He needed to be warden.
“Tell me everything,” he asked. So she did.
—
The rest of the morning was spent collecting all of the items on Gorn’s list. Together they managed the majority of what she had asked for. Unfortunately, only one type of salt could be found, sourced from the salt flats of Ood-Lopah. Poor Anoor.
“And we’ll finally be able to bloodwerk.” Jond had repeated that three times already.
“Yes, I know.”
“I wonder how she does it.”
“Because she’s a Duster?”
He nodded, adding another item to Sylah’s basket and crossing it off the list.
“I’ve been thinking about that myself. Sometimes I wonder if Mama got it wrong, but then I see how she acts. Oh, she’s annoying, I’ll give you that, but she seems different than the other Embers. More…thoughtful, I guess.”
“Really?”
Sylah nodded.
“Her inkwell, it’s quite big, so I have a theory she’s using someone else’s blood.”
“You think that’s possible?” Jond’s eyes widened, and he faltered in his step. “If that’s true…we could…the Dusters…the Sandstorm.”
“What? Harvest an army?” Sylah laughed and patted Jond on the shoulder. “First let’s figure out how to actually do it.”
He nodded, but his mind was far away.
“You should have seen the way her mother treated her. I know Papa used violence to train us, but this, it was vicious.”
Jond frowned, as if trying to recollect that memory. “I wonder why Uka kept her alive.”
“I’m not sure. Papa told us all the Duster decoys had been killed…Anyway, I’ll find out.”
They were left to their own thoughts while Sylah collected a pot of sandalwood oil from a merchant.
“I’m sorry, Sylah,” Jond said once Sylah had paid. His hand reached out and clung to her wrist. His fingers slipped under her sleeve and brushed the silvered scar of her brand.
“For what?” His fingers tingled.
He looked so sad.
“I’m sorry that you’re not going to be joining the Aktibar like we dreamed.”
She thought about his words for some time, the flow of the market moving around them.
“I hadn’t dreamed that dream for six years. Once Papa…once everyone died, I knew it was over. Besides, you got the training from the new Sandstorm; if I became warden, I’d have no idea what to do.”
“I’d have helped,” he interjected.
“I know, but this way, I can help. I can teach you to bloodwerk, and you can win.”
“But we won’t be doing it together.”
“We will, in our own way.” Sylah gently pried Jond’s hand away from her wrist and set off walking again. “I need to check in with the haberdashery to see if any of the fabric she ordered has come in.”