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It was the early hours of the afternoon when the shapes of Euphora began to fill the horizon.

They slowed until the horses came to a halt on the edge of a ridge that stood in front of a wide valley and allowed them to view much of the city.

Darjin brought a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the slanting sunlight. She had to admit that the city had taken on different contours in her mind. For a place that mostly welcomed tourists looking for a distraction from the grayness of everyday life, it seemed rather dim and dull. She could not make out the architectural features of the buildings or guess their function from this distance. And it didn't take an experienced builder to see that most of the buildings had barely withstood the passage of time. But perhaps Euphora was one of those gems that could only truly shine in the deceptive light of moon and stars. Who was she to judge?

She read similar doubts in Laamar's eyes.

"How long has it been since you last set foot there?"

He seemed surprised. "A long time. Too much. I was just a child when my mother decided to leave the city and seek her fortune elsewhere. Euphora seems to have changed tremendously. It is almost unrecognizable."

"Was it more prosperous in your time?"

"I don't know if I would call it prosperous. I remember it as busy and noisy. Or maybe my memories have become more deceptive than I imagined."

"Childhood memories are poor guides. But sometimes they are all we have to hold on to. The way your soul chose to remember the city has value, whether you are aware of it or not."

Laamar looked at her as if she had just given him a rare pearl of wisdom. "I think you are right, Dagger."

"You'll have to get used to it."

He smiled. "What if the woman is no longer in the city?" he asked her then, his voice still lost in memories.

Narden of the Eyes, the expert in Ether Arts. The person they desperately needed to communicate with the Ensin from the Red Army.

"We'll find out soon enough," Darjin replied. She spurred the horse and set it down the slope. In the distance, the horizon of Euphora told of splendors as ancient as they were close to oblivion.

The city had three main entrance streets, two of which were framed by tall, arched gates richly decorated with bas-reliefs.

Guided by Laamar's memories, Darjin chose the gate located in the opposite direction from where they had come; a small measure they hoped would partially cover their tracks.

They passed through the city gate and Darjin admired the rich detail of the scenes carved into the golden rock. Mounted warriors armed with long spears clashed with dragons and giants, huge half-man, half-bird creatures spitting flames at their enemies.

"I do not know these legends," Darjin admitted.

"I'm afraid my childhood memories are too tarnished. Perhaps the sorceress of the Ether knows more. We must remember to ask her."

"Sorceress?"

"Narden of the Eyes."

"I understood very well to whom you were referring. I wondered why you called her that."

Laamar sought her gaze. She kept her eyes on the street, on the spice-filled stalls that lined it, and on the hopeful faces of the merchants, eager to praise the uniqueness of their offerings.

"Don't you believe in magic?"

Darjin had never had to answer such a question before. If she had to be honest, she had talked to Laamar more than to anyone else. She was concerned by this fact. "No, I don't."

"What about the gods? Their children? What would you call all the incredible things the Masters can do?"

"You really ask a lot of questions, Laamar."

He laughed. "Aren't you used to it?"

"That's another question."

"Forgive me, Dagger."

She shook her head, annoyed. And amused. Perhaps this bright-eyed, broad-shouldered man deserved some time, in private. But it was too early to think about that. She didn't know what would happen at the Lake of Currents.

But it was not the time to dwell on such reflections. And chatting made them look more like two outsiders looking for entertainment. "I think this world is full of things we don't know and can't explain. To me, that only makes it more fascinating and worth experiencing. I understand that many people are looking for answers, even if they could live better without them. But magic is just a shortcut, a way of naming what doesn't need naming. Not really."

"Your perspective is devastatingly sad."

"Why is that?"

"Because we are explorers. We have questions in our blood and we live to seek answers. If we stopped being curious, what would we be? What would be left of us if we stopped being fascinated by magic?"

Darjin thought about these words. "You are contradicting yourself. Usually those who talk about magic describe it as something ultimately inscrutable. If it is inscrutable, you cannot study it."

