“You saw what he did to Cricket, Malator. You know what he wanted. Wrestler deserved to die. And when I see him again he will.”
“You mean when you go to Akyre?”
“That’s what you want, isn’t it? You told me to come to the Bitter Kingdoms, remember? Well, here I am! I don’t see a whole lot of answers! What’s the point of me coming to this shithole? What am I supposed to find here?”
Malator grinned. “Why ask, Lukien? You know I’m not going to tell you.”
“You make me want to strangle you, Malator. But. .” I leaned back. “Thank you for saving me. I was afraid when I was dying. Just floating in that darkness.” I looked at him. “What was that thing I saw, Malator? Tell me that at least.”
“I still don’t know,” said Malator. “Maybe nothing. Maybe just a symbol.”
“No, it was real. I saw it. It was dead like me, only it wasn’t.”
“Just like you.”
“That’s right. It was dead, and it wasn’t dead. What could be like that, Malator? You must know.”
“I know a lot of things, Lukien. Some of them I can tell you, some of them I can’t.”
“You drew that thing in the sand, then told me not to take Cricket with me. Is that thing after Cricket?”
“I can’t answer. I told you that already.”
“All right,” I said, “then what’s this Legion of the Lost that boy mentioned? Diriel’s death army?”
Malator looked around, then up at the stars. “It’s dark. How is your vision, Lukien?”
“No, don’t do that. Don’t ignore me.”
“I’m not. How is your eye?”
“My eye is fine, damn-it. Better than fine.”
“And you feel good? Your neck feels good? You feel strong?”
“Yes, I feel strong! Why?”
Malator shrugged. “I give you what I can, Lukien. I give you everything I can. Do you realize how dark it is out here? The moon seems bright because you’re more than just a man now. I made you that way. Cricket or Marilius wouldn’t be able to find their shoes in this darkness. They’d have never made it to the road. So don’t ask me for answers I can’t give you, please. Just take what I offer.” He stood and glared down at me. “You can go on or you can turn back. It’s up to you. Or you can just go back to Torlis and spend your days babbling to Cassandra in the Story Garden. I don’t manipulate you, Lukien. It’s always been up to you.”
“I know,” I grumbled.
Malator held out an upturned palm, summoning a tiny yellow flame. He blew on the flame, making it grow until it was the size of an apple, lighting the road around us.
“Put out your hand,” he said, and when I did so he placed the flame into my palm. It wriggled there, soft and alive but did not burn me. “This will keep you company,” he said.
I laughed in delight. “What is this? A pet?”
“A gift. So you won’t feel so lonely.”
With my other hand I caressed the ball of flame like it was a baby bird. “I didn’t know you could do that, Malator.”
“I can do a lot of things, Lukien,” Malator answered, then quickly disappeared.
11
As Marilius predicted, we reached Isowon the very next day.
Gradually, the ground beneath us turned from sun-baked rock to sandy soil. The heat abated, becoming almost bearable, and the tang of salt in the air told me we were nearing the sea. Our horses and mules picked up their pace, eager for water and rest. A single pomegranate tree greeted us along the roadside. Cricket reached up from horseback to fill her pockets with fruit.
“Don’t stop now,” said Marilius. “We’re almost there.”
An hour later, Cricket’s lips were purple with pomegranate juice. Her pockets were empty, but we still hadn’t reached Isowon. Then, like a mirage, we saw it. And all of us, even Marilius, mewed.
Isowon was just as Marilius described it, a finger of gardens and architecture poking out into the sea. There were no dilapidated homesteads, no broken-down shops, none of the sewage-stained streets I’d seen all my life. Isowon’s avenues were plump with flowers, all the buildings painted shades of white and sand. Watermills churned slowly by the docks where silver boats waited. People walked the sloping streets, watched by handsome statues of gods and goddesses.
Cricket’s eyes swelled at the sight. “Paradise. .”
“Did I tell you?” smirked Marilius.
I nodded. “Just like Sariyah said.”
Cricket pointed at one, vast structure standing out from all the others. “Is that his house?”
“Breathtaking, I know,” said Marilius. “I told you-the palace is unbelievable.”
I had spent my life around wonders: the Library of Koth, Hanging Man, even the Story Garden where Cassandra waited. Yet I’d seen nothing compared to Fallon’s palace. He was not a king or prince, but he had built himself an enormous home of golden limestone, clinging to the shore as the sea flowed into it. Palm trees spotted its courtyards. Fountains spouted crystal blue water. Brick lanes looped through gardens and manicured lawns, while alabaster stairways and coral bridges threaded the buildings together like pearls.
“Come.” Marilius sped his horse onward, cheered by the sight of home. Cricket looked at me with a twinkle in her eyes.
“See Lukien? I told you we could trust him.”
She dashed her pony after him, leaving me with the mules. But a lifetime of soldiering had made me distrustful, and Marilius still perplexed me. Surely a peach so perfect had a blemish somewhere. I decided to take a bite and find out for myself.
* * *
The streets of Isowon were emptier than they should have been. I tucked that bit of knowledge away as we rode up to the palace. Two tall, golden spirals flanked the garden leading to the gates. A perfume of spices hung in the courtyard. The mercenaries in the towers watched as we approached. Behind the gates, more eyes spied through the iron bars.
“Open up,” ordered Marilius. He got down from his horse and stood before the gates. The men looked shocked.
“Marilius?” said one of them.
“Open the gates, Dorik. I need to see Fallon.”
Dorik pointed at Cricket and me with his chin. “Who are they?”
“Friends,” said Marilius. “For Fallon.”
“Friends!” Dorik’s laughter boomed. “You mean like you, Marilius?”
The others laughed too, jeering us. I got down off my horse, about to say something when Marilius stopped me. He glared at Dorik.
“You think Fallon doesn’t want to see me?” he hissed. “He’ll find out I came back, because one of you apes won’t be able to keep it secret. Then he’ll find out you sent me away, Dorik. And then you know what he’ll do?”
Dorik didn’t answer the question. Like the rest of them he was unshaven, unkempt, and at least a little dim-witted, but I could see his mind working behind his thick skull.
“Open it,” he relented.
The others pulled the chains from the bars and swung the gate open for us. As we stepped inside, Dorik bumped Marilius’s shoulder.
“You should have stayed gone,” he whispered.
I pretended not to hear as I helped Cricket down from her pony. Marilius thrust the reins of his horse toward Dorik.
“Take care of the animals,” he sneered.
By now others had gathered to watch us arrive. Some were mercenaries, some civilians from the town. Now I could see Fallon’s riches close-up. Silvery sidewalks led through the gardens and archways toward fountains and reflecting pools and stands of fruit trees where children played among the flowers. On the giant lawn, every emerald blade of glass stood at attention. Marilius walked lock-jawed, humiliated. He led us out of the powerful sun into a great, open hall with a view of the sea and a ceiling alive with frescos. Here, handmaidens in white tunics carried jugs and trays of food, their legs so creamy I could barely look away.
Cricket caught me staring and grinned. “Nice place, huh?”