The Drowning City - Amanda Downum [98]
Her hands twisted with the pain of it, but she bared her teeth at Jodiya. “Again?”
The girl raised her pistol, but before she could fire the water rushing through the gutter rose, uncoiling like a snake charmer’s asp. The water serpent struck Jodiya hard enough to send her sprawling, then dissolved with a splash.
“Come on!” Zhirin called from the end of the alley.
Smoke poured from the ruin of the Storm God’s Bride, but Isyllt only spared it a glance. Someone shouted as they bolted across the street and down another alley, but she couldn’t tell if it was another assassin. No one appeared behind them as they ducked through Merrowgate’s back streets.
“Good timing,” Isyllt said as they crossed a canal.
“You’re lucky traffic wasn’t worse,” Zhirin gasped, her cheeks flushed dark. “I heard you call me and then you didn’t answer.” She slowed, pressing a hand against her side. “Who was that?”
“Khas assassins trying to pass themselves off as Dai Tranh.” Her lungs burned, one more little agony to join the chorus. “Where are we going?”
The girl paused, frowning. “Out of the city.”
In the wake of the attack, ferries stopped running from Merrowgate to the Northern Bank—no one wanted to be accused of helping Dai Tranh escape. Wrapped in spells of distraction, Zhirin and Isyllt fled to Jadewater, where they found a skiff willing to take them across. No simple charm could keep Isyllt from being memorable up close, though—pallid and sunken-eyed, with fierce red burns scattered across her cheek and singed hair frizzing around her face. She moved like an old woman, left arm cradled against her chest. Zhirin felt as though she should help her aboard the boat but couldn’t nerve herself to do it; she’d watched iron dissolve in the woman’s hands, and the bitter scent of the magic clung to her still.
The skiff had no top and they were rain-drenched and shivering by the time they reached the shore, docking at the closest jetty in Lhun lands. As they moored, Zhirin counted out coins—she had enough for the passage, but if she paid extra to keep the ferryman’s mouth shut she’d have little left. She should have refilled her purse while she was home.
“Let me,” Isyllt said as she dithered over the bribe, and scooped the coins out of her hand. Zhirin fought a flinch at the necromancer’s cold touch. Isyllt handed the money to the pilot with a whispered word. The man’s hands closed on the coins and his eyes dulled, mouth slackening.
“Hurry,” Isyllt said, climbing onto the dock. “It won’t last long.”
Zhirin glanced over her shoulder as they hastened away, saw the man stir and shake his head in confusion.
“Where now?” Isyllt asked. Rain dripped from her hair and her teeth had begun to chatter, which Zhirin didn’t like; it wasn’t that cold.
“We need to find Jabbor,” she said. “The Tigers can find us a safe place.” If she said it confidently enough, perhaps it would be true.
The sun climbed behind its veil of clouds as they walked to Xao Mae Lhun and the Tiger’s Tail. Morning chill gave way to tepid stickiness, but Isyllt didn’t stop shivering. Zhirin bought them hot tea doctored with brandy and paid the bartender to take a message to the Jade Tigers. For all of Jabbor’s promises, she wondered what his reaction would be when she came penniless with a hunted foreign spy at her side. Only days ago such doubt would have been unthinkable.
They waited in a dim corner of the bar. Isyllt drowsed, her face splotched and damp, and Zhirin chewed her lip. This was a terrible time to pass out, especially since her own eyes ached and she wanted so badly to lay her head down. The bartender shot her pointed glances every so often, but she couldn’t afford much more to drink and it would only have gone to waste anyway.
The noon bells died before the door opened and a familiar shadow stepped inside. Zhirin kicked Isyllt under the table as she rose, trying to keep the desperate relief