Page 111 of The Dragon's Promise

“The song?”

He nodded, and I suddenly wanted to hug him and cry in his arms at the same time. I turned to wipe my nose on my sleeve. “Lunch will be ready in an hour. Can you wait?”

“Of course.” He picked up the two empty buckets tipped against the walls. “That’s just enough time to search for a well.”

“You’re going out in this heat?”

“I don’t mind.”

His voice was light, but it carried an edge. One that made me notice the distance between us. The fact that he hung back from me, that he still hadn’t come inside the kitchen.

What I wouldn’t give to chase those shadows out of his eyes. It would do Takkan good to occupy himself with an errand, I decided, if only to keep his mind off Bandur.

“Very well,” I said. “But take Kiki with you.”

And if there’s any sign of Bandur, come tell me immediately, I instructed my bird.

She gave a sharp nod. Oh, don’t worry. You’ll hear my shrieks from across the village.

By afternoon, the island’s heat had swelled past the point of unbearable, and I felt like the biggest idiot in Tambu for deciding to steam cakes over an open fire. Even the gnats had fled the kitchen in favor of a cooler haunt.

This was how Oshli found me—fanning myself in the corner, watching my batter cook.

He set down his bag with a displeased thump. “You’re alone.”

“Takkan went in search of a well. You said he only had to stay by the tree after sundown. Dusk is hours away.” Seeing Oshli frown, I quickly changed the subject. “How is my brother?”

“The crane is convalescing and should be able to fly again by tomorrow. However, the other five squawk endlessly, and their feathers have molted all across the shrine.” His frown deepened. “It is quite a chore for my niece to clean.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Save your apologies,” said the shaman curtly. “She hardly minds. She’s taken to the birds as a way to shirk her prayers.” A harrumph. “You will be leaving tomorrow anyway, I gather. Sundau is no one’s ultimate destination. It hasn’t been since the Golden One’s selection.”

Again with that name, the Golden One. I knew it referred to Vanna, but hearing the title made me flinch.

“In Kiata, we called her Your Radiance.” I paused, not sure where I was going with this. “How did you learn Kiatan?”

“The king asked me to. When the Golden One left for Gindara, he thought she might send for me. She never did.”

Oshli began unpacking the items he’d brought: a sheaf of incense, rope, a short sack of rice, two sugar apples, eggs, and half a carp. He sniffed. “What are you baking?”

“Cakes,” I replied. “Would you like to try? They’re almost ready.”

Oshli lifted the steamer’s lid, peering inside at the rising little lumps. He took one cake and chewed. “It’s tougher than I remembered. Tambun cakes are meant to be soft and sticky.” Another bite. “But I suppose the flavor is there, vaguely.”

“You’ve had them before?” I asked.

“Vanna used to bring cakes like these. She would cut them into the shapes of flowers and decorate them with rose petals.”

I set aside a plate for Takkan, then sat with Oshli at the table. All afternoon, my mind had buzzed with questions about Raikama. “Will you tell me about Channari?”

“What is there to tell? We weren’t friends.”

Oshli’s reply was brusque, a clear signal to talk about something else. But I’d never been known for my tactfulness. I pushed: “Anything. Please.”

He set down the cake. His face had turned hard, and I didn’t think he’d actually speak. “The other children and I used to throw turtle eggs at her when she walked down the road. We called her a monster, a snake demon, a witch. Many other names that were far more cruel.”

The shaman closed his eyes. His words were heavy, and I could hear that the past had long been a terrible weight on his conscience. “Her adah forced her to wear a mask wherever she went, even at home. I could hear him beating her when she disobeyed. He was the only person she ever feared, I think. He worked her hard, giving her chores to keep her out of sight. She had the face of a snake, you see. Her eyes…her eyes alone would make grown men cower.”

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