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“He is not lying, brother,” said the other Wolf with yellow eyes set into smoky silver-and-tan fur. The Annundu Wolves were devoted truth-tellers and capable of detecting lies in others—making them perfect guards. Their kingdom was located in the northern mountains and Icelands, and it was rare to see them in Eastlandra anywhere except the marketplaces. Unlike the Kovak bears, when the magic awoke in them, it bound them to their own souls, not the souls of men.

Inside Malengard, I noticed the Rathalans hadn’t captured any Wolves. Or maybe they had and discovered the futility of it. Annundu Wolves would lay down their own lives before being enslaved.

“Then why does he smell like a Rathalan?” the black Wolf said, eyes trained on me.

I stood my ground. “I’m a Kovak. I bought a spell from Sal Sahteene to make me look like a Rathalan so I could sneak inside Malengard to gather information for my king. I need to speak with her. It’s urgent.”

A low growl shook the frosty air. He clearly didn’t like my explanation, truth or not.

“You know I’m not lying.Let. Me. Pass,” I ground out, not caring that the mounting anger in my tone might start a fight that I may or may not be able to win.

Reluctantly, the Wolves stepped back and opened the gates.

Inside the marketplace,I led my horse to the closest stable and paid the stable master to care for him. Afterward, I thought about going to check on the place I’d stashed my old clothes and weapons, but that would just waste time since I didn’t need any of it yet. Instead, I made my way to one of the main avenues.

The Market of End was constructed like a wagon wheel with six main spokes or avenues traveling from the market center to the perimeter wall. Unlike many of the other markets in Eastlandra that came and went depending on the season, the Market of End was a year-round trading metropolis. Marketplaces like this were the only places where all the tribes came together to trade their goods and wares. Otherwise, people rarely strayed outside the borders of their own kingdoms. Thismarket was the largest of the ones I’d been to. It was a hodgepodge of shops, taverns, small inns, booths, and wagons. Anything you could dream up—from love potions to dragon-fruit candy to garnet daggers—you could find in the Market of End. If you knew where to look.

Even now in the wee hours before sunrise, the market never slept. The avenue was decorated with strings of colorful flags and candle-lit globes strung in zigzag patterns over my head. The smell of salted payaroot and peppered cheese dumplings wafted from one of the vendor’s booths. Several people wrapped in heavy cloaks milled along the avenue, perusing the handful of shops that were open this late. I scanned the booths as I passed.

The Jakeens, Ardens, and Terrans were the most common vendors here. The Jakeens specialized in trading the rarest goods—goods that could only be collected by people with impenetrable skin, like bramblefruit, lava stones, nettles, and maducat furs. The Ardens, bound by magic to flora, were selling food and tonics appropriate to the hour. Herbal potions to see in the dark or sleep like the dead. Hot spiced tea to give you sweet dreams. The Terrans, bound to the earth elements, were selling arrays of metal weapons, magic-infused jewelry, and glass lanterns—some filled with flames, others with fireflies. I barely glanced their way. No self-respecting Kovak would patronize a Terran’s business.

It didn’t matter anyway. None of this trivial stuff would help me find the Zavien stone. Marketplaces like these rarely attracted the strongest magic users, which was what I needed. Sal was an exception. Unfortunately, she was also my least favorite person. So, even though the growing feeling in the pit of my stomach was warning me to stay away from her, I set my jaw and marched straight for her tent.

I felt the weight of eyes on me as I entered the small crowd in the market center. Age-old rifts between tribal kingdomsmeant that tension was always high when different tribes came together, but it was more than that. The growing threat from Malengard had caused many vendors to pack up and leave, as evident by the empty pockets along the avenue where there were once tents or wagons crammed together. Those who’d chosen to stay seemed anxious and wary. The air rumbled with low whispers and dark rumors. Even though the market was heavily guarded, it would fall to ruin when Thrailkull released his army. All of Eastlandra would.

I wove through the tight maze of large tents, looking for a familiar indigo-colored one.

Kah grumbled when we caught sight of it nestled along the northern end of the market center. Clearly, neither one of us wanted to be here.

Taking a deep breath, I ducked inside the door flaps of Sal Sahteene’s tent and lowered my hood. Dozens of candles burned on tables around me like I’d walked into the starlit heavens. Thankfully, it was warmer in here than outside. The air was infused with beeswax and burning wormwood.

“Do you think she’s awake?” Kah whispered.

I shook my head to sayI don’t know, just as a voice carried from the shadows.

“Jeddak, son of Atvek. It’s a pleasure to see you again so soon.” Sal Sahteene glided forward, the candlelight illuminating the enigmatic smile that tipped one corner of her full lips upward. Her skin was the color of polished ebony, and her long, braided hair was crystal white. Her hands were decorated with intricate tattoos, and she had a constellation of raised skin marks framing her ageless eyes. “I trust my spell has served you well?” she said, eyeing where she’d erased the Kovakian tattoos on my skin only days ago.

Something about how this Magi spoke made me feel lightheaded and unbalanced, but I forced myself to stay focused.It helped to not look directly into her smoky opal eyes. Unlike the other tribes, magic was unbound in the Magi tribe, and it was unsettling to think how she could manipulate its power into whatever spells or forms—or curses—she desired. My father always said it was safer to trust a thief than a Magi. It was one of the few things we agreed upon.

“You said I’d find what I was looking for inside Malengard,” I said, unable to hide my frustration. Her premonition about the stone’s location had only led to more unanswered questions. The Zavien stone was still out of my reach.

“Have you not?” Her smile grew, seemingly amused by my agitation.

In response, I pulled out the page I’d torn from the book and slapped it down on the table. The candle flames danced.

The low rumble coming from Kah was a warning for me to tread carefully if I didn’t want to end up scurrying out of here as some unpleasant rodent.

Sal’s eyes flicked to the page and then back to me. “Zaviens.” She whispered the word, drawing out thezlike there was a fork in her tongue.

My pulse quickened. “What do you know about them?”

Sal tapped her long fingernail on the parchment paper. “I may have the information you seek. Though it depends on what you can offer me in return. What was once known of the Zavien tribe has been long lost and forgotten. I cannot bring to light what is buried deep in myth without …incentive. I’m sure you understand.” She tilted her head to the side, her way of asking for payment. The hustle and bustle of the market outside her tent grew louder for a moment.

“I—”

She cut me off. “And in case you’ve forgotten, I don’t trade in silver or jade. The only currency of value to me issecrets,” she said, her seductive voice making the hairs on my arm rise.

Other members of the Magi tribe traded in various currencies, like coins or deeds, but most weren’t powerful seers like Sal. So, I had no choice but to pay whatever she asked.