“We’re going to Nadjaa,” his voice is a hot whisper against my neck, and I suddenly can’t remember why I was angry, “the moon city.”
ChapterTwenty-One
Mirren
The next few days are a blur of hard travel and cold nights. Dahiitii is strong and we ride fast, only stopping when the moon is highest to get a few hours’ sleep. Shaw directs us over meadows with long, amber grasses that sparkle in the sunshine, across rushing streams and in and out of a forest whose trees seem to whisper in recognition of the magic that touched his skin.
After the first few hours of stubborn silence, my curiosity about Ferusa wins out over my need to punish Shaw’s unpleasantness. He tells me stories of the old magic, of people flying wherever they wished and building towers that reached the clouds. He tells me of the old gods, a race borne of magic and nature, that spent their time warring with each other and tricking humans. It’s too fantastical to be true, but Shaw weaves his words into a comforting and alluring melody, and I find that hours pass easily listening to his stories.
I pepper him with questions, and he answers them all with surprising patience. It’s unsettling, at first, to be allowed to ask whatever I wish; to be encouraged for it. Shaw is a willing teacher, if a bit gruff, but as the days pass, I find his candor bolsters my own.
He tells me of Nadjaa, the moon city, so named because of where it sits at the base of the next mountain range. At certain times of the month, the moon hangs so low and large in the sky, Shaw says it looks like the city streets lead straight toward its glowing orb. Like you could walk down any one of them and end up in the sky. He describes Nadjaa’s colorful houses and windswept market square; the black waters of the bay that teem with boats and the wild, cerulean waves of a large sea in the distance. My mouth waters when he explains the scents that waft from the eateries, and I spend more time than I care to admit imagining a place where eating is something done for pleasure and not just for nourishment. Where taste is an art, not an afterthought.
I find myself longing for a place I’ve never seen. Shaw calls it the free city, Denver’s dream for the Dark World made real. A place where everyone’s voice matters, individual in their tone but melodic in the way they work together. It’s where Shaw usually lives, though I notice he avoids calling it home. I wonder if a man like him will ever really be home, or if there will always be another wind, another sky, that pulls at his restless heart.
One evening, after five days of riding, we stop at the base of a mountain pass, hidden in a small outcrop of boulders. Shaw is meticulous in selecting our camps, always opting for somewhere defensible and sheltered. Even as the days pass, I still tense with every odd rustle of the trees, expecting Shivhai will appear to exact his revenge at any moment.
“Nadjaa is on the other side of this pass, but it’s steep and I don’t fancy having to cross it in the dark. We’ll stop here for the night and reach the city tomorrow afternoon.”
I nod my agreement and slide off Dahiitii ungracefully. My feet bounce off the ground and I topple into an unceremonious pile next to her. I’m too tired to care whether Shaw witnesses the display. I drag myself to my feet with a mumbled curse. My thighs and backside ache and the only thing that has kept the blisters manageable is the poultice Shaw mixed for me without comment a few days prior.
“Stay here,” he instructs gruffly, “I’m going to find us something to eat, and I don’t want to come back to you tied up. Again.”
I roll my eyes, his words unnecessary. We’ve fallen into something of a routine during the course of our travels. Shaw taught me early on to start a fire, a skill he repeatedly admonished me for venturing into Ferusa without. Legs throbbing, I get to the task quickly as he disappears into the woods.
The fire blazes by the time Shaw returns and I’ve already sidled up to the dancing flames. The warmth seeps into my bones and the ache of the day begins to wash away. Shaw settles across from me and begins skinning a rabbit. It turned my stomach the first few times, but it’s become as commonplace as sleeping under the open sky. Still, I’m thankful he has never forced me to learnthatparticular skill.
He skewers the rabbit and after a few minutes, the smell of cooking meat wafts over our camp. My stomach growls loudly and my mouth waters as I inhale. Birds warble from the trees, harmonizing with the clicking of insect wings and the rustle of leaves, and for a moment, I feel my insignificance. The world is so large, and I’ve only seen such a small corner. The open expanse beckons, promising freedom in its breeze.
Content, if not sore, I ask sleepily, “Is it always like this?”
Shaw glances up from the dagger he sharpens. The firelight reflects in his pale eyes, bathing them in shades of gold. “Like what?”
“Like this? So…” I struggle for the right word, “so wild.”
“There is peace in the untamed wilds. Of the world and of the heart,” Shaw recites. The words send an electric jolt through me.
“Is that…is that another story?”
“It’s a poem. And don’t ask me to recite the rest because I read it a long time ago and didn’t care for it.”
Poem.I try the word out, appreciating the soft way it brushes my lips. Shaw tilts his head and I blush fiercely.
He doesn’t mock me, however. Instead, he examines me as if trying to put something together. Finally, he asks, “you don’t have books in Similis, do you?”
I shift uncomfortably, feeling defensive. “Of course, we do. I’ve read every textbook for my year and those for two years above me.” It suddenly seems important that he know this; that he believe I’m not a complete imbecile. I may not be adept at the survival skills that come easily to his hands, but I’m capable of doing math and sciences. “It’s just that…well, books back home are for teaching you something. They aren’t for pleasure.”
If possible, Shaw looks more horrified than when I set the yamardu on him. His brows lower and his mouth drops open as if I’ve announced an intent to dance naked through the metropolis. “Allbooks should teach you something, Lemming, but they shouldn’t hit you over the head with it and they sure as hell should be pleasurable while doing it. They should teach by making youfeelsomething.”
I ignore that blatant shiver that washes over me at Shaw’s pronouncement of the word ‘pleasurable’. A word that conjures decadent, languishing images. I press my teeth into my lip. I most certainly don’t care what Shaw finds pleasurable.
He takes my silence as a sign of disagreement, pressing on. “Books are the world’s first magic. Stories are our history and culture; our past and our present. If you don’t have them, you’d lose who you were and who you strive to be.” He shakes his head exasperatedly. “I have a ton of books in Nadjaa. I’ll give you some when we get there.” He eyes me doubtfully. “Youcanread, right?”
I nod mutinously and pointedly change the subject. “After Nadjaa, how long until we start searching for my parents?”
It’s something that has weighed heavily on my mind. I’ve done the right thing accepting Shaw’s help, but it felt counterintuitive to journey farther away from Easton.
Shaw turns the rabbit over the fire. “We’ll only stay a few days in Nadjaa. Enough to recover, gather supplies and reconvene with Max and Cal.”
