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Shadi had often heard her lands referred to as 'the Peaks'. It was only now, as she gazed at the vast expanse of hills in front of the caravan, that she truly understood why; they followed one another in a gentle slope, and from a distance, they resembled the waves of a storm-swollen sea. At least that was how Shadi imagined it. She knew lakes and rivers, the latter even too well according to some, but she knew little or nothing about seas. Waters depicted in tapestries and murals, on fine canvases and fabrics, crowded the decorations of the fortress, but nothing more.

She left behind the towering summits of the northern mountains, whitewashed and gleaming in the morning light, thundering skyward like swords frozen by the cold air. Infinitely high and fierce, they reached the clouds, piercing and surpassing them. It was an awe-inspiring spectacle.

The farther they went, the more the mountains left an inexplicable void in Shadi's chest. She said goodbye to them, along with all the securities and customs etched into the dark stone of the fortress of Jabal Amira, where she had been born and raised. For nearly seventeen years, this town and its environs had defined the boundaries of her world. After the Trials, everything would change. What would happen after the event? What kind of woman would she become?

Tiona, who still had not forgiven her for what she considered to be her utter disobedience, kept her gaze fixed on the thin curtains covering one of the carriage doors, her forehead resting on a grooved palm. Though her expression still betrayed no emotion, Shadi had no trouble imagining the thoughts that must be running through the mind of the Lugalen's wife.

She would have preferred to be accompanied on this long journey by Roben's light spirit and accommodating nature. In comparison, Shadi's company must have seemed more like a condemnation than a necessity. A condemnation that Tiona herself had issued and carried out without delay.

Shadi wondered what her brother was doing and how he was coping with the disappointment of being removed from the Trials. Then she remembered that the fortress and the city were filled with girls of insufficient rank to attend the event.

Roben would find consolation with little effort.

The silence in the carriage, after only one day of traveling, was about to become deafening. Even the company of Darjin, who spoke only when questioned and often answered with annoying monosyllables, could be more relaxed and interesting.

But Darjin was doing her job, following the convoy on horseback, very close and yet invisible. As always. The woman seemed to feed on shadows and whispers.

Shadi glanced past the window, then fixed her eyes on her father, who was leafing through some papers in a leather case. He inhaled and exhaled heavily. She saw him put the papers aside and rub his eyes as if reading had become extremely tiring and wondered what was bothering him. No answer, for the man's attention was demanded by one of the escorting soldiers. The horseman slowed to match the pace of the carriage and held out a hand toward the door.

Shadi kept her eyes on the forbidding expression on her father's face as he opened a crack and accepted the small envelope from the soldier.

"A letter for you, my lord. It has just been delivered by an Acute of our mighty King Zayr," he explained, then spurred the mount away from the wagon.

Leoben turned the letter over in his hands and examined the black paper; a wax seal, red and shiny like blood, guarded its secrets.

Shadi recognized the royal symbol.

It was the ceremonial staff that symbolized the Tutors, the Household of Masters that had nearly emerged victorious from the Trials thirty-three years earlier. In living memory, Shadi had learned from the history books, no Household had won the competition twice in a row. But none had prevailed as often as the Binders, the Lords of Larsa.

The Binders had always been the most powerful and influential. And they would probably remain so even if the Supreme Throne went to another city. A letter like that, legitimized by the official seal and apparently delivered in great haste, would alert everyone. Even a Lugalen as respected and beloved as her father.

Naturally, Tiona demanded to be informed of its contents on the spot. "Well?"

Leoben broke the seal and read. It took only a few moments, then he handed the letter to his wife, went back to watching the view and answered her. "We have been invited to join the delegation of the Lords of Urook. We will travel with them. It looks like we will meet at the Lake of Currents."

Shadi saw the tiny furrow between her mother's eyebrows, a clear sign that she disapproved of this change in plans. As far as she knew, her family was supposed to travel the distance between Jabal Amira and Larsa by wagon. The journey would take just over twenty days, ending at the city gates about a week before the Trials.