"And if you can't study it, you can't prove it's real."

"That's right, Laamar. Magic is never a real possibility. So it cannot offer any. If we men and women are made of questions, then magic is the worst place to look for answers."

The warrior fell silent.

"Have I upset you?"

"Oh, no. You made me think."

"You almost say that like it's a bad thing."

"Not bad. Unusual. Thank you, Dagger."

"I only answered one question. You asked many more."

"I feel it's a great accomplishment."

"My answer?"

"Your attention."

And it was Darjin who remained silent. She felt flattered. It was a feeling that tasted of sugar and pepper at the same time. Pleasant, perhaps too much. "So? Which way?" she cut him off.

MaybeLaamar wanted her to say other words. Darjin could tell by the way he cleared his throat and the tone of his voice. "Let's get to the end of this street, then turn left before the square. If I remember correctly, the neighborhood where Narden of the Eyes lived is in that area."

Darjin nodded. She forced herself to keep her senses focused on her surroundings, then pushed the conversation into a quiet corner of her mind.

Narden of the Eyes. She had to think only of her.

Kerina's voice was impossible to forget. A high-pitched, unmistakable croak.

Shadi heard it from inside the carriage. Until a year ago, the thought of meeting her again filled her with joy. She loved talking to Kerina, listening to her describe her own family life and the future she dreamed of. This girl could give her the burning desire, cultivated with devotion, to run towards the future. She seemed unstoppable. Then the first invitations to the Trials came.

And everything had changed.

"Oh, tell her to come down! What? No, you stand down, sir! And don't you dare tell me what to do. What? You boor, you peasant, you stinking butcher! My noble ass isn't going anywhere until I see my friend! Shadi? Daaarling? "

Shadi imagined Kerina's face and the indignant expression it must have had as she screamed at some poor soldier. It made her smile like she hadn't in a long time.

"Silence the mad crow. Or I swear by all the gods I will break her neck with my bare hands," Tiona groaned. Overcome by one of her legendary headaches that seemed to afflict her with increasing frequency, she rested her forehead on her left hand and blew her face with a fan that was as conspicuous as it was useless.

"As you command, Mother." Shadi stepped out of the carriage, blinded for a few seconds by both the afternoon light and the sight of Kerina. The girl was pressed into a corset that accentuated her full breasts, and her face was made up with brightly colored powders. For a moment, Shadi feared that Kerina would no longer embrace her as she once had. After all, their bond had weakened. Instead, Kerina pushed the soldier out of the way. "There she is! Get out of my way, you stupid bear, I said get outofmyway !"

A blink later, Shadi was suffocating in the girl's embrace. She prayed to the gods that this very strong grip, added to the silent torture of the corset, would not result in a pair of broken ribs. It would be an ignominious end.

They walked along a path lined with low bushes laden with berries. The sunlight gave them small bright spots where the thorns could not hide behind the foliage. These plants knew how to attract the attention of the beings they accepted, while repelling those they had learned to fear.

Shadi wondered if one day she would be able to believe in herself enough, be strong enough, to look like those plants. To succeed in the task her mother had given her, and which she had accepted without a word, she needed to be like those brambles: attractive and dangerous in equal measure. She could not suppress a sigh of fear. Surely Kerina had accepted her responsibilities long ago. In fact, the prospect of participating in the Trials seemed to make her more than enthusiastic.

"How long do you think it will take?" the girl asked her. With her cheeks flushed from the biting wind and her hair pulled back in an elaborate high bun, she beamed with confidence.

"I don't know. But I suspect we won't have to wait long. The Trials await us, and reaching Larsa too late would expose our families in the worst possible way."

"Gods forbid!"

Yes, the gods. And their incredible children.

"Have you ever seen one of them, dear?"

