The guard bowed again.

Wiping the garden dirt off his hands, the emperor straightened his robes. “The gardener who tends this garden . . . See to it that his family receives extra water rations this month.”

The guard’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and the emperor had to suppress a smile. But he didn’t explain himself, and the guard had had enough training not to ask any questions. Leaving the guard behind, the emperor strode out of the garden and into the palace.

The palace of the emperor of the Crescent Empire had marble pillars from the northern mountains and walls inlaid with mother-of-pearl shells from the western sea. Silk cascaded from the ceiling to mimic the wind, and the symbol of the empire— a crescent sun from a lucky eclipse—decorated everything from the exquisite chairs to the ornate mirrors to the jade vases that perched on blue glass pedestals. All in all, the emperor preferred the dead beauty of the garden. At least it didn’t lie to him and claim that all was well.

Guards flanked him as he approached the massive double doors of the court. He nodded at them, and they threw open the doors before him. He didn’t pause as he strode inside. All the men and women of the court—chancellors, judges, musicians, generals, princes, and princesses—ceased conversation and scurried to line the central corridor that led to the dais. Each bowed as he passed.

He climbed the marble steps to the throne. He’d composed a speech, filled it with arguments and eloquence. But looking out over his court, he felt tired. “Our salvation lies in the desert. I will lead the army across the border, and we will claim the sands and all the magic within,” he said. “In my absence . . . try not to do anything stupid.”

Korbyn peered into the pot. “It’s boiling. Tea leaves?”

Mechanically Liyana fetched a wad of leaves from her pack. Trust Mother to think to pack tea leaves. Korbyn dropped them into the boiling water. She watched him use a stick to stir. “Bayla . . . She didn’t . . .” Liyana licked her lips, swallowed, and finished in a rush. “I’m not unworthy?” Waiting for an answer, she didn’t breathe.

He patted her knee. “You’re lovely.”

Air whooshed out of her lungs.

Korbyn frowned at her. “Your breathing is rapid. Are you well?”

She placed her hands on her knees and hung her head between them. Bayla hadn’t rejected her! Or Jidali. Or Talu. Or her parents . . . Gulping air, she steadied herself. Her head quit spinning after a moment. When she looked up, Korbyn was pawing through her supply pack. “Cups?” he asked. “To drink the tea?” He abandoned his search before she could frame a reply. “Eh, no matter. Once it cools, we can sip directly from the pot.” A grin lit up his face as he said, “I am having all sorts of new experiences this time around.”

She thought of the string of delicacies that her clan had prepared for Bayla’s arrival—fried goat cheese, sugared date pastries, sun-baked tubers with spices, and the finest array of meats from the clan’s best-fed goats. “You should have been greeted with a feast and dancing.”

He waved her words away. “Once we have succeeded, the desert will celebrate.” Raising the pot to his lips, he took a sip. He winced and coughed. “Delicious!” He coughed again and then spit over his shoulder. Flashing her another bright smile, he said, “Do you know the story of the greatest lie that the raven ever told? The mountain was concerned that her beauty was fading—”

“Who stole the deities?” As soon as the question passed her lips, Liyana winced. Talu would be appalled if she’d heard Liyana interrupting a god. She bowed her head. “Forgive the interruption.” She added the formal apology to be used for an elder whom one has wronged.

When he didn’t reply, she dared to peek up at him. Again, he seemed far older than he looked. He was gazing across the oasis toward the desert mountains with an expression that she could not decipher. She followed his gaze. All traces of the sandstorm were gone. The sky was a bleached blue again, and sand swirled gently over the dunes. Each dune created a crescent shadow so that the desert looked like a sea of dark moons. “We will first need to find the other empty vessels in order to bring home all the missing gods.”

He hadn’t answered her question, but she nodded anyway. “How do we find them?”

“Horse Clan, Silk Clan, Scorpion Clan, and Falcon Clan.” He pointed to different spots on the horizon with each clan name. She marveled at his surety—all clans were nomadic, but he pointed with precision.

Her own clan was out there too, en route to Yubay. If she and Korbyn walked quickly enough, perhaps they could catch them. She spent several glorious seconds imagining that reunion. “My family can help—”

“I am sorry,” Korbyn said. She thought she heard true regret in his voice. “Your family is west, and we cannot afford the detour. Soon the other clans will conduct their summoning ceremonies. We must reach them all before any harm comes to their vessels. Not all vessels are as resourceful as you, and not all clans are as . . . forgiving as yours.”

“Oh.” Liyana studied the rip in the tent and fought to keep the lump of disappointment from clogging her throat. “Of course. I see.”

Putting the pot down, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and then leaped to his feet. “In fact, we should begin!”

“Right now?” She looked around the oasis, her link to her family. But the sandstorm had erased the imprints from the tents. There was no trace that her family and clan had lived there for the last month. The desert had reclaimed its own. Any ghosts of her family were now only in her head. “Yes,” she decided. “Right now.”

Taking the pot, she drank her share of the tea and then cleaned the pot with palm leaves before stowing it in her pack. Korbyn balanced on one of the rocks. He was, she thought, like a four-year-old child and an ancient elder at the same time. As he experimented with shifting from the ball of his foot to his heel, she shook the sand out of her tent, rolled the tent up tight, and stuffed it into her pack.

“Ready?” he asked.

Liyana held up the two waterskins. “Can your magic keep these full?”

“No one can create something out of nothing, not even a god,” Korbyn said. “Though once, the raven convinced the hawk that she had given birth to a lizard, even though she had no mate and had laid no egg. But that began with a lizard who did not want her child.”

“These won’t last us more than a day. Two, if we ration.” She spoke her thoughts out loud as she frowned at the two waterskins. They weren’t meant for extended treks.

“You won’t feel thirst with me.” His voice was intense, and she instinctively flinched. She hadn’t meant her words to sound censorious of the god.

“It would set my mind at ease if you could be more specific.” She thought that phrasing was diplomatic and was pleased with herself. Diplomacy wasn’t normally a required skill for a vessel. In fact, Mother had threatened to tie Liyana’s tongue in knots more than once.

“I crossed the sands to you by drawing moisture into the desert plants. I can do the same for two.” He reached toward her face, and his fingers brushed her cheek. “No fear, Liyana. I won’t let Bayla’s vessel suffer.”

She shivered at the touch of his fingers. He felt so human. His fingertips were warm and soft, and her skin remembered the trace of his touch after he lowered his hand. She kept expecting him to be ethereal, even though she, of all people, should know better.

“You can trust me,” he said. “I want Bayla to return as much as you do.”

“She’s my goddess. What is she to you?” She didn’t intend to sound disrespectful, but if she was to follow him, she had to know. He could be Bayla’s enemy. He could be responsible for her disappearance. This could be part of an elaborate plot to destroy her clan. Liyana didn’t know what transpired between the deities in the Dreaming, what alliances rose and fell.