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7

THE SECRET IS IN THE SPICE

T earloch stopped and crouched. There was movement overhead, a shift in the hot dry air, and he hadn't been the only one to sense it. His friends crouched as well and listened. With the walls of the canyon alternating like facets of a mountain-sized jewel, it was impossible to tell from which direction sounds originated.

After a minute of silence, save for his breathing, he straightened, waved at the others to follow, and increased the pace for a while. If Huxor stopped to rest, for any length of time, they would have him.

To keep from giving themselves away, they kept their glow stones in their pockets despite the narrowing of the path and the likelihood of an ambush. Of all nights, why did both Hestia’s moons have to hide their faces now?

Though it galled him to put any man in danger, Tearloch motioned to Sweetie to take the lead. Since the interrupted spell that left his friend partially transformed, the big man had an animal’s sight and hearing. If someone lay in wait, Sweetie would know it first.

Instead of parading down the middle of the path, they moved to the left and inched along the south wall with weapons in hand. Minutes crawled by as they picked their way through the narrowest stretch yet. Every muscle in Tearloch’s neck and shoulders ached from constant coiling. Finally, when the trail widened, they all relaxed a measure.

Minkin increased her pace to catch up with him. “Do you suppose she took a wrong turn?”

“I do not. This is her home. If anyone were to get lost, it would be us.”

“I thought she was resolved to come with us.”

“You’d like to travel with another woman.”

“Naturally. But I was thinking more of her white hair, that it might?—”

“Remind me of a pain I try every day to forget?”

She shrugged. “I was going to say it might…numb you. So you didn’t associate all white hair with… her .”

“Stop trying to help me, Minkin. I can’t be helped. And we are lucky the impulsive creature changed her mind. None of us needs the distraction, and we certainly don’t need some woman taking Huxor’s fate—and Sweetie’s—out of our hands.”

Sweetie stopped abruptly and Tearloch followed suit. The walls had moved drastically apart, and far to the right, they heard the trickle of water. And sniffing.

“There,” Sweetie said, pointing to a bundle of white against the dark wall of stone.

Tearloch pulled a small glow stone from his pocket and tossed it in that direction. Ten feet beyond, it illuminated white apprentice robes and a mop of white hair. Apparently, the impulsive creature had known a shortcut. Now he cursed himself for not asking about the possibility. If he had, they might have gotten ahead of Huxor.

The minx lifted her face from her folded arms and blinked to see beyond the glow. Her gaze shot first to Sweetie, then to him. Tears had cut a path down her sun-roasted cheeks. “He’s gone. Escaped the canyon.”

Minkin joined her and put her arm around the girl’s shoulders, the traitor. “How do you know?”

“A boy…snuck a ride on his father’s winged steed, stopped here for a drink. Your friend attacked him, took the beast, and flew away.”

“Where is this child now?”

She pointed off to her left. “Lives at the top of this gorge. I gave him some protection, and he’s gone home.”

“Protection?”

“Dragonspice. He hadn’t considered he would need it, with the flying beast. He was terrified.”

Tearloch didn’t understand half of what she said, but the gist was clear. Huxor had escaped. They could never catch him. Of course, she might be lying, but he doubted it. She seemed genuinely disappointed that her prey had gotten away, and her frustration was reflected in the knot in his chest.

Now, after two long months of tracking the man, the hunt would have to start over, at Sunbasin, which was still two days away. And who knew how many days they had left?

He wanted to vent his exasperation with a roar and a good run, but his legs protested. He couldn’t remember when he’d last rested. Sweetie put his back to the wall and sank to the ground, making the decision for him—the hunt was suspended for the night.

Tearloch moved closer, forced himself to be civil. “We never asked your name.”

“Asper,” she said, reluctantly, as if she didn’t trust him with it.

“Asper. We shall rest here, leave when the sun rises. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” his friends murmured.

He removed his water horn from his belt and offered it to her. After she took a drink, he looked for something kind to say. “You’ll want to wash those tears from your face.”

Her dark brows rose. “Why?”

He had to look away. “I thought you wished to hide your gender. A boy wouldn’t let others see weakness.”

A noise escaped her. A decidedly female noise. “You’re saying men don’t cry?”

He ignored the taunt. “If you mean to discard your disguise?—"

She shrugged. “The Prospectors hardly matter now, do they?”

He choked, caught off guard by the idea that the myth persisted, but she obviously believed it. “They put an end to that Prospector nonsense over a hundred years ago.”

Her mouth fell open. “You’re mistaken.”

“Don’t tell me. You read about it in a book?”

“I did.”

“And just how old was this book?” When she didn’t answer, he moved off and sat against the wall with Sweetie and Minkin between them.

* * *

Asper

I dragged my foot along the sand-covered rock, creating a circle. From my pocket, I took out my sack of ground dragonspice and sprinkled it along the line, careful not to use too much. My modest sack would have to last until we were well beyond the canyon, and I honestly didn’t know how long that would take. I’d studied maps of Hestia but speeds of travel varied.

“What are you doing there,” Sweetie growled.

“It’s dragonspice to keep the curltails away. And the serpents.”

He snorted. “We are sitting upon rock.”

