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CHAPTER

Fifty-Five

T HE HEAT HAD been building all day. A dry, furnace wind blasted through the square, so rare for the island that it felt uncanny. Perhaps it was. Beyond the perimeter walls, the sea was still and flat. The Leviathans anchored in its waters were like paintings against the sky. Nothing stirred. Only here, in the Festival Square, did the wind scorch the air.

This was the weather of Helia. The weather of Dragons.

The Visitor entered the square to silence. He was clean-shaven, his grey hair cropped even shorter than usual. The crowd watched him as they might a viper winding purposely across their path.

They had seen little of him in the last few days, not since his enforced separation from his contingent. The Dragons had withdrawn to their rooms in protest, Jadu and the Visitor in the eighth palace, the rest still hosted in the temple. When he reached the pavilion, he took his place at the end of a line that did not exist. Cain was huddled on the floor in the shade, as far from Neema as possible. Ruko was meditating on his knees, preparing himself for the fight of his life. The invisible wall he had built around himself was even thicker than usual; no one went near him.

They were waiting for Tala and Shal, not that the Visitor asked. Tala had brought her anger and frustration with her to the fight, landing Shal in the medical tent with a broken collarbone and a couple of cracked ribs. The medics would not allow him back on the platform to fight Cain. This next fight would be the last of the day. The one everyone had been waiting for since the Festival began. Tiger versus Dragon.

Cain got to his feet, and approached the Visitor. The Dragon Proxy’s eyes were closed, his face serene. He had entered a quiet place, a temple hush within him.

“You knew,” Cain said. “Ever since I ate that poisoned stew. You knew what was wrong with me.”

“There is nothing wrong with you,” the Visitor murmured. “You are what you are.”

“You treated me differently on the platform. I couldn’t understand it then, but now I do. You were afraid of me.”

The Visitor opened his eyes. “I do not fear you, Cain Ballari. But I respect the great power you contain.”

Cain clutched the sigil on his chest—half-moon, half-sun. “How do I get rid of it?”

Somewhere deep and intangible, a pair of ears twitched. A yellow eye opened wide. A set of claws raked down his soul. What is this now, dear one? You would get rid of me …?

The Visitor made a swift, snaking sign of the eight; a rare flash of alarm. “You do not. You must make peace with your… guest. Restore the balance.”

“What if I can’t?”

The Visitor closed his eyes again. “Then it will destroy you.”

Tala and Shal returned to the black silk pavilion. Shal’s arm was in a sling. Tala looked at it, shamefaced. They were both sweating profusely from the short walk. “It’s deadly out there,” Shal said. “Like a blast from a blacksmith’s forge.” He poured himself some water, held it to his lips, then tipped it over his head instead.

There was a jagged energy to the pavilion. No one liked Ruko much. No one liked the Visitor either. But still. Two would walk out, one would come back. Neema found herself sizing them up, those two very different warriors, then stopped herself with a shiver.

Ruko strode barefoot into the broiling heat. The Visitor glided after him. He could not draw on the powers that had protected him for most of his life. Ruko was half his age and twice his size. But this heat. This heat would surely favour the Dragon Proxy.

“Who do you think will win?” Cain asked the line. No one answered. Because what he was really asking was, Who do you think will die?

“You should pray for them, Shal,” Tala said. “You’re the most faithful among us.” Her voice was tentative—still feeling guilty for the way she’d treated him on the platform.

Shal took a long time to answer. They knew why he struggled. He could never forgive Ruko for what he’d done to Yana. And yet his faith told him he must find compassion, even for his enemies. “I shall pray that death is swift, and painless,” he said, eventually. It was the best he could do.