The sorceress knelt, skirts and robes pooling perfectly about her, and the winged shadows wrapped up the dim lamplight until only her shards of sky-blue crown tossed away deep darkness. “Are you hungry? Would you eat today?”
Still the prince said nothing.
“There is water,” she said, and a narrow pitcher appeared beside his bare foot. “Flavored with mint and rose petals, just how you like it.”
The prince reached and dipped a single finger over the rim, touching a ripple to the surface of the water.
“Prince, will they discover my secret? Will they notice the thing I sent back to them? Maiden, will they come for you?”
Kirin smiled then—a soft, dark smile. “Nothing will come for me,” he said.
EIGHT
FOR THE FIRST SEVERAL days, Nothing and The Day the Sky Opened traveled easily along the Way of King-Trees. The Way was broad and filled with travelers and merchants heading north into the rain forest. Because of the crowd, Nothing and Sky were ignored entirely. At first the road was paved with bricks and long flagstones, the edges marked by massive pillars of redwood gilded at the top to glow like the sun, with tiny shrines cut into their bases. These pillars were meant to invite the spirits of the King-Trees lining the road farther north to venture south sometimes, protecting the entire Way. Every traveler paused occasionally at one of the small shrines to drip wine or leave the last of their breakfast bun, a flower, or a tiny seed.
To the west of the Way, the land dipped into the floodplains surrounding this royal branch of the Selegan River. Many of the crops had been harvested already, except for redpop and the occasional lines of brilliant green where new beans sprouted for a second harvest. To the east spread wide swaths of grazing fields dotted with cattle and goats. Small towns and farming communities appeared every hour or so as they walked; at the turnoffs and crossroads children sold fresh well water and mint tea, hard cheeses and bread. Spirit shrines climbed over one another in such places, like tiny spirit villages.
Nothing stared at everything like a suspicious puppy, eager to investigate, awed, yet shy of direct contact with strangers. They sometimes stepped off the road to allow a cart to pass that was pulled by flat-horned buffalo or drifted in the wake of a large crowd of pilgrims with their fanned hats. When royal messengers charged by on galloping horses or a company of warriors passed, she and Sky casually hid either among a crowd or off the road. Nothing’s eyes remained wide as she tromped at Sky’s side. If not for the dire circumstances, she might’ve enjoyed the newness and adventure.
They slept at first in crossroads shelters, free to all on foot, so long as each person thanked the fire spirits or the spirits of the foundation. Such shelters were tended to and kept up by servants of the Empress with the Moon in Her Mouth as a gift to her people.
Neither Nothing nor Sky was especially talkative, and so time passed in silence but for Sky’s occasional instruction or quiet explanation of a crossroads custom. Nothing’s mouth turned dry as linen and she had to remember to take drinks of water. The sun burned crisply in the blue skies every morning, and most afternoons rain clouds drifted in to bless them with bright mist and diamond drops before parting in time for a rainbow sunset. Nothing’s wool jacket came in handy for pulling over her head like a hood. She was glad of the sturdy boots that survived all manner of mud. Even with the decent roads and Sky’s knowledge, it was hard walking all day every day. Nothing slept deeply, like a snuffed candle, and woke up sore.
Though they were disinclined to talk on the road, the constant presence of others added to the need for silence. It wouldn’t be right to speak of Kirin or the Sorceress Who Eats Girls where any traveler or trader could overhear. Sometimes Sky took Nothing’s hand without warning or set his arm around her shoulders as they walked, and if she protested, he directed her attention to a fellow traveler darting glances at them. She sighed and leaned into him, or offered a sugary smile as if they were sweethearts. Nothing never noticed such attention before Sky did. She was bad at reading people.
One afternoon at a crossroads shrine Nothing crouched to crumble the last of her cheese into the offering bowl, and a spirit slipped out of the jolly old woman statue tucked in the dark corner. “Hello,” it said.
Nothing blinked, surprised at the forward manner. Spirits seemed shy, but it was just that most people couldn’t hear or see them. The spirits in the palace had been disinclined to talk until Nothing had convinced them she was friendly. Except for the dawn sprites always clamoring for light and attention. Demons were more talkative. The better to persuade you out of your life, she supposed. “Hello,” Nothing whispered back.
The spirit was a scrap of mist shaped exactly like the jolly statue, with cherry-pink cheeks and hair curled into diaphanous clouds. “Do you have something sweet?” it asked.
“You don’t like cheese?”
“Everyone leaves cheese.”
Smiling at the dry tone, Nothing leaned down further. “How about a kiss?”
The spirit eyed her suspiciously. “Keep your teeth away from me.”
Nothing kissed her finger and held it out for the spirit, who opened its mouth in delight and put Nothing’s finger into its mouth up to the first knuckle. The swallowing kiss tickled her, and Nothing wiggled.
“Nothing,” Sky said like a grunt. He grabbed the collar of her outer robe and hauled her up. “Don’t converse with spirits. That will mark you as different faster than a chain of royal moon pearls.”
She scowled and said, “Blessings for your house,” to the spirit as it melted off her finger and pooled back into the lap of its statue.
Then she stormed off, and Sky had to take a few longer strides to catch up. “Tell me what else I should not do, The Day the Sky Opened,” she demanded hotly. “And never drag me around like a child.”
Sky slid her an unperturbed look. “Act like a person, not a goblin.”
But he glanced over his shoulder, and Nothing realized he could see the spirit as easily as she did.
By the sixth day the first of the living King-Trees appeared. Massive trees as wide around as a house, their rough red trunks pointed straight to Heaven, and when a wind blew, small green needles scattered from hundreds of feet up. This was the start of the rain forest, and the Selegan River narrowed, curving west away from the road until it vanished into the misty green forest. There were fewer villages in the rain forest, and those there were no longer pressed up to the road but were set a ways off. Travelers branched out at crossroads until Sky and Nothing were alone more hours than they were not. Even at midday the sun barely penetrated the thick canopy, making daylight gentle and shade green. Wisps of light and seeds and aether fragments floated in the air, birds chirped and yelled across the huge empty spaces here where the King-Trees dominated, and sometimes the ferns shivered with the passing of small creatures.
Nothing said, “It’s like walking inside an emerald.”
And Sky studied her for a long moment before he nodded in solemn agreement.
They’d been traveling for eight days when it happened that they reached no way station nor traveler’s lodging at sunset and Sky had to make a camp for them. Locating a decent clearing was easy, as folk camped frequently. There were even stumps and logs in rings around fire pits built of stone and permanent stakes for tying up an oilcloth shelter against the damp. Sky had such a cloth rolled tightly at the bottom of his bag, and he showed Nothing how to secure it with hemp rope. They gathered armfuls of soft needles from the smaller fir trees that nestled among the King-Trees and made nests of them. Sky quietly taught Nothing to dig for onions and edible bulbs they could roast in a fire, and how and where to cover her waste. He soaked a handful of fallen nuts in a shallow bowl of water gathered from the stream and said in the morning they’d have fresh salmon for breakfast.