Linn closed his eyes. Pulled the sword from his chest. Foldedhis hands over the gaping wound. Her fingers brushed against something hard.
A lacquered wood token fell out from his palm: smooth, worn from age, with an intricate carving of a multistory building. A scroll was engraved on the flip side, Kemeiran characters written in beautiful, sweeping strokes.Bei’kin Shiu’gon.
“Bei’kin Bookhouse,” Linn murmured. The pendant was attached to two red threads, presumably which Gen had used to fasten it to him. Linn stared at those red ribbons for several moments, her vision blurring.
No matter what happens here tonight, you must promise Gen one thing. Go to Bei’kin. Warn the Temple Masters that these invaders seek the Heart of the Gods.
Kaïs took her injured hand and began wrapping it in a torn cloak. “You worried me,” he said. “I began searching for you two hours after you did not return. When I found your tracks, and subsequently saw the Imperial Patrols’ tracks, I thought they had taken you.” He paused. “Why were they here?”
She tilted her head, the lacquered wood token clutched tightly in her hand—the one Gen had healed. “Have you heard of the Deities’ Heart?”
A shake of his head.
“Me neither,” she sighed. “I believe they were searching for it. They were torturing the Temple Masters for information.” She thought to the First Kapitan’s words. “And there are more of them coming.”
Kaïs’s eyes were slightly narrowed. “I studied the tracks on my way here. This resembles guerrilla warfare. Small units of twenty or so soldiers dispatched in secret.”
Linn met his gaze. Her mind hurtled forward, even as the adrenaline in her body began to dissipate. “Might it be…something related to the siphons, in that case? Did they mention anything to you…back then?”
It was still a tender memory, the fact that Kaïs had nearly betrayed them in Bregon. He’d been coerced into it by Sorsha Farrald, who had been working with Morganya all along; they had captured his mother, Shamaïra, and tried to use her against him.
Kaïs shook his head. “No. But that does not preclude the possibility that this is related to the siphons.” He exhaled. “I am sorry, Linn, for killing our lead.”
“You saved my life. Besides…” She raised the lacquered token. It gleamed in the moonlight. “I know our way forward. Have you heard of the red threads of fate?”
“No.”
Gently, Linn began to fasten the pendant around her neck. “In Kemeiran culture, we believe all fate is woven together by red threads. That a red thread connects the hearts of those who were fated to meet. That the cord may stretch or tangle, but it will never break.” She drew out the knot. The pendant came to rest on her breastbone, warming to the beat of her heart. Linn lifted her gaze to Kaïs, who was watching her, eyes bright. They flicked to her throat, where the red cord dipped into her shirt. “Gen shi’sen’s fate is connected to mine. Mine is connected to Ana’s. I think…I think it is all woven together, Kaïs. Across time and distance and possibility. And it all leads to…to Bei’kin.”
In the Bei’kin Bookhouse, there lies a tablet carved in jade. It holds the secret to the Heart of the Gods. It must not fall into their hands.
Linn unstrapped her chi from her back—her beautiful, broken chi that had accompanied her through so much. It would serve no purpose now, but she could at least give a bit of the respect due to Gen shi’sen, the master who had saved her life.
Gently, she draped the fabric over his body, smoothing it out. It settled over him like a layer of snow, the color of death.
After kneeling over the other slain Temple Masters to say a prayer, Linn set out with Kaïs. The night was not half over yet, and Bei’kin was still about two weeks’ journey out.
Shan’hak had been where the mountain met the sea. Now, they began the steady trek through Kemeiran pine forests along the shore. They spoke in hushed voices as they walked, theorizing on the Imperial Patrols’ objectives and the Heart of the Gods, and discussing the next steps of the plan.
“This must be knowledge unique to Kemeira,” Kaïs postulated. “Morganya would not send forces across two oceans if not.”
“Gen shi’sen knew,” Linn agreed. She touched a hand to the pendant pressed against her chest. “The Bei’kin bookhouse should have the answers we seek.”
“Let us hope so.”
Linn forged forward in heavy silence. Her head was light from fatigue, but she stubbornly plowed through her thoughts, trying to puzzle out the bigger picture. Did Ana know about this? Was she aware that Morganya had sent troops across the oceans in search of an ancient knowledge so powerful that the sages of Linn’s land would die to protect it?
Linn knew, in her heart, that she had chosen this path for a reason. It had felt like chance that day when, on the Blue Fortbalcony overlooking the Four Seas, she’d accepted Ana’s offer as ambassador between their homelands.
Now, Linn recognized with more certainty than ever, fate had guided her hand.
Go to Bei’kin. Relay the message. Protect the jade tablet.
She could only hope she was not too late.
The ocean grew hungrier, its waves more violent, the closer they drew to the Cyrilian Empire. With each passing day, Ramson leaned over the mast and watched the water turn paler, the aquamarine leaching out of it as though color were slowly fading from the world. The wind began to tear at the ship with an errant malevolence, battering them long into the night with the silence of blades, and Ramson thought he could begin to understand where the tales of Leydvolnya and the Silent Sea of the North had stemmed from.
His crew was growing restless, and himself, too. The days crawled by, and each morning, he woke only to count down another day. One fortnight was a long time when someone was dying—someone who had come to encompass his world. He thought also of Darias and the Blue Fort, wondering whether the King would ever forgive him.
