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I was so bewildered at this point I could say nothing at all But I forced ue to work in the dry cavern of my mouth “How can you know my name? Who is this Brother of which you speak? I do not understand you”

“Oh, no one expects you to, dear chap!” the Marsh King assuredvoice Beast winked at me with one crimson eye The Heron continued, “You keep your counsel and the gods keep theirs My Brother is the Harpoon-Star, who ca Sit still and I shall tell you of his audience”

LAAKEA THE HARPOON-STAR BURNED BLACK THE rass as he cas, heralded hireat circles it scalded, crisped, sizzled Each step sent up hisses of stea in wordless terror as the fire of his heels lapped at their oily bodies I felt the song of the grass stea before I could see him—it had been e where he hunted s

You’ll forgive the flowery talk, won’t you? Our family does so love to be told they are beautiful Vanity is an old and venerable habit

He hite, of course; his sort of Stars—the s ones—are alhite His hair fell like a neashed sheet, long and flat to his waist, and his skin faded into the pale horizon, the shade of paper turned to ash A great spear was slung over his shoulder by a strap of white serpent-hide; golden eyes panted beneath colorless lashes He was barefoot; in fact, he wore no clothing but a bleached cloth over his angular hips, and his thighs were covered in arcane tattoos, the sys was a strange silver that showed only when touched by the trailing marsh mist

I e twigs into tiny conflagrations I did not, of course, wish to burn my tammies, but the proper affectionfamily I tried to make the usual pleasantries and invitations to drink, but he would not have it

“I have news It cannot wait Will you for once allow me to speak my piece without interruption?”

I blushed with great dignity and abashed grace Settling ing one of the Princes that co to disturb Laakea in his tale He was not overfond of Beast—Stars care only for their kin At any rate, they are dreadfully formal creatures, and Beast would be bored

Rehed heavily, and his voice echoed through the trees like clouds across the face of thehas occurred—a man has killed our sister, the Snake-Star of the South” He waited for ed north to tell reat sapphire tears intothat I was not surprised, Laakea pressed on

“I did not realize she had tarried so long in that da winds and towers that bruise the sky with iron fingertips…”

I CONFESS THAT I WAS MUCH CONSUMED WITH MY hunt, for I pursued a great rarity—a Firebird, as a wed ding present for my poor, wretched sister—and I tracked him over many a hill and river-carved valley You knoe can be about things which sparkle and shine We i of what has been lost

Firebirds are overfond of red fruits, and I had hoped to lure hiathered from the Ixora, the Torch-Trees of the desert—very difficult to harvest, but the Firebird’s favorite delicacy, bright and soft as a cherry, with a pit cased in flint and iron, to light the new tree afla the trees, and return there to lay their eggs in the ash like sal upriver

I waited in the salt flats that border the Tinderbox Desert, and the Ixora that fire the night to keep the sky warht I could see their orange branches flickering, snapping, sparking up like the camp of a thousand soldiers I saw no Firebirds, but I was not concerned They are secretive, and the forest of Torch-Trees is wide I spent weeks searching out the guttering, dying ones, and collecting the juice-filled rubies as they dropped I cos

Finally, I had strewn the salt with cherry seeds—they were bright as drops of blood; surely the Firebird would swoop down to snatch them up in his bronze beak

I waited for three nights, and the Firebird did not co phantasht of my quarry vanished