"They can't expect us to set foot on one of these things," Tiona blurted out as she read and reread the few lines, as if her insistence could change the arrangement of letters and words to give them a new meaning.

Shadi did not immediately understand what her mother was referring to. Then the spark of a memory ignited in her mind. Or was it just a dream mixed with her childhood fantasies?

"We will set foot on whatever pleases the will of the Masters, my beloved," her father pointed out. "If they have decreed that we reach the capital on a flying ship, we will gladly accept."

Shadi almost choked on her own saliva.

Yes, she had heard right. And no, it was not all a figment of her imagination. They had just received a direct invitation from King Zayr. He, the deity who shone over the city of the Iron Lords, was waiting for them on his Lethenium Dart.

The large raptor spread its wings gracefully and soared high above the convoy.

What was a Silver Sparrowhawk doing there? These beautiful creatures must have been common near Larsa, but not so far from the capital and its surrounding lands.

Darjin watched the iron-shining wings and found herself in deep awe mixed with admiration. Silver Sparrowhawks were loved and respected by the peoples of all Kenjir.

Before leaving her homeland, Darjin had been drawn to the idea of learning the arts of taming. It was said that these creatures could read the emotions, if not the thoughts, of their owners and imprint the wisdom of flight into their minds. Of course, these were just legends, but she liked to think they were true.

Her younger brother Miro was even more fascinated by the creatures than she was. He always told her that he wanted to be a Tamer when he grew up, and made her a promise: " One day I will come and visit you on a Silver Sparrowhawk."

Darjin's heart clenched at the memory of that naive promise.

Miro could never keep it.

She saw the beautiful beast accelerate, defying its own weight, riding the currents and pushing higher and higher. Although she was shrouded in an aura of elegance and holiness, the Sparrowhawk seemed restless.

A sinking feeling tickled the pit of Darjin's stomach.

Two men on horseback approached the carriage of Shadi's family. In the expressions on their faces and the way they exchanged quick sentences, Darjin found confirmation of that unpleasant feeling.

She waited for the relay to end and spurred the steed until she was standing beside the carriage, close enough to see Shadi. She read wonder and the sparkle of new possibilities in the girl's eyes. It could be a good thing or a bad thing.

Darjin found herself divided as she watched the landscape around them, which kept changing at intervals that were impossible to decipher or predict. With alert senses she searched for inconsistencies, signs and threats.

The snowy landscapes soon gave way to wooded areas with milder temperatures. The cold was still biting, but a far cry from the merciless winds of the Peaks. She had spent her life this way, learning the limits of people and things. Sifting reality to reveal only the simplest nature of events had been her mission. She could hardly remember a day or night free of all the anxieties that had woven the web of her actions, more or less conscious, aimed at paving the road that awaited Shadi and her family.

This night would be no different from any other.

Darjin walked around the perimeter of the camp, illuminated by the flickering lights of a large hearth in the center. The wagons of the Jan Hura family had been arranged in a semicircle along a high ridge of rock. Darjin had promised Shadi a few minutes earlier that she would make a final check of the camp to make sure that the security perimeter was well manned. She had also sensed that the girl was troubled by something that went far beyond the distance that separated her from Larsa and the Trials. In any case, Shadi would tell her everything sooner or later.

She wrapped herself tightly in the short cloak to shield herself from the night breeze. As she walked along the edge of the field, the uncertain brightness of the flames barely touched her. She passed a soldier on patrol. He was tall, with broad shoulders protected by metal plates that dipped and emerged from a skillfully assembled leather and iron bodice. His sword was drawn, and he swung it as he walked, seemingly bored to death. The man only recovered from his stupor when Darjin passed him.

At first, he did not recognize her; he tensed and almost pointed his weapon at her. A moment later, his expression became stern, as if he wanted to say something to scold her for going outside the protected zone.