"Are you talking about the Masters?" Shadi asked in reply. She felt the girl's curious gaze, and could almost see the fantasy flickering in her eyes. How long had Kerina entertained the idea of this journey? Shadi realized that she knew too little about what had happened to her lately. Their friendship had thinned to the point of almost disappearing.

"Not me, no. Maybe it's for the best," she chuckled. "I don't know what I'd do if I met the gaze of one of them at the Trials. I think I could melt like snow in the sun."

And she was not exaggerating.

The children of the gods, the Masters, loved and worshipped as gods themselves, were extraordinary creatures.

Shadi did not doubt what she had been taught since childhood. "It is said that their beauty is beyond the imagination of any man or woman who lives in Kenjir," she whispered.

"If the paintings we have scattered around our quarters are true, even a fraction of them," Kerina winked, "then there will be plenty to fill your eyes, my friend. It is said that the three Champions are beautiful beyond belief.

"Probably any Master, Champion or not, would have the same effect on us. After all, these beings rule and guide our world. They are so far beyond our reach that we may not be able to appreciate what makes them so unique," Shadi admitted.

"I have my doubts. I may not be an expert when it comes to gods, but I know what I like. For example, the day before yesterday I caught a glimpse of our head stableman's new apprentice, and may the gods forgive me, I had never seen such a well-made piece of..."

"Kerina!"

"I'm just telling the truth!" the girl defended herself, her voice squeaky with laughter and her cheeks even redder with mischief. "All that muscle mass..."

"Kerina!" Shadi groaned. She put her hands to her ears. "Stop, please," she begged, but all she could do was laugh. It was liberating, making her lungs feel full and her head feel light for the first time in a long time.

"It's good to hear you laugh," Kerina told her. She took Shadi's hands. She was still smiling, but there was a note of uncertainty in her eyes. "I thought you were mad at me. We never wrote again and I thought maybe I opened my big mouth too much and offended you in some way." She bit her lower lip.

Shadi was pierced by her confession. And she regretted not having found a way to tell her what was on her mind and poisoning her soul. She had locked herself in a stubborn, moody silence from which it had seemed impossible to escape. And when she had tried to set things right, the result had been disastrous. She thought of Norain, the last words they had exchanged, the last moments they had spent together.

But maybe the gods would give her a second chance. "It's not your fault, Kerina. It was a very hard time for me. I isolated myself from everyone and everything and ended up getting hurt. I am very sorry if you were worried about me. I am a very bad friend."

Kerina squeezed her hands harder. "Don't talk nonsense! It happens to everyone to go through dark times, and only the gods know how many sleepless nights I caused my parents with that story of Larsa and the Trials."

She'd been so blind. Shadi felt even more foolish and incompetent, so focused on her own torment that she ignored those of others. "I guess the invitation has turned so many families upside down," she reflected in a whisper.

"Not so many, my friend. I heard that the selection process was more rigorous than ever. I did not think my family would be called. When I heard, I reacted in a way that surprised me first."

Shadi did not doubt it. Not anymore. "I understand you, Kerina. This journey opens an infinite number of perspectives for us."

"But it may also close as many. If I am successful, I can join one of the three Households. But I will have to give up so much. No healing arts, no shelters for orphans."

Shadi sighed. Kerina's dreams and aspirations were what had made the girl so attractive in her eyes from the beginning. Ever since they had met, she had filled her ears with such noble and admirable intentions that they had seemed impossible. Where her peers sought romance, Kerina planned charity. Where other girls sought personal and social validation, she preached selflessness. Yet she had seemed so different the last time they had spoken.

"If I return to my lands empty-handed, who will trust me? And even if I wanted to roll up my sleeves and carry on with all my plans, who would listen to me? They would just see me as one of the many rejected girls."

With a knot in her throat, Shadi struggled to look resolute enough for both of them. "I believe in you, Kerina. I believe in your courage and the goodness of your heart. I know you will make the right choices. You will improve the lives of all who cross your path. No matter where. Whether your future is in Larsa or in the middle of the desert, you will continue to be an exceptional person."

