White River Castle was named not for a river, but for the moat of seashells that surrounded its grounds. Behind it was the ageless Forest of the Wounded Bird, and beyond that, the bleak and brutal Mount Tego. A year before their Choosing Day, all apprentices had been challenged to climb to the top of that peak, where the spirit of the great Kwiriki was said to descend to bless the worthy.
Of all the apprentices from the South House, Tané alone had made it to the summit. Half-frozen, beset with mountain sickness, she had crawled up the last slope, retching blood on to the snow.
She had not been human in that final hour. Just a paper lantern, thin and wind-torn, clinging to the flickering remnants of a soul. Yet when there was no more to climb, and she had looked up and seen nothing but the terrible beauty of the sky, she had found the strength to rise. And she had known the great Kwiriki was with her, within her.
At this moment, that feeling had never felt so far away. She was the tattered lantern again. Barely alive.
She was not sure how long they had kept her in the jailhouse. Time had become a bottomless pool. She had lain with her hands cupped over her ears, so all she could hear was the sea.
Then other hands had loaded her into a palanquin. Now she was escorted past a guardhouse, into a room with a high ceiling and walls painted with scenes from the Great Sorrow, and then on to a roofed balcony.
The Governor of Ginura dismissed her soldiers. She stood tall, her gaze crisp with distaste.
“Lady Tané,” she said coolly.
Tané bowed and knelt on the mats. The title already sounded like something from another life.
Outside, a sorrower called out. Its hic-hic-hic, like a grizzling child, was said to have driven an empress mad. Tané wondered if it would break her, too, if she listened hard enough.
Or perhaps her mind was already lost.
“Several days ago,” the Governor said, “a prisoner incriminated you in a most serious crime. He was smuggled into Seiiki from Mentendon. In accordance with the Great Edict, he was put to death.”
A head on the gate, hair stiff with blood.
“The prisoner told magistrates in Cape Hisan that when he arrived here, a woman found him on the beach. He described the scar beneath her eye.”
Tané pressed her clammy palms to her thighs.
“Tell me,” the Governor continued, “why an apprentice with a spotless record, who was raised from nothing, who was given the rare opportunity to be god-chosen, would risk everything—including the safety of every citizen of this island—by doing this.”
It took Tané a long time to find her voice. She had left it in a bloodstained ditch.
“There were whispers. That those who broke seclusion would be rewarded. Just once, I wanted to be fearless. To take a risk.” She sounded nothing like herself. “He . . . came out of the sea.”
“Why did you not report it to the authorities?”
“I thought the ceremony would not proceed. I thought the port would be closed, the gods kept out. That I would never ride.”
How craven it sounded. How selfish and senseless. When she had explained it to Nayimathun, her dragon had understood. Now the shame of it was crushing.
“He seemed like a message. Sent from the gods.” She could hardly speak. “I was too fortunate. All my life, the great Kwiriki was too good to me. Every day, I have waited for his favor to disappear. When the outsider came, I knew it was time. But I was not ready. I had to . . . sever his connection to me. Hide him away until I had what I wanted.”
All she could see was her hands, fingernails bitten raw, knurled with faint scars.
“The great Kwiriki has favored you, Lady Tané.” The Governor sounded almost pitying. “Had you made a different choice that night, that favor might still be yours.”
The bird outside, hic-hic-hic. A child that could never be soothed.
“Susa was innocent, honored Governor,” Tané said. “I forced her to help me.”
“No. We interrogated the sentinel she convinced to let her into Orisima. She was a willing participant. Loyal to you above Seiiki.” The Governor pressed her lips together. “I am aware that a dragon requested clemency for her. Unfortunately, the news reached me too late.”
“Nayimathun,” Tané whispered. “Where is she?”
“That brings me to the second, even more serious matter. Close to dawn, a group of hunters landed in Ginura Bay.”
“Hunters?”
“The Fleet of the Tiger Eye. The great Nayimathun of the Deep Snows was . . . taken.”
All sensation drained from Tané. Her hands clammed into fists.
“The High Sea Guard will do its utmost to retrieve her, but it is rare that our gods are spared the butchery that awaits them in Kawontay.” The Governor tightened her jaw for a moment. “It pains me to say it, but the great Nayimathun is most likely beyond our reach.”Tané trembled.
Her stomach was a poison in her. She tried not to imagine what Nayimathun must be suffering. The thought of it was so unbearable that her vision swam and her lips quaked.
She was doomed, and she had nothing and no one left to lose. Perhaps, in this final act, she could leach some of the corruption out of Seiiki with her.
“There is someone else involved,” she said quietly. “Roos. A surgeon from Orisima. He tried to blackmail me. Told me to bring him dragon scales and blood for his work. He has nothing moral or good in him.” Heat pricked her eyes. “He must have helped them take the great Nayimathun. Let him hurt no other dragons. Let him face justice.”
The Governor considered her for some time.
“Roos has been reported as missing,” she finally said. Tané stared. “He went to the beach last night, according to his friends. We think he may have escaped the island.”
If Roos was with the Fleet of the Tiger Eye, he was already dead. A man like him would soon cross the wrong person.
It brought Tané no comfort. Her enemy was gone, but so was her dragon. So was her friend. And so was the dream she had never deserved.
“I made a mistake.” It was all she had left. “A terrible mistake.”
“You did.”
Silence gaped between them.
“By rights, you should be executed,” the Governor told her. “Your self-interest and greed could have destroyed Seiiki. Out of respect for the great Nayimathun, however, and for what you could have been, I will show mercy on this day. You will live out your days on Feather Island. There, you may learn to serve the great Kwiriki well.”
Tané stood and bowed, and the soldiers took her back to the palanquin. She had thought she would beg or weep or ask forgiveness, but in the end, she felt nothing.
