he might have the answer. “I am not familiar with the word mechanic,” she says eventually.
“That’s all right,” I say. “All I need is an introduction.”
Maybe, just maybe, what Nimh’s people call magic, I might call a miracle.
NINE
NIMH
I am that divinity you seek. But I can no more put you back in the sky than I can sprout wings.
The words are there, as bright and clear in my mind as if I had spoken them aloud—but I hold them back, ill at ease. North’s dark eyes are lit with hope, and I can’t bring myself to extinguish it. “The Divine One lives at the temple,” I say instead. “I will take you there when the storm passes.”
Which I hope very much will be soon, as I am due to preside over the Feast of the Dying tonight.
North grins at me, and my ribs seem to squeeze in response, as though that smile were a tangible thing, an embrace. I shiver, and I turn away.
Though he’s recognized something of his own people in the ruins of our shared ancestors, this underground marketplace wasn’t what I brought North here to see. The dim light scattered around us shows the edge of one of the pools, and I gesture him forward, clearing my throat. “Come, look here.”
I murmur a word of caution, for the ground here is treacherous, then crouch at the water’s edge. North is careful to keep a distance between us, enough that I don’t feel that little edge of panic at his closeness.
“What am I looking at?” North asks, eyes sweeping across the water’s surface.
I reach out with my spearstaff, so that the more concentrated light magic at its tip illuminates the pool. “Look down into the water—do you see?”
North leans forward. It’s still shallow here, only a few feet deep. Nestled in the muck at the bottom of the marsh, gazing up through the water as if seeking the sky far above, is a stone face.
The cloudlander’s breath catches, and his eyes widen as they fix on the staring gaze of the stone head, its features painted blue-green with algae. Finally, he looks up, scanning our surroundings until his eyes fall on a block of stone that stands not far away. “It was a statue—that pedestal in the center of the arcade, that’s where it must have stood.”
I ease back, unable to fight the smile that wants to answer his. His delight at finding these pieces of our shared ancient past reminds me how I used to feel, exploring these plains and the tunnels beneath them.
He heaves a long sigh, pushing back a lock of his wavy hair and looking around again at the darkened ruins. As he contemplates the ancient city, I find his face even more compelling than the one in the water. Everything is new to him—his wonder is like that one feels in a dream.
“This is incredible,” he murmurs, looking back and catching me staring. “Thank you. Do you know who it is? The statue?”
My smile fades in spite of myself. I can’t put off the reason I brought him here any longer. I rise and move back toward the center of the marketplace, and the empty plinth that used to hold the statue. Years have brought back the layers of grime and dirt I once cleared away as a child, but I know where to look. Reaching into my chatelaine, I draw out the reagents for Spirit’s Breath and scatter them across the stone.
“What is it?” North whispers, voice hushed as if in deference to my magic—the magic he doesn’t believe in.
I can’t help a sidelong smile. “Do they not value patience in the cloudlands?” Focusing my will, I stretch out my hands and guide the energies within me down my arms and into my palms. Then, hovering a breath above the surface of the stone, I let my palms spread outward.
For a moment, nothing happens—then, gradually, the bits of old, dead lichen begin to shrivel and flake away, the Spirit’s Breath spell burrowing through the dirt and organic detritus down to the metal that lies beneath.
North mutters something under his breath and leans closer, as if trying to figure out the trick. A tiny part of me revels in being able to show him my empty palms, even as the last of the debris falls away.
He’s watching me with narrowed eyes, but, impatient, I tilt my head to indicate the plinth again. He blinks, looking down at the metal plaque that had been