A Torch Against the Night (An Ember in the Ashes #2) - Sabaa Tahir Page 0,41

“They’ve shown the Scholars no mercy. And you want to bring one with us? If I didn’t know how to get into Kauf, it would be one thing. But I can do this, Laia. I swear it. We don’t need a Mask.”

“He’s not a Mask.” Izzi speaks up, and I hide my surprise. Considering the way my mother treated her, she’s the last person I expect to defend me. Izzi shrugs at Keenan’s incredulous look. “Not anymore, anyway.”

She wilts a bit under the dirty look Keenan casts her, and my ire is ignited.

“Just because he’s not wearing his mask,” Keenan says, “doesn’t mean he’s left it behind.”

“True enough.” I find Red’s eyes, meeting his fury with cold detachment—one of my mother’s most galling tricks. “It was the Mask in me who killed the soldiers in the tunnels and got us out of the city.” I lean forward. “And it’s the Mask in me who will get Laia to Kauf so we can get Darin out. She knows that. It’s why she set me free instead of escaping with you.”

If Red’s eyes could light a blaze, I’d be halfway to the tenth pit of the hells right now. Part of me is satisfied. Then I catch a glimpse of Laia’s face and feel immediately ashamed. She glances between me and Red, uncertain and anguished.

“It’s pointless to fight,” I make myself say. “More importantly, it’s not up to us. This isn’t our mission, Red.” I turn to Laia. “Tell me what you want.”

The grateful look that crosses her face is almost worth the fact that I’m probably going to have to put up with this idiot rebel until the poison kills me.

“Can we still make our way north with the help of the Tribes if there are four of us? Is it possible?”

I stare across the fire and into her dark gold eyes, the way I’ve tried not to for days. When I do, I remember why I haven’t looked: The fire in her, the fervent determination—it speaks to something at my very core, something caged and desperate to be free. A visceral desire for her grips me, and I forget Izzi and Keenan.

My arm twinges, sudden and sharp. A reminder of the task at hand. Convincing Afya to hide Laia and me will be difficult enough. But a rebel, two runaway slaves, and the Empire’s most wanted criminal?

I’d say it’s impossible, but the Commandant trained the word out of me.

“You’re sure this is what you want?” I search her eyes for doubt, fear, uncertainty. But all I see is that fire. Ten hells.

“I am sure.”

“Then I’ll find a way.”

«««

That night, I visit the Soul Catcher.

I find myself walking beside her on a scanty path through the woods of the Waiting Place. She wears a shift and sandals, and appears untouched by the bite of the autumn air. The trees around us are gnarled and ancient. Translucent figures flit between the trunks. Some are nothing but niveous wisps, while others are more fully formed. At one point, I’m certain I see Tristas, his features contorted in rage, but he’s gone a moment later. The figures’ whispers are soft, melding into one murmuring rush.

“Is this it?” I ask the Soul Catcher. I thought I had more time. “Am I dead?”

“No.” Her ancient eyes take in my arm. In this world, it is unscarred, unblemished. “The poison advances, but slowly.”

“Why am I back here?” I don’t want the seizures to begin again—I don’t want her controlling me. “I can’t stay.”

“Always so many questions with you, Elias.” She smiles. “In sleep, humans skirt the Waiting Place and do not enter. But you have a foot in the worlds of the living and the dead. I used that to call you here. Don’t worry, Elias. I won’t keep you long.”

One of the figures in the trees flutters closer—a woman so faded I cannot see her face. She peers through the branches, looks under bushes. Her mouth moves as if she’s speaking to herself.

“Can you hear her?” the Soul Catcher asks.

I try to listen beyond the other ghosts’ whispers, but there are too many. I shake my head, and the Soul Catcher’s face holds something I can’t decipher. “Try again.”

I close my eyes this time and focus on the woman—only the woman.

I can’t find—where—don’t hide, lovey—

“She’s—” I open my eyes, and the murmurs of the others drown her out. “She’s looking for something.”

“Someone,” the Soul Catcher corrects me. “She refuses to move on. It has been decades.