Kitabı oku: «Magic Study»

Magic Study

Talk ceased the minute we entered. All eyes focused on me. My skin crawled. I felt as if they were examining every inch of my face, my clothes and my muddy boots. From their expressions, I gathered I wasn’t meeting expectations. I stifled the desire to hide behind Irys. Regret that I hadn’t asked Irys more questions about the Zaltanas thumped in my chest.

At last, an older man stepped forward. “I’m Bavol Cacao Zaltana, Elder Councilman for the Zaltana family. Are you Yelena Liana Zaltana?”

I hesitated. That name sounded so formal, so connected, so foreign. “My name is Yelena,” I said.

A young man a few years older than I pushed through the crowd. He stopped next to the Elder. Squinting hard, his jade-eyed gaze bore into mine. A mixture of hatred and revulsion creased his face. I felt a slight touch of magic brush my body.

“She has killed,” he called out. “She reeks of blood.”

MAGIC STUDY
Maria V. Snyder

www.miraink.co.uk

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

MIRA is a registered trademark of Harlequin Enterprises Limited, used under licence.

Published in Great Britain 2012.

HarperCollins Publishers, 1 London Bridge,

London SE1 9GF

© Maria V. Snyder 2012

ISBN 978-1-472-01108-4

Version: 2018-10-26

Also by New York Times bestselling author

Maria V. Snyder

Opal Cowan series

STORM GLASS

SEA GLASS

SPY GLASS

Yelena Zaltana series

POISON STUDY

MAGIC STUDY

FIRE STUDY

The Insider series

INSIDE OUT

OUTSIDE IN

Avry of Kazan series

touch of power

scent of magic

www.miraink.co.uk

THE TERRITORY OF IXIA

To my children, Luke and Jenna,

a constant source of inspiration and love.

You both are truly magical.

In loving memory of Anthony Foster.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

A wholehearted thank-you to the one who holds down the fort while I’m doing book events, who gets the dishes done and the kids to soccer, who has been my biggest fan and supporter from the very beginning, my husband, Rodney.

To my Seton Hill University critique partners, Chun Lee, Amanda Sablak, Ceres Wright, thanks for all the help. Also many thanks go to my Seton Hill mentor, Steven Piziks. I hope you find enough descriptive details!

I couldn’t forget to thank my Muse and Schmooze critique group for their continued support and guidance. Your help has been wonderful, and our biannual retreats and coffee-bar conversations are much loved.

Many thanks and praise go to my excellent editor, Mary-Theresa Hussey. Despite her busy schedule, she always finds time to answer my million questions.

And a heartfelt thanks to Susan Kraykowski and her horse Kiki. Without them both, I wouldn’t have learned how to ride, and I wouldn’t have discovered the unique bond between horse and rider.

1

“WE’RE HERE,” IRYS SAID.

I looked around. The surrounding jungle bulged with life. Overgrown green bushes blocked our path, vines hung from the tree canopy, and the constant chatter and trill of jungle birds beat at my ears. Small furry creatures, who had been following us through the jungle, peeked at us from their hiding spots behind huge leaves.

“Where?” I asked, glancing at the three other girls. They shrugged in unison, equally confused. In the thick humid air, their thin cotton dresses were soaked in sweat. My own black pants and white shirt clung to my clammy skin. We were tired from lugging our heavy backpacks along snake-thin jungle paths, and itchy from hosting unnameable insects on our skins.

“The Zaltana homestead,” Irys said. “Quite possibly your home.”

I surveyed the lush greenery and saw nothing that resembled a settlement. During the course of our travels south, whenever Irys had declared that we had arrived, we were usually in the midst of a small town or village, with houses made of wood, stone or brick, hemmed in by fields and farms.

The brightly dressed inhabitants would welcome us, feed us and, amid a cacophony of voices and spicy aromas, listen to our story. Then certain families would be summoned with great haste. In a whirlwind of excitement and babble, one of the children in our party, who had lived in the orphanage in the north, would be reunited with a family they hadn’t known existed.

As a result, our group had grown ever smaller as we’d traveled farther into the southern land of Sitia. Soon, we had left the cold northern air far behind, and were now cooking in the steamy warmth of the jungle with no sign of a town in sight.

“Homestead?” I asked.

Irys sighed. Wisps of her black hair had sprung from her tight bun, and her stern expression didn’t quite match the slight humor in her emerald eyes.

“Yelena, appearances can be deceiving. Seek with your mind, not your senses,” she instructed.

I rubbed my slick hands along the grain of my wooden staff, concentrating on its smooth surface. My mind emptied, and the buzz of the jungle faded as I sent out my mental awareness. In my mind’s eye, I slithered through the underbrush with a snake, searching for a patch of sunlight. I scrambled through the tree branches with a long-limbed animal with such ease that it felt as if we flew.

Then, above, I moved with people among the treetops. Their minds were open and relaxed, deciding what to eat for dinner, and discussing the news from the city. But one mind worried about the sounds from the jungle below. Something wasn’t right. Someone strange was there. Possible danger. Who’s in my mind?

I snapped back to myself. Irys stared at me.

“They live in the trees?” I asked.

She nodded. “But remember Yelena, just because someone’s mind is receptive to your probing doesn’t mean you’re permitted to dive into their deeper thoughts. That’s a breach of our Ethical Code.”

Her words were harsh, the master level magician scolding her student.

“Sorry,” I said.

She shook her head. “I forget that you’re still learning. We need to get to the Citadel and begin your training, but I’m afraid this stop will take some time.”

“Why?”

“I can’t leave you with your family like I did for the other children, and it would be cruel to take you away too soon.”

Just then, a loud voice from above called out, “Venettaden.”

Irys swung her arm up and mumbled something, but my muscles froze before I could repel the magic that engulfed us. I couldn’t move. After a frantic moment of panic, I calmed my mind. I tried to build a mental wall of defense, but the magic that ensnared me knocked down my mental bricks as fast as I could stack them.

Irys, however, was unaffected. She yelled into the treetops. “We’re friends of the Zaltanas. I’m Irys of the Jewelrose Clan, Fourth Magician in the Council.”

Another strange word echoed from the trees. My legs trembled as the magic released me and I sank to the ground to wait for the faintness to pass. The twins, Gracena and Nickeely collapsed together, moaning. May rubbed her legs.

“Why have you come, Irys Jewelrose?” the voice above asked.

