Prologue

A thin line of pale gold gleamed in the east. It reminded Saya of her brother's finer metalwork—a necklace, maybe.

A chain of golden light. In a minute or so, it would draw up the sun like a pendant on one of Ranen's chains.

She gave her head a rapid shake. That was a weird thought, even for her.

I miss Ranen.

Saya missed the dry air of Tharneth, and the red sandstone, and the canyon with its endless stairs and bridges and columns. By now, the city would be waking, bustling even before sunrise. It was so quiet here, except for the birds, and whatever that horrible raspy shrieking had been last night.

Scrithe, she remembered Lord Kagren telling her, and Ragri had agreed.

Saya took a deep breath, then coughed. The air was so wet here. At first, it felt like someone held her head under the Ruvan and forced her to breathe water. It had gotten easier over the last few days, but only a little.

I miss Tharneth.

At least there weren't any Kreth. That was one thing she didn't miss, one thing she wasn't eager to get back to.

Saya shook her short, black hair out of her face—the day had barely begun, and the heat was already sticky. She focused her eyes on the horizon. Or rather, all the trees on the horizon. They were so tall, and there were so many of them, of so many different kinds. She thought of the scrubby blue junipers back home. Soru could brush the tops of them with his hand. Saya thought even Soru would have trouble reaching the utmost branches of the trees here, especially the ones that went up, up, up with no limbs at all until their huge leaves spread out like fans at the very top. She tried to picture a big man like Soru trying to climb one of them, wrapping his huge arms and legs around one of the trunks. The image made her giggle.

The sun was up now, and the unfamiliar land came alive in an explosion of greenery.

And bugs.

Saya blew a cloud of gnats out of her face. Where had they come from?

“Well, all's quiet, anyway,” she muttered to herself. She rose from her crouch and headed back to camp.

Soru was sure to be awake. Ragri, too. Maybe Lord Kagren. Saya wondered if the cats would be there. They hadn’t been around when she had ventured off to patrol. Are they even part of this hunting party? she wondered. It seemed they were absent more often than not, always disappearing without a word and reappearing without explanation.

She supposed that if they meant any harm, Ragri would know.

Her nose knows.

Soru had told her that that joke was ready for its grave the moment she said it, but Saya still thought it was funny.

Soru came into view first as Saya stepped out of the tall grass and onto the relatively clear area where they had made camp. One hand was on his sword, but then he saw her and let it drop to his side.

“Nothing strange,” Saya said before he could ask. “And no sign of any thavok, either.”

Soru gave a single nod, then knelt to gather up Lord Kagren's bedroll. A grunt and a rustle in the bushes behind him told Saya that their leader was awake.

Ragri was in much the same place where Saya had left her before dawn, though now, she was up on her hind legs, her thick back claws splayed in the mud. A shiny green beetle waddled along the red scales of her tail, though if Ragri noticed, she paid it no mind. The beetle made its way up one of Ragri’s blue spines, lifted its gleaming shell to spread delicate black wings, and buzzed away toward the nearest tree.

“You’re much like the Ruvan this morning,” Ragri said as Saya approached. She tilted her head and fixed one amber eye on Saya. “Greens, golds, blues—what did you see out there?”

“Birds,” Saya answered, though until now, she hadn’t thought to mention them. “Just as it was getting light, a great big flock of them flew up out of the grass. They were almost as big as me! All white, with long legs and long necks and long beaks—long all over. They were beautiful!”

“Herons,” Lord Kagren said as he emerged from the bushes. He sneezed, sniffed, and fished in his pockets. “Will these plants ever give me a moment’s peace?” he grumbled as he pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose. He swore under his breath and slapped the back of his neck. Saya could tell he was biting his tongue. Lord Kagren had promised days ago to stop complaining about the biting insects, though no one had asked him to.

“If the gods of this land have any sense of decency, we’ll hear about the end of this hunt before sundown,” Lord Kagren went on grumbling. One of his long, black braids had come loose. Soru raised his hands as if to fix it, but Kagren waved him off and began rebraiding it himself.

Saya frowned at the strands of gray amid the black. Were there so many before? Maybe there were, and she had just never noticed.

“Green curiosity, gold delight.” Ragri’s voice was a quiet rumble near Saya’s ear. The big Nahrzai was leaning over the girl now. “But what of the blue?”

Saya never would have imagined she’d be comfortable with a mouthful of sharp teeth so close to her head, but Kagren and Soru both had assured her, early the journey, of the peaceful nature of Nahrzai, and Ragri proved the truth of it.

“Just… missing home. And my brother.” And Lord Kagren looks so old this morning. Why didn’t I ever see it before?

Saya didn’t add the last part out loud.

Ragri made a low thrumming deep in her throat and pressed the end of her muzzle against Saya’s cheek. The feel of the cool, smooth scales made Saya smile. She stepped forward and hugged Ragri.

That was what she loved most about Nahrzai, Saya decided. They were always happy to accept an embrace—even if she couldn’t quite get her arms around one.

Lord Kagren finished rebraiding his hair and shook his head. The heavy locks fell over his shoulder and down his back. “Well, the sooner the thavok is taken care of, the sooner we can start back for Tharneth.” He unwrapped some dried meat from one of his pouches. It was too wet and too warm here to make a camp fire worth the trouble. “We’ll keep heading east, unless Sheska and Thrish tell us otherwise.”

“They’d have to be here to tell us something first,” Saya said. She thought about the dried fruit in her own belongings. Later, she decided. She had already eaten a little before dawn, and a full-bellied scout was a sluggish scout. Soru had taught her that, and it was forever true.

Her words had barely drifted away on the light breeze when the Vaskari siblings dropped out of the same tree where the beetle had flown. Saya yelped, one hand going for her bow before she realized it was only the cats.

“Don’t do that!” she snapped. “One of these days, Soru is going to take your heads off, you startle him like that.”

“I was aware of them,” Soru said, his deep voice even as ever.

“I smelled them,” Ragri said.

“You mean you didn’t know?” Kagren added.

Saya looked at him. It was on her tongue to apologize. What kind of a scout was she?

The older man came close to a grin as he stepped near her. “You’ll get the hang of it, Saya.” He patted her shoulder.

Both Vaskari were cloaked in muted gray-green that seemed to blend in with everything, hoods pulled up over their ears, golden eyes gleaming in the shadows, though their feline noses and whiskers showed.

“Thavok,” one of them said. Saya thought it was Sheska, the sister. Her raspy voice was a little higher pitched.

Kagren’s grin vanished, and his posture straightened. “Where?”

The other cat—Thrish—waved a furred hand eastward. “We spotted it from afar.” Definitely Thrish. His voice was almost as deep as Soru’s. “We may catch up to it before the morning is out, if we leave now.”