was worrying about Bain’s next history test, but lives are at stake. Ferde could be
stealing another’s soul and I might have the power to stop him.”
“What do you want? For me to tell you to do this or do that and wa-lah!” Moon
Man flourished his hand in the air. “Instant success!”
“Yes. That is exactly what I want. Please, tell me.”
A thoughtful expression settled on his face. “When you were training to be the
Commander’s food taster, would you know what the poison My Love tasted like if
Valek had just described it to you?”
“Yes.” There was no mistaking the sour-apple taste.
“Would you trust your life on that knowledge? Or others?”
I opened my mouth to reply but paused. Now I couldn’t remember the poisons I
hadn’t tasted or smelled. But I’ll never forget the tartness of My Love, the rancid
orange flavor of Butterfly’s Dust, and the bitter thickness of White Fright.
“I’m talking about magic. Testing food for poisons is different.”
“Is it?”
I pounded my fist on the ground. “Do Story Weavers sign a contract or make a
blood oath to be difficult and stubborn and a pain in the ass?”
A serene smile spread on his face. “No. Each Story Weaver chooses how he will
guide his charges. Think about it, Yelena. You do not respond well to orders. Now
eat your meat before it gets cold.”
Stifling my desire to fling the food into the fire and prove the insufferably smug
Story Weaver right about my inability to take orders, I bit off a large chunk.
Spiced with pepper, the oily meat tasted like duck. Moon Man fed me two more
pieces before he would let me return to the sleeping men and heal them. Tired, I
snoozed by the fire.
When everyone had roused and gathered around the campfire to eat, we
discussed our next move.
“Do you think they would set more ambushes in the jungle? Leave more Warpers
in our path?” I asked Moon Man.
He considered my question. “It is possible. They left one at the camp who
sacrificed himself. This one was supposed to come back. Our spies have
determined the Daviian Vermin have about ten Warpers—eight now. Two are very
powerful, and the rest have various lesser talents.”
“The ambush leader had enough magic to create and hold a null shield.”
Moon Man turned the meat roasting over the fire. “A valid and alarming point.
Which means they might have been performing Kirakawa for some time.”
“What’s Kirakawa?” Leif asked.
“It is an ancient ritual. It has many steps and rites. When done correctly, it
transfers the life energy of one person to another. All living beings have the ability to
use magic, but most cannot connect to the power source. A person performing
Kirakawa will either increase their magical power or gain the ability to connect with
the power source, and therefore become a Warper.
“Their leader mentioned levels and a binding rite. They are probably using the
Kirakawa to grant certain members magical abilities and increase certain Warpers’
powers. Their leader would not want all the clan members to be equally powerful.”
“How is the Kirakawa different than the Efe ritual Ferde used?” Leif rubbed the
cut on his cheek.
“The Efe ritual binds a person’s soul to the practitioner, increasing their power.
While blood is needed, it isn’t the medium holding the power in Efe. The soul carries
the power. And the person performing the ritual must be a magician.”
“It sounds like anyone can use this Kirakawa to gain power,” Leif said.
“If they knew the proper steps. With the Kirakawa, the victim’s soul is trapped in
blood. It is gruesome, too. The victim’s stomach is cut open and the heart is
removed while the victim is still living. The Kirakawa is also more complex than the
Efe ritual.”
“Could any magician use Efe? Or just the Soulstealer?” I asked.
“A Soulfinder could, but no one else. Is that a straight enough answer for you,
Yelena?”
I didn’t dignify his comment with a reply. Instead, I asked about Mogkan, Alea’s
brother. In Ixia, he had captured over thirty people, turning them into mindless slaves
so he could siphon their power and augment his own. Valek and I had eventually
stopped him from gaining control of Ixia, which explained Alea’s desire for revenge.
“Mogkan tortured them both physically and mentally until they could no longer
bear to be aware of their surroundings. They retreated within themselves and just
became a conduit for him to exploit. Their magic remained in their bodies.”
The implications over the different ways for people to abuse power raced
through my mind. “Going back to the Kirakawa. If the Daviian Vermin have been
performing it for a while, then they could have more than eight Warpers.”
Moon Man nodded. “Many more.”
Paranoia sizzled up my spine. Convinced Warpers surrounded us, my desire to
return my friends to the safety of the plateau pressed between my shoulder blades.
However, if the Daviians wanted to find more victims for their ritual, the Zaltana
Clan teemed with people and magicians. With the Warpers using a null shield, the
clan would have no warning. Fingers of desperate fear squeezed my stomach as the
images of my mother and father being mutilated filled my mind.
“HOW DO YOU COUNTER the null shield?” I asked Moon Man, failing to
keep the panic out of my voice. The jungle around us darkened and I imagined
predators lurking behind every tree and bush. Only the small fire we huddled around
gave off any light.
“Magic cannot pierce the shield, but find a way around the shield’s edges and
you can use your magic.”
“What are the shield’s dimensions?”
“Depends on the strength of the builder. The one we used in the plateau was as
tall as a man astride a horse, and as wide as thirty men. But we had four Story
Weavers combine their powers to build it. For one Warper, the shield would have to
be smaller.”
I looked up at the trees. The ambush had come from above. Would they use the
same tactic for another ambush? No. If the first attempt hadn’t worked, then a
different strategy would be used. Being higher than your target had many advantages,
and if I climbed into the tree canopy, I might be able to get past the edges of another
null shield and discover where another ambush lurked.