“I believe I may have found your lost daughter,” she replied.

A rope ladder descended through the branches.

“Let’s go, girls,” Irys said. “Here, Yelena, hold the bottom while we climb.”

A peevish thought about who would hold the ladder for me flashed through my mind. Irys’s annoyed voice admonished me in my own head. Yelena, you will have no trouble getting into the trees. Perhaps I should have them raise the ladder when it’s your turn to climb, as you might prefer to use your grapple and rope.

She was right, of course. I had used the trees to hide from my enemies in Ixia without the convenience of a ladder. And even now, I’d enjoyed an occasional “walk” through the treetops to keep my skills honed.

Irys smiled at me. Perhaps it’s in your blood.

My stomach filled with unease as I remembered Mogkan. He had said I was cursed with Zaltana blood. I’d no reason to trust the now dead southern magician, though, and I’d been avoiding asking Irys questions about the Zaltanas so I wouldn’t get my hopes up about being a part of their family. Even while dying, I knew Mogkan would have been capable of pulling one last spiteful trick.

Mogkan and General Brazell’s son, Reyad, had kidnapped me along with over thirty other children from Sitia. Averaging two children a year, they had brought the girls and boys north to Brazell’s “orphanage” in the Territory of Ixia for use in their twisted plans. All of the children had the potential of becoming magicians because they had been born to families with strong magic.

Irys had explained to me that magical powers were a gift, and only a handful of magicians came from each clan. “Of course, the more magicians in a family,” Irys had said, “the greater chance of having more in the next generation. Mogkan took a risk kidnapping children so young; magical powers don’t manifest until a child reaches maturity.”

“Why were there more girls than boys?” I had asked.

“Only thirty percent of our magicians are males, and Bain Bloodgood is the only one to achieve master level status.”

As I steadied the rope ladder that hung from the jungle’s canopy, I now wondered how many Zaltanas were magicians. Beside me, the three girls tucked the hems of their dresses into their belts. Irys helped May start up the rope rungs, and then Gracena and Nickeely followed.

When we had crossed the border into Sitia, the girls hadn’t hesitated to exchange their northern uniforms for the bright multicolored, cotton dresses worn by some of the southern women. The boys switched their uniforms for simple cotton pants and tunics. I, on the other hand, had kept my food taster’s uniform on until the heat and humidity had driven me to purchase a pair of boy’s cotton pants and a shirt.

After Irys disappeared into the green canopy, I set my boot on the bottom rung. My feet felt as if they were swollen with water, weighing me down. Reluctance clung to my legs as I dragged them up the ladder. In midair, I paused. What if these people didn’t want me? What if they didn’t believe I was their lost daughter? What if I were too old to be bothered with?

All the children who had already found their homes had been immediately accepted. Between the ages of seven and thirteen, they had been separated from their families for only a few years. Physical resemblances, ages, and even names had made it easy to place them. Now, we were down to four. The identical twins, Gracena and Nickeely were thirteen. May was the youngest at twelve, and I was the oldest of the group at twenty.

According to Irys, the Zaltanas had lost a six-year-old girl over fourteen years prior. That was a long time to be away. I was no longer a child.

Yet I was the oldest one who had survived Brazell’s plans and remained whole. When the other kidnapped children reach maturity, those who had developed magical powers had been tortured until they surrendered their souls to Mogkan and Reyad. Mogkan had then used the magic of these now mindless captives to enhance his own, making the children nothing more than living bodies without souls.

Irys bore the burden of informing the families of these children, but I felt some guilt by being the only one to survive Mogkan’s efforts to capture my soul. The effort, though, cost me a great deal.

Thinking about my struggles in Ixia led to thoughts of Valek. An ache for him chewed at my heart. Hooking an arm around the ladder, I fingered the butterfly pendant he had carved for me. Perhaps I could devise a way to return to Ixia. After all, the magic in my body no longer flared out of control, and I would much rather be with him than among these strange southerners who lived in the trees. Even the name of the south, Sitia, felt thick as rancid syrup in my mouth.

“Yelena, come on,” Irys called down to me. “We’re waiting.”

I swallowed hard and ran a hand over my long braid, smoothing my black hair and pulling out the few viney tendrils that clung to it. Despite the long trek through the jungle, I wasn’t too tired. While shorter than most Ixians at five feet four inches, my body had transformed from emaciated to muscular during my last year in Ixia. The difference had been in my living arrangements. From starving in the dungeon to tasting food for Commander Ambrose, my situation had improved for my physical well-being, but I couldn’t say the same for my mental well-being during that time.

I shook my head, banishing those thoughts and concentrating on my immediate circumstances. Climbing up the rest of the ladder, I expected it to end at a wide branch or a platform in the tree like a landing on a staircase. Instead, I entered a room.

I looked around in amazement. The walls and ceiling of the room were formed by branches and limbs that had been roped together. Sunlight leaked in between the gaps. Bundled sticks had been worked into chairs that had cushions made of leaves. The small room held only four seats.

“Is this her?” a tall man asked Irys. His cotton tunic and short pants were the color of the tree’s leaves. Green gel had been combed into his hair and smeared over all his exposed skin. A bow and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder. I guessed he was the guard. Why, though, would he need a weapon if he were the magician who had frozen us? Then again, Irys had deflected that spell with ease. Could she turn aside an arrow as well?

“Yes,” Irys said to the man.

“We’ve heard rumors at the market, and wondered if you would pay us a visit, Fourth Magician. Please, stay here,” he said. “I’ll get the Elder.”

Irys sank into one of the chairs, and the girls explored the room, exclaiming over the view from the single window. I paced the narrow space. The guard seemed to disappear through the wall, but upon investigation, I discovered a gap that led to a bridge also made of branches.

“Sit down,” Irys said to me. “Relax. You’re safe here.”

“Even with that heartwarming reception?” I countered.

“Standard procedure. Unaccompanied visitors are extremely rare. With the constant danger of jungle predators, most travelers hire a Zaltana guide. You’ve been edgy and defensive ever since I told you we were headed to the Zaltana’s village.”

Irys pointed at my legs. “You’re in a fighting stance, prepared for attack. These people are your family. Why would they want to hurt you?”

I realized that I had pulled my weapon off my back, and was clutching it in the ready position. With effort, I relaxed my posture.

