The Shadow’s Curse (40 page)

The crown felt heavy in Raim’s hands, but he gripped it tighter. He would strip it of its jaguar skull once he got to Darhan, but the emerald green he would take on as his colour. ‘It’s true. Khareh has given me Darhan to lead while he heads to the South to establish his rule there.’

Puutra placed a hand on Raim’s shoulder. ‘You will be a good ruler, Raim. You were born for this too. You are a sage, and now . . . you are a khan too.’

Raim fought back tears that pricked behind his eyes. ‘Thank you, Puutra-bar.’

‘I suppose you will be returning to your homeland,’ he said. ‘The people of Lazar thank you for saving us from the Southern King. We will lead you to the tunnels. Of course, you will need a pass-stone.’

‘Oh,’ said Raim. ‘I almost forgot.’ Underneath his tunic, where once his promise-knot to Khareh had sat, he now bore the pass-stone that Lady Chabi had given him. ‘This belongs to Lazar.’

At the sight, Puutra’s eyes lit up and Wadi gasped in shock. A feverish murmur spread like wildfire through the crowd above them. ‘Where did you get this?’ Wadi asked, helping him remove it over his head.

‘A final gift from Lady Chabi,’ Raim said. ‘Maybe the only useful thing she has ever given me.’ He levelled his gaze at Wadi. ‘I feel like things aren’t over with her. She will be back.’

‘I know,’ said Wadi, in a voice that was barely a whisper. Then she revealed the two pass-stones she had in her possession, in addition to the one she had carried since birth. ‘That brings our total up to four,’ she said. ‘Three more out there. Three more, and then the route from Darhan to Lazar can be opened for good.’

Raim nodded. ‘When we reach Darhan, I will make it my priority to hunt down the remaining three stones. But for now, I have my first declaration to make as Khan.’ He raised his voice and tilted his head back, so that it was clear he was addressing the entire population of Lazar. ‘Anyone who wishes may accompany Wadi and me back to Darhan, to return to your tribes. Sola knows, you have earned it. Or, you may stay, under the continued leadership of Puutra-bar and the Shan, and help rebuild this city to its former glory.’

Some chose to stay. But a large majority decided to make the journey with Raim and Wadi, and Raim was glad. He remembered the rush of relief and comfort he had felt after arriving back in Darhan. He could imagine the others feeling the same way.

Seeing the people of Lazar gathering their humble possessions to join them, Raim brimmed with pride. Wadi smiled at him too, a bright, beaming grin he hadn’t seen on her face since they had spent time together in the desert. ‘And you thought no one would want to follow you. But look at them now.’

He turned and stared. These were the people who were no longer oathbreakers, just like he was no longer an oath-breaker. They were all going home. Wadi took Raim’s hand in hers and squeezed it tight.

‘Let’s go home,’ said Raim. ‘We have a nation to rule.’

She could not see him, but she recognized the pattern of his steps, the weight of his presence, just outside the tent walls. But, of course, she had seen this moment coming in her dreams. She just hadn’t known exactly when. She tightened her fist around the piece of cloth she had been mending, and bit her lip in anticipation.

Light fell on her face, the warmth of it tingling her cheek, as the curtain to the yurt swung open.

No words were spoken. He simply rushed in, all muffled cries and swift-moving air, and gathered her up in his arms. She allowed herself to collapse against him and threw her own arms around his neck. He smelled like sand and fierce heat, overlaid with grass and rain. He wasn’t long from the desert.

They broke apart, and she could sense him smile at her. She lifted her hands to his face and traced the line of his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. Then she remembered herself. She bowed her head. ‘My Khan,’ she said.

He laughed. ‘Dharma, it’s just me. Your brother.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I know who you are, silly. You’ve come with a task for me.’

He hesitated.

‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘It’s no burden. In fact, it’s almost done.’

She dropped her hand from his face to his shoulder, then drifted down his arm until she found his hand. She took it and indicated they both should go outside. She led him around the back of the yurt, and she could feel the footsteps of many others following them – their grandfather, Loni, and the girl, Wadi. She knew this place so well, she walked as confidently as if she had full use of her vision.

‘Let me see the knot,’ she said, holding out her other hand.

‘Here you are,’ he said, after a moment. He leaned forward so she could feel the weight of the knot in her hand. She could feel the importance of the vow: Raim’s pledge of allegiance to Khareh, the Golden Khan – not as his Protector, but from one khan to another. Then, she snapped her fingers.

At her command, two of her best weavers stepped forward, carrying between them the project that she had been working on for a long time – a secret project that not even Loni had known about. She could tell by their shocked silences that they had seen what she had done, and were taking it all in.

‘This is the story of your vow,’ she said. ‘It’s all woven in there. All that was needed was this final piece.’ She stepped up to the intricately woven rug and ran her hands over the fine webs of fibres, finding the space in the very centre where she had left a hole for the promise-knot itself. The whole story would now centre around that knot, each scene depicted as she had seen it in her visions.

‘Dharma . . .’ Raim’s voice broke with emotion. ‘It’s perfect.’

Dharma knew what he was looking at. She knew every knot in the carpet off by heart, as well as she knew the ridges on the backs of her hands and the comfort of her grandfather’s embrace. Still holding Raim’s hand, she brought it up to touch the first panel, the first part of the story, which she could see so clearly in her mind’s eye.

There, woven in threads of browns, golds and greens, the colours of the earth, was Raim. He was sitting in the crook of an old, cracked tree, one leg dangling in the breeze, his head leaning back against the trunk.

Second books are tough, and I couldn’t have reached this point without support from all corners. Many thanks are due to my agent, Juliet Mushens, for her friendship, care and attention. The team at Random House Children’s Books, especially my editor, Lauren Buckland, copyeditor Julia Bruce, and publicist, Harriet Venn, have been absolute rock stars. In Canada, thanks go to Amy Black, Pamela Osti and Lindsey Reeder for creating such an amazing reception for these books over there.

Thanks are also long overdue to Tanya Byrne, Kim Curran, James Dawson, Will Hill, Laura Lam, Tom Pollock, James Smythe, Team Mushens and the Lucky 13s, for understanding in ways that only other people on this mad journey can. To my family and friends – and everyone who came out to support my first book – your support means the world to me, and I am the luckiest girl in the world because of it.

But the biggest thanks of all goes to Lofty, who shares in all my mad adventures – both fictional and real.

Amy McCulloch is a Canadian living in London, who fits writing around work as an Editorial Director at one of the UK’s leading children’s publishers. She was bitten by the travel bug at an early age while accompanying her parents on buying trips around the world for their oriental carpet business. It was this love of travel that inspired her to set a novel in a hot, desert location (moving to freezing Ottawa, Canada, where her first winter hit -40˚C, might do with that too). She studied Medieval and Old English literature at the University of Toronto.

Connect with Amy on Twitter:
@amymcculloch

The Oathbreaker’s Shadow

THE SHADOW’S CURSE
AN RHCP DIGITAL EBOOK 978 1 448 12119 9

Published in Great Britain by RHCP Digital,
an imprint of Random House Children’s Publishers UK
A Random House Group Company

This ebook edition published 2014

Copyright © Amy McCulloch, 2014
Cover artwork © Talexi Taini, 2014
Map copyright © Sophie McCulloch, 2014
Author photo © Marte L. Rekaa

First Published in Great Britain by Corgi Books, 2014

The right of Amy McCulloch to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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