advantage of the rainy season. We'll take the Little Rain River, a tributary that joins the Crown's Rush at the base of the mountains. After that, we should make good time going with the current.”
“The Little Rain?” Lori said curiously. “Will it be deep enough for a seafaring vessel?”
She waited for Silas' response, but the man wasn't looking at her. His eyes were suddenly transfixed over her shoulder. The ghost of a frown settled on his face.
Lori glanced behind her, unnerved. She blinked. A large black crow sat on the railing of the balcony, staring at them with a dark, round eye. It flapped its wings, squawked, then hopped back and forth in one leg. In its claw, it held a shiny brass button.
Lori considered the large button. It could have been from a jacket or boot. Numerous crows, seagulls and other birds occupied the city, flitting through the trees or soaring over the bay. But usually only tame crows collected shiny objects. She turned back to Silas questioningly.
Abruptly the pirate captain stood up from the table. He was still staring at the crow. “Excuse me,” he said, then turned and dodged around his chair, walking hurriedly to the window, unlatching it and entering his quarters. As soon as he entered his room, Lori saw him bolt for the door.
Lori and Ferran exchanged a bewildered glance. They stood up and dashed after him, piling through the window and sprinting through the captain's quarters.
Silas ran across the deck and dove through the hatch in the ceiling, not bothering with the ladder. Lori and Ferran stumbled after him, trying to enter the hatch at the same time. Once they reached the hallway, Silas had already opened a second door to a long staircase and was jumping down it, taking three steps at a time.
They flew down the stairs after him. “Silas!” Lori called. “Where are you going?” But the captain didn't answer, only doubled his pace, reaching the ground floor. He opened a small utility door that spilled into a narrow, shaded alley. The street was paved with sandstone, surprisingly clean. Several clotheslines were strung between the buildings.
The crow soared by overhead. Silas continued to run down the alley to the main street. Ferran and Lori hurled after him, dodging around trash bins and into the crowded thoroughfare. The pirate captain turned toward the docks, following the crow to the waterfront. They passed by dozens of people.
As they neared the docks, Lori noticed the crowd growing larger and larger. Sailors, vendors, and residents alike were shouting animatedly amongst each other, pointing toward the sky, then to the bay. Some looked angry or frightened.
Finally, they reached the source of the excitement. Silas shoved through the clustered people and entered an empty space on the docks. The citizens of Sonora hung back, staring and pointing. Lori paused to catch her breath. She glanced around in confusion.
A red-haired man sat on the docks, leaning against a tall wooden post. He had a blanket wrapped around him and Lori suspected that he was naked beneath it. He appeared pale and shaken, drenched with sweat, his eyes closed in weariness. The crowd gave him a wide berth, mingling a few yards away.
“He fell from the sky!” one said, speaking to his companion. “Straight from the clouds!”
“He had wings,” another said. “Did you see him? He was flying!”
“Gold wings!”
“Aye, I saw them too!”
“Toss him to the ocean!” a woman yelled. “He's bad luck!”
“Aye,” another agreed. “He'll scare the fish out of the cove!”
Silas paused by the man's side. He reached out his hand slowly, hovering above the man's head, hesitating. Then he turned back to the crowd and waved his arms. “Get back, the drunken lot of you!” he yelled. Lori saw instant recognition pass through the gathering. A few had already detached and were walking up the street, away from the scene.
“Captain Silas,” a short, scrawny pirate said. “Cap'n, the man fell from the sky....”
“And your breath stinks of ale,” Silas growled. “Get back to whatever grimy tavern you crawled from, and tell the rest of these superstitious fools to do the same. That's an order!”
Lori noted the tattoo on the man's neck—one of Silas' crew. The sailor shifted, then turned to his mates. They grumbled amongst themselves but did as they were told, raising their voices to move people along. Eventually the crowd dispersed, the last stragglers casting suspicious glances over their shoulders.
“Help me carry him,” Silas said to Ferran, his voice harsh and commanding. Ferran jumped to his side without question, lifting the naked man to his feet, pinching the blanket closed at his waist. One on each side, the two carried the half-conscious man back toward the Aurora. Lori followed behind them, frowning. He appeared to be a Dracian, like Silas. Beyond that, she couldn't tell if they were related by blood or were just friends. Curiosity burned inside of her. What was going on?
They entered through the front of the building. It was quiet at this time of day. Silas turned down a long hallway, signaling to one of his crew members. “Draw a bath in the master suite on the bottom floor,” he said. “Bring a change of clothes from my cabin...and throw a few scraps to that crow on the balcony....”
By the time they reached the master suite, the two men were red-faced from exertion. The blanket-clad man had passed out; Lori could tell by his lulling head. They laid him down on a wide, soft bed. She worried her lower lip, taking stock of his symptoms. He didn't appear injured—only exhausted.