“Sorry.” I threaded the bow, a five-foot wooden staff, back into its holder on the side of my backpack.

Fear of the unknown had caused me to clench. For as long as I could remember in Ixia, I had been told my family was dead. Lost to me forever. Even so, I used to dream of finding an adopted family who would love and care for me. I had only given up that fantasy when I had been turned into Mogkan and Reyad’s experiment, and now that I had Valek, I felt I didn’t need a family.

“That’s not true, Yelena,” Irys said aloud. “Your family will help you discover who you are and why. You need them more than you know.”

“I thought you said it was against your Ethical Code to read someone’s mind.” I rankled at her intrusion on my private thoughts.

“We are linked as teacher and student. You freely gave me a pathway to your mind by accepting me as your mentor. It would be easier to divert a waterfall than to break our link.”

“I don’t remember creating a pathway,” I grumbled.

“If there was a conscious effort in making a link, it wouldn’t have happened.” She watched my face for a while. “You gave me your trust and your loyalty. That was all that was needed to forge a bond. While I won’t pry into your intimate thoughts and memories, I can pick up on your surface emotions.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but the green-haired guard returned.

“Follow me,” he said.

We wound our way through the treetops. Hallways and bridges connected room after room high above the land. There had been no hint of this maze of dwellings from the ground. We didn’t see or meet a soul as we passed around bedrooms and through living areas. From glimpses into the rooms, I saw they were decorated with items found in the jungle. Coconut shells, nuts, berries, grasses, twigs and leaves were all artfully arranged into wall hangings, book covers, boxes and statues. Someone had even fashioned an exact replica of one of those long-tailed animals by using white and black stones glued together.

“Irys,” I said, pointing to the statue, “what are those animals?”

“Valmurs. Very intelligent and playful. There are millions of them in the jungle. They’re curious, too. Remember how they spied on us from the trees?”

I nodded, recalling the little creatures that never stood still long enough for me to study. In other rooms, I spotted more animal replicas made from different colored stones. A hollowness touched my throat as I thought of Valek and the animals he carved out of rocks. I knew he would appreciate the craftsmanship of these stone statues. Perhaps I could send one to him.

I didn’t know when I’d ever be able to see him again. The Commander had exiled me to Sitia when he had discovered I possessed magical powers. If I returned to Ixia, the Commander’s order of execution would be in effect, but he had never said I couldn’t communicate with my friends in Ixia.

I soon found out why we hadn’t encountered anyone on our journey through the village. We entered a large, round common room where about two hundred people gathered. It appeared the entire settlement was here. People filled the benches of carved wood that circled a huge fire pit made of stone.

Talk ceased the minute we entered. All eyes focused on me. My skin crawled. I felt as if they were examining every inch of my face, my clothes and my muddy boots. From their expressions, I gathered I wasn’t meeting expectations. I stifled the desire to hide behind Irys. Regret that I hadn’t asked Irys more questions about the Zaltanas thumped in my chest.

At last, an older man stepped forward. “I’m Bavol Cacao Zaltana, Elder Councilman for the Zaltana family. Are you Yelena Liana Zaltana?”

I hesitated. That name sounded so formal, so connected, so foreign. “My name is Yelena,” I said.

A young man a few years older than I pushed through the crowd. He stopped next to the Elder. Squinting hard, his jade-eyed gaze bore into mine. A mixture of hatred and revulsion creased his face. I felt a slight touch of magic brush my body.

“She has killed,” he called out. “She reeks of blood.”

2

A COLLECTIVE GASP SOUNDED from the crowd of Zaltanas. Abhorrence and outrage gripped the now hostile faces in the room. I found myself behind Irys, hoping to block the negative force emanating from so many eyes.

“Leif, you always tend toward the dramatic,” Irys admonished the young man. “Yelena’s had a hard life. Don’t judge what you don’t know.”

Leif wilted before Irys’s gaze.

“I reek of blood, too. Do I not?” she asked.

“But you’re the Fourth Magician,” Leif said.

“So you know what I’ve done and why. I suggest you find out what your sister has had to deal with in Ixia before you accuse her.”

His jaw tightened. The muscles on his neck pulled taut as he swallowed what might have been a reply. I risked another peek around the room. Now contemplative, worried and even sheepish looks peppered the group. The Zaltana women wore sleeveless dresses or skirts and short-sleeved blouses with bright flora patterns on them. The hemlines reached to their knees. The men of the clan wore light-colored tunics and plain pants. All the Zaltanas were barefoot, and most had lean builds and bronze skin.

Then Irys’s words sank in. I grabbed her arm. Brother? I have a brother?

One side of her mouth quirked up. Yes. A brother. Your only sibling. You would have known this if you hadn’t changed the subject every time I tried to tell you about the Zaltanas.

Great. My luck was holding steady. I had thought my troubles were over when I had left the Territory of Ixia. Why should any of this surprise me? While all the other Sitians lived in villages on the ground, my family resided in the trees. I studied Leif, searching for a resemblance. His stocky muscular build and square face stood out compared to the rest of the lithe clan. Only his black hair and green eyes matched my own features.

During the awkward moments that followed, I wished for an invisibility spell, and reminded myself to ask Irys if there were such a spell.

An older woman about my height approached us. As she neared she shot Leif a powerful glance, and he hung his head. Without warning, she embraced me. I flinched for a heartbeat, uncertain. Her hair smelled like lilacs.

“I’ve wanted to do this for fourteen years,” she said, hugging me tighter. “How my arms have ached for my little girl.”

Those words transported me back in time, shrunk me down into a six-year-old child. Wrapping my arms around this woman, I bawled. Fourteen years without a mother had made me believe I could be stoic when I finally met her. During the journey south, I had imagined I would be curious and unemotional. Nice to make your acquaintance, but we really need to get to the Citadel. But I was woefully unprepared for the torrent of emotions that racked my body. I clung to her as if she alone kept me from drowning.

From a distance, I heard Bavol Cacao. “Everyone get back to work. The Fourth Magician is our guest. We need a proper feast for tonight. Petal, make up the guest rooms. We’ll need five beds.”

The buzz of voices filling the common area disbursed. The room was almost empty when the woman—my mother—released me from her arms. It was still difficult to match her oval face to the title of “Mother.” After all, she might not be my real mother. And if she were, did I have the right to call her by that name after so many years away?

