The Drowning City - Amanda Downum [88]
“Have you ever seen a city rioting?” the dwarf asked, leaning forward. Lamplight gleamed in his eyes, shadowed a crosshatched scar on his left cheek. “I was in Sherezad in 1217, and nearly got caught in Kir Haresh in 1221. The cities burned, and ships with them. I knew captains who lost everything because they were too damned slow lifting anchor.” He looked at her bandaged hand, cast a pointed glance at his own maimed arm.
“I won’t lose the Dog because you don’t know when to cut your losses.”
Isyllt ran a hand over her face. “I can’t offer you cash, but I’ll see you compensated, I swear.”
“A dead woman’s promises are worth dust in the desert.”
Her lips curled, hard and sharp. “Even a dead necromancer’s?” Izzy swallowed, but she didn’t have the heart to toy with him. “If I die, my master will honor my bargains.”
“I would rather keep the Dog than trust in the honor of spies.”
Her hand twitched and Izzy’s eyes narrowed. But threats were useless, and she wasn’t going to kill him for being sensible. Saints knew someone should be. She looked at Vienh.
The woman frowned, ran her tongue over her teeth as if she tasted something sour. “Must I choose between my captain and my family’s honor, then? I’ll repay the debt, but I’ll be little use without a ship.”
Izzy turned, tilting his head back to glare at her. “You’d leave the Dog so easily?”
Vienh folded her arms under her breasts. “She saved my daughter’s life, Izzy. What do you want me to do?”
Adam unhooked two gold rings from his ear, untied a leather pouch from his neck. “If you need cash—” Metal glittered as he tossed the rings onto the table. An uncut amethyst followed with a quiet thump.
Izzy snarled, baring a gold tooth; Adam’s gold vanished off the table. “Rot your eyes. One more day.” He turned back to Vienh. “You know how much I value you, but you’ll be first mate of charred boards if we’re not lucky.” He swung down from his chair and left the room as fast as his short legs would carry him.
“I’m sorry,” Isyllt said to Vienh when the door swung shut.
The woman shrugged, though her jaw was still tight. “Not your fault, is it? Sivahra might be a lot better off if no one cared about family or honor. But you’d better do what you can before sunset tomorrow, or I may be rowing you to Selafai on a stolen fishing skiff.”
Before Isyllt could reply, her mirror began to shiver in her pocket, a tingle of magic that raised gooseflesh on her arms. She pulled back the grimy silk wrapping and Zhirin’s splotchy red-eyed face rose in the black glass.
“Are you all right?” Isyllt asked, eyebrows knitting.
The girl rubbed a hand against her nose. “I’m not hurt. I have the ring, and I found out what happened to Vasilios.” She glanced down, jerked her head up again. “I need—I have to do something with a body.”
Isyllt and Adam exchanged a glance. “Wait there. We’ll come as soon as we can.”
She broke the spell and wrapped the mirror. “Corpses before lunch—this will be an interesting day.”
Vienh fell in beside them as they left the bar, and Isyllt arched a curious eyebrow. The smuggler’s grimace might have been meant as a smile. “I’m coming with you. Izzy’s angry with me anyway, and everyone else thinks I’m a traitor to one cause or another—I might as well do something to earn it.”
The swamp was thick with midges, the whining clouds enough to overwhelm the charms they wore. Zhirin waved and slapped, scratched stinging welts on her wrists and face. More insects bothered Adam and Isyllt—she wondered idly if it was just her own eucalyptus perfume keeping the worst away, or if their paler skin was more attractive. A breeze might have cleared the midges away, but too much magic could draw unwelcome attention.
Silty water slopped against her thighs, squelched between her toes. A pity the Dai Tranh didn’t have a convenient city hideout, but Isyllt’s spell had drawn them out of Symir, past the expensive houses and estates on the