Page 54 of Heart of Night and Fire

He nodded. “I know Row, of course. You’ve met the others in his little band?”

Zarya nodded, and Dhawan grinned, leaning forward with his forearms braced against the table. “What do you think of the charming Suvanna?”

She let out an involuntary shudder.

“Merdeva.” Dhawan snickered. “Beautiful but wicked creatures. Useless magic—water. Bah.” He waved a hand as if batting away a fly, and Zarya couldn’t imagine what might happen if he ever said that within earshot of the cold and hard warrior. She’d probably turn him into a barnacle.

“How long have you known Row?” she asked, wondering if she might be able to learn something useful from Dhawan.

“Forever. He’s as old as dust. They all are. Not as old as me, mind you.”

He barked out a laugh again and began digging into his stew, chuckling to himself as if he’d just told an extremely clever joke.

She had a thousand questions for Dhawan. About Row and about the fact he’d just called her Aishayadiva. The same name she’d read in the book under her mother’s picture. Zarya was now certain beyond a doubt that woman was her mother.

They ate for a few minutes. At least, Dhawan ate while Yasen and Zarya exchanged increasingly awkward glances in the thickening silence.

“Now, what brings you into the forest?” the professor finally asked. “It wasn’t to ask about Row. You could have asked pretty boy, here.”

Zarya snorted as Yasen sat up straighter, definitely offended now. She might develop a fondness for this cantankerous man. Anyone who could put Yasen in his place deserved some respect.

“I was wondering if you could read a book for me? It’s in a language I don’t know.”

“Strange question for a girl from the swamps to be asking.”

Zarya swallowed, conceding his point, but she ignored the question, instead saying, “Yasen said you also used to be a professor.”

He regarded her intently, his bushy dark eyebrows knitting together. Zarya was sure he could sense she was hiding something, but he let the matter slide.

“Let me have a look, then,” he said, holding out his hand. Zarya opened her bag and pulled out the book. He held it out in front of him, tipping it this way and that, scrutinizing the cover.

“A professor I used to be, but there are thousands of languages and dialects across this continent,” he said, flipping it open and thumbing through the pages. “This appears to be written in Tangsa, an old language that fell out of favor centuries ago. It was once widely used in Andhera and Gi’ana before the Hanera Wars.”

“So you can read it?” Zarya asked eagerly.

The Aazheri shook his head. “Alas, not even I am fluent in them all.”

Her heart sank. Of course, it had been foolish to hope. She’d have to find another way to learn what Row had been hiding.

“How long did you say you lived with Row?” Dhawan glanced at Zarya, the question casual if a little probing. Since Yasen had already told him where she’d come from, she reasoned there was little point in lying about it now.

“My whole life.”

“Here? In Daragaab?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

The professor lifted his shoulders. “Idle curiosity, my dear. It’s peculiar he kept you hidden. Do you know why?”

She shook her head.

“Did you never wonder?”

Her anger swelled, hot tears threatening to fall. She wiped them away roughly. “Of course, I wondered.” It had occupied her every waking thought.

He patted her hand, his expression now soft and his eyes kind.

“I’m sure he had his reasons, hmm? Don’t give in to rage. You’re much too young for that.”