emperor had experienced before his death? There were things that could darken one’s soul in the space of a heartbeat. Decisions that could doom you.
True, it was unlikely for an emperor to suffer such a sudden fall from grace.
But it wasn’t impossible.
A life can change in a moment.
So can a fate.
He hoped Dar would forgive him for his thoroughness and that he would be proven wrong when one of the other augurs found the late emperor’s vessel among the many innocent beasts or birds. He hoped he’d be able to return to the palace, confess his failure, and beg forgiveness for his lack of faith in the purity of the late emperor’s soul.
And he hoped it would all happen before time ran out.
He thought of Gissa, ready to do her duty. He hadn’t asked her if she’d ever performed such a service before. Cowardly of me. But he hadn’t wanted to know. He preferred to believe her secret title was honorary, an homage to tradition rather than a reflection of action.
It won’t be necessary for her to act. Either I or another augur will find the vessel.
He wrapped that certainty around him like a cloak on a cold desert night.
On the south side of the Aur River, bells began to ring. It started as a few high notes that mixed with the calls of the brilliantly colored birds that flew beside the ferry, fishing in its wake. The bellringers then added another melody, low, that echoed the first bells. Soon, there were several melodies, dancing together, echoing and blending. Yorbel let the loveliness of the music wash over him, calming him. It was then he realized he needed calming.
It had been so long since he’d felt nervous that he’d nearly forgotten the sensation. His days were routine. His future was assured and his fate certain. But today was different. I don’t know how today will end. And, River forgive me, I’m excited to find out.
It was almost embarrassing, especially given all that was at stake for Dar and Gissa, but he was excited to have an adventure.
He hadn’t felt this way since he was a boy. He was glad that none of the other ferry passengers could see his thoughts or read his aura at that moment.
This is a serious task, he scolded himself.
But he allowed himself a smile as the ferry docked, and the ferryman shouted the name of Yorbel’s stop. “Excuse me,” he murmured as he weaved his way across the crowded platform and stepped off the boat.
Ahead of him was Seronne Market.
He had a plan: There were hundreds of kehok training grounds. Far too many to search. But he didn’t have to check every kehok. He only had to look for those with new souls. And any new kehoks would either currently be in or have recently passed through one of the kehok auctions.
If he could either examine those kehoks (if they were yet unsold) or compile a list of who owned them (if they had been sold), then that would make for a thorough search. It was still a daunting task. But a doable one, he thought. There were dozens of markets along the Aur River, but that was still better than searching hundreds of stables.
He strode into the market and was instantly assailed by smells and sounds and colors. The temples were austere gray and white, quiet places for contemplation and study. This . . . was not. He rarely left the grounds, and when he did, it was usually to the palace. This was distinctly different. He felt as if he’d fallen into a vat of marbles and been shaken around.
A woman danced with red scarves in front of him, while a monkey scampered behind her. A man carting a basket of fish pushed past him. A man shoved a tray of perfumes in front of him, demanding he smell, love, and buy. Another man, carrying a woman on his shoulders, walked by—she was juggling oranges. All around there were musicians: drummers, flutists, singers. He paused to buy a bag of roasted pecans, an indulgence, but the smell was irresistible. He ate them, tasting the salt and sweet on his tongue, as he found his way to the kehok auction.
All the music could not entirely drown out the humanlike screams, and the closer he drew, the less he could taste the pecans. He slipped the unfinished bag into one of his pockets. This was where his work would begin.