Free The Straits of Galahesh: Book Two of The Lays of Anuskaya by Bradley P. Beaulieu Page A

inward, and it feels as though she is giving up a part of what she might be by doing this. The call of the aether is strong, especially when one has been drawn so wide and far.
    Control yourself, child.
    The borders of Galahesh enter her consciousness. She holds onto this like a piece of flotsam in the sea, and finally, at last, she is able to focus herself without the supporting hand of Saphia.
    Thankfully, Atiana recovers faster than she would have guessed. I am no child.
    There comes a laugh, an echo of the Saphia she once knew. Perhaps you are not. Saphia guides her attention toward Baressa, the massive city that sits along the southern edge of the straits at the center of the long island. It is much stronger than it has ever been. The whorls and eddies prevent me from approaching the city for more than a few minutes at a time, and even then it is difficult.
    They have always been treacherous.
    They have, but it has changed. It has become more dangerous. The cycle of the aether’s tides have become erratic and unpredictable.
    Why are you telling me this?
    That laugh came again. Your marriage to Bahett was surely arranged by the ancients.
    What do you mean?
    We must understand what is happening in the dark. Arrangements have been made with Bahett for a drowning chamber in the city, though he refuses to tell us why. It is the reason, I suspect, he has written you his note. Go to him when you wake. See what it is he wishes, but by no means are you to deny him. You must reach the island, Atiana, and you must find out more.
    Many times in the past several years, Atiana had felt the weight of the islands bearing down on her, but never as much as it does now. Word has come that Yrstanla, for whatever reason, has rekindled its interest in the east. It is surely why his envoy, Siha ş , has been sent when normally the Kaymakam of Galahesh alone would treat with the Grand Duchy. There is also the blight, which has lessened on Khalakovo and Rhavanki, but has grown worse on Vostroma and Nodhvyansk and Bolgravya. Atiana’s father spreads the wealth of the duchies as well as he can, and he treats with the Empire to make up the rest, but it is always too little. The widespread hunger sparked riots all across the islands at different times of the year, and rumors of revolution are heard more and more among the streets of every city in the Grand Duchy. Some of the more fortunate islands, like Mirkotsk and Lhudansk, have even spoken of ceding from the Anuskaya, acts that would spell complete ruin whether they succeeded in their attempts or not.
    And now there is this. The disturbances of the aether.
    Would it spread? Would it move through the islands, preventing them from communicating with one another? Such a thing might lead to a slower death, but it would be every bit as disastrous as revolution.
    There is no choice in whether she will go to Galahesh or not, nor is there a choice in following through on her marriage with Bahett. There never was. They were simply too desperate to demand anything of Galahesh, or her mother, Yrstanla.
    I will go to him, she tells Saphia, and I will go to Galahesh. We will discover what is happening, and we will survive, as we always have.
    I hope you’re right, child. I hope you’re right.
    This time, Atiana doesn’t complain about being called a child.

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    N asim trudged along a mountain plateau. The sky was blue, the wind bitter, and the snow deep beneath his feet. To his right, behind him, stood the towering bulk of Nolokosta, the highest peak in the entire Sitalyan range.
    He had wrapped his scarf around his head in such a way that he could see only through a narrow gap. It was necessary with the sun glaring down so strongly against the white snow. Had he decided on a shorter hike, he wouldn’t have bothered, but he’d been gone for nearly a day, hiking to the top of Nolokosta the night before and watching the sunrise this morning. Without the scarf, he’d already be blinded by