The Other Side of the Sky - Amie Kaufman Page 0,101

no attempt not to sound horrified by the idea. “See anything?”

I turn my attention back to our surroundings, sweeping my eyes across a large bend in the river until they fall on an outcropping of stone shaped like an eagle’s head.

Suddenly, the memory reveals itself.

I was eight years old, going on my first real pilgrimage. My mission was to offer what assistance I could to the people living in outlying villages. The whole wide shoreline of the river’s bend was lined with people dressed in their brightest garb, waving streamers and pennants, calling out for my blessing. I protested the trouble they’d gone to, but Daoman took me aside and told me not to dismiss their piety—that it was the most valuable thing they had, and to display it was a matter of pride.

Daoman.

Throat tight, I make my way carefully back down the tree.

North is waiting for me when my feet hit the ground. “Well?”

“There is a village not far to the north,” I tell him. “Perhaps we can hide there until I can—until it is safe. If we start walking now, we should be there just after midday.”

North frowns. “Is it possible Inshara has people this far from the city?”

“Very unlikely,” I reply. “This is a loyal, pious village—I came here when I was young, and they treated me very kindly. If I tell them of what has happened, I am sure they will help.”

“Sounds like a plan.” North nods, then sees me eyeing his clothes and grins. “What, am I wearing the clothes wrong?”

No, definitely not wearing them wrong.

I shake my head with a smile, but can’t resist saying, “You are meant to wear a sash at your waist, if you want to look like a real riverstrider. They wear the colors of their clans.”

“Hmm.” North’s eyes flick up to me, thoughtful, before his lips curve in a smile. “I have an idea. Here, these are for you.” He carefully holds out a stack of clothes. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I brought a few things.”

I look down at the armful of clothing, then back up at him, askance, lifting up a sleeve of trailing lace with my eyebrows raised.

North shrugs. “Maybe not practical, but I thought it was pretty.”

“This is … ah … not for wearing in public.” When his brow furrows, I try a different tack. “It is something a bride might wear … after her wedding.”

His mouth opens, then closes abruptly. “Oh,” he manages, looking down at the garment in question for a moment. “Maybe go with the pants, then.”

I’m still laughing when he stalks off, muttering, to retrieve a makeshift sash from our packs. At first I can’t tell what he’s doing—and then I realize that the red fabric at the top of one of the packs is the ceremonial robe I was wearing at the feast, packed carefully away.

I scarcely have time to acknowledge that kindness before North straightens, holding the long, gold-trimmed red scarf from my robes. He ties it around his waist, adjusting it here and there, then looks up at me for approval with a somewhat rakish smile. “Do I look like a proper riverstrider now?”

For a moment, my mouth moves soundlessly, as I begin and abandon several attempts at speech. Finally, I manage to mumble, “When I said they wear their clan’s colors, it isn’t just … It’s a statement of loyalty, North. A symbol of … devotion.”

North glances down, tugging at the red sash until it sits just so. Then he looks back up with a faint smile, unperturbed. “Yes? And?”

I wonder, watching his face, if he somehow still doesn’t understand the significance of wearing my colors. That it is a declaration, and more meaningful than he in his different culture could recognize.

But there is a frankness to his smile that makes me stop. He seems to know exactly what he is saying to me by wearing my colors. I find myself smiling back, an unfamiliar warmth in my chest. “Perfect,” I tell him.

The air grows thicker and wetter as we leave the river behind us. Here, the trees grow too close for a breeze to offer any relief from the humidity. But as we reach the path I remember, and strike out to the north, our route takes us up into the hills, the altitude bringing cooler, drier air.

To the west lie the mountains, which shelter dozens of settlements along the range’s base. As the world sank into disrepair, some of my people retreated to