Amanda Downum - The Drowning City

“Ancestors,” Jabbor swore when the last echo died. He caught her arm, tugged her gently into the shadows. “Come with me. The Tigers can keep you safe. We can be in the jungle before dawn.”

Zhirin succumbed to temptation for a moment, leaned her head against his shoulder and let his warmth soak into her. “I can’t.” She straightened, stepped back. “Not tonight. I have to meet Isyllt tomorrow.”

“Zhir-Leave it. At this rate her supplies won’t come in time and the city isn’t safe. The Dai Tranh and the Khas will be after her.”

Her jaw tightened. “Then she’ll need my help, won’t she?”

“This isn’t a game!”

“No.” Her chest tightened at his expression. “Was I ever a game piece to you?”

He opened his mouth, shut it again. “Not at first. When I first saw you, you were a pretty girl, a girl I wanted to walk with, to flirt with. Then I found out who you were, and…yes. Yes, I thought of what you could do for us, and decided it was worth the risk. But I swear, Zhir, I won’t use you. I won’t be like the Khas that way, like the Dai Tranh.”

She stretched onto her toes to kiss him. “I believe you. But I’m still staying. You don’t have anyone else to overhear Faraj’s plans.”

“I’m sorry I underestimated you.”

She flushed. “It’s not bravery,” she said, forcing her voice light. “I don’t want to sleep in the jungle.”

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.

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. They might still be in the house. I’ll check.”

She was quiet for a moment and the sounds of the street rippled over them, the muted rattle and clatter from the kitchen. “Jabbor wants me to go with him. Into the jungle. He thinks he can keep me safe.”

Isyllt sipped her drink. The shop used a lot of cardamom; the taste spread rich and bittersweet across the back of her mouth. “Do you think that?”

Zhirin’s mouth twisted. “I don’t know. I would have, only a month ago. But I think you’re right-I can do more here. I hope so, at least.”

“Do you know any more about the next shipment?”

“Not the schedule. But the ship is the Yhan Ti , docked southside at the seventh berth.” She stared at her milky tea as if she meant to scry it, set it down barely tasted. “I’m going to the house. Is there anything you need, besides the stone?”

“Money, or anything I can easily pawn in the market.”

The girl’s forehead creased, but she nodded. “If I get a mirror, can I use it to contact you?”

“Yes. Just say my name. I’ll hear you.”

“All right.” Zhirin pulled a purse out of her pocket, stacked brass and copper coins on the table. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

Adam raised his cup as the girl left the shop, throat working as he swallowed. “Do you think we can trust her?”

“I don’t have much choice. She may crack eventually, jeopardize the mission for foolish idealism. But she’s clever and we’re running low on allies.”

He nodded, a crease between his brows. “What now, then? I don’t want to stay on the street.”

“No. I think we should have a talk with Izzy.”

Red ward-ribbons covered the front doors of Vasilios’s house, but if the house was watched, Zhirin couldn’t tell. She straightened her shoulders; she wasn’t a fugitive, and she had as much right to be here as family. She still ducked around to the back.

The kitchen door had been warded, but the cord hung loose now, the latch undone. Zhirin slipped inside, not brushing the rope, and kicked off her shoes. The floor was dusty, smudged and dappled with footprints and dripped water.

She paused inside the threshold, listening hard, and nearly jumped as something white moved at the corner of her eye.