Cold Fire (Spiritwalker 2)

“Wait. Does that mean Expedition Territory is part of the Taino kingdom?”

“No. Expedition is a free territory, on the island of Kiskeya. The rest of the island is part of the Taino kingdom. Expedition’s Council requires all local fire mages to serve here for a season every few years. We’re the only people who can live with and guard salters without risk of getting infested with the plague. That’s why I’m here. While we’re on Salt Island, we serve under the command of whichever Taino behique is eldest. In this case, a woman.”

“So behique is male and behica is female.”

“Yes. Listen, Cat, if you run into her, there are a few things you must know. Never speak to her unless she addresses you first. Don’t speak to the cacique’s nephew at all. He is a fire mage newly kindled and thus frightfully dangerous because he can’t control his power. And he’s terribly highborn. He is one of the possible heirs to the cacique’s honorable duho, the seat of power. The throne.”

“That means he could be cacique someday.”

“That’s right. The old bitch has come here to train him. Bear all that in mind. I’m off to supper. I’ll come by after. That is, if you’re minded to speak to me. The truth is”—his startlingly blue gaze bored into me—“you were irresistible beyond any question of healing you.”

I could not resist his smile. “Well, if that’s what you call ‘speaking.’”

He chuckled. “I never quite expect pretty girls to possess wit as well.”

By the time I had decided I could not tell if he was teasing me or insulting me, he had walked away. Abby stepped into view, watching him go with a frown. But when she turned to see me trying to tie the cloth, she laughed in a delightful way and showed me how to tuck and fix the fabric to make an ankle-length skirt. I pulled on my damp shift as a blouse.

We stowed tub and buckets in a lean-to. Inside the single room of the house, baskets hung from the rafters and what looked like a pair of fishing nets were strung lengthwise under beams. A bronze pot half filled with water sat in a wire stand, with a pitcher hanging from a hook and a basin tucked beneath. Otherwise, there was no furniture. She unrolled a mat woven from rushes and, after a hesitation, I sat on it.

“Yee wait. I get food.” She went out.

Waiting, hungry, I brooded with my cane across my crossed legs, fingering my locket. Where was Bee? Had she returned safely to Adurnam? Had she found Rory? Touching the locket made me think of Andevai, who had returned it to me. I still had the sard stone. In a strange way, I felt I was saving it for him, and yet the likelihood I would see him again seemed small. I could not be sure if I was relieved or sad at the thought.

From nearby, voices erupted into an argument. It took no great acumen to guess it was Drake at odds with the behica and her noble pupil. Fire mages, all. Including one newly kindled. Was the cacique’s nephew the power my sire had spoken of?? Was he, highborn and superior and a foreigner, a man I might hand over in place of Bee without feeling the shame of treachery? Yet fire mages could not become truly powerful, not like cold mages. Wake too much fire, and the fire consumed you.

I hated my sire all over again. To save Bee, I was going to have to hand someone else over in her place. Just as my aunt and uncle had done, when they had given me to Four Moons House. For the first time, I felt a tremor of sympathy for their dilemma.

“Cat’reen?”

My eyes flew open. Abby set down a tray.

“Will you eat with me?” I asked, but she lifted her chin to indicate the negative.

I was ravenous. I choked down four flat grilled rounds that were more cracker than bread. Succulent yams had been baked to perfection with tiny red vegetables whose taste turned my mouth to fire. I gulped down the entire cup of smoky brown liquid, which proved to be a mistake, because it was rum. Slow down, I told myself.

All this time, Abby watched me. My hazy memory of my arrival on the beach cleared like clouds parting to reveal the sun. “Are you a fire mage, Abby?”

“Ayi.” No.

“How can you be safe from the salters if you’re not a fire mage?”

Gracious Melqart did not spare me from being a complete ass who could not think before she spoke. There could only be one reason. Quite by instinct, I scooted away from her.

She looked down, shoulders slumping.

“Oh, Blessed Tanit,” I muttered. “I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry.”

Lamplight spilled through the door. Drake entered, a lamp in one hand and a gourd bottle in the other. “Is something wrong, Cat?”

“Does Abby have the salt plague?”

Maybe it was the way the lamplight lanced through the room, but for an instant the girl looked like a dead thing, skin the wrong color, lacking the blood that gives life. She sucked in a sob.

“That was rude,” Drake said. “I thought better of you, Cat. Abby’s no danger to you.”

“Cat’reen mean no rudeness,” Abby said quickly.

I clamped my lips tight over excuses. “I was rude and thoughtless. My apologies.”