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I follow the direction of his finger, and my jaw drops. The sky is shimmering again. Or, rather, something is shimmering inside it. A city. The more I stare at it, the more my astonished mind confirms it. There, suspended in the sky, is a city—the most majestic I’ve ever seen. Gleaming buildings the color of gems rise from verdant mountains, the bases of which are wreathed by clouds. Waterfalls cascade into the ocean below, graceful birds with iridescent wings flittering through them. Trees the width of entire streets sprout up, elegant apartments carved into their crystalline trunks. It’s as if everything is interconnected, all part of the same, massive organism.
“Is it the Blissful Lands?” Britta asks, awed, as she stares at the city.
Lamin shakes his head. “No,” he replies, an eager smile easing the tension from his features. “That is Laba, the Seat of the Gods and the capital of Maiwuri. Come.” He waves us closer to the edge of the cliff. “Sarla’s riders will be here soon.”
Even as he says this, a pair of glasslike gates I hadn’t noticed opens underneath one of the waterfalls in the middle of the city and a group of gigantic gray creatures flies out, riders on their backs. Each creature is flat, with a sleek, triangular body dominated by glistening wings that undulate in the air currents. Tiny, almost unnoticeable gray eyes take up each side of the creature’s snub-nosed faces, and as for their mouths, I can find no sign of any, although they all have curved silver horns protruding from their heads and spots or stripes on their skin. Except for a glimpse of similar creatures dancing in the waters surrounding Hemaira, I’ve never seen anything like them before.
I’m not surprised to see that the riders have the same pale, shimmering skin as Lamin. I turn to him. “This isn’t over,” I say. “Our conversation. You’ve deceived me since we first met, deceived all of us.”
“It was never malicious,” Lamin replies hurriedly, that worry returning to his features. “I never harmed any of you.”
“That remains to be seen,” says Keita, his expression forbidding. He hasn’t forgiven Lamin yet either.
But we can’t concentrate on that right now. “All right,” I say. “Let’s meet these new godsworn.”
“Deka…” Lamin is hesitant when he turns to me. “They don’t mean you any harm either.”
I give him as frosty a look as I can summon. “That’s what everyone always says.”
Lamin nods, his expression decidedly miserable now, but when the creatures begin their descent toward us, their wings gliding lazily across the currents, he swiftly kneels, his frown melting into a relieved smile. He crosses his arms over his chest in greeting when the frontmost rider, a tall, severe-looking woman of sixty or so, hops off her creature and nears.
“High priestess,” he says respectfully. “I have returned.”
But the woman just humphs. “Lamin Chernor Bah. Is that how you greet your aunt after all this time?”
Aunt? Britta mouths this word when I glance at the others, shocked.
A smile twitches up the side of Lamin’s face. He surges up and sweeps the woman into a tight embrace. “Aunt Kadeh,” he declares. “I’m home.”
The woman breaks out into a glowing smile, all traces of severity erased from her expression as she begins raining kisses over his forehead and cheeks. “Oh my boy, my beloved baby. You’re finally back.”
“That’s Lamin’s aunt?” Li’s whisper is loud enough for everyone to hear.
Including the woman. She turns to us. “Only one he has. Raised him from the time he was an infant with my own brood.” Then she looks back up at him, ruffles his hair. “So, you’ve finally returned.”
Clearing his throat, Lamin nods, then glances pointedly at me. “And I brought the Angoro.”
The woman immediately sinks into a deep kneel. “Your eminence,” she says respectfully, “I am Nenneh Kadeh. I am honored to receive you. I hope my nephew has treated you well.” She gives Lamin a pointed glare.
“That remains to be seen,” Belcalis mutters, but I quickly step forward.
“To this point, he has been one of our closest companions,” I reply, an answer that is both truthful and yet not. I still haven’t decided what to do about Lamin.
I turn to the other riders. There are about ten of them, mostly women, all of them wearing flowing white robes with long silver hoods whose patterns match the patterns on the creatures they ride. “So,” I say politely, “am I to assume you are our escort to Maiwuri?”
“Indeed,” Nenneh Kadeh answers. “We were sent here by Sarla, deity of wisdom.”
The words seem to be a signal, because the moment she utters them, it’s as if something takes her over. She abruptly straightens, her gaze seeming far away. When she glances at me again, she suddenly seems like a different person, one whose movements are as fluid and graceful as their gaze is sharp.
A shiver rushes over me as I nod at the god staring through Nenneh Kadeh’s eyes. “Afternoon greetings,” I say calmly. “You must be Sarla.”
It’s almost surreal. Mere hours ago, I had only eight gods to worry about, and now there’s an entire new pantheon with who knows what ambitions I must deal with.
“A pleasure, Angoro,” Sarla says through Nenneh Kadeh’s mouth, their voice low and melodious. “We are most grateful to see that you arrived here safely. Our bonded will see you safely to Maiwuri.”
Nodding, I give them a quick bow. Deep enough to be respectful but not so deep it is obsequious. I will never prostrate myself before a god ever again. “My thanks.”
Sarla nods again, then Nenneh Kadeh’s body sags. The god is gone, and the woman has returned in their place.
