Ashes to Fire by Emily B. Martin

Author:Emily B. Martin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-01-31T05:00:00+00:00

Gemma looked distinctly more polished in her fresh shift. I still hadn’t been able to interpret her preference for such conservative clothing—whether it was a cultural norm or simply a fashion trend, I couldn’t say. She spent the morning on the Swamp Rabbit with her inks again, filling the pages of her book with detailed illustrations of plant life and determinedly ignoring the rest of us. Early in our journey, Rou snatched up an insect from the hull—a damselfly, apparently—and brought it to her. She underwent a short-lived transformation, her silence falling away as she exclaimed over its size and iridescent color, taking it from his hands without reservation and examining the struggling thing this way and that. I shuddered, still unable to wrap my head around the Alcoran queen. She had already proven she had a sharp mind, with obvious skills in science and strategy. And yet she clung to her folk’s Prophecy with a blind, illogical devotion. What was really at work here, and more importantly—how could I guide her to see sense?

We met Fisheye, who once again advised us to take the western detour through Temper Creek. He admonished Rou in a variety of ways for his stubbornness, his white whiskers quivering in irritation.

“We’ll cut up to Fogwallow tonight,” Rou said, overriding the riverman’s litany of rebukes. “Then tomorrow we’ll cross the river and head up to Dismal Green.”

“Y’cain’t pole to Dismal Green from the east, y’snakebit waterdog!” Fisheye exclaimed with vehemence, making Mirabelle sway on his shoulder.

“We’ll manage. We’ve had good rains. The basin will be full.”

“Pah!” He stomped back onto his punt. “F’you git snapped up by Celeno’s folk, I’mma stand in the crowd at yer execution and shout that I told you so.” With that, he stabbed the bank with his pole and shot away into the bayou.

Fogwallow, Rou said, would be an enjoyable stay. “Delightful family,” he said. “The Toussaints. Their oldest daughter, Heloise, is smitten with me—we should be treated well.” I arched an eyebrow before struggling to hide the expression, surprised at the sudden spark of irritation that flared in me.

Fortunately, he didn’t notice. “They live on a bit of a rise, too,” he continued, “so we may be able to see some of First Fire down in the village.” He gave a hearty sigh. “There’s an amazing staff spinner in Fogwallow who always puts on the best displays—I wish you could see her, Queen Mona. It’s a sight, all of it. Coal-walkers and fire-breathers, and the food.” He groaned and threw an arm over his stomach. “It’s such a shame that we have to miss it all.”

“Maybe I’ll come back next year,” I heard myself say.

“You should. Things will all be righted by then. We’ll take you through the classiest towns on the Ember riverboat line, and you can eat all the jubilee tarts and drink all the spiced coffee in the waterways.”

“Watch it.”

“Sorry, am I overstepping—”

“Watch it,” I repeated, pointing.

We bounced off a stand of cypress knees while he leaned wistfully on his pole.

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