Followed by Fros(64)

When Aamina came the next day, she told me Lo had left Mac’Hliah for Djmal, where Faida awaited him.





CHAPTER 26





I turned to the last page of Garen’s Wish, its string-bound papers crinkled and yellow. It was an old book, well worn, its bindings not the original. A book read multiple times, pages torn in a few places, likely by an eager child’s hands. Perhaps it had belonged to Lo’s mother and she had read it countless nights to him and his siblings.

The story was about a boy who had everything—a big house, clothes in every color, enough food to last a lifetime, toys, family, everything—but he wasn’t happy, and he didn’t know why. To cheer him up, his mother bought him a wooden doll that separated in the middle to reveal a smaller doll, which separated to reveal a smaller and a smaller. When Garen opened the last doll, a genie appeared before him and offered him one wish. But Garen didn’t use the wish right away. He wanted to know the “wish of his heart”: the one thing that would make him happy. However, because his heart could not speak, Garen could not hear what it wanted.

After days of tribulation, he went to the genie and asked to know the wish of his heart. This was a risk, for if the one thing Garen needed to be happy was unattainable by ordinary means, he would never have it, for he would have already used his one wish. Still, it was a risk he was willing to take.

The genie obliged, and Garen learned the wish of his heart: to be unburdened. Garen thought hard on this, and in the end, he gave away all his clothes, fine food, and toys until he was very poor, but because of the joy his generosity brought the community, he made lifetime friends and found happiness.

I stared at the last page, to a passage highlighted with smeared charcoal. For happiness has wings, and when burdened by the things a man should want, Garen could not reach it.

It was the only marked passage in the book, and I wondered who had underlined it and how long ago. I thought perhaps Lo had drawn attention to those words before giving the book to me. Maybe they had been his favorite as a child. Maybe he had intended it as a message for me. A week had passed since Aamina had brought the news of his departure for Djmal. I wondered if he had married Faida, or if he were still preparing for the ceremony. I was glad for him, truly. Happiness had wings; I could only hope to be the wind that helped him fly.

Rhono left a package at my door that included a letter from Imad himself, sealed with blue wax and stamped with the image of a spider. He had the best handwriting I had ever seen, each letter perfectly tilted and shaped. The hand of a king, asking me if I would once more rendezvous at the palace to make the journey to Kittat, Ir, and Shi’wanara and bring them water for the spring crops. My first impulse was to say yes, for I would do anything for Imad, but I admit my second thought was for that conversation I’d had with Sadriel—for those whom my cold had hurt, killed.

Pinching the letter in my hands, I took a deep breath and nodded to myself. I would go. Further precautions could be made this time, and the water helped so many. Surely Imad knew of the dangers that lurked with my curse, but it was his duty to protect his country as a whole. I could not let Zareed wither in a drought for fear of harming a few. Perhaps this time, all would be well.

In honesty, I was eager for the trip. I needed something to occupy my time, and I needed space from Mac’Hliah and its memories. This time, the trek would not be led by Lo. Zareedian weddings involved a great deal of pomp and circumstance, or so Aamina had told me, and it was likely I would not see Lo for a month or more. If nothing else, the journey would give me more time to heal.

A few days later Eyan and Qisam braved my storm to retrieve me. After wrapping my things in my woven blanket, I mounted Leikah and rode into the city.

I had not been in Mac’Hliah since the Nameday Festival. The lanterns had been stripped from the eaves of the buildings, and the civilians donned their normal garb, which still looked brighter and grander than most holiday wear in Euwan. Very few people crossed themselves as I rode by this time. Most continued on their way without taking particular notice of the clouds or the cold, and a few even cheered or clapped at the sight of me. One bearded man called out, “Praise the gods, it is damned hot out here!”

I laughed, but not as boldly as Eyan did. He slapped his thigh as though that were the funniest thing he had ever heard.

“You are coming again, aren’t you?” I asked as we weaved through the market, Qisam riding just ahead of us to part the crowds.

“I’m in charge,” Eyan said with a wide, toothy grin. “I think we’ll head south first, to Shi’wanara. Get the grumpy ones out of the way and finish with the pleasant. Then the ride back to the capital won’t be so long.”

“Genius,” I said.

“I’m still trying to figure out what to do wrong,” he added, scratching at stubble along his jaw. “I’d hate to break a camel’s leg or get a soldier lost, so I’ll need to get creative.”

I eyed him and shivered. “Wrong?”

“I’m worried I’ll be promoted. I spend enough time at work as it is!”

Shaking my head, I chuckled at him, glad for his good humor. I still nursed a sore hollowness within me, but at least Eyan would help me take my mind off it.

“Perhaps you should get food poisoning in Ir,” I offered.

Eyan snapped his fingers. “And have Qisam lead the party home! Then he’ll get promoted and I can stay comfortable. There’s Northlander smarts, right there.”