The Drowning City - Amanda Downum [80]
Xinai shook her head sadly. “We could never take them, and you know it. Come on—we have to tell Selei.”
A guard whistled and she flinched, but it was only the sign for the prisoners to come in. One by one they trudged out of the river, revealing rope hobbles barely long enough for a short woman’s pace. The guards took their bags away and frisked them thoroughly, checking under their tongues.
One of the prisoners closest to the lock dawdled as the others left the water, leaning down as if to scoop more mud. From her vantage, Xinai saw he wasn’t using his basket at all, but reaching for his ankles.
An escape attempt. Her breath caught; Riuh stiffened.
The lock below was empty. After that, the river flowed free. If he could only make it…
If he made it, could they help him? Should they? He’d only slow them down. Her hand tightened on her knife hilt.
The prisoner bolted. Xinai winced at the sound of splashing feet, at the shout of the guard. One, two, three, four strides and he was nearly at the lock. A guard drew his bow—the sound of a pistol shot would carry too far over the water.
He reached the lock. Riuh crouched on the balls of his feet, ready to run. The twang of a bowstring carried through the air. The prisoner arched into a dive.
And fell gracelessly as the arrow pierced his back. If he cried out, Xinai couldn’t hear it. He surfaced, clawing the water, then sank again. Riuh let out a painful breath, as if he’d been struck.
Below them, the body drifted gently toward the last lock. Scarlet ribbons spooled into the current, dissolved into mud and brown as the guards ambled down to retrieve the corpse.
“Let’s go,” Xinai said, her voice hollow.
Riuh didn’t answer, only stared at the guards, his face twisted with anger and pain.
“Let’s go!” she hissed, tugging his arm. “We’ll avenge them all, but not today.”
He shook his head, braids rattling. After a long moment he moved, following her into the trees. She pretended she didn’t see his tears.
He came to her in the dark that night, silent and trembling, his cheeks slick with salt. No icy touch of possession this time, only a tangle of pain and grief and need, of guilt and desire. She didn’t push him away.
Chapter 15
After Adam had doctored her wounds, Isyllt cleaned up as best she could while Vienh went out for food. The room still stank like a surgery in spite of the cracked-open window. She felt better having an emergency exit, though she doubted she’d survive the two-story drop in her present condition.
“How much money do we have left?” she asked, trying to undo her shirt buttons one-handed and mourning all the clean clothes she’d abandoned in the Khas. She could sell the silver chains in her kit if she had to, but she carried nothing else of value.
“Enough for a few days here or a cheap passage home. Sleeping-on-deck cheap. I hope you don’t need anyone bribed.”
“At this point it’d be easier to kill people.” Her fingers slipped off a button for the third time and she swore.
Adam’s smile was a ghost in the deepening gloom. “It usually is.”
“They’ll have someone watching the embassy by tomorrow. At least the supply ship is already on its way.” She cursed foreign assignments and buttons silently. “I have to get my ring back.”
“Are you sure that’s smart?”
“Losing it in the first place was stupid enough. I’m not leaving without it.” She fumbled another button and snarled.
“Need help?” Adam asked, nearly smiling.
Pride fought pragmatism and lost soundly. “Yes, damn it.”
She watched his nimble calloused fingers and swallowed a laugh. He caught her expression and his lips quirked as he undid the last button and helped her slip the remnants of the sleeve off her left arm. Her linen undershirt was stiff with dried blood and sweat—it itched, but not so badly that she’d rather be naked.
Adam turned toward the door an instant before someone knocked. He eased the latch up, double-checking before he opened it wide enough for Vienh to slip in. She carried bamboo cartons of food and—saints bless her—a change of clothes. Isyllt’s stomach clenched at the