But Darjin wouldn't let him. "Excellent work, Lieutenant. Under your watchful eye not even an insect would go unnoticed. I'm going to look for some relief in the bushes," she said softly and continued walking without stopping.

The lieutenant opened his mouth to reply in kind. But he found no words. Perhaps the man's talents did not extend beyond worthily wearing that heavy armor.

Darjin disappeared into the shadows of the vegetation. She walked in a straight line for about a minute, circling the rocky ridge in search of a point as high as possible from which to observe the camp. Only then would she be able to spot the inevitable weaknesses and perhaps fix them. She found a tree that towered above the others, with strong, broad branches that extended beyond the lowest parts of the ridge.

Clawing at the bark, she climbed up the trunk with quick, controlled movements. She reached a tall, sturdy branch, hoisted herself onto it, and walked along it as if it were one of the wide balconies of Jabal Amira's fortress; then she leaped the short distance that separated her from the side of the rocky ridge, and landed by rolling onto an esplanade a couple of arms wide. From there she could make out one end of the camp, but it was not enough for the overview she needed. So she scanned the rock face for natural slits and found them seconds later.

Reaching the top of the ridge was no easy task. Darjin struggled to find a secure foothold, and at times she hesitated, afraid that she had risked too much, or that she was relying on unstable ledges. But she won her little war with the rock. When she finally reached the top, she took a deep breath, the air filled with the sweet smell of contentment.

The uneven surface she had conquered was larger than she had imagined, shining in the pale light of the moon. The Lady of the Night loomed over the outline of the rock, making it resemble the vast floor of an enormous, hurried tailor's workshop, strewn with piles of fabric. It was a vision of ecstatic silence framed by distant stars.

Darjin filled her soul with it, almost forgetting for a few seconds why she was there.

Until the giant shadow darkened the moon It was as if a capricious god had snuffed it out and replaced its glow with the song of a hungry predator.

The sound tore through the air.

Darjin drew her blades and held her breath. What had blackened the sky was large, powerful, and alive. The wild chanting made her shudder as she realized she had never heard it so loud, so close; it seemed indecipherable. Instinctively, she stepped back, forcing herself to remain calm.

A Silver Sparrowhawk. As far as she knew, these beasts did not attack humans unless their Tamer told them to or they felt threatened.

Deafened by the angry call of her own heart, screaming at her to run, seek shelter, and use the cursed blades to defend herself from the flying monster, Darjin struggled to keep her composure.

Above her flew the most majestic and fascinating beast that had ever plowed the skies of Kenjir. The shadow grew, but its speed slowed. And with it, the power of the wind created by the giant wings diminished.

Darjin had to stifle a groan of astonishment as she watched the Sparrowhawk landing on the rock in front of her. The creature stood still for an endless moment. It towered over Darjin by more than two arms, and its outstretched wings could easily have enveloped one of the Jan Hura's great carriages. Enchanted and intimidated at the same time, she watched the Sparrowhawk until it folded its wings, took a step back and bent down.

The creature revealed its Tamer. Silently, the man dismounted from the back of the majestic bird. As his feet touched the rocky ground, he quickly shook off the cloak that shrouded him, revealing an armor of scales as silvery as the Sparrowhawk's plumage. He touched his heart in greeting and bowed slightly.

Illuminated by a free moon, the Tamer's face reflected the night's pallor; it was covered by an iron mask that blended the features of a man and a bird of prey. It had large obsidian globes acting as eyes, and a pointed, beak-like nose.

Darjin caught her first glimpse of the intricate decorations engraved on the metal surface of the mask, as renowned as the artisans who etched them, now immortalized in the history of Kenjir. A mask of Lethenium, the iron of Lords of Urook.

The Tamer approached. "Stow your weapons, Dagger. Let them shine only for your true enemies."

Darjin lowered her blades, taking care not to sheathe them again. The Tamers were known and respected throughout Kenjir. Every man, woman and child knew of their existence or had dreamed of meeting one. And, of course, of seeing a Silver Sparrowhawk with their own eyes. It was said that the Tamers and their beasts had fought together with the children of the gods thousands of years ago and had earned their undying respect.

