The Other Side of the Sky - Amie Kaufman Page 0,40

I force my hands to rummage in my pack for the waterskin.

I drink only until the barest edge of my thirst is quenched—if we meet with no delays, the water I brought will last us. But I cannot waste what we have. I force myself up again and approach the cloudlander, swaying on my feet. He lifts his head in time to see me put the waterskin down, just at the edge of arm’s reach, and retreat.

“You must drink,” I say, my voice thin and bare. “You will feel better when you do.”

North blinks his eyes sluggishly, but after a moment, he does as I suggest. He takes only a few sips at first, but as if the taste on his lips reminds him of his thirst, he’s soon taking great swallows, until his eagerness makes him choke and lower the skin, coughing.

I busy myself sorting through our rations. The bindle cat peers into the pack, and then, with a carefully measured little hop, he jumps into it so that he can crouch there among my supplies. I smile a little, for the bindle cat is never subtle—his purr erupts even before my fingers reach the shorter, softer fur just behind his ear.

Finally, North drags himself to his feet and comes toward me. A flash of remembered panic makes me jolt away, recalling the sight of him so close back at the campsite, ready to take me by the shoulders.

North freezes, then carefully stoops so he can lay the waterskin on the ground between us, and retreats again.

When I look up, his dark eyes are waiting for mine, unreadable in the predawn darkness.

“I wasn’t going to touch you,” he says finally, his voice gentle despite its hoarseness.

“I know,” I murmur. “Thank you.”

He runs a hand through his hair, the black curls tight with perspiration, and then scrubs at his scalp in a bracing way. “I wasn’t going to hurt you, back there,” he adds, his voice questing for answers. “You looked so frightened, and so faraway. I only wanted to …”

I know what he had been about to say, the words as clear as if he’d spoken them aloud.

I only wanted to comfort you.

For the tiniest moment, I can’t help but wonder… . From the day I was called to my divinity, I’ve never known someone who didn’t know exactly who and what I was. Never known anyone who’s ever tried to touch me, except the occasional madman, stopped by my guards long before they ever came close.

This boy doesn’t know any of that. And my people would never know if …

I jerk my eyes down and focus on pulling food out of the pack. “To touch me is to hurt me. The greatest hurt you could possibly do me.”

I can’t see his face, but his voice is dubious as he replies. “This has something to do with your whole magic thing, doesn’t it?”

“Something,” I agree, moving to set out a collection of foods on a cloth in the space between us. “Here—eat a little, whether you think you are hungry or not.”

North waits until I’ve retreated again, chewing on a strip of dried povvy, to approach the food. He glances at me, then selects the same thing, a bit of salty dried meat.

“What is this place?” he asks, turning his gaze to sweep across the plain, more and more visible as dawn approaches.

“These are the ghostlands.” I smile when he turns a look of faint alarm in my direction. “There is nothing to fear. Some believe the spirits of the ancients still walk where the streets of this city once were, but I have never seen one myself.”

North’s expression suggests he’s not quite sure whether to take my words seriously. Experimentally, he nibbles at the strip of povvy—then, looking pleased at the taste, he tears a bit free with his teeth. “These ancients,” he says, politely trying not to chew while he speaks. “What happened to them?”

I let my gaze drift across the unnatural dips and rises in the landscape. “Some were my own ancestors. Others …” I have to remind myself not to look tellingly at him. “In the time of the ancients, the gods lived here among us. But when food grew scarce and the mist began to gather into storms, the gods abandoned us to live in the cloudlands.”

North’s thick eyebrows draw together, giving his face a stern, almost regal cast. The effect is somewhat spoiled by the fact that he’s still working on the mouthful