“Only seek the blood of stars,” he rasped. “Do not be tempted by anything else.”
“Edan.” My eyes widened with concern. “Are you all right?”
“I will be,” he whispered. “Once you come back to me.” He pressed a gentle kiss on my cheek. “You are strong.” He managed a smile, but it was merely a turning up of his lips. “Go. Find the stars.”
I climbed the stairs to the base of the tower. My steps echoed into the night, the loneliest sound I had ever heard. There was no door, so I simply walked inside, into a round, empty room, open to the sky. I felt like I was inside a spool of thread; there were no windows, and the walls around me had no edges or corners.
Where were the stairs up to the top? The room seemed to stretch the deeper I went inside. Its stillness reminded me of a temple, but there were no deities to worship. No incense, no offerings to the gods. And I no longer felt alone.
No, I heard voices. Voices humming…from within the walls.
My blood turned to ice. I recognized Sendo’s voice. He was singing.There once was a girl in blue. Her hair blacker than the night.
“Sendo,” I whispered. I strode quickly now, almost running.
She fell in love with the ocean, this girl in blue.
I stopped. Turned.
There, atop a stairway, stood my brother.
“No,” I whispered. “You’re not real.”
Remember how we sat on the pier, Maia? And I told you stories about fairies and ghosts?
“I remember.”
I miss those times. Sendo began to fade up the stairs, his voice sounding faraway.Will you come with me? Don’t leave me, Maia. It’s so lonely here.
While I began to climb up, the stars shot forth, and the moon emerged from the fog. It was a faint but luminous orb, a gleaming white marble slowly rising to meet the waiting sun.
As I went higher and higher, a wondrous, horrible thing happened. The chamber shifted. Gone were the gray, unpolished stones, the dank smell, the dust from the debris outside.
I was home.
I smelled it first. Baba’s incense: cloves, star anise, sandalwood—and cinnamon. Baba’s incense was always heavy on cinnamon. I inhaled, letting the scent enfold me until I was awash in it.
I whirled around. No, this wasn’t our shop in Port Kamalan. It was too large, too crowded. This was Gangsun—now I saw Baba was in the front, talking to customers, and Finlei was in the back, arguing with our supplier over a sheath of turquoise brocade that apparently had the wrong flowers embroidered on it.
There was my embroidery frame in the corner—ah, I was almost done making a purse for Lady Tainak. She’d wanted it embroidered with a scene of the Three Great Beauties. I still had to finish the Beauty who was playing the lute. Her face was difficult to sew—I’d never been good at embroidering noses.
But where were Keton and Sendo?
I stepped into Baba’s shop, and my fingers brushed over our inventory of silks, satins, and brocades.
Sendo must be hiding somewhere, his nose in a pattern book. An adventure story tucked into its pages, of course.
“Maia!” I heard someone shout. The voice was deep and familiar, but distant.
I glanced out the shopwindow and saw a hawk. His yellow eyes shone, bright as two fervent flames. He let out a small cry, but it dwindled into oblivion as the wind carried him away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
All my fear dissolved, forgotten, as I walked deeper into Baba’s shop. I moved slowly, taking everything in—the wooden counters freshly wiped clean, the tapered cut of Baba’s trousers, the blue porcelain vases full of fresh orchids and lilies, the satin jackets that hung on the southwest wall.
And the dresses! At least a dozen beautiful gowns, ready for their owners to collect. They were so fine. The skirts flared like lanterns, the sleeves light and wispy, trimmed with embroidered silk.
Had I helped make any of them? I couldn’t remember.
