The Other Side of the Sky - Amie Kaufman Page 0,84

from the politics of this place as I’d thought.

Matias tips his head to the side, and, after drawing himself to his feet, the acolyte bows again and then stumbles out.

“We have to get out of here,” I blurt, glancing from Matias to North, who is silent and watching, his whole body tense and ready for action. His eyes meet mine brief ly, then slide away, his jaw clenching. “Both of us,” I add.

Matias nods. “On that we agree. Come. All is ready.”

He’s left his cane leaning against his desk, urgency giving his unsteady legs strength as he leads the way toward the back of the stacks. On a trolley ordinarily used for transporting books and scrolls around the archives is a rough-spun cloth, heaped over something lumpy. The archivist whips back the cloth to reveal two packs and a belt of tools—

Not a belt of tools. My chatelaine. The sash full of spell reagents that I carry everywhere, but of course had not worn to the ritual or the party. I’m speechless with relief, but I look up at Matias, my question in my eyes.

“I sent Pisey for your things,” the archivist says, nodding after the acolyte. “He told me what was happening.”

I slip my chatelaine over my head and across my shoulder and take one of the packs. When North steps forward, one hand half-stretched toward the other pack and a look of query on his face, Matias gives him a tight little smile.

“I took a guess. Yes, that one’s yours.”

North slips the straps over his shoulders, movements still jerky.

“North …” I get no further. His head snaps up so he can look at me.

His eyes are full of hurt, the depth of emotion catching me off guard. “Why didn’t you tell me you believed I was this … this destroyer? Some kind of mythical character in one of your stories?”

“It is no story!” I blurt, a flicker of anger rising to match his. “It is prophecy—and it’s coming true.”

He draws himself up. “It was one thing not to tell me who you were. Why couldn’t you tell me who I was, or who your people would think I was?”

“Because I didn’t know you! Because I couldn’t be sure I could trust you. Because—”

“It wasn’t your decision to make!” he spits. “People are trying to kill me, Nimh!”

“I know!” My voice comes quicker and more heated than I intended, and the sound of it rings in the sudden silence. I take a breath. “I know. That is why no one could know. Because the moment they knew you and I might be connected, they—they’d—”

My mind fills again with the image of Daoman lying still, the pool of blood beneath him stretching long spindly fingers along the grooves between the tiles on the floor. My throat closes so abruptly that I make a strangled sound before I realize I can’t finish what I’d started to say.

North doesn’t answer immediately, though I hear his breathing calm, and the soft shift of fabric that tells me he’s taken a step closer to me. “You’re going to need to tell me,” he says in a low voice. “About this Lightbringer, about your prophecy, about what your people—and hers—want from me.”

“I will.” I try to sound contrite, but I’m too relieved by what his words imply: for me to tell him everything, he’ll have to stay with me long enough to hear it. “When we’re safe.”

I ignore the tiny voice in my thoughts that points out safe might never come. “Matias.” I turn to the archivist. “When I come back, I will—”

“You can’t come back,” Matias interrupts, rendering me temporarily speechless with surprise. Informal though he is, he never interrupts me. No one interrupts me. “Nimh—you can’t come back, not until this is over. You must know that.”

“But—”

“He’s right.” North has been quiet, but now he speaks up with a quiet urgency that cuts through my protestation. “If the people out there believe what she said about being some kind of god in waiting, then this temple is hers now—or will be by the time this night is over. We’ll have to get out of here first and worry about taking it back later.”

Matias is nodding in agreement with North. “The entire contingent of city guards couldn’t hope to remove Inshara, not if what Pisey tells me of her powers is true.”

“It’s not true,” I blurt out. “It can’t be.”

Matias’s eyebrows go up. “And yet she knew who North was? Where he was from?