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  Eventually, the ship moved again, nosing out to sea. Trav inhaled deeply and squeezed her hand, mouth drawn tight. “This is it. Almost there. I’m really glad you’re with me.”

  She rubbed his hand with her thumb, nerves electrifying her insides. “I love you.”

  His split lip curled up. “I love you too.”

  “Should we go downstairs by the doors soon, so we don’t have to wait in line when the boat stops?”

  “I don’t think there will be many people getting off on Nis. In fact, I’m surprised the ship is stopping there at all. I figured we’d have to take a little boat from Pearlolla. But a lot has changed since I lived here.”

  Creek approached them and Owl’s face twisted with contempt as the girl opened her palm, revealing colorful, tumbled glass pebbles.

  “Look guys, my friends gave me some of their rainbow rocks, and now I can complete my quest and get my name!”

  Owl swallowed. “Good for you.”

  Creek beamed and turned away, heading back for her friends.

  Trav patted Owl’s shoulder. “Let’s go get our stuff.”

  14 ~ Nis ~

  When the ship stopped again, Owl and Trav were the only ones waiting at the door, aside from an usher. Trav shuffled nervously and pulled up his cloak’s hood.

  “Just you two, eh?” The usher opened the door. “Sometimes there are more—sometimes there is nobody. Good-bye!”

  Bright light greeted them as they exited the ship and walked across the warped wooden dock. The glittery, yellow-gold strand to either side was empty. Several seagulls coasted through the blue sky above the tops of thick, bulbous trees. A brown cobblestone path led up the beach and into the grove. Owl took a look back at the ship, then followed Trav up the path. Bright sunlight filtered down on them through the canopy of waxy green leaves. The apprehension twisting her stomach made it hard to appreciate the scenery.

  Worry lines stacked Trav’s brow, but he gave her a small smile. “This way home.”

  Owl stood in place for a moment, thinking again about the Mainland disappearing between the sea and sky and being on this tiny island surrounded by nothing but water. She was so small. So alone. There was only Trav, his own face not very comforting as he looked at her.

  “Are you okay?”

  This was his time. Her feelings seemed less important right now—though that didn’t make them any easier to push aside. She nodded and took his hand.

  Before long, the trees thinned out, replaced by round, gray-white buildings with domed roofs or ones that tapered into a spiraled top. Large and ornate buildings sat higher up the hill, with multiple spirals, uniquely-shaped windows, and reliefs of whales and other sea life sculpted onto the walls. A volcano’s top rose up in the distance.

  Several people sat outside the smaller houses on this path, sewing, or doing laundry or just relaxing. A woman hanging clothes looked up. She stood clutching a shirt, staring at them with wide eyes, her mouth agape. The shirt dropped from her hands and she ran inside the house. “Get the Elder! Get the Elder!”

  Owl’s mouth pulled tight. Trav squeezed her hand, his face blank. They started past the house when a teenaged kid bolted through the front door. He looked at Trav, then ran up the path, heading toward one of the fancy houses higher up the hill. Other people stopped and stared, muttering and pointing.

  She stopped. “Should we wait here?”

  “No. Second Son of Lightstone was heading for the Elder’s house. I’m sure we’ll meet him on the path before we get there.”

  Someone stepped in front of them. His wide eyes blinked continuously, as though if he did it enough, Owl and Trav would disappear. “Son of Mossflower! It’s you!”

  A vein pulsed in Trav’s temple. He smiled uncomfortably. “Hello, Brokenshell.”

  The man’s smile was the worst facsimile she’d ever seen. He laughed, voice tight. “You’re not dead.”

  “No. I’m not.”

  “Well, what a surprise this is. It’s so wonderful! …For you.” The man’s face grew a strange maroon, and his gaze settled on Owl. “And who is this?”

  “This is Owl.” Trav’s smile grew bigger and this time it looked real. “She’s my consort.”