“Your father will be so pleased,” she said. She pulled a strand of black hair from her face. Streaks of gray painted her long braids, and her pale green eyes shone with unshed tears.

“How do you know?” I asked. “I may not be your—”

“Your soul fits the void in my soul perfectly. I’ve no doubt you’re mine. I hope you’ll call me Mother, but if you can’t you can call me Perl.”

I wiped at my face with the handkerchief Irys handed me. Glancing around, I looked for my father. Father. Another word that threatened to ruin what little dignity I had remaining.

“Your father’s out collecting samples,” Perl said, seeming to read my mind. “He’ll be back as soon as word reaches him.” Perl turned her head. I followed her gaze and saw Leif standing near us; his arms crossed over his chest and his hands bunched into fists. “You’ve met your brother. Don’t just stand there, Leif. Come give your sister a proper greeting.”

“I can’t stand the smell,” he said. He turned his back on us and stalked away.

“Don’t mind him,” my mother said. “He’s overly sensitive. He had trouble dealing with your disappearance. He was blessed with strong magic, but his magic is …” She paused. “Unique. He can sense where and what a person has been doing. Not specifics, but general feelings. The Council calls on him to help solve crimes and disputes, and to determine if a person is guilty or not.” She shook her head. “Those Zaltanas with magical powers have unusual abilities. What about you, Yelena? I feel the magic coursing through you.” A brief smile touched her lips. “My own limited ability. What is your talent?”

I glanced at Irys for help.

“Her magic was forced from her and was uncontrolled until recently. We have yet to determine her specialty.”

Color drained from my mother’s face. “Forced?”

I touched her sleeve. “It’s all right.”

Perl bit her lip. “Could she flame out?” she asked Irys.

“No. I have taken her under my wing. She has gained some measure of control. Although, she must come to the Magician’s Keep so I can teach her more about her magic.”

My mother grabbed my arms hard. “You must tell me everything that has happened to you since you were taken from us.”

“I …” A trapped feeling seized my throat.

Bavol Cacao stepped to my rescue. “The Zaltanas are honored that you have chosen one of ours as your student, Fourth Magician. Please let me escort your party to your rooms so you may freshen up and rest before the feast.”

Relief coursed through me, although the determined set to my mother’s jaw warned that she was not yet finished with me. Her grip tightened when Irys and the three girls moved to follow Bavol Cacao to our rooms.

“Perl, you’ll have plenty of time to spend with your daughter,” he said. “She’s home now.”

She released me, stepping back. “I’ll see you tonight. I’ll ask your cousin, Nutty, to lend you some decent clothes for the feast.”

I grinned as we worked our way to the guest rooms. With all that had happened today, my mother had still managed to notice the clothes I wore.

The feast that night began as a sedate dinner, but then transformed into a party despite the fact that I might have offended my hosts by first tasting the many fruit dishes and seasoned cold meats for poisons before I ate. Old habits die hard.

The night air filled with the scent of burning citronella mixed with a damp earthy smell. After the meal, various Zaltanas pulled out musical instruments made of bamboo and twine, some jumped up to dance and others sang with the music. All the while, petite furry valmurs swung from the ceiling rafters and hopped from table to table. Some of my cousins had made pets of them. Splashes of black and white and orange and brown sat on their shoulders and heads. Other valmurs tumbled in the corners or stole food from the tables. May and the twins were delighted with the animals’ long-tailed antics. Gracena tried to tempt a little tan-and-gold valmur to eat from her hand.

My mother sat next to me. Leif hadn’t come to the feast. I wore a bright yellow and purple lily-patterned dress that Nutty had loaned me. The only reason I wore the obnoxious thing was to please Perl.

I thanked fate that Ari and Janco, my soldier friends from Ixia, weren’t here. They would be rolling with laughter to see me wearing such a gaudy outfit. But oh, how I missed them. I changed my mind, wishing they were here; it would be worth the embarrassment just to see the glint in Janco’s eyes.

“We need to leave in a few days,” Irys said to Bavol over the din of voices and music. Her comment caused a mood-dampening ripple in those around us.

“Why do you have to leave so soon?” my mother asked. Dismay creased her eyebrows tight together.

“I need to get the other girls home, and I’ve been away from the Citadel and the Keep for too long.”

The tired sadness in Irys’s voice reminded me that she hadn’t seen her family for nearly a year. Hiding and spying in the Territory of Ixia had drained her.

Our table was quiet for a while. Then my mother brightened. “You can leave Yelena here while you take the girls home.”

“It will be out of her way to come back for Yelena,” Bavol Cacao said.

Mother frowned at him. I could see her thoughts whirling behind her eyes. “Aha! Leif can take Yelena to the Citadel. He has business with the First Magician in two weeks.”

Emotions rolled through my chest. I wanted to stay, but I feared being separated from Irys. They were my family, yet they were strangers. I couldn’t help being wary; it was a skill learned in Ixia. And traveling with Leif seemed as unpalatable as drinking a wine laced with poison.

Before anyone could agree or disagree, Mother said, “Yes. That will do.” She ended all discussion on the matter.

The next morning I had a small panic attack when Irys pulled on her backpack. “Don’t leave me here alone,” I pleaded.

“You’re not alone. I counted thirty-five cousins and a whole mess of aunts and uncles.” She laughed. “Besides, you should spend some time with your family. You need to learn not to distrust them. I’ll meet you at the Magician’s Keep. It’s within the Citadel’s walls. In the meantime, keep practicing your control.”

“Yes, sir.”

May gave me a big hug. “Your family is so much fun. I hope my family lives in the trees, too,” she said.

I smoothed her braids. “I’ll try to visit you sometime.”

Irys said, “May might be at the Citadel’s school this cooling season if she can access the power source.”

“That would be great!” May cried out with delight. The twins both gave me a quick hug.

“Good luck,” Gracena said with a grin. “You’re going to need it.”

I followed them down the rope ladder and into the cooler air of the jungle floor to say goodbye. Watching Irys and the girls fight their way through the tight trail, I kept my eyes on them until they were out of sight. In their absence, my body felt paper-thin and in danger of being shredded by the light breeze.

In order to delay my return to the treetops, I studied my surroundings. The jungle’s canopy above showed no evidence of the Zaltana dwellings, and the thick vegetation all around prevented me from seeing too far in any direction. Even with the loud clamor of insects, I could hear the faint sound of water rushing and lapping nearby. But I couldn’t push past the growth to find the source.

