The Other Side of the Sky - Amie Kaufman Page 0,81

part to play in the insanity of this place—that the murderers who came for her would come for me too.

She didn’t bring me here to help me find a way home. She brought me here because she thinks I’m someone worth killing to possess.

Wrathmaker.

Eater of Worlds.

Destroyer.

Lightbringer.

I’m not any of those things. I’m no part of this. I want to run as far and as fast as I can, but I’m frozen in place.

The hectic clash of my thoughts is interrupted when Inshara speaks again on the other side of the wall.

“There is an easy way to settle this,” she says into perfect stillness—the musicians have trailed off and the crowd draws back. “Bring me your false goddess, and the boy as well.”

The high priest draws his robes around him, straightens his back. Nimh was right—he’s a formidable man. He has his voice under control when he replies, “The Divine One is not here. And if she were, not a one of us would hand her over to you.”

Inshara clicks her tongue at him like he’s a naughty child. “I think she is here.”

Daoman’s thunderous expression darkens. “You are a dark magician and a blasphemer—your kind is not welcome here! Go now, and do not return.”

Inshara lifts one hand, fingers twitching in a quick gesture, and I hear Nimh gasp beside me, a small, frightened sound.

And where she stands between Inshara and Daoman, Elkisa slowly lifts her knife, hand trembling, to press it to her own throat. The whites of her eyes showing, she tilts her head back, trying to avoid the blade. Beside me, Nimh’s whimpering now, small involuntary noises escaping with each breath. I fight the urge to reach out for her, despite everything she’s done to bring us to this place.

“If you insist,” the false goddess says casually, “I will kill you one by one until she reveals herself, or one of you directs me to her. The choice is yours.”

Nimh’s eyes are closed now, and by the piecemeal light that makes it through the wooden cutouts, I can see the tears streaming down her cheeks, leaving behind gray lines as they track the kohl from her eyes over her skin.

I’ve been trained for moments like this, and I’m sure she has been too. I hated every second of it as I sat listening to my teachers. I vowed that whatever they said, I’d give myself up in an instant for my grandfather, my mothers, for my friends.

But now I find myself here, I know the answer. I know what she has to do—what she can’t do. And I ache for her, despite the lies she’s told me.

“Nimh,” I whisper, the words almost a breath. “You can’t go out there. No matter what she does.”

So easy to say when you’re the teacher, not the student.

She nods, her jaw clenched, her face like death, her breath coming quick and shallow. She’s holding on to her self-control with everything she has, and I’m not sure how much longer it will be enough.

Daoman turns his head, speaking over his shoulder to the huddle of priests behind him. He’s utterly calm, but there’s a note of finality in his voice, like he’s making the final move in a game, and he knows it’s the winning one. “Bring me the Shield of the Accord.”

Nimh goes utterly still beside me, and for a long moment, it’s like the whole room is holding its breath.

Then there’s a rustle among the priests, like wind rippling through the branches of a tree, and they part to reveal two of their number hauling the top off what I thought was a huge ceremonial table, but turns out to be some sort of giant container.

But then they hesitate, and it’s one of their assistants—a girl who can’t be much more than twelve or thirteen, wearing a simple blue robe—who’s brave enough to reach inside when others step back. She pulls out a heavy bundle about the size of her torso, wrapped in thick, stiff cloth that glints in the lamplight as though something metallic is woven through it.

“Nimh?” I murmur, unable to tear my eyes from it. Even Inshara is standing perfectly still.

“It is a relic made of sky-steel,” she breathes, almost inaudible. “Only to be used in an hour of great need. It will extinguish the magic of all who gaze upon it.”

“What?” I don’t know why I’m so horrified at the idea. Magic doesn’t exist.

The girl has staggered up to Daoman, and he must be stronger than