After the rain stopped, soaked and shivering, Sorya handed him a towel. “Now you know,” she said.
Days turned into a week, then two. Kael’s journal filled with fragments, contradictions, sketches of smiling faces and broken cups and crows. He stopped asking for a definition. He started helping Hark split reeds. He fed Clatter crumbs. He sat in Elder Venn’s garden until his legs fell asleep. loyetu
The innkeeper, a woman named Sorya with laugh lines like river deltas, poured him a cup of berry tea. “You’ll need more than a week,” she said. “You’ll need to forget your compass.” After the rain stopped, soaked and shivering, Sorya