25
DAYA PACED across cracked and dusty pavement, lifting up broken tiles with strands of energy and smashing them against walls and floors.
Shadows of Pengali hid in the corners of the room, or in the corridor. Sometimes they whispered. When Daya tried to talk to them, they scurried away, but always returned. Watching, observing him. Whispers of her name echoed in the empty rooms. Anmi, Anmi.
Why did they want her?
Ask them, and you might find out.
There was a shout outside, and Daya ran to the door, hoping against hope to see Anmi’s tall figure. He stared into the darkness of the yard. A group of Pengali ran out the gate. Where were they going? Did they know something he didn’t? She was at the guesthouse, in bed with the Mirani Trader.
The thought burned, ate at him. Yesterday, she
