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Climbing a narrow road that wound its way up the side of a rocky cliff was a new experience for me. In Kovass, even if I traveled

by rooftop, the city itself was as flat as the surface of a mirror. I was impressed by the efficiency with which Damassi had

been built; homes and buildings covered every horizontal space, poking out of walls and perching atop ledges. If there was

no space for a structure, they managed to build one anyway.

Halek let out a sudden breath and leaned against a rocky outcropping that protected him from the suns. “Ah yes, Damassi’s wonderfully steep roads. I’d forgotten about them,” he panted, and glanced at Raithe. “Why are we going this way again?” he asked. “There’s nothing up here but the temple.”

I blinked. “Maederyss has a temple here?”

“Not exactly,” Raithe said. “The worship of Maederyss as a goddess is a mostly human tradition. In Damassi, she has many names

and many forms. Most other races here still believe in Fate and the Weaver, but they see her as more of a servant of Fate

instead of the goddess herself.”

“Oh.” I frowned. “But the Weaver is the one who determines your place in the Tapestry of the World,” I said. “Once it’s set,

you can’t do anything to change it.”

A faint smile crossed the iylvahn’s face. “Try telling that to the troblin, who believe they can defy what Fate has planned

if they burrow deep enough. Or the skin shifters, who change their names, their careers, their appearances, their entire lives

several times a year, just to keep the Weaver guessing.” He glanced at Halek, still leaning casually against the outcropping.

“Or the Fatechasers, who don’t wait for their destiny to come to them, but seek it out and embrace it themselves. Whatever

it might bring. Do they take their fate into their own hands? Or are they simply following the path already set for them?

No one, not even the Fatechasers themselves, knows for certain.”

“And believe me,” Halek said with a grin, “we’ve stopped trying to figure it out. The number of times I’ve caused a scholar

or professor of Fate to pull his hair out would make your head spin.”

My thoughts felt tangled, and at that moment, reality seemed very fragile.

I had always known what I was: a simple thief.

I would never be a merchant, a noble, a warrior, a scholar, anything but a member of the Thieves Guild.

I’d accepted that long ago. And not only had I accepted it, I’d excelled at what Fate had decided for me.

I wasn’t brave. I wasn’t a hero. I was a survivor.

Until a few days ago, that had been enough.

Now I didn’t know what I was, or what I could be.

“The Temple of Fate sits atop this hill,” Raithe went on, gazing up the steep and narrow path, which zigzagged ever higher

until it reached a massive rectangular building at the top. “The keepers there know the kahjai very well. We’ll be safe to spend the night and head out in the morning.”

Damassi’s Temple of Fate was very different from the one in Kovass. For one, it was far smaller, as space atop the mountain

plateau was limited. It was also much less grand; there were no ruby-eyed statues peering down from the roof, no golden candlesticks

in the corners, no enormous statue of Maederyss holding the Tapestry of the World in the main hall. As we stepped inside the

front chamber, a robed figure in white greeted us, her smile faltering when she laid eyes on Raithe. But she remained stiffly

polite, telling us we were welcome in the temple and that there were rooms where we could spend the night if we wished. After

leading us down a hall to a pair of simple wooden doors, she departed quickly, the hem of her robe swishing against the stones.

I glanced at the iylvahn. “The priestess didn’t seem happy to see you.”

Raithe shrugged one lean shoulder. “They never are. But there is an ancient agreement between the Temples of Fate and Sahmessyia,

the iylvahn queen. The priestesses know that from time to time, a kahjai is sent into the world to remove a weak thread from the tapestry, to stop the corruption before it can take hold.

They know it is necessary, and so the Temples of Fate will shelter the kahjai, should they need it, but the kahjai are required to announce their presence to the temple if they are going to be doing work in the city. ”

“Oh,” I said, remembering several things at once. “So that’s why you were talking to the high priestess in Kovass.”

One brow arched. “I thought I felt another presence in the temple that day,” he mused with a faint smile. “So that was you, after all.” His soft chuckle made my stomach twist. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

That night, tired as I was, I couldn’t sleep.

The cot the temple provided was hard and uncomfortable, but I was used to that. The room was small, with narrow slits for

windows, but compared to the tiny quarters on the sand strider, it was more space than I’d had in a while. But the thoughts

swirling through my head refused to calm. So much had happened in a short amount of time. I was in Damassi, on the other side

of the Dust Sea. Somewhere back beyond the sands, Kovass lay in ruins, along with everything I’d ever known. My old life was

gone, and there was no returning to it. If I wasn’t a thief anymore, what was I?

My eyelids were heavy. Sleep tugged at me, but I resisted.

I knew what would be waiting for me when I finally succumbed: Jeran’s lifeless body, the Circle surrounding me, calling for my death, and Vahn, standing there with the cold eyes of a stranger.

It was strange; the Deathless King was terrifying, all-powerful, and I feared him the most, but when the nightmares came, Jeran, Vahn, and the Circle were the images that haunted me.

My chin dropped to my chest, and for a moment, my eyes closed. But then a soft tap on my door caused my heartbeat to intensify.

Only Raithe would be knocking on my door this late.

I swung my legs off the cot, walked to the door, and pulled it open with a squeak of hinges.

“Hello, Sparrow,” said Vahn, smiling down at me. “I think we need to talk.”