“She did keep me safe,” Imari replied, feeling defensive for Tolya. “Uki couldn’t have foreseen everything.”
Her papa pressed his lips together. “No, he could not.”
“Ricón said Uki is missing.”
Her papa’s gaze met hers, though his posture closed a little as he nodded once, slowly.
“Ricón also said he left six months ago,” Imari pressed. “On his usual rounds to the Baragas, and that he never returned. He said you never even found his camel.”
That was all Ricón had known—he’d sworn to the saints—but the circumstances and the timing had deeply bothered Imari. Six months ago was also when King Tommad had fallen ill. When Corinth’s Sol Velorian slaves had begun disappearing, and when Astrid had become…legion.
And Imari did not believe in coincidences.
“Papa, what happened to him?”
Sar Branón inhaled so deeply his nostrils flared a little. “I don’t know.”
“But you have suspicions.”
“I truly don’t know, Imari,” he said. “I visited those villages myself, but I found nothing. Sebharan’s best trackers found nothing. I’ve done everything I can to find him, but it’s like he…vanished.”
Imari studied him. “Do you think he’s gone?”
“That is the general consensus among my council.”
“And what do you believe?”
He sighed, and a deep crease formed between his bushy brows. “I don’t believe for a moment that Gamla suffered an accident. He knows those roads better than the people who live there.”
Imari agreed. Gamla did. “So you think he was taken then?”
“Yes.” A pause. “Though why, I can’t say. The fact that he’s my brother should be reason enough, however, no one has come forward with ransom.”
“Maybe someone needs him for his healing abilities.”
“That would be the other reasonable explanation, and if this person were willing to risk my wrath for it, they must have believed they couldn’t contact Gamla directly. Though I still can’t figure why anyone would believe that. Gamla never denied any Sol Velorian who called upon his services—”
“What if they don’t want to be known?” Imari asked, sitting forward. “You’ve considered it might be related to this…Liagé leader?”
“Of course I’ve considered it, but even if this leader exists, certainly the Sol Velor have Liagé Restorers at their disposal.” At Imari’s look of surprise, Sar Branón added, “I’m no fool, Imari, and neither was Tommad. I know there are still Liagé hiding within Istraa’s borders, though I don’t know how many, nor where they are. We never came down as hard on them as your Wolf and his family did. They’ve left us alone and stayed hidden, and so I turned my head, though now I wonder if I should have…” His voice trailed, that crease forming between his brows again. “If this leader does exist, I imagine he will—”
“Or she,” Imari interrupted.
Her papa tipped his head. “Or she will have Restorers at their disposal, and would therefore have no need of Gamla’s more…primitive methods of healing.”
Imari sat quiet, thinking on all her papa had said. Knowing Liagé still dwelled within Istraa gave her a flare of hope, because she had wondered. Her papa was right in that Istraa had never been as hard on the Sol Velor as the other provinces—to the growing resentment of those other provinces—but hearing her papa voice it aloud made it more real. And maybe…
Maybe Imari could find one such Liagé in hiding and convince them to teach her how to use her power.
But in the meantime: Gamla.
What in all the stars would someone want with Gamla?
Imari rested her chin upon her hand, tapped her cheek. She thought of Tolya, and her time in The Wilds. Of her own meager attempts at using and understanding Shah power.
“They want his knowledge.” Imari spoke the thought aloud even as it entered her mind.
Her papa frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Papa.” Imari dropped her hand. “Gamla understands the workings of the human body better than anyone I’ve ever met. Including Tolya.”
“Yes, but with Restorers at their disposal—”
“Shah power isn’t so simple as that, Papa,” Imari interrupted him. “You don’t just…tell it to do something, and it’s done.” Imari batted a hand. “It’s a process. When I fought Astrid—well, the legion—I had to actively direct that power at her, and even then, I didn’t defeat the demon. All I managed to do was hold it until they could slap Liagé bindings around her wrists, and even that left me unconscious for two full weeks. I imagine Gamla’s knowledge as a healer would be very useful to anyone, regardless of what method of healing a person uses. That’s assuming he’s been taken.”
Her papa studied her a long moment. “Well, that definitely gives me something else to consider.” And then he turned to face her.
Imari knew at once that he had something heavy to say, and that she probably wasn’t going to like it.
“Since we’re on the subject of your power,” he started. “There is…another matter I need to discuss with you.”
Imari regarded him, wary.
“In two hours’ time, I will be meeting privately with my small council to discuss your return and…how best to proceed with the rois and roiesses.” A beat, uncertain. He looked at her; his fingers stopped tapping. “You will be present.”
She saw it in his eyes then, the fear and apprehension. He wanted her there because he wanted his small council to see her. He wanted them to know she was flesh and blood, and not just an arbitrary list of horrors, so that they would support him as he faced all the men and women who helped him manage Istraa.
So that they would not think Imari was this Liagé leader and demand her execution on sight.
“I understand, Papa,” she said quietly, very aware of the drawer where her flute lay hidden.
“I have given this some thought,” he continued, “and while I don’t have all the answers, and I certainly can’t predict their reaction to you, they are people of practicality. We have a foe we cannot find, and truthfully, I’m not sure we could overpower them, should we actually succeed in finding them.” Here he paused and looked straight into her eyes. “But you…you have something we do not, Imari. The flute.”
The flute.
Not her.
As if it held the power.
And this was the point that had kept her brothers arguing with her late into the night. Ricón and Kai had encouraged her to blame the flute—at least until the people were comfortable knowing that their surina was not dead. Best not to add another complication, Kai had said, and Ricón had agreed. And it wasn’t completely a lie. For a very long time, Imari had believed the flute to blame for what she’d done.
It seemed her papa was happy to perpetuate this lie too—maybe even convince himself that it was true.
“I believe the gods chose this moment to bring you home for a reason,” her papa continued steadily, as if bracing himself for an objection he couldn’t quite predict. The Wilds had changed her, after all. “Convince the council why we need your flute, Imari, and we might all come out of this alive.”