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I nod meaningfully toward the edge of the monument, where the sound of rushing water obscures all else.
I head in its direction, White Hands immediately following behind, all business once more. Braima and Masaima follow us as well, their massive white forms keeping everyone else at bay.
Once we’re out of hearing distance from the rest of the group, I turn to White Hands. “How has it been going, your quest for allies?”
“Not very well.” She sighs. “The aviax remain as intractable as ever.”
And yet she remains here. But I understand why.
Aviax are the only humanlike race with the ability to fly—an ability indispensable in long-distance combat, not to mention scouting, bolstering supply chains, and any number of other integral tasks. And now that the gods have opened more vales, we need them more than ever, since we have to move up the timeline of the offensive White Hands has been planning. If we’re to stop the gods from feeding, we need to cut them off from their priests and followers once and for all. And we need to do so in a matter of weeks—perhaps even days now.
But it seems the aviax are as unapproachable as their reputations suggest.
That they’re even allowing so many strangers near Ilarong, their capital city, speaks to the persuasiveness of White Hands.
I refocus my attention on her as she sighs again. “Now that you’re here, however, perhaps I can build some momentum. They do love anything shiny and new, and you are the Angoro, a god trapped by flesh. You’ll be irresistible to them.” When I reluctantly nod, unsure how I feel about that statement, she continues: “And you—I assume you were not able to locate your kelai?”
I shake my head. “We went back to Irfut as Mother encouraged, but Okot was there. He locked me and the others in the shadow vale you just saw.”
White Hands grinds her jaw. “So we’re back to where we started.”
“Not quite.” When she glances at me, curious, I inform her of everything Okot revealed about my kelai.
“Fascinating…” White Hands stares down at me. “So why haven’t they moved it yet?”
“I think it must be somewhere dangerous, somewhere where the Gilded Ones would notice any unusual movements. The Idugu must have placed it there at least some time ago, not giving any thought to its security, since they controlled Otera.”
“But then you woke the Gilded Ones,” White Hands says, putting two and two together.
“And everything changed,” I say, nodding. “The goddesses would notice any strange movements in their territory—especially from priests or the Idugu—and they would act.”
“Which means your kelai must be somewhere close to Abeya.”
“More than that,” I say, finally voicing the suspicion I’ve had since talking with Okot. “If the Idugu are reluctant to move it now, when the Gilded Ones are so weakened, that means it must be somewhere directly in the goddesses’ territory, either near or in the Bloom.” That massive expanse of greenery is the truest measure of the Gilded Ones’ power, and every inch of territory it covers is linked directly to them.
“It’s feasible.” White Hands nods, tapping her bottom lip. “Only gods would be arrogant enough to forget something of such importance near their enemy’s territory.”
“But even if that’s true,” I say, slumping, “it won’t be there for long. Okot said they would move it a few days from now.”
“Which means we must move swiftly.” White Hands nods decisively. “I’ll have my spies in the region monitor any strange movements—”
I gape. “You already have spies in the region?” White Hands was with us when we fled Abeya just over three months ago—how has she already reestablished her network?
“I have spies everywhere,” White Hands returns primly. “And the moment they notice anything strange, they’ll inform me.”
Familiar panic swells inside me. “But I should be out there, searching.”
“To what end? Given everything you’ve told me, I doubt you’d find the Idugu’s followers before my spies do. Besides, they’ll be on the lookout for you. No, it’s best you remain here and help me finalize battle plans as well as woo the aviax to our side. And there’s more—something else I need from you.”
I glance at her. “What?”
White Hands glances around, as if just now noticing all the people waiting to greet me. “We’ll discuss it later,” she says airily. “This is a reunion, after all. But, Deka?” She leans closer to me. “How much time?”
When she glances meaningfully down at my hands, I sigh, understanding what she’s asking. How much time before the emptiness caused by my depleting kelai consumes me and I scatter like dust on the wind? “Much more than I hoped for,” I reply truthfully. “I think I’ve bought myself a little extra time—a few more months if I keep the armor on and use the Greater Divinity to power my abilities. But all that won’t matter, given the state of Otera.”
“The end of the world?” White Hands asks.
“The end of the world.” I nod.
