hair of a hunska so Yaz guessed he must be a marjal, hiding some elemental talent or one of the rarer powers. Perhaps as Thurin had suggested his magic was in his voice, for many of the Broken had listened to him after the hunter came although he had only harsh things to say.
“Eular only asked to see these two.” Pome jerked a thumb toward Thurin and nodded toward Yaz.
“Take them all,” Arka said. “He’ll want to see them soon enough and I’ll only have to repeat myself if you break the drop-group.”
“Not my problem, drop-leader.” Pome put an edge on Arka’s title, clearly still stung by the loss of whatever prestige it carried.
“Take them. Or I will bring them myself.” Arka turned away. “You’ll find me here when you’re done.” She started to hop out among the rocks that studded the lake edge. Yaz wondered if there might be fish to catch.
“Come.” Pome began to walk away, leaving it unclear as to who should follow.
Quina shrugged and set off after him; the whole group followed. Yaz stayed at the back with Thurin, not wanting to spark Pome’s star-torch to greater brightness.
“You met Kaylal then?” Thurin smiled knowingly.
“I did.”
“He’s a fine-looking fellow.”
“Yes.” Yaz felt the heat rising in her cheeks.
“A word to the wise: don’t go making eyes at him. Exxar is very jealous of competition. Though he has no need to be.”
“Oh . . .” Yaz saw Quina flash a quick grin at her from further ahead where she walked beside Petrick. A little flustered she asked the next question in her head: “Who is Eular?” She spoke in a low voice but it was Petrick rather than Thurin who answered.
“The man who wants to see you.” He left a pause as if he thought he’d made a joke then added, “The eldest elder we have. Tarko leads us but he takes advice from Eular just as those before him have, and those who come after will.”
“And why does he want to see just me and Thurin?” Yaz hoped the splashing of their feet in the narrow worm tunnel would keep their conversation from the others.
“Because Thurin was tainted and we need to know if he can be trusted again,” said Petrick with brutal honesty. “And you make the stars burn brighter.” The boy glanced back at her, his face lost in darkness, head silhouetted against the glow of Pome’s light.
“You know?” Yaz hadn’t been sure if they did or not.
“Of course. It’s why Arka told me to draw Hetta off you. That was quite a risk. It’s never safe to tangle with that one, however fast you are.” Petrick shuddered. “When you were fleeing from her in the outer caverns I could see each band of stars light up as you ran past. It’s harder to notice close up. But from a distance . . . I saw it before I saw you. Arka said we had to have you then.”
“What does it mean?” Yaz asked.
“Don’t know.” This time Yaz caught the gleam of the boy’s grin. “But it’s not something we’ve seen before. Pome’s the only one of us who can get close to the bigger stars and even he doesn’t like to touch them. Seems like you’re something new!”
At the front of their line Pome led the way through a series of low caverns. In places the slope of the rock reached the ice and gouged patterns in the roof as the flow moved on. Gravel and small round stones formed drifts here and there, giving off an eerie light from stardust caught in the voids among them. Once again Yaz wondered that all this beauty could have existed for so many years beneath her people’s feet without their knowledge. She wondered what else she might find and what other marvels lay silent, miles down, never to be discovered. Did beauty need an observer to matter? Was anything beautiful without someone to think it so? She found herself wondering in this world of different eyes, different hair, different faces, how others saw her. Did Thurin think her ugly? Again she felt guilty. All her thoughts should