I muster a nod, because the peaks in the distancedolook like the Ondor Mountains, speckled with trees and bathed in swathes of steam. But theycan’tbe.
“Technically, this is Sagaan. Just a different layer, a higher plane. Think of the realm of the Eternal Blue and Ashkar as identical maps lying one on top of the other. Though the lines are the same, they are separate entities. It’s what makes this such an ideal hiding place. If the Sky King or your sister were to walk into that bedroom, they would find only a rumpled bed and dusty shelves.”
I shake my head at the sheer brilliance of it. No wonder Ghoa can’t catch Temujin and his Shoniin. They can, quite literally, vanish into thin air. Sheltered in the land of the First Gods.
He leads me up a lone hill, due east of a colorful encampment. In Sagaan, I’m fairly certain the Sky Palace sits atop this crest, but in this realm, there is a long, squat structure. It hasn’t any walls, just thin jade pillars holding aloft a bright yellow roof that has eight pointed corners.
Inside, the floor is a mosaic of lustrous pearls, opals, and sapphires, depicting the different regions of Ashkar: the austere desert, the frozen tundra, and the rolling grasslands. The far corner of the pavilion is crowded with coral pots and obsidian urns, and in the center stands a granite altar over which hangs a brass thurible that spills spicy purple smoke. It tickles my nose with cardamom and lavender.
Temujin stops beside the altar. “This is the Temple of Serenity. It’s the heart of the realm of the Eternal Blue—a direct conduit to the Lady of the Sky—and the burial place of Her most devoted followers.” He gestures to the regiment of urns. “Her power is all encompassing here. Can you feel it?” He carefully helps me lower Orbai to the stone slab, then he places his hands over mine, pressing them into the altar.
The stone warms beneath my palms, like a rock in the sun. It grows hotter and hotter until my throat tickles, as it does when my Kalima power wakes. Only this is sharper and stronger and more frenetic.Everythingin this realm is more intense—the sun beating down on my face, the density of the air itself, even the ground beneath my feet seems to pulse to a rhythm all its own.
“It feels sostrange,” I say. I had always thought the Lady of the Sky’s presence would feel like coming home, but it feels more like I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff.
“The intensity can be overwhelming at first,” Temujin agrees. “The pulse of the Goddess is much stronger here, which is why we’ll be able to heal your bird.” He removes a small cedar chest from behind the cluster of urns. Inside, there are thumb-sized pots of glittering black dust and vials of a tacky green liquid.
“Keep her still.” He dips a tiny silver spoon into the black mixture and sprinkles the powder over Orbai.
“What is that? I’ve never seen—”
Temujin holds up a finger, and I fall silent. He unhooks the thurible overhead and waves it over Orbai’s body so the purple smoke rolls over her in thick coils. When it has devoured her completely, he kneels on the opposite side of the altar and sings a hauntingly beautiful song. It reminds me of wind skiffing across sand and of the stillness of the desert at night. Even though I don’t know the words, my heart knows the melody. The place. This feeling.
Home, a chorus drums in my ears.
Once I get a feel for the tune, I hum quietly with Temujin as tears of worry and gratitude and something I can’t quite name wet my face.
When the song ends, Temujin dips his fingers into the green liquid and flicks it into the smoke. It smells of churned soil and wet metal, and as soon as the droplets touch the haze, it begins to dissipate.
I clench the side of the altar and hold my breath.
Orbai comes into view bit by bit, and I make a high-pitched choking sound. She’s no longer lying on her side but standing and preening her bloody feathers. Her wings are folded neatly at her sides and those terrible shards of ice have melted into nothing. She shuffles over to peck my fingers, and I crumple into a pitiful, blubbering heap.
“Thank you,” I cry as I take her in my arms. She struggles and screeches, but that only makes me hold tighter.
After inspecting every inch of her, I set her down and turn to Temujin, gesturing to the chest filled with strange medicines. “I’ve never seen anything like it. And the empire’s finest healers care for the Kalima.”
“The empire’s finest healers don’t have access to this medicine. It’s called Loridium and it’s made from the tears of Father Guzan. It can heal any wound, no matter how deep, so long as the breath of life still dwells within the injured.”
“Incredible,” I say reverently. “This could help so many warriors at the battlefront. Have you considered—” I reach for the chest, but Temujin snatches it away.
“Loridium is very rare. And it’s most effective in the realm of the Eternal Blue, which is why the Lady and Father initially brought their most faithful followers into this realm. How else do you think Jamukha the Invincible survived so many bolts of lightning? How do you think they healed my wounds?”
My heart squeezes as I stare across the altar at Temujin. “This is reserved for the most important Shoniin, yet you were willing to use it on my eagle?”
“I don’t judge the worthiness of a friend on whether they have feet or feathers. I think the Lady and Father would find her deserving, don’t you?”
A nod is all I can manage.
“Should we take care of your injuries as well?” He gestures to my throat, where the moonstone used to be. The ragged skin is inflamed and crusted with blood, but the wound itself isn’t deep. “Save the Loridium. This is hardly life-threatening. Some water and towels will do.”
Temujin purses his lips and hesitates, but then he shrugs and retrieves a bowl of water along with a stack of clean cloths from the chest. I expect him to hand me the supplies, but he wets the linen, leans across the altar, and presses it against the gash.
His hands are surprisingly gentle. His face is unnervingly close—less than a breath away; I can count each dark eyelash fanned against his cheek.
“It’s honorable, what you’re doing for the shepherds,” I blurt because I have to say something.
“I’m only giving them the aid they should be receiving from their country. And the shepherds aren’t the only ones who have been forsaken. Have you been to Chotgor since Ashkar conquered it? They’re living in squalor. The Sky King seized their fishing boats, disbanded their fur-trapping companies, and forced them to conscript or be sent to mine the tundra for ore to make ammunition. Even children. And surely you’ve heard about Verdenet?”