  Brokenshell’s eyelid twitched. His fake smile resembled a grimace. “That’s—Wow! How great! …For you! I just can’t believe it. It’s—Wow. Are you going to see the Elder?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s”—he choked out the words—“great for you. Don’t let me keep you! See you around, brother.”

  Brokenshell hurried between the houses, pausing once to look back at them. Owl and Trav continued up the path as more people collected. Trav scowled. “I hate that guy.”

  “I could tell.”

  “Wanna know a secret? He was smiling but he was actually really, really mad.”

  Owl chuckled nervously. “Yeah, I caught that too. …Is everyone like that?”

  “Yeah. And not just to me. Plastic smiles for miles and miles.” He glanced at the onlookers uneasily as they walked. “I used to be like that too.”

  “Get out of here. I don’t believe it.”

  “No, really. I used to be just as fake and polite to people I didn’t like. I think being on the Mainland and hearing everyone talk so callously to each other changed me quite a bit. I mean, I’m still polite, but not like that.”

  “I think you’re just genuinely nice—so you don’t have to fake it. So will anyone ever tell you the truth here?”

  “Close friends and family will. They won’t be fake.”

  Owl stuffed her hands in her pockets. The villagers stared, dropping tools, elbowing each other, whispering, pointing. Shock was probably a hard emotion to hide. She frowned but said, “It’s kind of funny how mad that guy was.”

  “I’m glad you enjoy my anguish.”

  “No, I mean, that guy hates you. He looked like he was about to explode. And yet he has to be nice to you forever and ever.”

  Trav stopped and smiled. “That is kind of funny. I never thought about that. I mean, I still know these people hate me, but now I’m thinking their suffering is worse than mine.”

  After a few minutes, the teenager came back, jogging down the path, followed by a man Trav’s age, his purple skirt flapping in the breeze and multiple bead necklaces jangling. As soon as he saw Trav, he broke into a run and threw his arms around him. Sweat stood out on his skin, a grin lighting his face.

  “Cousin! It’s really you! You’re alive!” He crushed him in a hug.

  Trav hugged the man back, laughing, and Owl’s heart swelled at the sight. “Yes, I am. It’s so good to see you! I was expecting the Elder first, but this is much better.”

  The man pulled away and looked at Trav, baring his sharp teeth in a wide grin. “I am the Elder now, cousin!”

  Trav’s mouth dropped open. “You’re the Elder? God help us all! But, what happened to Redcloud?”

  The man lost his smile as he glanced around at the people gathering in the area. “Let’s go back to my house. I have so much to tell you. Things have changed quite a bit since you left.” His grin came back as he laughed and hugged Trav again. “I can’t believe it’s really you!”

  He looked at Owl and his smile wavered. “And I definitely want to know why you’re here.”

  Owl wanted to curl up in one of Trav’s numerous pockets and hide from this man’s gaze.

  People backed away to let them pass as they headed up the hill. “Cousin, this is my consort, Owl. And Owl, this is Quietbird. Elder Quietbird, I guess I should say. He’s my cousin I told you about.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” Owl said hesitantly. “So you’re the bad influence cousin I’ve heard so much about.”

  “Yes, that’s me.” Quietbird laughed distractedly. “Let’s get inside and we’ll talk more.”

  Trav’s face had softened and relaxed, and Owl was happy for him, but the way Quietbird looked at his own people—and her—disturbed her. It was as though he were ushe
ring lambs away from a pack of wolves.

  A woman ahead stood in front of her house, a baby slung on one hip and a wooden spoon in her other hand. When she saw Trav, she pursed her lips and walked back into her house, slamming the door.

  They pushed past more people to reach the largest and most ornate house on the hill, decorated with reliefs of whales, boars, birds, and deer. Quietbird opened a set of heavy double doors and invited them inside. The unexpected warmth of the house soothed her anxiety, if only for a moment. A large wooden table and chairs occupied the central room, and the wall behind the table held a colorful sea mural. Quietbird gestured for them to take a seat.