Darjin kept her mouth shut and waited for the man to explain the reasons for his presence.

He approached her. "I take your silence as a compliment, woman," he said, turning to the Sparrowhawk, who looked restless, scratching at the rock with its talons. "My friend can sense a commotion. It echoes in the rock and makes him anxious. He feels better in the wind currents."

"What commotion? Why are you here?"

The Tamer seemed to search for the right words to answer her. "To do my duty. We are messengers of peace. We carry the unity of Kenjir on the wings of our Sparrowhawks. Often, however, we must choose the recipients of our messages with great care. Especially when it comes to bad news."

"I eat bad news for breakfast every day. With some hot tea."

The Tamer laughed. The sound echoed off the metal mask and took on a sinister tone. "I had no doubt that you would be the most suitable person."

Darjin waited. Suitable for what?

"In a few days, the Jan Hura family will set foot on a Lethenium Dart."

Just the mention of those flying ships sent a shiver down her spine. It was an irrational fear. In her heart, she hoped she would never have to travel in one of those things. A vain hope, judging by the latest developments. She bit her lower lip.

"They will join the delegation of the Lords of Urook."

The Tamer nodded. "Keep your eyes and ears open. When you are aboard the ship, do not allow shadows other than your own to cover the young lady's face."

"Why? Is it not safe? Is the Jan Hura family in danger?"

"No one is safe, Dagger. As the Trials approach, we will see dark days."

"Your warning is of little help to me, Tamer. I will keep my oath to the Jan Hura family, even at the risk of my life. Dark days or not."

"That does you credit. But mark my words: the confrontation between the three Households has already begun. This time, the Binders, Tutors, and Nurturers will not wait for the Trials to fight. And they will not care about the consequences of their skirmishes. Innocent blood will be spilled."

Darjin swallowed hard. She had no reason to doubt the Tamer's words, even if she did not understand his motives. She opened her mouth to ask again, to know more, but the Tamer turned and reached for the Sparrowhawk. The bird of prey seemed shaken with excitement and the desire to fly. It spread its wings as the man straddled it and stroked its neck.

"Polish your blades, Dagger. Soon you will have to prove what your promises are worth." And with a mighty thrust, amidst the wind that smelled of power and echoed with battle cries, the Tamer and his Silver Sparrowhawk flew away.

Darjin watched them cross the circle of the moon and bathe in the stars.

She clutched her blades. Her promises were sharper than any knife, and far more deadly. She was ready to prove her worth in blood.

Sitting cross-legged on the wooden planks at the foot of the bed in Shadi's carriage, Darjin watched and waited.

"A Silver Sparrowhawk," Shadi exhaled. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. It was not the visit of the almost mythical animal that had caused her disbelief, but the words of its Tamer.

Darjin nodded patiently. She had told Shadi about the encounter in a calm voice, choosing her words carefully, not wanting to frighten her young lady; Shadi understood and appreciated that. But the warning cast a shadow over this trip, which had not yet begun in the best of ways. "He didn't tell you anything else?"

Darjin sighed. "He said enough. I must warn your parents, my lady. It is my duty to take any threat, even a whispered one, as real. At this point, It’s better to stay away from all Lethenium Darts."

"It would mean refusing an official invitation from the Empire. We cannot simply respond with 'No, thank you, King Zayr, we prefer to travel on horseback because we are ungrateful savages.'"

"This is a decision that should concern your parents."

Shadi nodded, "You are right. If the Tamer is telling the truth, then anyone who sets foot on that flying ship will be taking risks we can only imagine. It is said that the Darts are huge and can carry hundreds of people in their bellies."

"I have never had the pleasure of seeing one with my own eyes, my lady."

"This whole thing is getting stranger and stranger. First the invitation to travel with the Lords of Urook, and now this. It must be part of a bigger picture, Darjin."

"No doubt, my lady."