Frustrated, sweaty and tired of being a meal for every mosquito, I gave up and climbed the rope ladder. Back in the warm and dry forest canopy, and among the labyrinth of rooms, I quickly became lost.

Unrecognizable faces nodded or smiled at me. Others frowned and turned away. I had no idea where my room was, or what I was supposed to be doing and I didn’t want to ask. The thought of telling my mother my life story was unappealing. Inevitable, I knew, but too much to bear at this moment. It had taken me almost a year to trust Valek with my history—how could I divulge my struggles to someone I’d just met?

So I wandered here and there, searching for a view of the “river” I had heard on the jungle floor. Large expanses of green filled every vista. Several times, I spotted the gray smoothness of a mountainside. Irys had told me the Illiais Jungle grew in a deep valley. Tucked into the crooks of the Daviian Plateau’s edge, the odd-shaped jungle was below the plateau’s rim, leaving only one side open for travelers.

“Very defensible,” Irys had said. “It’s impossible to scale the walls to reach the plateau.”

I was fooling around and testing my balance on a rope bridge when a voice startled me and I had to grab the handrail.

“What?” I tried to reestablish my footing.

“I said, what are you doing?” Nutty stood at the end of the bridge.

Sweeping an arm out, I said, “Taking in the view.”

I could tell by her dubious expression that I hadn’t convinced her. “Follow me if you want to see a real view.” Nutty bounded away.

I scrambled to keep up with her as she took shortcuts through the tree branches. Her thin arms and legs reached and grabbed vines with such flexibility that she reminded me of a valmur. When she entered a spot of sunlight, her maple-colored hair and skin glowed.

I had to admit there was one good thing about staying in the south. Instead of being the only person with tan skin, I finally looked as if I belonged. Living in the north with the pale-skinned Ixians for so long, though, had not prepared me for such a variety of brown skin tones. Much to my embarrassment, I had found myself gawking at the deeper mahogany skin colors when we had first entered Sitia.

Nutty stopped suddenly, and I almost knocked into her. We stood on a square platform in the tallest tree in the jungle. Nothing blocked the view.

An emerald carpet stretched out below us, ending at two sheer rock faces that angled toward each other. Where the two cliffs joined, a vast waterfall poured forth, ending in a cloud of mist. Beyond the top edge of the rock cliffs, I saw a flat expanse. A mixture of tans, yellows, golds and browns painted the smooth landscape.

“Is that the Daviian Plateau?” I asked.

“Yep. Nothing lives there but wild prairie grass. They don’t get a lot of rain. Beautiful, huh?”

“An understatement.”

Nutty nodded, and we stood for a while in silence. Finally, my curiosity broke the lull in conversation. I asked Nutty questions about the jungle, and eventually wove the conversation around to the Zaltana family.

“Why do they call you Nutty?” I asked.

She shrugged. “My real name is Hazelnut Palm Zaltana, but everybody’s called me Nutty since I was little.”

“So Palm is your middle name.”

“No.” Nutty swung down over the edge of the platform and into the tree branches that supported it. The leaves shook and after a moment, she climbed back. She handed me a group of brown nuts. “Palm, as in palm tree, is my family’s name. Zaltana is the clan name. Everyone who marries us has to take that name, but within the clan there are different families. Here, crack them like this …” Nutty took one of the nuts and banged it on a nearby branch, revealing an inner nib.

“Your family is Liana, which means ‘vine.’ Yelena means ‘shining one.’ Everyone is either named after something in the jungle or their name means something in the old Illiais language, which we’re forced to learn.” Nutty rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You’re lucky you missed that.” She poked me with a finger. “And you missed having to deal with obnoxious older brothers, too! I once got into trouble for tying mine up in a vine and leaving him hanging … Oh, snake spit! I forgot. Come on.” She hurried back through the trees.

“Forgot what?” I asked, scrambling after her.

“I was supposed to take you to your mother. She’s been looking for you all morning.” Nutty slowed only slightly to negotiate a rope bridge. “Uncle Esau’s back from expedition.”

Another family member to meet. I considered “accidentally” losing her. But remembering the hostile glares that I had received from some of my cousins, I stayed with Nutty. When I caught up to her, I grabbed her arm.

“Wait,” I panted. “I want to know why so many Zaltanas frown at me. Is it the blood smell?”

“No. Everyone knows Leif can see gloom and doom in everything. He’s always looking for attention.” She gestured at me. “Most of them think you’re not really a Zaltana, but a spy from Ixia.”

3

“YOU’RE JOKING RIGHT?” I asked. “They don’t really believe I’m a spy.”

Nutty nodded. Her ponytails, one on each side of her head, bobbed in contrast to her serious face. “That’s the gossip. Although, no one would dare breathe a word of that to Aunt Perl or Uncle Esau.”

“Why would they think such a thing?”

Her light brown eyes widened as if she couldn’t believe my stupidity. “Look at your clothes.” She gestured at my black pants and white shirt. “We all know northerners are forced to wear uniforms. They say if you were truly from the south, you wouldn’t want to wear pants ever again.”

I glanced at Nutty’s orange skirt. The hem was tucked up into her brown fur belt and she wore a pair of short yellow pants underneath.

Ignoring my stare, she said, “And you carry a weapon.”

That much was true. I had my bow with me in case I found a place to practice, but, so far, the only space big enough had been the common room and that was always too crowded. Now was probably not the best time to tell Nutty about the switchblade strapped to my thigh.

“Who’s been saying these things?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Different people.”

I waited. The silence drove the information out of her.

“Leif’s telling everyone that you don’t feel right to him. He says he would know his own sister.” She fidgeted with her sleeve, rolling up the bright cotton fabric. “Sitians are always worried that the Commander will attack us someday, and we think northern spies are gathering information on our ability to defend ourselves. Even though Leif tends to overreact, his magic is strong, so almost everyone believes you’re a spy.”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I was going to wait and see.” She looked down at her bare feet. They were tanned and callused.

Another reason I stood out among the Zaltanas. I still wore my leather boots.

“That’s very smart,” I said.

“Do you think so?”

“Yes.”

Nutty smiled. Her light brown eyes lit up. I noticed a sprinkle of freckles across her small nose. She continued to lead the way to my mother.