The large suite was decorated in canary-yellow wallpaper. A master bed covered in thick furs and large pillows was located in the center of the room. Several windows looked out onto the bay. There was a liquor cabinet, a dresser, a wardrobe, and a large bathtub with pipes attached. Lori was impressed. She had only heard of running water in a few major port cities—and the King's city, of course.
“Well?
” Silas said, turning to look at her. “Is he injured? Sick?”
“Exhausted and malnourished would be my guess,” she said, noting the dark circles under his eyes. Besides the pale skin, he appeared to be a healthy man in his prime. His muscles were strong and defined, well-shaped. There were a few bruises on his arms and legs, but they looked old, having turned slightly green in color. She lifted the man's wrist, checking his pulse, which was steady from sleep. “Get some water into him, and make sure he eats when he wakes up.” She checked his lungs and his forehead, but he didn't have a fever. “Other than that, he should be alright. Let him sleep it off.”
Silas still looked worried and hovered next to the bed. “I will stay with him until he wakes up,” he said. “Can you check back in the morning? Then we will finish our conversation.”
Lori wanted to refuse at first—it was urgent that they leave to the City of Crowns as soon as possible. But Silas appeared distraught, and she finally nodded. She wondered again who this man was. It was terribly risky for a Dracian to show his true form in front of humans; most didn't think the races existed anymore. Sailors were especially superstitious—it was a wonder that they hadn't stoned him from the docks.
The pirate captain stood at the foot of the bed, watching the man's face.
“Come on, Lori,” Ferran said. He offered her his arm, giving her a slight smile.
She placed her arm in Ferran's and they walked out of the room, his pace casual and unhurried. As the excitement waned, she felt exhaustion slip over her; it had been too long since her last full night's rest. It would be wise to find a bed and lie down. She wouldn't be much use to anyone if she couldn't stand on her own two feet.
She glanced up at Ferran, watching his own tired face. She leaned into him slightly. “A soft bed sounds good about now,” she murmured.
“I agree,” he said.
“Any idea who that was?”
“No,” he said thoughtfully. “But we'll find out soon enough.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DEEP IN THE Crystal Caves, a change occurred in the path. It narrowed and lowered until Burn had to hunch his shoulders, ducking his head around jutting rocks. He brought up the rear, behind Sora and Laina, with Crash in the lead.
Finally, the tunnel narrowed so much that they would have to crawl to continue forward. The walls glowed with steady white light, fully illuminating the path ahead. Sora wasn't particularly worried; she could see clearly in front of her and the caves were silent, absent of life. She hadn't seen a single living thing since entering—not even moss or fungus.
Then Crash held up a hand. “This could lead to a dead end,” he said. “We shouldn't all enter at once.” He turned to look at Sora. “You're certain that this is the correct path?”
She nodded. For a long while she had felt dazed, overwhelmed by magic and light. She looked at the thin tunnel before them: a long white hole. Burn would be hard-pressed to squeeze through on his hands and knees. She couldn't see where it ended; the path curved to the right, continuing out of sight.
She frowned and touched her Cat's Eye, uncertain. If they turned back now, who knew how many hours they would spend backtracking through the caves, seeking another route. This way? she asked silently. The Cat's Eye's presence was easily accessible in her mind, far more than before, amplified by the sunstone's energy. Immediately, she heard it answer: Yes. It rang through her thoughts like the chime of a bell.
“Yes,” she echoed, answering Crash's question. “We have to follow the tunnel.”
He gazed at her for another long moment, then nodded, turning back to the hole. “All right,” he said. “I'll go first. Wait until I call for you from the other side.” Then he knelt down on his hands and knees and started forward. He moved cautiously and avoided touching the sunstone as much as he could. He seemed especially sensitive to its light.
Sora glanced at Laina. The girl stood next to the cave wall, her hand slightly raised, hovering over its gleaming surface. The brightness of the rock illuminated her skin, causing her pale cheeks to glow, as though a hidden light had ignited inside of her. Sora frowned, staring at the young thief. Her eyes had turned from soft gray to lavender, an unusually vibrant color.
“Amazing, isn't it?” Sora asked, stepping up behind her.
Laina started and turned, as though shaken from a trance. She gave Sora a large, wan smile. “I can hear it humming,” she whispered.
“Humming?” Sora asked.
“Yes....” Laina looked distant again, distracted. “In my bones. Like music.”
Sora frowned, looking over Laina again. She wasn't sure what to make of that. She felt the power of the caves as well, but through her Cat's Eye, her mind. Not her body. And music? She listened, but there was only the very slight vibration of the rocks. Certainly nothing melodious.