"Do you think the delegation from Urook invited other families to join them? What are the chances that the letter was sent only to mine? Will the Tamer have brought the same warning to them as well?"

"I guess there's only one way to find out."

"To accept the invitation in any case and reach the meeting point."

"Accept the invitation in any case and reach the meeting point," Darjin agreed.

The Lake of Currents. It was one of those incredible places that Shadi had only heard about, mostly from merchants who went as far as the Peaks, bringing back cloth, spices and legends. A lake the size of a sea, churned by currents capable of tearing apart a thousand ships at a time. Shadi could hardly believe that she would finally visit it.

Or maybe not. The Tamer's warning could have changed the route to Kenjir again. Or block it altogether.

She got to her feet, as did Darjin. "Let's talk to my parents."

Tiona Jan Hura was not happy. She had listened to Shadi's account in religious silence, watching Darjin coldly, and had been careful not to ask her daughter any questions or clarifications. Those had been taken care of by the Lugalen. But the woman wondered if this report was not a figment of a girl's imagination, desperate for an excuse to avoid responsibility.

Shadi knew it, felt it.

Her father, on the other hand, seemed focused on possibilities and consequences. He had risen from his bed, still firmly occupied by his wife, and put on a long, dark fur cloak. In the space of the carriage, which also comfortably accommodated a double bed and housed the couple's spectacular wardrobe, the man looked even taller and more imposing.

As he watched, Shadi found it easy to share the sense of admiration and awe that the people of Jabal Amira felt for him.

Shadi snapped out of her thoughts and focused on her father.

He scratched his beard. "I believe you, Shadi. And I thank you, Dagger, for bringing this warning to our ears."

Darjin bowed briefly.

"What are we going to do, Father?

"It is a difficult situation, my child. We cannot refuse the invitation, of course. And I don't want to take the Tamer's words lightly, although I don't understand why he didn't speak to me directly."

Shadi had asked herself the same question.

Leoben continued to massage his jaw and brood. Then he put his hands behind his back. "I have close friends in the Urook government. I will ask for their help and then make a final decision. But I must be able to discuss the matter before we arrive at the Lake of Currents, and I cannot do this directly. If the Tamer is telling the truth, an official discussion might attract unwanted attention, if not make things worse."

Shadi could hear the tension in his voice, and was surprised to realize at that moment that the news she and Darjin had brought had not come as a surprise to him. Had her father been expecting such threats? Or was he just facing the situation with the firmness that his long political career had given him?

"I have a request for you, Dagger."

"I am at your service, my lord."

"I need you to go ahead of us to a secret location and speak to a person who will be able to give us the information we need. At least I hope so."

"That will take me away from your daughter."

"Yes, I am aware of that. But the words of the Tamer may foreshadow a danger even greater than your absence. I will not put my family on that flying beast lightly, nor will I expose them to the judgement of the Masters by ignoring an official request. I need to know more of what lies ahead. We all do. You will have our fastest steed and the aid of one of my finest warriors. Prepare yourself. You will ride in the favour of darkness."

It was painful to see her there, standing beside that huge black horse. Darjin took a leather pouch from the Lugalen's hands, looked him in the eye and nodded.

Shadi had not been allowed to know the details of her Dagger's mission. Perhaps her father was beginning to embrace his wife's philosophy, which saw Shadi as some kind of unworthy weapon in the hands of a mocking fate.

The less she knew, the better, Tiona thought.

So Shadi did not protest, not this time. The bitter taste of guilt soured her palate. After all, it was her fault, wasn't it? Darjin felt compelled to blindly obey every decision her parents made. Even if, ironically, those decisions took her far away from her oath.

Shadi bit her tongue and silently prayed that the gods would protect her Dagger and allow her to return safely as soon as possible. And with good news for everyone.

What she felt in those moments, the fear of separation, the horror at the thought of losing Darjin, made it clear in Shadi's heart that this woman would never be just a slave to her, or even a mere bodyguard. Never.