As I followed, I thought about the accusations that I was an Ixian spy. I wasn’t a spy, but I couldn’t say that I was a true southerner, either. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to be called a Sitian. My reasons for being in the south were twofold: to avoid being executed and to learn how to use my magic. Meeting my family had been a bonus, and I wasn’t going to let some petty rumors ruin my time here. I decided to ignore any more sidelong glances for now.

There was no ignoring my mother’s fury, though, when Nutty and I reached her residence. Every muscle in her thin arms and long neck was pulled taut. Waves of unspoken anger pulsed from the petite woman.

“Where have you been?” she demanded.

“Well, I saw Irys off, and then …” The explanation seemed weak in the face of her outrage, so I stopped.

“You’ve been gone from me for fourteen years, and we have only two weeks together before you go again. How could you be so selfish?” Without warning she crumpled into a chair as if all her energy had been pulled from her.

“I’m sorry …” I started.

“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that your speech and manners are so foreign. And your father’s back and anxious to see you. Leif’s been driving me crazy, and I don’t want my daughter to leave here feeling like she’s still a stranger.”

I hugged myself, feeling guilty and inadequate. She was asking for a great deal; I was sure to fail her in some way.

“Your father wanted to wake you in the middle of the night. I made him wait, and he’s been searching the homestead all morning,” Perl explained. “I finally sent him upstairs with something to do.” She swung her arms wide. “You’ll have to forgive us if we go too fast for you. Your arrival was so unexpected and I should have insisted you stay with us last night, but Irys warned us not to smother you.” She took a deep breath. “But it’s killing me. All I want to do is wrap you in my arms.” Instead, her arms dropped into her lap, resting on the blue-and-white fabric of her sleeveless dress.

I couldn’t reply. Irys had been right; I needed time before I would feel comfortable with the whole family dynamic, but I could also empathize with my mother. Each day, I missed Valek more than the day before. Losing a child had to be much worse.

Standing by the door, Nutty pulled at her ponytails. My mother seemed to realize she was there. “Nutty, can you fetch Yelena’s things from the guest quarters and bring them here?”

“Sure thing, Aunt Perl. I’ll have them here faster than a curari bat can paralyze a valmur.” In a flash of orange, Nutty was gone.

“You can stay in our extra room.” My mother pressed her hand to her throat. “It’s your room actually.”

My room. It sounded so normal. I had never had a place of my own before. I tried to imagine how I might have decorated it and made it my own, but I came up with a blank. My life in Ixia hadn’t included special items such as toys, gifts or art. I stifled a bark of laughter. My only private room had been my dungeon cell.

Perl jumped from her seat. “Yelena, please sit down. I’ll get us some lunch. You have no meat on your bones.” As she hurried away, she called toward the ceiling, “Esau, Yelena’s here. Come down for tea.”

Alone, I glanced around the sitting area. The warm air smelled faintly of apples. The couch and two armchairs appeared to be made from ropes woven together, yet they were hard to the touch. The furniture was unlike the other Zaltana chairs I had seen, which were constructed with branches and sticks tied together.

I settled into an armchair; the red leaf-patterned cushions crunched under my weight, and I wondered what had been stuffed inside them. My gaze lingered on a black wooden bowl on a small glass-topped table in front of the couch. The bowl looked to be hand carved. I tried to relax, which worked until I saw a long counter against the back wall.

Stretching across the length of the countertop was a series of odd-shaped bottles connected by loops of tubes. Unlit candles sat under some of the containers. The configuration reminded me of Reyad’s lab. The memory of his collection of glass jars and metal instruments unnerved me. Visions of being chained to a bed while Reyad searched for the perfect torture device caused sweat to roll down my neck and my heart to squeeze. I berated myself for my overactive imagination. It was ridiculous that a similar contraption could make me recoil after two years.

I forced myself closer. Amber liquid pooled in a few bottles. I picked up one and swirled the contents. A strong apple scent filled my nose. The memory of swinging and laughter floated into my mind. The image disappeared when I focused on it. Frustrated, I set the bottle down.

The shelves behind the table were lined with rows of more bottles. The contraption looked like a still for making alcohol. Perhaps the liquid was an apple brandy like General Rasmussen’s of Military District 7 in Ixia.

I heard my mother return, and turned around. She held a tray full of cut fruit, berries and some tea. Placing the lunch on the small table before the couch, she gestured for me to join her.

“Found my distillery, I see,” she said as if every Zaltana had one in their living room. “Smell anything familiar?”

“Brandy?” I guessed.

Her shoulders drooped just a bit, but her smile didn’t waver. “Try again.”

Putting my nose over one of the amber-filled bottles, I inhaled. The scent blanketed me in feelings of comfort and safety. It also choked and smothered. Memories of bouncing mixed with the image of lying on my back, clawing at my throat. I suddenly felt light-headed.

“Yelena, sit down.” My mother’s hand was on my elbow, guiding me to a chair. “You shouldn’t have breathed in so deeply. It’s very concentrated.” She kept her hand on my shoulder.

“What is it?” I asked.

“My Apple Berry perfume.”

“Perfume?”

“You don’t remember.” This time her disappointment showed as her smile faded from her lips. “I wore it all the time when you were a child. It’s my best-selling perfume—very popular with the magicians at the Keep. When you disappeared, I couldn’t wear it anymore.” Her hand touched her throat again as if she were trying to block either her words or emotions.

With the word “magicians” my windpipe tightened. The scene of my brief abduction at the Fire Festival the previous year played in my mind. The tents, the darkness and the smell of Apple Berry mixed with the taste of ashes and the image of Irys ordering four men to strangle me to death.

“Does Irys wear your perfumes?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. Apple Berry is her favorite. In fact, she asked me last night to make her more. Does the scent remind you of her?”

“She must have worn it the first time we met,” I said, choosing not to say more. If it hadn’t been for Valek’s timely arrival, Irys would have succeeded in killing me. It was ironic how both my relationships with Irys and Valek began badly.

“I have found that certain smells are linked to specific memories. It’s something Leif and I have been working on as part of his project with First Magician. We’ve created a variety of scents and odors that we use to help victims of crime remember. These memories are very powerful, and they help Leif get a clearer picture of what happened to them.” She moved away from me. Sitting down, she spooned fruit into three bowls. “I had hoped the Apple Berry would trigger your memories of us.”

