he is not convulsing

body grows slack

rough with stubble
he lurches
to his feet. Then he doubles over and dry-heaves.
The foothills
to treat the seizures
a drachm of it
My stomach twists in dread at the idea. The giant rock is
a lawless
cesspit of societys detritushighwaymen, bounty
hunters, and black market profiteers who know
only the darkest corruption. Pop went there a few times
to find rare herbs. Nan never slept while he
was gone.
Elias nods. Dangerous as the ten hells, but filled with
people who wish to go as unnoticed as we
do.

horrified by the callous way he

treats his body. He fumbles at the reins of the horse.
men soothing horses and children kindling breakfast fires
I can make out the pitted trunks of
great trees
seizures
I
guide the horse to a low-lying ravine littered with

boulders.
the slur in my voice
The blackness creeping at the edge of my vision draws
closer
Another ember waiting to burn the world down

Six broken ribs, twenty-eight lacerations, thirteen

fractures, four torn tendons, and bruised
kidneys.
Its unmottled surface is the specialty of a city far to the
south, an island of glassblowers my father once visited
I sit amid the silken rugs and
lavender drapes
as she dabs ointment onto one of my
wounds
never learned to quench her hatred
My sister lifts her chin in challenge before turning and
ambling out, as if its her idea to go. Youd
have made an excellent Mask, sister
The pride and disdain that were the Veturia hallmark
an undercurrent of sullen fear ripples through the
courtyard. A whipping
post is haphazardly erected in one corner. Fresh blood
spatters the cobblestones around it
a tight rein on internal dissent
my stomach churning as I reach for the door handle
I scof

The creatures gaze is a writhing abyss, and as my sight

goes red and I stagger back into the wall
He peers over my shoulder at my fingerschafed from
four days of clutching
the reinsand takes the leather straps from me.
His pulse
skitters frantically
He slumps over, his breath shallow
The horses hooves slip on the rocks, and it rears, nearly
ripping the reins from my hands and
throwing Elias. I dismount and croon at the beast, trying
to temper my impatience, coaxing it along as
the thick mist gives way to a wretched, bone-chilling
drizzle.
East of the Roost yawns a no-mans-land where thin
fingers of rock rise up out of plunging chasms,
punching higher and higher until the rocks meld together
to form the first low ridgelines of the Serran
Mountain Range.
By the time Ive tethered the beast to a knob of jutting
rock and dragged Elias of its back, Im
panting. The rain has soaked him through, but theres no
time to change him into dry clothes now. I
tuck a cloak around him carefully, then rifle through his
pack for coins, feeling like a thief.
I lash out with the
knife, hear a grunt, and wrench away. I pull my hood
lower and hunch
Ramshackle dwellings squat along the defile, most
tucked into the natural

cracks in the rock, with canvas tarps as roofs and walls.

Goats and chickens are nearly as abundant as
the people.
The longer I linger, the more danger we are in
Finally, in an alley of the main thoroughfare, I spot a
shack with a mortar and pestle carved into
the door.
Bleeding wraiths
a goat gnawing on some garbage
I bolt, staying away from the main
thoroughfare and sticking to the muddy, poorly lit back
alleys of the market.
Ill stick a
knife in your gut and drop you down a crevasse
I dart beneath tarps
dart beneath tarps, upsetting a basket of goods and
nearly knocking an old Mariner woman onto
her back. For a moment, Im out of Shikaats sight. A wall
of rock rises ahead of me, and a row of
tents sits to my right. To my left, a pyramid of crates
leans precariously up against the side of a fur
cart.
I rip a fur of the top of the stack and dive beneath the
cart, covering myself and pulling my feet out
of sight just before Shikaat bursts into the alley
bewilderment
Did you magick me? He shakes me hard,
rattling my teeth in my head. How did you do it?
Piss of! I claw at him, but he holds me at arms

distance
My heart thunders like the hooves of a horse
leverage
She relates the tale swiftly, helping me bind the
unconscious Tribesman as she does so. As I listen,
Im half in disbelief and half bursting with pride at her
sheer nerve.
laying flint to tinder
check the rope Ive tied to an
unobtrusive and half-hidden finger of rock, and then
swing down into the Jutts silently, going hand
below hand until Ive reached a rain-slicked rock ten feet
below. Laia hops down from my back with
a slight scrape that I hope the Tribesmen wont hear. I
tug on the rope to release it.
her face is blanched
As we get closer to the mountains and farther from the
Roost, the rain thins out, replaced by thick
mist.
I find a good spot: a clearing beneath a rock
overhang, bordered by old-growth pines, their pitted
trunks overgrown with moss. As I clear the rock
and twigs from the dry earth beneath the overhang, I
feel Laias hand on my shoulder
Only a lifetime of
veneration keeps me from grabbing desperately at his
robes.
I swore fealty

I feel chagrined that he would need to remind me of the

value of my own
people.
I feel like retching at his feet.
disdain
doesnt react to the jibe
Instead, I get a shrug
stint
I whirl in my saddle. The desert is empty but for a
tumbleweed rolling past.
long-winded
smug
Badly calloused
no force in this land
will stop me from gutting you
I leap up and unsheathe my blade
scuttling away across the rooftops
I push her away. She stumbles, hurt flickering across her
face. I dont even know why I do it,
except that getting close to her feels wrong somehow.
The rock field levels and flattens into uneven terraces,
the shelves interspersed with trees and
scrub.
the skies open up and we are deluged
A forced march in bone-numbing sleet simplifies life