Secrets of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 3) Read Free

her nose and hugged herself.
    "We will not die yet. Not
yet, Eelani!" She clenched her fists. "We will sail on."
    She unhooked a lantern from its
pole and stumbled toward the dinghy. Wounds throbbing, she untied the
rope and grabbed the oar. The current caught the boat at once,
tugging her south along the Yin . . . south to those fleeing ships.
To hope. To those she loved.
    She sailed in the dark. She
sailed alone. As she flowed south, the smoke cleared from the sky,
and the Leaping Fish stars shone above, and Koyee could smile for
despite her wounds, despite the loss of her homeland, despite the
ache in her heart, there was still beauty in the world. There was
still goodness and hope in the dark.
    "Do you remember how we
sailed from Oshy almost two years ago?" she whispered. "Do
you remember, Eelani? It was in a boat like this. We sailed to seek
help for our home." Tears now streamed down her cheeks. "We
still sail. Just you and me. We still haven't lost our hope in the
shadows."
    She reached into the pocket of
her tattered, bloody tunic, and her fingers closed around her flutes.
She pulled out two musical instruments: an old bone with some holes
drilled in, a trifle she had played in the dregs of Pahmey; and a
beautiful silver flute, a costly instrument she had played in The
Green Geode as a yezyana.
    I
played these flutes in my darkest hours, living as an urchin in rags,
and then as an enchantress in silk, she thought. Today
I am alone again in darkness. Today I play the old bone. She placed the silver flute away.
    An old tune called to her, the
music Little Maniko had taught her. Eyes stinging, she raised the
flute to her lips and played again.
    We
call this song Sailing Alone, she
thought, for it
is the tune of a boat on the water, of a lone soul in darkness, of
hope when all hope seems lost.
    The
boat sailed downriver and her music flowed.
    The stars turned, the hills
rolled at her sides, and the fires behind her faded into darkness.
All the world was this: stars and shadow, water and stone, song and
silence. She stood at the prow, playing her flute until she saw the
light ahead.
    The distant lantern bobbed,
growing closer, and Koyee smiled.
    "Look, Eelani. Another
boat."
    She sailed downriver. The light
moved upriver toward her. Boat approached boat, two glowing wisps in
the darkness. A man was rowing toward her, the lamplight falling upon
him.
    "Koyee?" he asked,
hesitant, and then shouted and waved. "Koyee!"
    She looked at him—his dark
hair, his mismatched eyes, his laughing mouth—and she laughed too.
    "Torin!" She reached
toward him, tasting her tears. "Torin."
    Their prows met and she stumbled
into his boat. He wrapped her in his arms, and he held her close, and
they stood embracing and weeping and laughing.
    "I had to come back for
you," he whispered. "I rowed from ship to ship, and I
couldn't find you, and I knew you were back here. I knew you were
alive. I had to save you."
    She laughed and touched his
cheek. "You didn't save me. I found a boat. I saved myself."
    He pulled her closer against him
and kissed her forehead.
    Their lamps joined—starlight
and sunlight—together again. They sailed south into the endless
darkness.

    * * * * *

    Ishel
walked through the ruins of Yintao, spear in hand, stabbing the
wounded.
    "Filthy
demons," she said and spat.
    The
debris spread around her: fallen walls, smashed pagodas, and cracked
columns. Shattered blades, shields, and helmets lay upon piles of
bricks and roof tiles. Everywhere Ishel looked she saw the ruin of
flesh too: blood on cobblestones, severed limbs, and corpses. But she
cared not for ruin or death. Ishel, Princess of Naya, sought the
living.
    Her
pet tiger growled at her side. Ishel stroked the beast's head.
    "Yes,
Durga," Ishel cooed. "Soon, my sweet, we will find you a
meal."
    Durga
bristled and tugged at his chain, but Ishel held him fast. She was a
princess of the rainforest, and he was a king of beasts. Though far
from home, traveling under a dark