The Drowning City - Amanda Downum [44]
Movement in the corner of her eye distracted her. Turning, she found Jodiya watching her from the far end of the building.
Sweet Mother, had the girl caught her spying? But Jodiya didn’t approach and Zhirin forced herself to keep walking. She didn’t trust her voice if she had to speak, and they weren’t friends, for all they were the same age and the only female apprentices. She’d made a few shy overtures, missing Sia, but Jodiya was too sly, silent most of the time and sharp-tongued the rest. Being Imran’s apprentice was likely a thankless occupation, but it couldn’t entirely explain Jodiya’s coldness. But if she was an Imperial agent as well, that might.
Now that she thought of it, the girl reminded her of Isyllt. Swallowing nervous metallic spit, she glanced over her shoulder; Jodiya had gone. Zhirin rubbed her arms, shivering in the warm sun, and hurried to find Jabbor.
By the time they returned to the Kurun Tam, the sun hung orange and swollen in the western sky and the meeting with Jabbor was hours past. Isyllt wanted only to sink into a bath or a comfortable chair. Instead she rinsed the taste of the road from her mouth and slipped away to find the others in Vasilio’s study.
The old mage squinted over texts while Adam studied maps and Zhirin sat by the window and fidgeted. As Isyllt slipped in, the apprentice sprang to her feet.
“There’s still time,” she whisper-hissed as soon as the door swung shut. “He’ll wait until sunset.”
Isyllt sighed. “All right. Let’s go, then. Where do we meet?”
“Past the fourth ward-post, on the eastern side of the road, there’s a game trail. Follow it a mile and you’ll find a clearing. He’ll be there.” Before Isyllt could turn away, the girl laid a hand on her arm. “Your ring—I didn’t tell them you were a necromancer. They…wouldn’t like it.”
Isyllt nodded and twisted the ring off her finger; a ghost-band remained beneath it, a strip of white on her sun-reddened hand. She slipped the diamond into her pocket, where its weight settled cool against her hip.
Vasilios gathered his things and the four of them made their way back to the courtyard. “I’ll wait for you by the ferry,” Vasilios said as he stepped into the carriage.
The fourth ward-post lay half a league down the hill, the game trail a shadowed gap in the trees. Isyllt and Adam dismounted and let their horses follow the carriage. She tried not to think of her aching feet, or the walk to the ferry.
As they stepped off the road, Isyllt stopped to scoop up a handful of dirt and pebbles. With a word of confusion, she scattered them across the trail. Then she ducked into the green and violet shadows of the jungle.
The last of the sun bled through the canopy when they reached the clearing and she feared they’d missed their chance. Then the trees rustled and Adam’s sword hissed free.
“No need for that,” a voice said. “If you’re who you say you are.” A Sivahri man stepped into the clearing, his face half-hidden by a scarf. “Are you the foreigners who wish to treat with me?”
Adam’s hand brushed her arm, a warning pressure.
“We’re here to treat with Jabbor Lhun.”
“I am he.”
She laughed softly. “Don’t you know better than to lie to a mage? Send out Jabbor.”
He hesitated; Isyllt folded her arms under her chest and waited. A moment later leaves rustled again and another man stepped out. Dark-skinned, his black curls twisted into nubs against his scalp. Adam let go of her arm.
“Hello, Jabbor. Did Zhirin tell you why I’m here?”
“She did. Come with us, Lady Iskaldur, and we’ll speak further.” He gestured toward the southern slope. “The jungle is no place to linger at night.”
Isyllt blessed her mage-trained senses as she followed Jabbor’s masked companion through the trees; without them she’d have killed herself falling over rocks and roots. Even Adam moved with less silence than usual. Others slipped through the shadows beside them—at least four.
Night had settled thick and black by the time they reached the village, a tiny collection of clay-and-thatch buildings gathered around