“Sora!” Crash's voice reached her, echoing down the narrow tunnel. “It opens up. Come through!”
She turned back toward the hole, eyeing its width and height. She still worried that Burn might not be able to fit, but they had no other choice. This was the only way.
Getting down on her hands and knees, Sora started through the strip of rock, carefully edging her way forward. More than once her clothes snagged on the ceiling, and at one point she had to slither on her belly. The tunnel made a slight turn to the right, then continued a short ways before opening up at the other end. Crash's hand appeared at the mouth of the tunnel, assisting her to her feet.
She stood up and dusted herself off, the white sand clinging to her clothes in a fine powder. When she looked up, her eyes widened.
A sheer cliff dropped off at her feet. The ledge she stood on was only about two yards wide; she edged toward the side, glancing down. The cliff seemed to stretch into oblivion, an endless drop of pure white stone. The light was too intense, obscuring the bottom. She couldn't imagine how deep it was. She felt infinitesimally small in comparison—minuscule, irrelevant.
Then she gazed upward and her mouth dropped open. The crevice reached far above her, jagged white walls of towering stone, far higher than the tallest of buildings. In the vague distance, she saw the glint of massive stalactites. They appeared like shining white fangs, the great teeth of the earth.
Directly in front of her, a narrow bridge of rock spanned the chasm. The tunnel continued on its opposite side, turning out of sight. She stared. If they were to continue forward, they would have to cross over it.
Suddenly, a harsh wind blew past them, so powerful that Sora had to brace her feet against it. She put one hand to the wall, waiting for the fierce gale to pass, wondering at its source. We're underground, aren't we? She squinted up the ravine. It didn't feel like a natural draft, but like a large vibration passing through the rocks, building and building as it rolled through the caves. Finally, after a long minute, the wind died down and the air became calm again.
She let out a small sound of discomfort. The vibration had a way of lingering in her body, making her skin tingle. Her eyes returned to the narrow rock bridge and she could imagine centuries of wind wearing through the stone, until only this small strip remained.
Laina exited the hole behind her, then Burn, who had a few more snags in his clothes. Two scrapes showed on his back where he had forced himself through the rocks. The four travelers stared at the ravine, speechless, each assessing the path forward.
“Is it too late to turn back?” Laina asked in a small voice.
Sora grimaced. She had been thinking much the same.
“We're not actually going to cross that?” Laina continued. “It's impossible. We'll fly right off!”
“If we stay close to the ground and grip the rock, we should be able to make it,” Burn's voice rumbled. “We don't have much of a choice, do we?” He turned to look at Sora, raising an eyebrow, and she realized that he intended the question for her. “Do we?” he asked again.
She touched her Cat's Eye and shook her head. “No,” she said quietly. “This is the way.”
&nb
sp; They fell into an uneasy silence again. Sora took a deep breath to steady her nerves. The drop was far enough to make her head spin. Burn leaned over the edge of the cliff and her heart gave a thud of alarm, certain that he would fall. But the giant Wolfy remained unmoving as he gauged the distance. Then he glanced across the rock bridge to the tunnel on the other side.
Finally he turned around with a wide grin. "So, who's first?"
“This is madness,” Laina muttered.
“No volunteers?” the Wolfy continued, unperturbed. “Great. Then I'll go.”
Sora stared at him, surprised. “No!” she burst out.
Burn looked at her solemnly. He seemed resolved. “If the bridge can hold my weight, then it will hold all of us.”
“No,” Sora repeated. She shook her head. “I can't let you do that. If the bridge collapses, then we're all stranded on this side and you'll be dead.” Her eyes focused past him on the windy ravine. “I'll go first.”
“No,” Crash interrupted her. “We need your Cat's Eye. I'll go.”
Sora opened her mouth, wanting to argue, but his tone carried a certain finality; there was a heaviness to his words. He was staring at the bridge, his eyes narrow and calculating. Then he turned to face them. His confidence was palpable. “I can make it across.”
“You're sure?” Sora asked.
He nodded wordlessly. Then, before anyone else could speak up, he approached the bridge. He knelt before crossing it, pressing his body against the rock, as sheltered from the wind as possible. He gripped the bridge with his hands, digging his fingers into small nooks and crannies.
The wind had carved the rock into a smooth surface, like rounded marble. It would be a challenge to find any handholds. After a moment, Crash slipped a knife from his boot and wedged it into the rock, giving his fingers a place to hold. He drew another knife with his right hand and did the same thing.
He made his way forward in this fashion, foot by foot, gripping with his knees and digging his knives into each side of the rock, slowly chiseling out handholds. A smart tactic, Sora realized. They would all be able to use them. Still, watching the wind whip over his back, blowing his hair wildly—she grew worried. Her heart lodged in her throat. One wrong move and he would plummet to his death.