she nods, a cold devastation behind her eyes. âI know. I know we canât. Itâs just â¦â
âThis isnât what you were expecting?â I say.
She nods again.
âJoin the club,â Teddy says. âI figured weâd be living it up in fancy spa baths, watching alehouse dancers and sculling champagne out of honey-melons. Dunno about you lot, but Iâm not seeing a lot of melons around here.â
âJust leaves,â Lukas says.
Teddy brightens. âHey Danika, maybe you could whip up some of that leaf tea. Good way to fend off hunger.â
âI thought you hated my tea,â I say.
âYeah, exactly,â he says. âNauseaâs great for keeping your appetite down.â
I toss a fistful of leaves at his face. Teddy swats them away with a grin. Then his expression grows serious, and he turns to Maisy. âHey, have you ever heard of these firestone things?â
âYes, I think so. But â¦â
âWhat?â
Maisy waves a dismissive hand. âMy books said theyâre just a superstition, like most of the rumours and legends from the Dark Ages.â
âWell, Bastian doesnât seem to reckon theyâre a superstition,â Teddy says. âI mean, if itâs his job to harvest âem and all.â
âWhat are they?â I say.
Maisy hesitates. âThey grow in the earth, like crystals. And even once theyâre harvested, they must be stored in the dirt â buried again like seeds â to retain their power. They draw their magic from the earth itself.â
âMagic?â
âWell, theyâre supposedly a sort of ⦠conduit,â Maisy says. âLike a radio frequency. A conduit for magic.â
I stare at her. A conduit for magic? I try to imagine a scattering of stones, with signals bouncing between them like radio waves. An alchemical blast,leaping from stone to stone, beaming its power into the dark.
âAre you sure?â I say.
âNo,â Maisy says. âIâm just telling you what the stories say.â
Lukas frowns and glances skywards, ensuring that Bastian is out of earshot. âMy father was obsessed with this land,â he says. âEven mentioning it was enough to make his blood boil â he wouldnât even tell me its name!â
âThatâs why Quirin wouldnât let his smugglers cross the Valley, isnât it?â I say. âBecause King Morrigan had such a strange fixation on this place, and Quirin didnât want to get the king offside.â
Lukas nods. âI just wish I knew why.â He gestures at the trees, visibly frustrated. âI mean, it doesnât look special, does it? I donât see what could cause such an obsession. Maybe the firestones are real.â
âI reckon this Farran blokeâs got something to do with it,â Teddy says. âMaybe King Morriganâs got a grudge going on.â He turns to Lukas. âHey, do kings and lords ever get together for parties? Maybe this Farran bloke cheated at marbles, or spat in your dadâs soup or something.â
Lukas snorts. âNot when their nations are enemies, no.â
âDamn,â Teddy says.
Following Bastianâs lead, we emerge from the woodland into a field of massive boulders. They remind me a little of the Marbles back home â a landscape as lumpy as boiled potatoes. But here, flares of steam blast up in the distance and the rocks sting hotter than cooking pots.
A heavy smell hangs in the air, like rotten eggs, or restaurant bins in summer. Each whiff brings a wave of memories. Huddling in alleyways. The flies and the stench. The clattering of doors as kitchen hands dumped rotting lettuce and old chunks of meat â¦
Clementine pinches her nostrils shut. âWhat in the name of Taladia is that?â
Teddy takes a deep sniff. âSmells like home, I reckon.â
âMaybe in the part of town where you grew