  “Do you want a drink or anything? …And what the hell happened to your faces?”

  “We got in a fight,” Owl replied.

  “With each other?”

  “No, dummy.” Trav laughed. “With some jackasses on the coast.”

  “Ah. Drinks?”

  “No, thank you,” Owl replied.

  Trav shook his head. “Where’s Seasalt? Are you still with her?”

  “Do you have such little faith in my wife-keeping abilities, cousin? She’s at the market with the kids. We’ve got the place to ourselves right now—which is a good thing.” Quietbird frowned. He glanced at Owl, then back at Trav. “Son of Mossflower, can I talk to you alone for a moment?”

  Owl bit her lip, feeling insignificant again.

  “Uh, yeah, sure. Owl, do you mind?”

  “Head on into the kitchen. Help yourself to whatever you want. Or if you go to the side hall there’s a window with a great view,” Quietbird said.

  “Sure. Of course.” She left the table and walked down the hallway, stopping before a large window sculpted directly into the blue clay wall. People still clustered around outside. Trav did say everyone was the town gossip. Beyond the crowd lay the brown cobblestone path, the houses, trees, and ocean far below.

  Holding her hands in front of her, she stared out the window of this strange house. How fake would Quietbird be to her? Would she even be able to tell?

  “You brought a Mainlander here?” Quietbird whispered, but it was more of a strangled shout. “Are you crazy?”

  Trav’s soft voice was a current of wordless wind.

  Quietbird hissed. “That’s great for you. I’m happy for you. I really am. You know I love you. And I am truly, truly happy that you’re back. But damn if you don’t know how to make these people hate you even more.”

  Trav’s whispers grew louder.

  “Those were Missionaries. Missionaries. Is she a Missionary? Missionary-position doesn’t count, cousin.”

  Owl leaned forward and pressed her face into the cool glass, shutting her eyes.

  Trav said something and Quietbird replied. “Yes, I know about it. Heard a lot of bad things. I’m not sending people to the Mainland anymore. They would go right into their hands.”

  “Well then what was I supposed to do?” Trav rasped loudly. “She wanted to go home but her town got pillaged and burned; her family is probably dead.”

  Owl opened her eyes and her stomach dropped. Was there a reply to her letter here? Could they go the postman’s today to see?

  “So you brought her here? Why?”

  “Because I’m in love with her. Madly in love with her! I don’t care if she’s a Mainlander, and I don’t care what other people think. I want to be with her. I asked her to come here because I want her somewhere safe. I want…” Trav’s voice grew lower and she couldn’t make out the words.

  The room was quiet. Owl stared out the window, love and fear twining through her. Her shallow breath puffed against the pane.

  Quietbird sighed deeply. “I want that for you too. And I don’t have anything against her or your happiness. I’m just worried about what these people will think. I have a pretty good rein on them, but they already think I play favorites.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes! That’s why I trained to be Elder in the first place. For you!”

  “What do you mean?”

  Quietbird stopped whispering. “When we were kids, I saw how everyone treated you. I knew it wasn’t right, even back then, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. When I got older and realized the Elder has the power, and makes the rules, I decided that’s what I wanted to be. I wanted to fight for apprenticeship, train under him, become Elder, and change things for the better. For you. For—for everyone.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that before? You were training even before I left.”

  “I don’t know. It just never came up. And you were going through things with Aunt Mossflower being sick and all.”

  Silence again. Owl pushed herself away from the window, standing, waiting. Trav eventually rounded the corner. “You heard all that, didn’t you?”

  “Most of it.”

  He sighed and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry. Come sit down.”

  Owl sat at the large wooden table. She tried to shrink into Trav’s side as Quietbird looked at her. He struggled to smile, but worry creased his face.

