“Even if we’re taken,” Rabiah continued.
“I know,” Nasim lied again. “Now get some sleep.”
Rabiah turned away, her back to the fire. She was quiet for a long time. He thought she’d gone to sleep, but then, as he was starting to nod off himself, he heard her say, “I’m glad you found me, Nasim.”
“I’m glad I found you, too.”
When Nasim finally fell asleep, it was with a warm feeling, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
When morning came, the three of them headed north toward Alayazhar. They spoke not at all until they approached the outskirts of the wasted city. They could not yet see the sea and the oldest sections of the city, but there was a complex of broken stone buildings divided only by the streets and avenues and the dark shadows that defined them in the early morning light. Behind them, Sihyaan, the tallest mountain on Ghayavand, stared down at them, ponderous and brooding as if it disapproved of their voyage into a place that had become little more than a grave.
“It cannot be so easy as to go to the celestia and find Khamal’s stone,” Rabiah said as they took to the first of the streets.
The three of them walked side by side, Rabiah on his left, Sukharam on his right. The sand-colored stones they walked upon were amazingly well preserved. The stones were cracked-making the road look more like a layer of aged skin than cobblestones-but beyond this, other than some moss and the occasional tuft of wiry grass, it looked as though the sundering had occurred a dozen years before, not three hundred.
“I didn’t say it would be easy.”
“Khamal’s piece of the Atalayina will be hidden and trapped,” Rabiah continued.
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“Then how will we retrieve it?”
Sukharam watched Nasim carefully for his answer.
“We will see what we will see,” Nasim replied. “My hope is that Khamal prepared for this. He must have, or how could he have expected me to finish what he began?”
Rabiah pressed. “What if he didn’t have time to complete it?”
“He must have.”
“What if he didn’t?”
“He did.”
“You can’t be sure.”
“I know, Rabiah. I know. The best I can do is go and hope that Khamal has prepared the way.”
Rabiah was not pleased with the answer. Neither was he, but it was the best he could do. Nasim could tell that Sukharam was uncomfortable with this exchange. He wanted more assurance that what they were doing was the right thing. Nasim wanted it as well, but the cold truth was they had no such thing. They would have to move forward and learn as they went, trusting to the fates to protect them.
They approached an arcing stone bridge that crossed a clear stream. Part of it had collapsed, forcing them to walk single file to cross over it. As they continued on, they reached a section of the city that was markedly older, where the buildings were more densely packed. They were also taller, more grand, and in general their state of decay was greater.
It reminded him of his walk with Ashan and Nikandr and Pietr as he guided them through the maze of akhoz toward Sariya’s tower. He half expected Ashan to step out from behind one of the buildings, to call out to them on the road, but of course he did not. Ashan was here-he could feel it-but not close. He only hoped that something hadn’t happened to him.
He could sense the akhoz. They were hidden among the broken buildings, wandering, stalking, living out their miserable lives in this forgotten place. The feeling was not nearly so strong as it had been. Perhaps it was another symptom of the effect Nikandr’s soulstone had had on him, or perhaps it was because he was now more distanced from Adhiya; whatever the reason, he could not tell where they were, or how close, only that they were here.
Soon they crested a hill, and below them, spread like a grand quilt before the bright blue waters of the bay, was the old city, the original settlement that had been rebuilt to contain the grandest structures. Near the bay was the white tower, Sariya’s tower, and though the magic of its presence had largely dissipated, the tower itself seemed whole. Pristine. This was the place Sariya had focused all of her energies over the final decades of her time here on Ghayavand. It was there that Nasim might find answers, but it was not a place he would go.
Not yet.
He looked further up the ridge that ran along the water’s edge. There, on a hill overlooking the city, was the tall dome of the celestia, the place Khamal went most often to take breath. As he raised his arm to point toward the celestia, a long call like the baying of a mule only infinitely more disturbing came from one of the nearby streets.
Rabiah shot nervous glances between Nasim and the city. Sukharam looked as if he were ready to turn and run back over the hill, but to his credit, he pulled himself up and waited.
“The akhoz,” Nasim said. “They are the lost, the forgotten, and they will try to prevent us from entering the city.”
“What are they?” Sukharam asked.
“They’ve been here since the sundering. I saw them when I was here last, and in my dreams ever since. They are part of the riddle of this place. It may be that in the end we will have to find the answer to that question before we can leave. At the very least we need to know how to move past them, for if they find us they will surely attack.”
“How did the arqesh move through the city?”
“I don’t know, but I can tell you how I did it when I was here last. The best way I can put it is that I slipped deeper into Adhiya. Come, I’ll teach you.”
He strode forward, keeping a careful eye out for the akhoz, but when he turned back he saw that Rabiah hadn’t moved. She was a brave girl-braver than she ought to be at times-but this was too much even for her.
“We’ll be careful. We won’t go far. Not today.”
She nodded, though not before visibly gathering her courage.
Together, the three of them made their way deeper into the city. As they walked, Nasim felt for the veil, felt for the world beyond. It was easy to do here, as easy as sensing the direction of the sun by the warmth it left on the skin.
“Can you sense it?” Nasim asked Sukharam. “Adhiya?”
“ Neh.”
Nasim touched his shoulder. He felt Sukharam jump, but then he calmed down, and his breathing slowed. “Don’t try so hard. It’s much easier than you expect, and most likely you’re looking beyond it.”
They walked in silence for a time, and as they did Nasim pulled Adhiya closer, used it to envelop them as he had done for Ashan and Nikandr and Pietr. He could feel the akhoz now. They, like he had been, were creatures of two worlds, but their senses were largely attuned to Erahm, the physical world. By drawing the three of them deeper into the world of the spirits, he was able to skirt their perceptions.
Or so he thought.
The one nearest, the one that had called not long ago, moved toward them. It was already close, and now it was running.
Nasim pointed to an open doorway. “Inside, quickly.”
And then he felt the others. How many more, he couldn’t tell, but they were going to be on them in moments.
As they ducked inside the ruined stone home, Nasim touched Adhiya through Rabiah, preparing to defend them against the akhoz. Rabiah stared, eyes wide, though she seemed to have found some hidden source of resolve. Sukharam, however, was petrified. He moved to the corner of the room and hid his head between his knees. He shivered there, and a sad whimper escaped him each time he released his breath.
Rabiah turned to go to him, but Nasim held her arm and shook his head.
Crouching down, the two of them watched over the stone lip of the windowsill. Several buildings away, a girl of ten or eleven ran out into the street. She was naked, her skin ashen. She dropped to all fours, chest heaving, head swinging back and forth. The skin of her eyes had grown over, making her look like some grotesque creature made from clay, not someone who once had been a normal girl-a daughter or a sister.