Knowing my next move helped to dampen my terror for my family. I made
contact with Kiki, projecting my awareness up toward the plateau.
Any trouble? I asked.
No. Bored, she replied. Go?
Yes. I’ll meet you at the Illiais Market rendezvous location.
I then told my plan to the others.
“Not without me,” Leif said. “I grew up in the jungle. I know every leaf and tree.”
His body stiffened with determination.
“That is why you need to stay with them. To show them the way to the
homestead. To help them avoid predators.”
Leif crossed his arms over his broad chest. But he knew I made sense, so he
couldn’t argue.
“I need to question our prisoner before I go. There could be a chance the other
Vermin might not be targeting my family.”
The man groaned and blinked at me when I woke him from his deep sleep. Moon
Man had been right to tie his arms. There hadn’t been enough Curare left on my
blade to paralyze him.
The Vermin’s tunic and pants had been ripped, and I glimpsed portions of
blackish-red tattoos on his brown skin. Moon Man reached over and ripped the
man’s right sleeve off.
The Story Weaver pointed to the symbols on the man’s arm. “He has made the
proper blood sacrifice to prepare for the Kirakawa ritual. That ink in his skin has
been mixed with blood.” Moon Man’s shoulders dropped as if he grieved. “The
Sandseeds were wise to banish the old rituals.”
“You were misguided and fooled into following the teachings of Guyan,” the
prisoner said. “Not wise but weak and pitiful, giving up your power to become
docile pathetic Story Weavers instead of—”
Moon Man grabbed the man by the throat and lifted him off the ground. Docile
and weak were not words I would have used to describe the Story Weaver.
“Where did you get the instructions?” Moon Man asked, shaking him.
The man smiled. “I am not telling you.”
“Instructions?” I asked.
“The details for the old rituals had been lost to time. At one point in history, we
knew how to perform many different rituals to increase our power. Our clan passes
information down to our children through teaching stories. Once Guyan became our
leader, the evil ones who knew the required steps were killed. The information
should have died with them.” He dropped the Daviian to the ground.
I remembered Dax reading a bunch of ancient tomes when we had tried to
interpret Ferde’s tattoos to discover why Ferde had been raping and killing those
girls.
“There were a few books in the Magician’s Keep. A Sandseed might have written
the instructions and symbols down before they died. Perhaps there is another copy
that the Vermin are using.” I turned to the man. “I guess you’re not going to tell us
what the Vermin’s plans are either?”
He met my gaze and sneered. It was all I needed. My family could be in danger. I
sent a rope of power toward his mind and rifled through his thoughts and memories,
extracting the information I needed. I suppressed the pang of guilt and my
recollections of when Roze Featherstone had tried to examine my mind in a similar
fashion. She had thought I was a spy from Ixia, and the Ethical Code didn’t apply to
spies or criminals. I could argue the same in my defense. Did that make me the same
as Roze? Perhaps. The thought made me uncomfortable.
Besides a few horrid memories of watching an initial level of the Kirakawa ritual,
the man knew almost nothing. Ordered to stay behind and ambush anyone who
came out of the caves, his small unit had scheduled a rendezvous with the larger
jungle group at a later time. Where and when the meeting would be, he had no idea.
And, more important, he didn’t know what the others planned to do.
He had a few tidbits of information. I confirmed that both Cahil and Ferde had
come this way and they traveled with a group of twelve Vermin.
“Fourteen is not enough to win in an attack on the Zaltanas,” Leif said, pride in
his voice.
I agreed. “But winning isn’t everything.”
My anxiety to leave increased a hundredfold. A group of Vermin had entered the
jungle and my clan could be in trouble. Images of my father and mother being
captured and staked to the ground replayed in my mind. The thought of my cousin
Nutty climbing without care through the trees and falling into a trap, hurried my
preparations.
I shouldered my pack, threading my bow through its holder. “What about our
prisoner?” I asked Moon Man.
“I will take care of him.”
“How?”
“You do not want to know.”
“Yes, I do. I want you to tell me everything!”
Moon Man sighed. “The Vermin were once a part of the Sandseed clan. They are
our wayward kin, and they are infesting the rest of Sitia. How we deal with them is in
accordance to our laws, and it is the proper way to take care of Vermin.”
“And that would be?”
“You exterminate them.”
A protest perched on my lips. What about those members who might have been
misguided? But my question remained unvoiced. Now wasn’t the best time to argue
crime and punishment.
Instead, I gazed at the tall trees, looking for a way up into the canopy, wishing I
hadn’t left my grapple and rope in the cave. I found a long vine and used it to climb
into the higher branches. After a moment to reorient myself—the Zaltana homestead
was to the west—I swung over to the next tree.
I kept my magical senses tuned to the life around me, seeking the Daviians and
other predators as I traveled toward home. The web of branches and crowded trees
slowed my progress. After a few hours, my sweat-soaked clothes were ripped, and
my skin burned and itched from innumerable cuts and insect bites.
Resting on the branch of a hawthorn tree, I scanned the area between me and
Moon Man. There was no sign of any intelligent life so I linked my mind with Moon
Man’s and Leif’s.
You will be safe to travel to this area, I said, picturing the small clearing below.
Stay there until I contact you again.
They agreed.
After I rested, I pushed my way through the jungle’s canopy, staying alert to any