“You do know that the offer to enrol as a Sand Priestess acolyte still stands, right?”
If she knew what I’d done—the uncountable lies and petty theft…not just petty now, some of it was very much brazen. My visit to the Seer. And not to mention what I’d done with not one but two men, one of which, male. Sand Priestesses were to be pure and untouched, the ultimate sacrifice towards Amfir. To give up the possibility to bear children and dedicate oneself only to him—the god of sand and fertility.
I blinked away the thoughts and instead said, “I still swear, you know.”
“You promised you wouldn’t swear at the castle.”
“I only swore outside of it.” Lie.
“Ha, ha,” she mocked. “I see you’re still the clever one. But need I remind you, Delia, that Daekon is watching just as much as Amfir is. Your actions decide—”
“Which god will claim your soul after death. Yes, I remember.”
“Then if you remember, stop swearing!”
“I’m in desperate need of a bath. Oh, and can I use the library and the sewing room?”
“Bath?” Her brow lifted. “You may use the library and the sewing room but the ration laws stand. I will offer you one bucket of water. And do not even dare use that thing around here,” she warned, pointing at the bow. “In fact, hide it somewhere, away from the children. And I’d better not hear you swear.”
“All right. I’ll head to the library tonight, then.”
“You know where everything is; not much has changed. But first, join me for tea.”
Grating words lingered in the back of my mind as we reminisced about my days here. Even as we laughed—talking about the time when cloth dye fell on Sand Priestess Constance, staining her face and her arms blue for weeks—they lingered.
Beyond the falls, beyond the depths.
What was I supposed to do with just that?
Selmira retired, and I found myself drowning in nostalgia as I tiptoed around the orphanage, pocket flame bright in my hand.
Entering the library felt as if I had travelled ten years back in time. It looked exactly like it did the first time I beheld it. The hall comprised a swirling maze of shelves saturated with books and scrolls. At its centre was a round table made of sandstone, its circumference long enough to fit twenty.
Every little noise I made, every page I flipped, the sound echoed symphonically throughout the room. I strode towardsthe history section and searched for books on the history of surnames.Family Trees, Roots, Surname Origins, History of Birth Registrations. I skimmed my index finger along the pages searching for Wildheart but there was no mention of it. I was wasting time.
Beyond the falls, beyond the depths.
I unfolded the piece of paper—my conversation with the Seer—and for the millionth time read the words I had written.You must venture beyond, you must venture where no one else dares to.
Beyond the falls, beyond the depths. What did she mean by that?
Falls.
What could be associated with falls? Some place that’s very high, where one could fall from? The high tower perhaps? But why would my answers lie there? There were no houses close by.
Think.
Falls…Waterfalls? Surely not. There weren’t any waterfalls in Kalnar.
Depths.
What could be associated with depths?
Wells are deep. The Wellspring Oasis is very deep—its reservoir still held about another year’s worth of water. Not that it was much. I couldn’t begin to fathom what my Land would look like once the reservoir was completely depleted. I imagined my people begging, stealing, killing, dying. I hoped that Aegir would keep his word, to replenish the oasis. But I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
Before the attack on Ilma, filtered water used to move through the underground canals of the waterways and was made tofallinto thedeepWellspring Oasis, and into the Fount in Jebel as well. It was a pivotal part of the symbiotic agreementbetween the Earthens and Ilma. Water in exchange for glass, gold, silver, herbs, and spices.
My thoughts led me to fruitless paths with no solid connections. But with just two vague words, how was I supposed to find something useful, such as a home address?
