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“That’s what we’re calling them?” I ask, frowning.
“Terribly clever, isn’t it?” he replies with obvious pride. “I came up with it myself.”
“Did you now?” I manage to reply faintly while the twins titter beside me. Then I pause. “And are we certain we want to keep that title?”
“Of course we do!” Lord Kamanda is so emphatic, all I can do is nod. “Now then,” he says, clearing his throat, “I am pleased to welcome you officially, honored Angoro, to Ilarong, the capital of all the aviax aeries.”
“My thanks,” I say, nodding.
Then he beckons me. “This way. Your palanquin is here.” He points toward a large palanquin in the center covered in the same sort of glass as his. “It should be large enough for you and all your friends,” he says, nodding at my group, who are catching up to us now.
“Again my thanks,” I reply as I enter it, the others following swiftly behind me, Ixa in his nightflyer form behind them.
The minute the door locks, everyone turns to me. “Well,” Asha says, nudging me, “what did we miss?”
* * *
My group is not the only one that’s had adventures since the moment we split. That’s what Adwapa, Asha, Kweku, Acalan, Rian, Mehrut, and Katya relay to me during the half-hour journey up the mountain to Ilarong. From evading groups of enemy alaki and jatu to narrowly escaping proxies to battling the Forsworn, the purple-skinned male deathshrieks that are loyal to the Idugu, White Hands’s group has had a time of it, making their way across the Southern continent.
“We haven’t blundered into shadow vales, though,” Kweku says, shaking his head.
“And we certainly haven’t seen hide nor hair of Melanis,” Adwapa adds, leaning her head on Mehrut’s shoulder. “Can’t believe she’s alive.”
“And hideous,” Britta adds. “Looks like a bat, smooshed nose and everything.”
“No!” Katya gasps, shocked. If there’s one thing she loves, it’s gossip.
“Think she’s still out there?” Adwapa queries, her eyes curious.
“Without a doubt,” I say, gazing out the window. Ilarong is nearing now, its peaks stark against the rapidly setting sun. “If she survived having an entire mountain collapse on her, she can survive being hurled halfway across a forest.”
“By a godsworn!” Acalan sounds excited. “Can’t believe that there are actually such beings.”
“Or that Lamin was one of them,” Asha says, sadness rising in her eyes. Lamin was her uruni, and even though they weren’t close the way the rest of us are, they still had a bond.
When she looks down, I put my hand on her knee. “I’m sorry, Asha. I know what he meant to you.”
“And yet I never suspected. Me, one of White Hands’s spies.” She sighs sadly. “There’s surely some irony in that.”
“At least he never stabbed us in the back,” Adwapa says brightly. Then she frowns. “Literally, that is. Figuratively is another matter…”
“He betrayed us, hid his true loyalties.” Asha sighs. “Deka was right to leave him behind in Maiwuri. Maybe one day, he’ll atone for his actions.”
“But until then,” Britta says brightly, trying to lift the mood, “we’ll be explorin’ an actual aviax aerie. Look at Ilarong! We’re here!”
She flings the door open, then gestures. As I exit the palanquin, I follow the path of her hands, intrigued. Ilarong is certainly not what I expected. The city’s streets are paved with stone, and there are benches under the multitudes of leafy trees lining them. Given that this is a place populated by bird folk, I assumed that there would be neither—that the aviax would simply flit from one space to another, occasionally stopping to rest on the branches of one of the small, wind-twisted trees that sprout all across the mountain, or even the stone perches artfully carved into the buildings. But no. When I squint at one of the benches, Acalan, who is also just now stretching his legs, turns to me and shrugs.
“Humans,” he says, a statement so matter-of-fact, I can almost imagine him adjusting a pair of those glass eye contraptions Sarla’s godsworn were always wearing.
“What?” I ask.
“Once upon a time, the aviax coexisted with humans and equus. That’s why the streets look the way they do—to accommodate the other races. It’s fascinating, really, to think that so many types of creatures once lived here.”
I nod, not even bothering to ask how he knows—if there’s one thing Acalan loves, it’s acquiring information. Of our entire group, he’s the most studious, although Lamin might actually have him matched, given he’s an actual godsworn of the deity of wisdom.
I push all thoughts of Lamin out of my mind as I ask, “So what happened?”
“Oyomo did,” a pair of voices answer as one behind me. Braima and Masaima canter leisurely over to me, their clawed talons tapping lightly against the stone streets.