And so Shadi found herself once again in the arms of her friend, who, overwhelmed with emotion, was crying and sobbing so loudly that a pair of birds flew off the branches on which they were perched.

"Oh Shadi, you are so kind!" she cried.

As they walked back to the wagons, Kerina told her of her arguments with her father and how he had forced her to limit contact with her peers. Lugalen Rigen kept telling her to think of them as competitors.

"According to him, our friendship no longer counts for anything! As if we were enemies! How idiotic!" she groaned.

Shadi put a hand around her elbow and walked arm in arm with her. "That's why my mother and your father get along so well."

"I'm afraid you're right. They are cut from the same cloth, and unfortunately, there's a good chance that's the case with all the other young women of marriageable age who are flocking to the gates of the capital."

Shadi nodded. She felt Kerina pause, then her gaze. She was on the verge of tears again, but solemn.

"Let us make a promise to each other."

"Anything you want, my friend." Shadi felt guilty. She was ready to accept any request without asking questions.

"I promise that no matter what happens, my behavior at the celebrations will never reflect badly on you. I will not act against your or your family's interests, even if it means risking mine. I swear it on my life, Shadi."

"And I promise you the same, my friend."

It was Shadi who took the girl into her arms and held her so tightly that she choked back laughter and tears. They stayed like that until Shadi felt pain. They walked on in silence, holding hands until their respective convoys were in sight. In those moments, all she could think about was how to say goodbye to Kerina Rigen, a newfound sister.

Then the unnatural silence. The glacial stillness. The absence of the industrious hordes of soldiers and orderlies focused on finding a way to clear the passage.

And then those strange noises.

They sounded like whistles. But they were not.

The hiss of the arrows became clear in her mind as darkness filled her eyes.

Then Kerina began to scream.

The building was several stories high and seemed to extend beyond the confines of the facade Darjin was watching. It had been built by stacking bricks of the same golden-colored stone she had seen in the archway at the entrance to the city, just as weathered and time-tested. On the ground floor was a tavern. The pungent smells and the faint buzz of its patrons told of a place that still appealed to its clientele. Not to Darjin's nose and ears.

"Is this the place?" she asked Laamar.

He nodded, then looked up at the terrace on the third floor.

"She lived up there. We have to go through the tavern to get to the stairs."

"Who says so?"

He hesitated, but then followed the line of Darjin's gaze and saw what she was hinting at. The right edge of the terrace was less than a few fathoms from the roof of the neighboring building. Darjin had tried far more dangerous jumps countless times.

"Let's find a place to tie up the horses. One that's easy to reach if we have to leave the building quickly."

Laamar smiled. "What are you afraid of?"

"I am not afraid, Laamar Lutif. But this is the kind of mission one rarely accomplishes without drawing weapons."

"I feel compelled to remind you that we can still choose to cross the room, walk up the stairs and knock like normal people, Dagger."

"We don't have time for normal."

"I knew you would react this way. But also remember that by breaking in, we will frighten Narden. She may refuse to cooperate."

"I have heard more tongues loosen out of fear than out of good hearts, warrior. Are you perhaps the one who is afraid?"

"I do not know the meaning of that word."

"Fine. I bet you'll be the first to flee, such is your courage."

"You really want to insult me."

"Will you back down?"

"Never."

They left the steeds in an alley a block away, then walked around the building where Narden lived, down the parallel street and into a narrow alley where the sunlight cast sharp shadows. They paused near the building next door. Darjin scanned its back facade for entrances, details and elements to consider how to use it.

"This is a house. Probably occupied by a family," Laamar commented.

She found herself agreeing with him. The windows and balconies, all in good condition and much cleaner than those in the building next door, were of the same style and finish. A rarity in the chaotic landscape of Euphora. "Two floors and an attic. They are connected by the same internal staircase. If we tried to go through there, we might cause a ruckus."