The Dagger mounted the steed and exchanged a few words with the warrior her father had chosen to accompany her; then she spurred the mount and rode off.

Before darkness engulfed her, Darjin turned and met Shadi's gaze. In her eyes, the girl read all the strength and courage she so desperately needed.

The pouch was light. Darjin had slipped it between the folds of the bandages wrapped around her chest, just below her breastbone. As she spurred the steed on, she could barely feel its presence. This object of such insignificant size and appearance could open doors, start conversations and alliances. Or destroy them.

The Key Ring.

The symbol of the temporal power of the Jan Hura family, the manifestation of the trust of the gods and their children, the Masters. Darjin knew that a Lugalen rarely parted with his Key Ring. The fact that the man had entrusted it to her showed how seriously he had taken the Tamer's warnings. This knowledge reassured her and made her feel on edge at the same time. There had been times when her priorities as a Dagger had clashed with the interests of Shadi's family. It had always been difficult for her to understand and decide how to act. Not this time.

Leoben Jan Hura seemed determined to take all necessary precautions to protect his loved ones. He had spoken a few words to her, full of expectation and confidence. For Darjin, it had come as a real surprise.

"You must reach Euphora. There is a woman there, an expert in the arts of the ether. She calls herself Narden of the Eyes. She will be able to contact an old friend, an Ensin from the Red Army. I am sure he will have a much clearer idea of what is going on. If there is one person in all of Kenjir that I trust completely, it is him."

Now Darjin understood why the escort was riding beside her. It was not only about the warrior's origins, who apparently was born and raised there before moving to Jabal Amira. Shadi's father feared for Darjin's safety, and in other circumstances she might have been flattered. But it was he who had put her in this situation, forcing her into one of the most dangerous cities in Kenjir.

Euphora.

The name given to it by popular opinion left little doubt as to the proclivities of those who chose to live and work there. And that's why it was crowded with visitors all year round.

Darjin spurred the steed on, urging it to gallop at full speed while the night enveloped them. Daylight would make them visible to all, even those who were drawing the outlines of the plan that could endanger the lives of Shadi and her family. The black horse seemed almost happy to give itself up to the race, as if it wanted to take off like a bird at any moment.

The warrior escorting her kept pace, silent, an indecipherable expression on his face.

Darjin knew his name, even though all formalities had been set aside to make way for preparations and a speedy departure.

Laamar Lutif. A twenty-six year old lieutenant in the service of the Fortress of Jabal Amira, a member of the Lugalen's private army since the age of fourteen. He was one of many who had supported Leoben Jan Hura in his bid for power. Young and ambitious. Quick and skilled with a sword, but mostly slow to speak. Qualities, the last two, that Darjin valued immensely.

Was he loyal to the Lugalen? It seemed so. But the years in the service of the Jan Hura had taught Darjin how pliable and susceptible that word was to the emotions that stirred the human soul. She hoped she was not in the company of a new enemy instead of an ally.

The darkness was swept away by the day's wind, giving way to the stubborn brightness of a morning that promised to be cold. The horses had given their all for much of the way, running for hours on end.

The scenery changed from the rolling rocks and irregularities of the gorges where the Jan Hura family had found shelter, to a thickening forest dotted with trees that retained their greenness despite the harsh temperatures. About halfway through the journey, with more than five hours of riding between them and Euphora, Darjin slowed and turned to the warrior. "The horses need rest."

Laamar nodded, pointing to his ear and then to the trees to their right. "I hear a stream of water, not far from here, in the direction of the setting sun."

Darjin had sensed it too. Without further ado, she pushed the horse in that direction. It was the first time she had lingered on Laamar's voice, watching him closely without fear of being noticed. For someone like her, used to listening unseen, reading lips and watching from a distance, this was anything but an everyday occurrence.

Dressed in ordinary travel clothes, both she and Laamar appeared to be mere travelers. But Darjin knew the illusion would shatter under the weight of a discerning gaze: her amber skin, the peculiar shade of volcanic sand in her hair and the sharp cut of her eyes were strongly reminiscent of the Fields of Dawn.

