The Drowning City - Amanda Downum [85]
He laughed and bent to kiss her again. It was harder to pull away this time.
“You should go,” she whispered. “I need some sleep before dawn. Can I leave word in the usual places?”
“I think so.” Heat soaked her arms where he held her. “Be careful, Zhir.”
“You too.” She kissed him again, a quick brush of lips, and fled back inside.
Part III
Deep Water
Chapter 16
Bright chimes faded as dawn crept damp and gray through the streets of Merrowgate, replacing nocturnal business with diurnal. From the front of a narrow tea shop, its windows opened wide to catch the breeze, Isyllt watched shopkeepers unroll awnings over the sidewalk, set out crates and barrels. Children wheeled carts of fruit and bread onto the bridge and sat on the warped wooden railings, legs dangling as they called to passersby. Others crouched with fishing lines on the slick steps of the canal.
A cool morning, but Isyllt sweated and shivered in turns beneath her cloak. Her magic fought off any infection that crept into her blood, but the battles left her feverish. If she had the luxury of half a day’s sleep, she’d hardly notice it.
Her back itched with drying sweat and paranoia—she twitched at every sudden footfall, every flickering shadow, but moving made her harder to track, and people in Merrowgate seemed to make a habit of minding their own business. No one’s head turned at another cloaked figure. With any luck, the men’s clothes she wore—all that would fit—might fool a casual glance. Adam had laughed as she bound her breasts, but Zhirin, at least, had looked twice before recognizing her.
The girl returned to the table, carefully holding three bamboo cups. Ribbons of steam twined and tattered as she set them down and turned back to the counter for milk and honey. Isyllt cradled lacquered wood between her gloved hands—hiding bandages now. Not much warmth seeped through, and her left hand stung, but the gesture was comforting.
“What now?” Zhirin asked. Soft, but not furtive; casual—the girl was learning.
“I have to find my ring. And who knows, maybe that will lead me to Murai as well.”
“Do you think that will change anything? If you bring her back?”
Isyllt shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps they’d send me home in chains on an Imperial ship, instead of killing me.” She still hadn’t told anyone about Asheris, though she couldn’t say exactly why she felt the need to keep his secrets. Or why his lies still stung when she thought about them.
“Will you try to help her?”
Somewhere on the street a child laughed and she thought of the girl standing on the edge of the volcano, face flushed in delight at Asheris’s magic tricks. No child deserved to suffer for their parents, or for their country, but they always did. “If I find her.” She’d seen what happened to people who tried to live for everyone but themselves—most often they ended up dying for nothing. “If not, the more distracted the Khas is right now, the better.” She couldn’t help a quick glance toward Adam, but he sat silent as a statue, his eyes turned to the street.
Zhirin’s lips thinned and Isyllt waited for the recriminations, but the girl only stirred her tea, adding milk and honey till it was the same shade as her skin. “How will you find the ring?”
“If I’m close enough I’ll feel it. But for anything farther than a building away I need to cast a finding. For that I’ll need space, a map of the area, and a stone—probably quartz. Another diamond would be better, but I doubt I’ll find one of those in the market.”
“No—” Zhirin paused, frowning. “Do you remember, was Vasilios wearing any rings when…we found him?”
Pressing her tongue between her teeth, Isyllt tried to remember all the details—the cold flicker of the witchlight, the old man’s discolored face, one gnarled hand curled against the carpet…
“I don’t think so,” she said after a moment.
“His hands swelled in the rainy season.” Zhirin’s voice caught, throat working as she swallowed. “He sometimes took his rings off when he wasn’t working.