The Guild of the Cowry Catchers, Book 1: Embers, Deluxe Illustrated Edition by Abigail Hilton Page A

Thessalyn. “Can we go any
faster?”
    When they reached the inn, Gerard tore up the
stairs three at a time and unlocked the door to his room.
“Thess!”
    She sat up in bed, her golden hair tousled
and gleaming faintly in the stream of light from the hall. “Gerard?
What’s wrong?”
    He sagged against the doorframe. Everything. “Nothing.”
    “Yes, it is,” she insisted. “Are you hurt?
Please come here.”
    He shut the door and came to her in the dark
(it made no difference to her). “Your heart’s beating like a
bird’s,” she whispered. “What happened today? Did someone hurt
you?” Her hands were running all over him in a very distracting
way.
    “No one hurt me. I had a fight with Silveo.
We almost attacked each other. The Priestess interfered. I thought
Silveo might think of hurting you to get at me.”
    “No one has bothered me, unless you count
asking me to sing “The Tale of the Maiden’s Pearl” eleven times. I
suppose that could count as harassment.” Gerard smiled. Thessalyn
was undressing him with expert speed. “What were you and Silveo
fighting about?”
    “I’ll tell you tomorrow,” he said, and then
growled in her ear, which had the usual effect of making her try to
crawl inside his shirt.
    * * * *
    Gerard dreamed that night that he stood on
the shores of a starless sea, with only a fingernail of yellow moon
shining through the clouds. He was lost and alone and very cold. He
was looking for something, but he did not know what.
    Then light exploded in front of him. It
struck him like a hammer, so that he sank to his knees. Squinting
into the heavy brilliance, he saw a huge eagle with feathers so
bright they looked like flame. Gerard struggled to his feet. He did
not want to appear afraid.
    The Firebird looked at him with warm, golden
eyes, and Gerard knew that he could hide nothing from this
creature. He also knew that the Firebird saw his courage in the
face of his fear and loved him for it. The huge eagle bent his head
until his beak brushed Gerard’s forehead and uttered one word.
“Mine.”
    Then the light went out, except for one tiny
spark on the sand. Gerard picked it up—a golden feather, warm and
glowing. He saw a trail, then, leading away into the caves beside
the beach. He followed the trail, carrying the golden feather. The
darkness seemed to press against him. Darker and deeper he went,
until he could see nothing except the feather. He clutched it in
both hands, terrified that he would lose it, that he would lose himself in the darkness.
    * * * *
    “Thess, how does the Priestess know
things?”
    Thessalyn stopped her tactile exploration of
their new home. “What do you mean?”
    “Her wyvern probably saved my life last
night.” Gerard had already told Thessalyn about the fight. “It
happened so fast, yet she seemed to have sent the wyvern.”
    “Perhaps the gods have been watching over
you,” suggested Thessalyn.
    Gerard had thought of that. It made his skin
crawl. “But,” he persisted, “she knew things about the fight when
we arrived in her Sanctum. I don’t see how even a wyvern could have
gotten there ahead of us.” He hesitated. “And yet, she doesn’t know
everything. She didn’t know what I’d done with the prisoners or
what they’d said to me.”
    “She is a goddess, love,” said
Thessalyn, “a servant of the Firebird. She may have once been a
grishnard like you or me, but now she is something more, something
different. Perhaps the Firebird himself speaks to her. Who can
say?”
    The Firebird. That reminded him of
something. “I dreamed of him last night.”
    Thessalyn looked interested. She believed in
dreams. “Did he speak to you?”
    “Yes…” The details were coming back. “He came
to me on a beach on a dark night. He said…” What did he say?
That I was brave? That he loved me? No, he didn’t actually say any
of that. “‘Mine.’ He touched my forehead with his beak and
said, ‘Mine.’”
    Thessalyn smiled. “I told you,