Page 16 of The Shadow Wand

Two emotions hit Sparrow at once, lightning hard. Outrage over his use of the slur that mocks both the Urisk’s ears and their latent geomancy powers. And glass-sharp worry. Because she knows the Urisk he’s speaking of, their whereabouts carefully concealed by Sparrow and other Urisk to buy them a day or two for their escape.

“They got about halfway to the mainland,” Tilor continues, “and the kraken devoured them.” He says this last part with a heavy sigh.

Shock slams into Sparrow, and it’s all she can do to remain upright.

No. No, it can’t be.Enna’lys. And Marrillya. And small Silla’nil, bundled up and loaded onto the crowded boat, clutching a cloth doll Sparrow had lovingly sewn for her. Sweet Silla’nil, with her secret collection of shells. Her rose-splotched cheeks and pale pink curls. The child singing, always singing, like a tiny bird. Even the cruel Gardnerians were unable to destroy her gentle, bubbly soul.

Tilor sniffs, frowning. “I had a good view from my scope. Watched the beast take them down. It was truly awful. Tore a child’s head clear off.” He makes a jaded sound. “Their own fault, really. Honestly, what were they thinking? Did they not notice the kraken out there that are visible right from the shore?” He shrugs, pursing his lips, and lets out a long breath. “Provided an evening’s diversion, at least. Gruesome as it was.” He glances over his shoulder at the factories, greenhouses, and farms located past the bluff and rolls his eyes. “Anythingto break up the tedium of this godforsaken place.”

Rage digs its claws into Sparrow, cold and condemning, along with a terrible, heart-shattering grief. She tries to fight it. Tries to punch it back down, but she can’t this time. The outrage is too great, and it rises like a burgeoning tide.

“It’swrong.” Her voice is as unforgiving as the ocean’s black depths. “The way you treat us. It’swrong.”

Tilor’s head snaps toward her, and he looks as if she’s slapped him.

Stupid, stupid!A remnant of sense shrilly blares a warning in the back of Sparrow’s mind. But at this moment, she doesn’t care. Her fingers twitch with the urge to pull her knife and take him down, even though he’s too muscular for her to overpower.

Tilor’s stunned expression melts away, a confrontational grin forming on his face.

“You’ve no souls,” he declares. “It says so, right in theBook. You’re like empty shells.” His gaze flicks over her as he sighs ruefully. “A lovely shell, in your case, but an empty one. Someday, after you die, it will be like you never existed at all.” His mouth twists into a bitter sneer. “So, it doesn’t matter how we treat you, now, does it?”

Sparrow’s fierce anger is ratcheted up by the ball of hot grief that’s forming deep in her core.

Silla’nil.The child was supposed to be on her way to Valgard. And from there to Verpacia, and then through the Pass to the East. And, someday, to safety in Noi lands. A scream rises in Sparrow’s throat, threatening to loosen.

Tilor reaches up to play with her hair again, and Sparrow digs her nails into her palms to keep from attacking him.

“I know you hate it here,” he murmurs, stroking her cheek, as if sympathetic to her plight. “But you need to accept your lot. It’s ordained by the Ancient One that you serve us. It says it right in theBook. There’s no escaping us or our power. Especially now that we’ve got our Black Witch.”

His words are like another debilitating punch to the gut. First Vogel takes power, and now...now they have their Black Witch too?

Sparrow knows exactly who that Black Witch is likely to be.

“Fallon Bane,” Tilor breathes out reverentially, a slightly besotted look in his eyes. “The Ishkart tried to kill her, but they failed. She’s recuperating. And her power is growing.”

Dread courses through Sparrow. It’s too awful to comprehend. Fallon Bane is the reason she and Effrey are in this nightmarish place. All because of that one day, so many months ago, when Mage Elloren Gardner chose the same fabric for her dress that Fallon had chosen for her own.

Mage Florel, the kindest Mage Sparrow and Effrey had ever known, refused to be cowed by Fallon’s bullying, even after Fallon returned to the shop and forbade Heloise Florel from making the dress. Incensed, Mage Florel quietly defied her, sorely underestimating Fallon Bane’s capacity for vengeance.

Soon after, Fallon spread the word that no one was to do business with Mage Florel. Ever again.

And so, Heloise Florel was driven out of business and into the poorhouse. Sparrow stiffens at the memory of how both she and Effrey were purchased by the Banes in retribution for working on the forbidden dress, then shipped to this labor camp on the Fae Islands, where all the Urisk left on the Gardnerian mainland will soon be, as well.

“Finish your walk.” Tilor’s coldly indulgent voice snaps Sparrow from her inner storm. “Then come to my room.”

Surprise flashes through Sparrow. “Your room?”

Tilor’s expression sharpens. “Yes, myroom,” he spits out, as if he has a genuine grievance here. “You’ve put me off long enough. I brought you extrafoodthis past winter. Extrablanketsand warmerclothing.” He straightens, his gaze sweeping over her, as if appraising something he’s about to fully own. “I’ve beenpatient, Sparrow. More patient than any other Mage here would ever be. So, finish your walk. And get yourself to my room. I’m done waiting.” There’s a flash of cruelty in his expression that nearly freezes her heartbeat, as if he can sense her inner mutiny and is ready to punish her for it.

Tilor walks off in a huff, pauses just before his path disappears into the pine grove, then turns to her once more, his wretched face smug.

“Sparrow,” he calls, “if you make me wait too long, I’ll inform our commander of your nighttime ramblings.” He shakes his head. “Don’t make me do that, Sparrow.”

“I won’t, Mage,” she promises, picturing slicing his head in two with a sharp ax.

His gaze rakes over her form once more before he turns again and walks off.

Sparrow waits for the sound of his steps to disappear as a prickling rain starts to fall. When she’s finally sure that the loathsome fool is gone, she turns on her heels and runs down through another pine grove, fleet as a deer as she makes for the shore’s edge.

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