“I did get something, but …” I stopped, unable to put the brief impressions into words. I quelled my growing aggravation at being unable to recall anything from my six years of living here. Instead, I asked, “Do you make many perfumes?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Esau brings me wonderful flowers and plants to use. I enjoy making new perfumes and scents.”

“And she’s the best in the land,” a booming male voice said behind me. I turned to see a small, stout man enter the room. His resemblance to Leif was unmistakable.

“Her perfumes have been worn by Master Magicians, as well as the Queen and Princess of Ixia when they were alive,” Esau boasted. He grabbed my wrists and pulled me upright. “Yelena, my child, look how you’ve grown.” He squeezed me in a bear hug that lasted several seconds.

A strong odor of earth filled my nose. He released me, sat down with a bowl of fruit in his lap and a cup of tea in his hand before I could react. Perl handed me the other bowl as I resumed my seat.

Esau’s uncombed gray hair fell to his shoulders. As he ate, I saw that the lines on his hands were stained dark green.

“Esau, have you been playing with that leaf oil again?” Perl asked. “No wonder you took so long to come down. Trying to scrub it off so you wouldn’t smear it everywhere.”

I could tell by the way he ducked his head without responding that this was an old argument. Esau stared at me in silence, squinting and cocking his head from side to side as if deciding on something. His complexion resembled tea without the milk. Deep lines etched his forehead and fanned out from his eyes. He had a kind face used to laughing and crying.

“Now I want a report on what you’ve been doing all these years,” Esau said.

I suppressed a sigh. No more chances to avoid it. Used to obeying orders in the north, I told them about growing up in General Brazell’s orphanage in Military District 5. I glossed over the unpleasant years when I had reached maturity and become Reyad and Mogkan’s laboratory rat. My parents were distressed enough just hearing about their plans to use their kidnapped victims’ magical power to help Brazell overthrow the Commander; I saw no reason to tell them the brutal details of how they had erased the southern children’s minds.

When I mentioned becoming Commander Ambrose’s food taster, I failed to tell them that I had been in the Commander’s dungeon awaiting execution for killing Reyad. And after I had spent a year there, I had been given the choice of the noose or the poison taster’s position.

“I bet you were their best taster,” my father said.

“What a terrible thing to say,” Perl admonished. “What if she were poisoned?”

“We Lianas have a great sense of smell and taste. The girl’s here and safe, Perl. If she wasn’t good at detecting poisons, I doubt she would have lasted this long.”

“It’s not like someone was trying to poison the Commander all the time,” I said. “Only once, really.”

Perl’s hand flew to her neck. “Oh, my. I bet it was his pet assassin that tried to poison him. That loathsome creature.”

I stared at her uncomprehending.

“You know, his spy, Valek? Every Sitian would love to see that man’s head on a pike. He murdered almost the entire royal family. Only one nephew survived. Without Valek, that usurper would have never gained power and upset Sitia’s good relationship with Ixia. And those poor northern children who are born with magic. Slaughtered by Valek in their cribs!”

While she shuddered with revulsion, I gaped. My fingers sought the chain around my neck, and found the butterfly pendant Valek had carved for me. I squeezed it. Guess I wouldn’t be telling her about my relationship with him. And I decided not to enlighten her about the Commander’s policy on Ixians discovered with magical abilities. Not as gruesome as killing babies, but usually ending in death for the unfortunate man or woman. Valek had not been a fan of that policy, but he wouldn’t disobey an order from the Commander. Perhaps, in time, Valek would help the Commander see the benefits of having magicians on his staff.

“Valek isn’t as horrible as you think,” I said, trying to redeem his reputation. “He was instrumental in uncovering Brazell and Mogkan’s plans. In fact, he helped to stop them.” I wanted to add “he saved my life twice,” but the twin grimaces of loathing on my parents’ faces stopped me.

So much for my effort. He was the villain of Sitia, and it would take more than words to change his status. I couldn’t say I blamed my parents. When I had first met Valek, I feared his reputation, having no clue about the fierce loyalty, sense of fairness and willingness to sacrifice himself for others that lurked beneath his reputation.

I thanked fate when Nutty barged in with my backpack swinging from her hands.

Esau took it from her. “Thanks, Nut,” he said, tugging one of her ponytails.

“Welcome, Saw.” She punched him lightly in the stomach, and then danced out of reach as he swung to grab her. Sticking her tongue out at him, she skipped toward the door.

“Next time, Nut, I’m going to crack you.”

Her laugh echoed. “You can try.” And she was gone.

“Let me show you to your room,” Esau said to me.

As I turned to follow him, Perl said, “Yelena, wait. Tell me what happened to Brazell’s plans?”

“Thwarted. He’s in the Commander’s dungeon.”

“And Reyad and Mogkan?”

I took a breath. “Dead.” I waited for her to ask me who had killed them, and I wondered if I would tell her about my role in both of their deaths.

She nodded with satisfaction. “Good.”

Esau and Perl’s living quarters had two floors, and instead of a ladder or staircase to connect them, Esau used what he called a lift. I had never seen anything like it before. We stood in a closet-size room. Two thick ropes went through holes in the floor and ceiling. Esau pulled on one of the ropes, and the wooden room rose. I put my hand on the wall, but the motion was smooth. Eventually, we ascended to the second floor.

Esau poked his head back into the lift when I failed to follow him out. “Like it?” he asked.

“It’s great.”

“One of my designs. Pulleys are the key,” he explained. “You won’t find many in the Zaltana homestead. The others are slow to change, but I’ve sold a ton at the market.”

“Does Perl sell her perfumes at the market, as well?” I asked as I stepped onto the landing.

“Yep. Most of the Zaltanas either sell or exchange goods at the Illiais Market. It’s open all year. My inventions and Perl’s perfumes have provided us with a plentiful source of income.” Esau talked as we walked down the hallway. “A group of Zaltanas will make a trip to the market when enough items have been made or when a special order’s due. We aren’t the only ones who sell there either, so if we want something, we’ll go and buy. Unfortunately, not everything we need can be found in the jungle. Like your mother’s glass bottles and the hardware for my chairs.”

“You designed the rope furniture, too?”

“Yep. Except they’re not ropes. They’re lianas.” When understanding failed to brighten my face, he explained, “Vines from the jungle.”

“Oh.”

