The Drowning City - Amanda Downum [41]
“Ingenious.”
“Thank you,” Asheris said, lips curving. “We are rather proud of the technique. No one has ever done this before, to the best of our knowledge.”
“Be careful, Lady Iskaldur,” the Vicereine called, securing the veil pinned over her hair. “Once he starts talking about his mountain, you’ll be hard-pressed to silence him.”
Asheris chuckled. “Her Excellency has no ear for the music of the mountain. But come, my lady, we aren’t at the top yet. You must see the cauldron.” He gestured toward another narrower stair leading up.
Isyllt sighed and promised herself a long bath when they returned to the city. “Of course I must.”
“And me,” Murai said, springing up from her bench. Isyllt felt even wearier just watching her.
“Of course, little bird. Your Excellency?”
“I’ve seen your mountain often enough,” Shamina said. “Be careful up there, Murai.”
“I always am, Mama.”
“I won’t let her come to harm,” Asheris promised.
He took the lead as they ascended the final stair, Murai walking in the middle, sedate until they were out of sight of her mother. Then she hurried ahead, following on Asheris’s heels.
Sivahra stretched below them, forests and rivers and hills, patchwork fields in the south and buildings like grains of salt scattered on a tablecloth. Isyllt took off her hat, letting the wind unravel her braid and dry her sweaty hair. The air was cooler here, without the jungle’s heat and the river’s damp. Then the wind shifted and she tasted hot stone and ash, the breath of the mountain.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Asheris called over his shoulder.
“Yes.” She returned his smile, and the honesty of it surprised her.
He offered her a hand and helped her up the last uneven step. The wind buffeted her and she leaned on his arm as she found her feet.
Then she looked down, into the mountain, and her breath left on a wondering gasp.
A cauldron of char-black stone—the smell of it reached her even against the wind, burnt and bitter. And deep within the well a pool of molten rock bubbled gold and orange, leaking smoke.
“Can you feel it?” he asked. “The strength of it? I thought I’d never love anything as much as the desert winds, until I came here. I’d stay up here forever, if they would let me.”
“Would you really? Or would you miss it, before too long?”
He didn’t need to ask what she meant. “I don’t know. It’s not an option I can explore.” He turned his head, but not before Isyllt saw the longing and bitterness naked on his face. She looked down in turn.
She took a few careful steps away, thinking to circle the cauldron’s rim, but Asheris raised a warning hand.
“Please, don’t. We know the rock here is stable, but I can’t vouch for the other side. And if you fell there, it’s a very long drop with no one to catch you. I’d much rather not spend the night searching for your body.”
Isyllt glanced down the steep face and nodded. As she looked up, she found Murai watching her. The girl ducked her head.
“I’m sorry, I know it’s rude to stare. But I’ve never seen anyone so pale before. Are you from Hallach?”
“No, I was born in Vallorn, which is farther still north. But I haven’t lived there for a long time.”
“Are they pirates there too?”
Isyllt smiled. “No. Vallorn has no sea, only mountains. All the pirates have to go to Hallach or Selafai.”
“I was born at sea, while my parents were coming back from Assar. My mother’s time came early. That’s how I got my name.”
“Murai?”
The girl nodded. “In Sivahran it means bird’s nest”—she wrinkled her nose—“but it’s really from Ninayan. Mariah. It means the sea. It was the captain’s idea.” She ducked her head again. “I talk too much. Asheris, will you show Lady Iskaldur the birds?”
“Of course, meliket.” Asheris looked toward the cauldron, where magma cooled in ash-gray veins only to crack and melt again. He raised one hand, letting the wind billow his sleeve theatrically. A red-orange bubble swelled and burst, spitting fire that flared into golden wings. Birds wrought of flame soared