I was tempted to point out that half the canyon was sand, but I didn’t want to share my rations with someone who was obviously too proud to fear the poisonous, ill-tempered creatures that hunted throughout the night. And if he didn’t have the manners to respect the warnings of a local, he would suffer whatever lessons the canyon sought to teach him.

Minkin, on the other hand, stood and made a circle just as I had. Once she was seated, I happily sprinkled my precious spice around her, then tossed some on the wall behind her. When I turned to see who else might like protection, Tearloch shook his head, and the brothers rolled their eyes and turned their backs.

While I got comfortable, a rhythmic, buzzing sound announced that Tearloch was already asleep. Either that, or he was pretending to avoid further conversation. The horned one still watched to see if I might do something else that might amuse him, but I had no more rituals to perform. With the spice in place, and the grumpy beast taking the first watch, I completely relaxed.

Sleep was out of the question, but I could at least rest my eyes while I sifted through possible reasons Demius had demanded that I hide my gender. If not for the Prospectors, then why?

The horror of Demius’ body lying on the ground, headless and bloody, inserted itself into my thoughts. I washed it away with the image of a storm burst further up the canyon, the rain rushing into the gully from every angle. In my imagination, the waters converged into a torrent that snaked its way along the red rock. Our burning shelter was now fully engulfed in flames. Demius’ body was lost to their heat and hunger. Nothing left but rage—orange and red with tips of yellow and shadows of blue.

And beneath it all, the sealed library went on sleeping.

The roar of water drowned out the fire’s murmur and crackling…just before it rolled through our stretch of the gully, escaped its banks, and submerged the burning house. In the darkness, the ground was nearly leveled, proving how greedy the fire had been. A fully consumed meal. A table washed clean. Nothing left but scorched rock and Demius’ secrets camouflaged beneath.

Also scorched was my mind, my heart, with my secrets buried deep. All but the one, though. Tearloch had already exposed me as a woman. So, in the company of him and his friends, I could never take that secret back.

And so I slipped off to sleep, drowning in grief and imagined flashwaters. Near dawn, I woke to the screams of a large animal. It took a minute for me to remember where I was and who I was with, since much had changed since I’d closed my eyes.

Sweetie lay on his back, writhing under the weight of Tearloch, who was seated on top of him, holding him down while the others picked at his body, all of them trying to avoid the thrashing horns. They had wrestled the big man’s clothes off and were plucking curltails from his skin. Each time they pulled one of the egg-sized creatures free, Sweetie screamed in outrage.

I got to my feet and dug into my pocket. “Stop,” I said. “That’s unnecessary.”

Tearloch looked at me as if I’d grown a second head. “We must get them off. They’re poisonous.”

Sweetie tensed, holding still as he watched me reach for one of the creatures on his chest.

“Here, now. You see? Pinch them behind their arms and they release.” After pulling one free without causing pain, I chucked the pest high against the wall where it latched on, then disappeared into a crevice, free to torture another day.

Sweetie stopped screaming as his friends tried to remove the rest of the curltails correctly. Minkin placed one on the ground, intending to crush it with her boot, but I stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.

“Swarm mind,” I explained. “Kill them and more will come for revenge.” I opened my stash of dragonspice and sprinkled a few kernels of the stuff on the little monster. It flexed, then scuttled away. The rest of the pests immediately surrendered their hold on Sweetie and fled.

After watching the pests merge into the rock walls, Tearloch turned to me for an explanation.

I shrugged. “Dragonspice, crushed.” I took another precious pinch and lifted it toward Sweetie. “Look for black shadows in the bites. That’s the poison. Not all will have it. Just from the young ones.”

Without the man on his chest, the beast’s entire body was exposed, surprisingly human. Apparently, whatever spell had been cast had been limited to his head.

I turned away to spare his dignity. When the shadows were found, I looked only where necessary to sprinkle some of the powder into the wound.

Sweetie hissed but didn’t complain. When all the poison had been located and treated and he was clothed once more, he came to stand before me. “I offer you my thanks.”

“Accepted.”

He pointed to my sack. “You protected yourself with that, with your circle.”

“I did.”

“You might have explained.”

“You might have asked.”

I twisted the top of my waxed sack, then folded it over the bulk of powder that was still good-sized. Then I wrapped the ties around the mass and made a fairy knot before putting it in my pocket. “Never come to the canyonlands without dragonspice.”

Sweetie nodded, dipping his large horns in a motion that denoted humility. “I will not forget.” When he looked at my face, I noted a touch of fear in his eyes. “What should I expect from the poison?”

“You may be thirsty but expect nothing more than that. If you feel any stinging, it’s the pepper dissolving.”

He blinked rapidly, and I wondered if he was experiencing that stinging even as we stood there. “An antidote as well as a deterrent? Magical stuff, then.”

I shook my head. “A canyonland answer to a canyonland problem. That’s all.”

“I am…” He ground his teeth, and his massive jaw flexed. “Indebted.”

One thing my master had stressed was the conviction that debts meant complications and thus were to be avoided at all costs. So, I shook my head again. “No. No debt.”

He scowled down his nose, then snorted and turned away. I suspected he’d feel obliged to me no matter what I said.