She seemed to understand. “I’m not going to leave you. Whatever is happening to you, it is against your will.”
My mouth tasted bitter. “I don’t think even Edan can help me now.”
“He can,” Ammi insisted. “Keep your faith. If you can’t, then I will for you.”
I said nothing. I couldn’t even thank her.
“We should go now.” She lowered her voice, which quivered when she spoke, “People saw your carpet, and those two men—the ones with the Northern accents—they’ve started asking everyone questions about you.”
I went still, remembering the two who’d commented on the fire earlier. So they were the shansen’s men.
“You’d be safer without me,” I told Ammi.
“I can’t go back to the palace.” She was afraid; I could hear it in the unsteadiness of her words. But she lifted her chin bravely. “Maybe I would be safer, but you wouldn’t be. This isn’t a fight you win alone, Maia. Until you’re reunited with the Lord Enchanter, I will take care of you.”
“Then, let’s go.” The carpet had returned to me, and I unrolled it, holding it up. It juddered and shook before it finally lifted, hovering just above the rain accumulating at my ankles.
But as Ammi jumped onto the carpet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d be safer here, that I should insist that she stay.
You do need her, I reassured myself again. You need a friend.
But you might hurt her.
It chilled me that I couldn’t tell whether the voice was mine or the demon’s inside me.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The storm followed us. Ribbons of lightning streaked across the darkened sky, and thunder boomed in long, shuddering rolls. It was hard not to think of Bandur’s laughter as Ammi and I wove through the clouds, but I had other concerns. We had little money and no food. Worse, both Khanujin’s soldiers and the shansen’s were looking for me.
Ammi slept, curled into a small ball on her side of the carpet.
I left her alone, grateful she was finding rest, while a part of me envied her peace. Even if I were able to sleep, my mind wouldn’t let me rest. I couldn’t stop reliving my last conversation with Edan.
Meet me in the forest with the poplar trees. I’ll find you.
The forest wasn’t much of a detour on the way to Lapzur. I could easily stop there with a few days to spare—as long as the magic in my carpet didn’t run out.
So why did I hesitate? I wanted to see him. Gods knew I did.
And yet…Bandur had agreed too easily to let me bring Edan. Far too easily.
I gripped the ends of my sleeves tight, twisting their burnt edges with my fingers.
Who would I even be by the end of the fortnight? Someone who couldn’t feel love? Someone who couldn’t be loved?
I felt more of myself slipping away. No matter how hard I tried to hold on to my memories, they were like water, leaking through the seams of my fingers. When I thought of Edan, I remembered how my name on his tongue would send a rush of warmth and joy surging through me, but I couldn’t remember how it felt to touch him. I couldn’t even remember what his voice sounded like.
It wasn’t just Edan. Baba and Keton, too. Soon their drawings in my sketchbook would not be enough to remind me how much I loved them.
Dawn touched the threads of my carpet, its misty rays illuminating the world below. The rain was finally abating, and I lifted my cloak to glance at Ammi. Her eyebrows pinched together in a restless sleep, her cheeks flushed in spite of the cold.
I laid my palm against her forehead. “Demon’s breath,” I muttered. She was burning up. “Ammi?”
She rolled her head to the side, shivering under her damp cloak.
“Hmmm,” she slurred. “Let me sleep.”
I had to get her somewhere warm and dry. But where?
We were flying over a cluster of sandstone pillars; the mist-covered landscape extended for miles of gorges and ravines, the cascades of rushing waterfalls so far below they looked like a painting. I squinted, making out a large city ahead, not far away. From the unusual landscape, I guessed it was Nissei, one of the richest cities in A’landi.
Nissei sat on the south bank of the Changi River, surrounded by the famous Sand Needle Forests. Although it wasn’t along the Spice Road, many merchants came to trade for its famed porcelain. It was said that the secrets of bone china rivaled the secrets of silk, and certainly, since porcelain was so valuable, every child in Nissei learned to paint china before learning to write.
I was wary of stopping in such a busy city, but there was no time to search for a better option. The storm had relented, but more dark clouds gathered on the horizon. And Nissei was in the Bansai Province.
“Master Longhai’s home,” I murmured to myself. He had always been kind to me, even though we’d been competing against each other to become His Majesty’s tailor. He would take us in.
If I could find him.
It was early enough that fishermen were still coasting the river, so I landed the carpet near an empty part of the port.
“Ammi,” I said, hoisting her arms around my neck. “Ammi, I’m going to take you to see Master Longhai.”
I dragged her to one of the side streets and yelled for the first wagon I saw, pulled by two mules and driven by a boy with a straw hat and dirty fingernails.
“What’s wrong with your friend?” the boy asked.
He wouldn’t take her if he knew she was sick. Big cities feared plague, and with winter near, people were bound to be more vigilant.
“Too much to drink,” I lied, forcing a hearty laugh. “I need to get him home. Master Longhai will be so worried. Could you stop by his shop?”
The boy frowned. “I’m not going into the city….” Then his eyebrows rose at the thought of a reward from the wealthy tailor. “But I suppose I could make a detour.”
I was already loading Ammi onto the wagon.
I pretended to sleep so the driver wouldn’t ask me any more questions, but I stole glances at the city when he wasn’t looking. Cobblestone streets, washed clean by the rain, with curly green moss growing between the stones, brick houses with wooden balconies decked with strings of lanterns, a serpentine canal whose stench offended my nostrils.
Imperial scrolls hung on every street, but we moved too fast for me to read them. I tensed, hoping they weren’t posters seeking my whereabouts. Or Edan’s.
Finally, we arrived in front of Longhai’s shop. A board hanging on the door announced that he was not open for business this week.