“The lianas are a constant source of trouble. Probably why they’re our family name.” Esau grinned. “They grow everywhere, and they can pull trees over. We have to keep them trimmed or cut them down. One day, instead of burning them, I took a bunch home and tried working with them.” Esau pulled back a cotton curtain that covered an entrance on the right side of the hallway. He gestured for me to precede him into a room.

“The vines become very strong when dried. While they’re pliable, they can be woven into almost anything.”

At first, I thought we had entered a storeroom. The air held a slight musty odor, and rows and rows of shelves holding glass containers of every size obscured the walls. The bottles were filled with various tinted substances. Only when I pulled my gaze away from the colorful collection did I see a small bed made from lianas and a wooden bureau.

Esau ducked his head. He ran a green-stained hand through his hair. “Sorry. I’ve been using this room to store my samples. But I cleaned off the bed and desk this morning.” He pointed to a Blackwood desk tucked into a corner.

“It’s fine,” I said, trying to mask my disappointment. I had been hoping that this room would help me remember something, anything of my life before Brazell’s orphanage.

Laying my backpack on the bed, I asked, “What other rooms are up here?”

“Our bedroom and my workroom. Come on, I’ll show you.”

We continued down the hall. There was another curtained doorway on the left, which led to a big bedroom. This room had a large bed with a purple flowered quilt, two end tables and shelves filled with books instead of containers.

Esau pointed to the ceiling, which was made of leather hides stretched over branches. “I coated it with oil so the rain runs off,” he explained. “No water drips in here, but it does get hot.”

Hanging from the middle of the ceiling was a large flower-shaped fixture made of wood planks. Ropes wrapped around the base, crossed the ceiling and trailed down the walls. “What’s that?” I asked.

He smiled. “Another invention. Pulleys again and some weights make the flower spin, cooling the room.”

We went out into the hallway. Across from Esau’s bedroom was another bedroom. A plain single bed, dresser and nightstand were neatly arranged inside. No decorations, inventions or other signs of its occupant were evident.

“Leif lives at the Magician’s Keep most of the year,” Esau said.

We continued down the hall, which ended in a spacious room. I grinned as I looked around. Esau’s workroom was stuffed full with plants, containers, piles of leaves and tools. Shelves groaned under the weight of many jars filled with strange items and various liquids. Walking into the room without bumping a shin seemed impossible. The clutter reminded me of Valek’s office and apartment. While Valek had books, papers and rocks piled everywhere, Esau had invited the jungle to reside with him.

I stood in the doorway for a moment.

“Come in, come in.” He walked past me. “I want to show you something.”

Taking my time, I threaded my way toward him. “What do you do here?”

“This and that,” he said as he searched through a pile of papers on a table. “I like to collect samples from the jungle and see what I can cook up. Found some medicines. Found some foods. Flowers for your mother. Aha!” He held up a white notebook. “Here.”

I took the book, but my attention was on the room as I searched for something familiar. The words “my mother” had triggered the feeling of doubt that had plagued me since my arrival at the Zaltana homestead. Finally, I asked Esau the same question I had asked Perl. “How do you know I’m your daughter? You seem so certain.”

Esau smiled. “Look in that book.”

I opened the cover. On the first page was a charcoal drawing of a baby.

“Keep turning.”

The next page had a drawing of a small child. As I turned the pages, the girl grew from a child to an adolescent into someone I recognized. Me. A hard knot gripped my throat as tears threatened to gush from my eyes. My father had loved me even when I was gone and I couldn’t even remember anything from my time here. The pictures showed my childhood as it should have been, living here with Esau and Perl.

“It’s really fun to flip through the book fast. Watch yourself grow twenty years in a few seconds.” Esau took the sketchbook from my hands, and held it open. “See? This is how I know you’re mine. I drew your picture every year after your birth, and even after you disappeared.” He turned to the last page and studied the portrait there. “I wasn’t too far off. It’s not perfect, but now that I’ve seen you I can make corrections.”

He tapped the book on his chest. “When you first disappeared, your mother carried this book with her, looking through the pictures all day long. Eventually she stopped, but after a couple years, she saw me drawing another picture, and she asked me to destroy it.” Esau handed the book to me. “I told her she would never see it again. As far as I know, she hasn’t. So let’s keep it between us for now. Okay?”

“Sure.” I gave each page my full attention. “This is wonderful.”

All doubts of my lineage vanished as I took note of the details that my father had put into these pictures. In that moment I knew I was part of the Zaltana clan. A feeling of relief washed through me. I vowed to try harder to make a connection with my parents. Leif, though, was another story.

“You should show your sketchbook to Leif,” I said, giving the book back to Esau. “Maybe then he would believe I’m his sister.”

“Don’t worry about Leif. He doesn’t need to see a picture. He knows who you are. It’s the shock of your arrival that’s thrown him off balance. He had a difficult time with your disappearance.”

“Oh, yes. I forgot; I’ve had it so easy in the north.”

Esau grimaced, and I regretted my sarcasm.

“Leif was with you the day you were taken from us,” he said in a quiet voice. “You had begged him to take you down to play on the jungle floor. He was eight, which may sound young, but Zaltana children are taught to survive in the jungle as soon as they can walk. Nutty was climbing trees before she took her first steps; it drove my sister crazy.”

Esau sat in one of his vine chairs and weariness seemed to settle on him like a coating of dust. “When Leif came home without you, our concern was minimal. A lost child had always been found within an hour or two. After all, the Illiais Jungle isn’t that big. Predators are not as active during the daytime, and at night we have a few tricks to keep them from our homestead. But we grew more frantic as the day wore on and we still hadn’t located you. You had disappeared so completely that everyone thought you had been caught by a necklace snake or a tree leopard.”

“Necklace snake?”

He grinned, and an appreciative glint flashed in his eyes. “A green-and-brown predator that lives in the trees. Sometimes fifty feet long, it loops its body over the branches, blending in with the jungle. When its prey comes close, it wraps itself around the victim’s neck and squeezes.” Esau demonstrated with his hands. “Then it swallows the body whole and feeds on the carcass for weeks.”

“Not pleasant.”

“No, and it’s impossible to see what is inside the snake unless you kill them. But their hides are too thick for arrows, and it’s suicide to get close to one. Same with the tree leopard. The cat drags its kill into its den, another unapproachable site. In the end, only Leif believed that you were still alive. He thought you might be hiding somewhere, playing a game. As the rest of us grieved, Leif searched the jungle for you day after day.”