She couldn’t read it. The door in her mind remained locked.
The language barrier made sense, another safeguard to protect the Shrouded City from outsiders. But Elyas had known perfectly well Ysira couldn’t read the jedaat. She might have had options if she’d been a priest like him, or if she’d remained in the Knots, but as an orphan in the Citadel, what was she supposed to do? Whether she spoke the language or not, she had a right to be there. Didn’t she?
Something occurred to her. “Neri. Can you read that?”
He startled at the sound of his name. He’d been lost in thought, tracing directionless patterns in the sand. He had to climb shakily to his feet and squint up close to read the glyphs. His lips moved as he puzzled it out.
“In darkness . . . silence?” He shook his head in defeat, or perhaps fatigue. “I’m not sure.”
Relief flooded Ysira, because she knew those words. “It’s a proverb.” She fixated on the glyphs as she recalled, “Esh te aksena. Devak te istil. Atyun te atsokun.”
Darkness is refuge. Chaos is clarity. Power is freedom.
At first, it appeared nothing had happened, but when she looked around the hollow again—like a flame in her mind struck suddenly into existence—she knew where to go.
From the western slopes of Mount Otavok, they would descend into the caldera. From there, more triggers had been placed along the path—more safeguards, in case she were waylaid—and at its end, she would find the Shrouded City.
She clung to the words she’d spoken:Power is freedom.Their strength would be their deliverance.
“We’re going to the volcano,” Ysira told Neri. “It’s about three days’ journey from here.”
The distance was a good deal farther than ideal, especially with such paltry supplies. But if Neri found the prospect daunting, he didn’t say so. If he had wept, if he had felt anything at all since they crashed, he had done his utmost not to let Ysira see it.
Another coughing fit overcame him, forcing him to sit. When it passed, he croaked, “That’s where the Shrouded City is?”
“Yes.”
“Will we make it?”
Ysira pressed her lips together. “We have to.”
Neri pondered that, staring off into the distance as if he might see Mount Otavok through the swirling sands. “What will we do there?”
Ysira took a breath, then said, “We prepare for the fight of our lives.” Neri looked sick, drained, as though the very life had been sucked out of him. But he nodded. He pointed up at the dust-covered sky, indicating the station and the stars beyond. “Did you know about . . .
all that?”
“I knew some of it. Not everything.” Ysira hesitated. “We need to talk about your demon.”
Neri’s narrow shoulders hunched. He shifted in the sand and hugged his knees to his chest.
“On the station, before I found you,” Ysira went on, “why didn’t you use it against them?”
It took him too long to answer. “I did. I—I think I killed some of them. But I didn’tdecideto, and it was hard to stop. The more power I used, the deeper I went, and the closer I came to . . .” He struggled to describe it. “A door. And if I opened the door—if I let it in?—”
“The point of no return,” Ysira inferred. “Integration.” “Is it like that with yours?”
“It’s different for me,” Ysira admitted. “I’m not a telepath. I may not be capable of integration.”
“I don’t want to do it,” Neri said.
Ysira’s stomach tightened. Now that she’d seen the true nature of the enemy they faced . . . Without plumbing the depths of this demon’s power, would they stand a chance?
“You said we would find an exorcist.” Neri’s tone bordered on frantic. “Yousaid?—”
“No one will force you,” Ysira said. “This is your decision. But before, there was so much we didn’t know. And now?—”
Neri didn’t let her finish. “I’m not stupid. I know I might be the only one who can hurt them. But I don’t even know if Icouldintegrate, because it’s all so hard to make sense of. I’m not strong enough.” His face contorted. “Iamstrong enough to know there’s a lot you still haven’t told me, and you know I’m a telepath, so I don’t have to pretend I don’t realize it.”
