“You should come with us. We can get you to Z’rasie safely.”
Naavah Ora looked distant, her eyes unfocused, but after a few seconds she nodded. “Fine. But only until Z’rasie.”
Doran grinned. “Only until Z’rasie.”
I never cared for a human's understanding before. I've never needed it, from my kind or yours. But perhaps being asleep for so long—sharing a soul for so long—has made me weak.
Chapter 29
Naavah Ora
Naavah Ora sat by the small window in the room she’d rented and looked out over the market. It wasn’t so intimidating from all the way up here. The masses had thinned, and it was easier to find her way around.
The alley she had walked into, hoping to get away from the crowd.
The crooked elven merchant with the fake books.
The place where, for the first time in her life, she hadn’t known how to react, and where Doran had saved her few possessions.
If she’d been on the road, it would have been easy. She knew so many spells that could freeze an opponent, and had even learned a couple which could outright control people. Her grandmother hadn’t been impressed when she’d found out and forbade Naavah Ora from using them. She’d never controlled anyone—she had only ever practised the spell on squirrels and mice—but she understood her grandmother’s worry. She wouldn’t take free will away from anyone, but if she had to defend herself, if she were mugged or attacked…
What were the laws in this city? Back home, magic was everywhere. She felt it in the air, in the soil beneath her bare feet, and in the trees. She heard it in the rustling of the leaves and the singing of birds. But here it was quiet, nothing more than a faint whisper. Humans didn’t use magic as much, but it still surprised her how little of it there was. Perhaps Alt Võina was a bad example. She didn’t want to make more problems for herself by using something the people were likely scared of—or not used to, at least. Until she knew more about Vaska, she wouldn’t know what to do.
She got up from her spot by the window and lay down on her bed. It was a small room, and all she could afford. Besides the bed, there was a wardrobe that hid—badly—a spot where the wallpaper had peeled off, and a small wash basin she dreaded using. She wasn’t squeamish, but it was dirty either from rust or dried blood, she wasn’t sure. Doran had offered to help, but she’d refused. He had done enough for her already. For 840 too. He saw her as a child who knew nothing of the world; maybe he was right. She could be responsible with her money at least.
Doran had made her promise to close and lock the window at night. She hated sleeping with the windows shut, but if today had proven anything to her it was that she didn’t understand the city, while Doran did. She had locked her window as well as the flimsy lock allowed, and had placed a spell over it for good measure. She’d been almost mugged enough times for one day.
She undressed and changed into the thin nightgown she’d taken with her. In the morning, they’d meet up in Doran’s room and discuss what to do next. Travelling with him would be safer than travelling alone, and Z’rasie was a long way away yet. She didn’t doubt the roads were dangerous, but she feared the cities more. She felt stupid and childish for being intimidated by something like that, but perhaps admitting one’s fears was a bravery in its own right. Her grandmother had always said as much. She finally understood.
“Valynaan, give me strength.” Praying to her warrior goddess would have been too much under normal circumstances, but this was an unknown situation. Being cheated by one of her own people had shown her this was more of a battle than she’d anticipated. Who better to lead her through it?
She doubted she’d be able to sleep. She was used to feeling the breeze on her skin as she drifted off. On the few rare occasions when she hadn’t been able to sleep, her grandmother had opened the mists for her, or they’d practised new spells together. She didn’t dare try either now—not after what had happened in the forest. She didn’t need to know the specifics of human magic laws to know that possessed spirits weren’t welcome.
If they were to travel together, Naavah Ora would have to tell Doran everything. He hadn’t pressed her again about what had happened in the forest, he had got her this far, and he had stopped the thief who’d have stolen her book. He hadn’t asked about Ceallach an Eòlas again either, but she knew he’d wanted to. She owed him, and if they really were going to go as far as Z’rasie together then he had to know. She wouldn’t try to open the gateway to Dunhă here, in this inn, but sooner or later she would have to practise. If something went wrong again and more corrupted spirits came through—or worse yet, if the corruption spread into this world and the war against the Dread King began in earnest—then Doran would need to know what to do.
He deserved a chance to walk away from it all before he got too involved to leave.
I don’t regret what I've done. I regret that there was no other way.
Chapter 30
Doran
“Are you all right?” Doran sat opposite Levi, who was staring out the window. He looked distant. After the day they’d had, Doran wasn’t ready to lose him again. Ginger had opened up twice now, once in the forest and once in the market. Ginger had shared more beyond those two memories, too—Doran knew Levi’s name. Cutting his palms had meant something to him. After all that, Doran didn’t want him to distance himself.
Levi nodded. “I am. Thank you.” He took his eyes away from the city below and focused his gaze on Doran. “You ask this a lot, whether we’re okay. Why do you care?”
“You cut your palms, Ginger, and now you’re staring into the darkness. I’d say the question is justified.”
Ancients, did he really ask that often? Why did he care?
“Is that all you see when you look outside at night?”
“Shadows and thieves? Yes. What else is there?”
Levi smiled, as if Doran had given him precisely what he’d wanted. “Look.” Levi pointed at the pale first stars peeking through late dusk. Doran looked, but found nothing.
“What am I searching for?” He moved over a little in case it was hidden behind the wall.
“Anything you like. My mum used to say—” Levi stopped. His breaths came faster, and Doran remained silent. If he pushed him now, Levi could shut down again. Doran hadn’t expected this kind of conversation, least of all from Ginger, but he wasn’t prepared to undo the progress they’d made just because he was curious. Levi gripped the windowsill, his knuckles white. The longer he focused on the stars, the more his breathing calmed.
“She used to say the stars are souls that have moved on. My grandfather died when I was a child. I didn’t understand what had happened, but Mama said he was one of the many stars now, looking down to watch over us. She said—”
His breathing quickened again.
“It’s okay,” Doran said. “You don’t have to remember this much right now. It’s been a long day, you should get some sleep before tomorrow.”
Levi didn’t take his eyes off the evening sky. “She said the sorcerer’s lights are spirits on their way to the afterlife, and the stars are spirits that have moved on. I loved watching them. The three of us spread blankets outside the house in the grass, and we stayed up all night watching the lights colour the sky.” Levi’s eyes had glazed over, and a small smile played on his lips. He looked happy. Doran couldn’t take his eyes off him. “Do you have sorcerer’s lights here, in Vaska?”