Laamar's broad shoulders, narrow waist and determined gait spoke of years spent wielding heavy weapons that had forged his limbs as well as his skills as a warrior. They had to keep their hoods up as much as possible if they hoped to move in and out of Euphora inconspicuously. And they had to keep the visit short anyway.

They stopped near a small gorge. The roar that had attracted them came from a stream where clear water plunged a few fathoms from a waterfall, collected in a puddle and then resumed its way down into the valley.

Darjin dismounted and let the horse drink. A few steps away, she watched out of the corner of her eye as Laamar stroked his animal, whispered to it and watched as it stuck its tongue into the puddle. The warrior had his back to her, but he asked, "Where are you going, Dagger?"

She did not answer until she was far away, about to climb the bark of a very tall tree.

"To take a look around."

She heard the man's crystal clear laughter. Its light tone contrasted with the deep, hoarse timbre echoing from his mouth. "I thought they were all legends." Laamar had turned up the volume a little to be heard.

"What are you talking about?"

He laughed again, and Darjin searched his face with her gaze. When she reached a broad, solid looking branch, she paused, waiting for his answer. She met his hazel eyes, flecked with bright green. The way the morning sun illuminated them was striking, especially in contrast to the oh-so-black hue of his complexion. Had she not been so caught up in the mission, had her mind been free to wander, Darjin would have paid this warrior very close and specific attention. And perhaps she could have found a way to test the thoroughness of his physical preparation.

"It is said that your people can climb even crystal, even mirrors," he explained.

"Really?"

He nodded, his eyes curious.

"Perhaps it's all legend. Or maybe not," she cut him off. Focusing on the view, her eyes swept over the tops of the trees, then over the lower hills and down to the edge of the valley. In the distance, the landscape grew barren, flattening into a horizon of indistinct plains. Down there was Euphora.

"Trouble at hand?" he asked.

"A matter of perspective."

"Are you always like this?"

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. Not much of a talker. Maybe it was wrong to expect real wit from him.

Darjin came down from the tree and touched the ground without a sound, as if the air itself had accompanied her to the grass. She retraced her steps, close to her mount. Her steed had dug its hooves into the puddle and was enjoying splashing the water so that the drops reached its snout.

Laamar whispered words she did not understand into his horse's ears and turned to her. "Can I ask you something?"

"If you must."

He did not seem intimidated by her tone. "What are your lands like? I've heard so many stories about the Fields of Dawn. They sound incredible."

"Again, perhaps they are legends. Or maybe not," she repeated.

"I'm beginning to think all your answers have a hidden meaning, Dagger."

"No kidding."

Laamar bit his lip and looked away.

Darjin realized she had made him uncomfortable and regretted it. There was no need to be so unfriendly to a man who, after all, was doing his duty and perhaps just wanted a little conversation to relieve the tension and fatigue caused by the journey.

"Mine are lands kissed by the gods and their generosity," Darjin told him. She saw his eyes brighten with interest. They were a sight to behold, no doubt. "Though nestled among the mountains, my lands experience harmonious seasons like the nectar of sugar flowers. Plants bear fruit all year round, and my people celebrate their beauty in the most magnificent gardens in all of Kenjir. Our homes are built among garnet oaks, our beds filled with all the buds of the morning. There is no place sweeter to the eye and the senses than the Fields of Dawn."

Laamar listened to her with a look of wonder. "I pray to the gods to grant me their grace and to see this place with my own eyes."

"And I will pray that your wishes will be granted," Darjin nodded.

"Let us rest a while while the horses regain their strength. We have many hours of galloping ahead of us." Laamar bowed. He turned his back to her and sat down at the foot of a tree, his back leaning against the broad trunk.

Darjin watched him only as long as he kept his eyes away from her. Then she climbed the rocks that bordered the small waterfall and sought shelter between two ledges that cast a sharp shadow on a moss-covered stone slab.