  “I’m happy that you’re here to be with Son of Mossflower. He deserves to be with someone great, and it’s wonderful that he’s found you. The people here don’t really like him, and they’re probably not going to like you that much either. I just want to tell you that up front.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I knew that before we got here.”

  “But you’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. They won’t hurt you or anything. I’ll talk to them. And honestly, everyone has loosened up a bit around here with Redcloud gone. They joke more. Tell the truth more than they used to.”

  Trav laughed. “I can’t imagine that.”

  “It’s true! I think having big, loveable me around has them more at ease.” He gave them a friendly grin, but it quickly faded to contempt. “Redcloud knew, cousin.”

  “He knew what?”

  “He knew the Black Auroras wouldn’t give you a vision. You were too old. The mushrooms don’t have any effect on you once you hit your late twenties. He knew that, and he sent you out on your naming quest anyway.”

  Trav sat back in his chair, his face expressionless. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. Owl took his trembling hand and squeezed it, but he didn’t seem to notice. She looked away as his face became tight with rage, trying to hide her own pain.

  He finally sucked in a breath and uttered, “How?”

  “How what? How do I know? I overheard him talking to some other asshole—I still don’t know who. This was right after you left for your quest. He said something like, ‘We’re finally rid of that embarrassment, and he won’t be coming back.’ I knew he was talking about you, but I didn’t understand what he meant until I was trained on rituals a few months later. By that point, I knew something was really wrong because you hadn’t come back yet.

  “When I confronted him, he admitted to what he’d done. Said it was better that you didn’t return. Whether the way you looked was because you were half-Mainlander, or it was just some kind of mutation, he said he couldn’t have you ‘tainting’ our island with your ‘white curse.’ He said if I was going to be Elder some day, I would have to make difficult decisions for the good of the island—which is what he said he was doing with you.”

  “‘The good of the island,’” Trav gruffed. Owl took his quivering hand.

  “I was furious. That day, I told everyone I saw what Redcloud had done. Some of the people were happy about it—I’m sure you know which ones—but a lot of them were appalled, and they felt Redcloud had overstepped his boundaries. There were a few other unsavory things I found out about him while training that I may have mentioned to people as well… I basically got the whole island to turn against him, and there was a town vote to exile him from Nis.”

  Trav dropped his hand from his mouth. “Then where is he now?”

  “Well… He ended up having a most unfortunate accident before he left the island…”

  “An ‘accident?’”<
br />
  “Yep.”

  “You?”

  “No. I’m Elder. I wouldn’t do something like that.”

  “But you know who did. And I’m guessing they didn’t get punished.” Trav tugged at his braid. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

  Quietbird shrugged. “It was an accident… Anyway, I’m Elder now that he’s gone, and I do things differently. People actually like me.”

  How would you know with all these fakers around?

  “Some of them feel really bad about what happened to you—even some of the ones that used to hate you—”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “It’s true! Because Redcloud exiled you to the Mainland! That’s worse than death!” His gaze darted to Owl. “No offense.” Quietbird leaned back in his chair. “And the ones that stood up for Redcloud’s decisions weren’t happy with me being Elder after he was gone, and they moved away.”

  Trav looked like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. He let out a sound that was a mixture of both, and Owl pressed her face into his arm.

  Quietbird slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s a lot to take in. I know. You should go to your house. Unwind. I’ll make sure nobody bothers you and later—”

  “My house? I still have my house?”

  “Sure! And still exactly like you left it. I don’t let anyone in except Bushberry. She cleans it every couple of weeks to make sure the sand doesn’t build up inside. Not my idea—that was all her.”

  “Bushberry has been cleaning my house for the past three years? Even knowing I might never come back?”

  “Yep.”

  Trav’s lip quivered, and he wiped at his eyes.

  Owl smiled. “Not everyone here hates you.”

  “That’s right!” Quietbird clapped his hands together and grinned. “Oh, and this is so exciting. I need to get people together for your naming ceremony tomorrow.”