"And Narden will get suspicious," Laamar exhaled.

"Come on, big boy, a good climb never killed anybody."

"Big boy?"

Darjin laughed softly in return, then walked over to the wall and stroked its surface. It was rough and uneven. It seemed to be just waiting for her to master it.

"All right, you win, lead the way."

She nodded and stepped back until her shoulders touched the wall on the other side of the alley. She took a deep breath, stretched her fingers, winked at Laamar, and sprinted toward the wall. She jumped and touched a ledge, little more than a frieze, barely a few fingers wide, with the tip of her left foot. The speed and force she put into the gesture propelled her upward. Like a cat capable of clawing even alabaster, Darjin clung to a drainpipe that ran the length of the side of the building, then to the lower edge of a narrow balcony. She did not turn, did not stop, but felt the exhalation of wonder from Laamar's lungs.

Climbing over the top of an inlaid column, she hoisted herself onto the narrow space that separated her from the edge of the roof, and the small sloping surface of tiles opened to her gaze. The terrace of Narden of the Eyes was nearby, beyond the empty space of an alley.

"You are amazing, Dagger," Laamar gasped, wiping his forehead as he inhaled sharply.

"Don't flatter me. You were good yourself."

"Never as good as you. What I've heard isn't a rumor or even a legend. You really climbed that wall like it was as easy as sipping wine."

Darjin shrugged. She had no idea how to react to his astonishment. Or to his compliments, for that matter. But she could appreciate the humility of this dark-skinned, light-eyed muscle mountain. At first glance, she would never have credited him with such an accommodating spirit. "I thought it would be harder for you to follow me up here. You have done well, Laamar Lutif," she told him as she walked faster and faster toward the edge.

Even then, she did not need to look at the man's face to hear the wonder in his breath, especially as she reached the edge of the roof and soared through the air.

Darjin used the inertia created by the jump to bend over, bringing her knees to her chest and knotting herself into a tight somersault. A heartbeat later, she was rolling on the terrace floor. The next, she was back on her feet. She turned toward the roof just as Laamar leaped over the ledge. The warrior's body lacked grace, but it was full of power. He slammed into the pavement and lost his balance. But the force he had put into the leap created a reverberation that could have been clearly felt by anyone on the terrace.

"So much for the element of surprise," he muttered.

Darjin decided to hurry. She crossed the terrace at a brisk pace and made her way to the only available opening, a wide wooden door divided into three panels.

She had almost reached it when it opened wide.

Shadi remained very still, unable to react to the cold that gripped her hands and feet and threatened to mow down her ability to stand.

She held her breath. The sounds faded, Kerina's screams muffled. She noticed that someone was trying to cover the girl's mouth. And someone else had pulled a hood over her head.

Biting her tongue almost to the point of bleeding, she felt strong arms, too strong for her to free herself, around her hips and chest. Suddenly her feet stopped touching the floor and the inky world that filled her eyes lost all connection to the reality it had replaced. They had lifted her off the ground as if she were a dried blade of grass clinging to already dead roots.

There was confusion, a superimposition of metallic clashes, muffled groans and shouts of protest. It was an armed confrontation, Shadi was sure of it. Just as she was sure it was far away.

She wondered what fate had befallen her parents and Kerina's family. Who had dared to attack a Lugalen's convoy? And what would they do with her? Whoever it was did not want her dead, at least not immediately. Why else would they cover her face and, as far as she could tell, taken her prisoner?

She walked, slamming her back against a rough surface. Doors creaked on poorly oiled hinges. A man spurred a horse, whipped it urgently.

A carriage. It was leaving in a hurry. She squinted and tried to lean on the floor of the wagon with her elbows. It was almost a relief to hear the crying next to her. She could recognize those sobs anywhere.

It was Kerina. And she was not alone.

In the next few moments, two, three, four other people she could not see burst into tears.

All women. All young.