Sitting with her hands clasped behind her head, Darjin thought about Shadi, her family, the pouch she carried on her chest and what it symbolized.

She looked at the horizon.

The city was near, as was the woman she sought and the answers she might find through her abilities.

She sighed, knowing that those answers could be used as sharp blades.

Shadi held her breath as her mother pulled at the laces of her bodice, forcing her into an unnatural, stiff pose. She wondered if the woman was knotting those threads so tightly to send her a signal. A clear and painful signal.

Another tug gave her all the answers she needed. Just a little more and her ribs would implode. She clenched her teeth and breathed shallowly. She did not understand the need to dress like that, especially since they were traveling and the carriage ride from the Peaks to the Lake of Currents was certainly not the smoothest. But of course she would not discuss this with her mother.

It seemed as if the woman was about to open her mouth wide and vomit a swarm of crazy bats at everyone who crossed her path. Listening to her husband in silence and taking note of his decisions must have taken a lot out of her. "Have you prayed to the gods tonight, my daughter?" Tiona asked her without stopping to beat, pull and knot her torso.

"Yes, Mother."

"Excellent. Fate mocks the faithful and the good-hearted. Our future hangs in the balance. If the Dagger does not return before the next two sunsets, her mission will have been in vain. At that point, we will have to ascend into one of those horrors that roam the skies, knowing little more than the absurd words of the Tamer."

Tiona was right. From what Shadi understood, Darjin would spend most of their time riding, hoping to soon find the confirmation or denial they needed. Of course, she had prayed. "She will do it. Darjin always keeps her word."

"I wish for the same trust, my child, I wish it with all my heart." After a final tug that robbed Shadi of any ability to breathe, Tiona let her go. She took two steps back, inviting her to turn around. She seemed almost pleased with what she saw. "Maybe we have a chance," she judged.

She opened the door of the sleeping car wide and invited Shadi to get out. "Let's get going. Our journey cannot stop now or we might arouse suspicion."

The road wound between towering trees. They seemed to defy the earth into which they sank their roots, ready to take a leap that would take them into the clouds and higher, toward the impossible blue of the winter sky. This vision of unspoiled nature, so alive, so full of colors and smells, helped Shadi to endure the tortures of dressing her mother had imposed on her, and to focus her mind on something other than Darjin's fate and what awaited them all at the Lake of Currents.

The convoy entered the forest. As it moved through the increasingly dense vegetation, the natural light diminished in intensity, blocked by branches and foliage.

Shadi gasped as she heard the carriage stop abruptly. She saw her parents sitting in front of her, exchanging puzzled glances.

Her father pulled aside a curtain and prepared to open the door of the carriage beside him.

A soldier on horseback, the same one who had delivered the Tamer's message the day before, galloped up to them. "My lord, the path is blocked by two fallen old trees. They are too big to move. We are looking for a way around the obstacle."

Leoben interrupted the soldier, "I want to see for myself."

"Of course, my lord. There is more, my lord," the man continued urgently.

"Well?"

"There are other wagons near the obstruction. A convoy heading for Larsa. It seems to be the delegation of Lugalen Rigen."

Hearing that name, Shadi rolled her eyes skyward, wondering why the inside of that carriage had no sharp edge against which to smash her skull.

Kerina, one of the few peers she had truly considered a friend, was Lugalen Rigen's daughter, and of course she had to be in one of those carriages.

"If that is the case," his father replied, "it is my duty to pay tribute to him," he said as he opened the door. "Who knows, maybe we can even test the waters. Perhaps Rigen has heard something useful."

"Do you think that wise, my love? Wouldn't broaching the subject expose us to unpleasant attention?" asked Tiona, her voice resembling the song of an exotic bird.

Shadi was truly disgusted. And also a little admiring. The woman toyed with her father's priorities and temperament like a bored cat tossing a ball of yarn between its paws.

"I'll be careful, my dear. I'll be right back."