meadows as best he could, and when he couldn’t, running with utmost speed through the grass.
The scent grew and grew. He realized it was taking him toward Whitecliff, but Hunger ran out of woods before he caught up to the source of the stink.
He stood in the tree line at the foot of a hill and looked over the acres of fields that lay between him and the walls of Whitecliff and the shinning sea beyond.
Leagues to his left rose the ridge of white cliffs for which the city was named. The forbidden cliffs, riddled with crumbling warrens and wondrous carvings wrought by creatures that had vanished long before the first settlers arrived. Below him ran the Soap Stone River. A toll bridge spanned it.
Hunger looked along the road to the bridge and then beyond. It was crowded with people. The Festival of Gifts was not too far away, and then the whole land would be celebrating the blessings of the Creators given this year. There would be games and dances. Sacrifices. And the Divine would grant boons to even the most humble petitioner.
A bearded man on a wagon rode out from behind the bridge house. Beside him walked two boys. Hunger recognized the man. It was the Koramite who had been with Argoth.
A mighty stink rolled toward him in great waves. It was more potent than anything Hunger had encountered so far. More potent than anything he’d experienced from the Mother. He must have incredible power, that Koramite.
But, no, it wasn’t the man.
Hunger could see it clearly now. Small fingers of brightness rose from the boy like steam rose from wet clothes in the winter. They were fingers of Fire, fingers of his life spilling out into the wide world.
It was the boy making the overpowering stink.
Hunger looked closer. Was this the young male the Mother spoke of? The band around the boy’s arm wasn’t a normal godsweed band. It was a weave, smoking with power. He wondered if that weave was the cause of this reckless waste.
He opened his mouth and took in a great breath of the stink. None of the Mother’s magic was in it, which meant this was not the male they sought. Another memory tumbled into him. The second boy, the Mokaddian, was Argoth’s son. Suddenly Hunger knew who the man was. Argoth had a Koramite brother-in-law. That’s who this man was; he was sure of it.
But why release Fire like this? Why waste it? Fire, spilled like this, would draw frights just as a dead carcass would draw crows. Frights were creatures not completely from the world of flesh. Most were small and very difficult to see because they only gained substance in this world as they fed. They were leeches, but not of blood. There were three parts to all living things. Frights fed on Fire. They did not have the power to separate a living thing like he did. But sometimes, if someone was mortally sick or wounded, their Fire might bleed out. And this gave the frights an opening into which they could burrow and feed.
Hunger did not know the full powers of such creatures, but it didn’t matter; he would deal with them. And he would be careful of the boy. Who knew, perhaps the boy was not being used to bait frights, but Hunger himself. To throw off a stink he could not resist. Perhaps these Sleth thought to trap him.
But what trap could hold him? He could see none here. He should take them, the Koramite and his son. He should chase them down now. And while the Mother had commanded him to bring the Koramite to her, she hadn’t said anything about the boy. Surely he knew some secrets.
Hunger identified the the line of pursuit that would cut them off, then stopped himself. The Koramite and his boy were Sleth; they would simply multiply themselves and run away, and then, when they were safely surrounded by the thousands in the city, they could cease their magic. The stink would die, and Hunger would lose them. They’d disappear, leaving Hunger exposed. The trap, if there was one, was in the city.
Hunger sat down where he was next to a tangle of red-flowered trumpet vine.
The Koramite lived on this side of the river. He and his burning son would surely return from the city before long. And Hunger would be there along an empty stretch of road to greet them.
Talen had never received so many hard glances in