Amanda Downum - The Drowning City

Zhirin shook her head, pressing her stinging knuckle against her lips again. Diamonds came from Iseth, or lands far to the north whose names she could never remember. Places where people bound ghosts into slavery, as well as spirits. She couldn’t call it abomination-the Empire accepted such practices and her own master wore a diamond-but it still made her skin crawl.

“We need to find out where this came from,” Jabbor said, closing his hand over the stone. “I need you to investigate.”

Zhirin nodded. All the energy had drained from her, leaving fatigue and aches in its place. She wanted to lean into Jabbor, to breathe in the smell of his skin and let him hold her till the world felt right again. But weakness wasn’t what he needed from her. Her eyes stung.

“I should go,” she said, wincing as she put weight on her bruised and torn feet. Who would clean up the mess they’d made? Perhaps whoever lived here was used to rebels tracking mud and blood across their floor. “I’ll find you when I learn something.”

Jabbor rose with her and took her hand, tracing a gentle thumb across her knuckles. “Thank you.” And she would have run twice as far barefoot for that smile.

The crowd had thinned when she limped past the ruined warehouse, and guards roped off the shell. She didn’t see Asheris. Smoke trailed a gray veil across the city and ashes drifted softly on the breeze.

Isyllt and Adam found a tavern in Saltlace that night, an expensive one overlooking a broad canal. The sort of place where a bored traveler might come to waste time and money-Isyllt thought she could manage that ruse. She lifted her chin as she crossed the threshold, letting her hips roll. Midnight blue silk swirled around her ankles and a corset cinched her waist and kept her back straight. They drew glances like gnats to the paper lanterns as they crossed the room. Whether it was her bare white arms or Adam glowering at her back, she couldn’t say.

They weren’t the only foreigners. Symir had a reputation as a haven for expatriates-separated from Assar and the northlands, it was a place to escape local trouble and live in exotic decadence. If you had the money for it.

They claimed a table on the balcony and Isyllt let the waiter recommend food and wine. Skiffs paddled in the canal below and evening crowds drifted across bridges and along the sidewalks. Xinai was out in the city somewhere-hopefully the mercenary would have better luck finding insurgents.

Their food arrived and inside the tavern musicians began to play, deep drums and a woman’s ululating voice. Blue lantern-light glittered on the cutlery and washed Adam’s face cold and gray.

“How did you meet Kiril?” Isyllt finally asked, picking at the arrangement of rice and fish on her plate. She should have asked sooner, but she’d spent too much time during the voyage hiding in her cabin. He studied her for a moment, head tilted. She found herself mimicking the gesture and distracted herself with a rice ball.

“I came to Erisín when I was young,” he said. “Just a stupid orphan brat-I thought I could make a living picking pockets, become as good a thief as Magpie Mai, or some nonsense like that.” He snorted and sipped his wine.

“I was damned lucky Kiril found me, or I’d have wound up in a cell, or the bottom of the Dis. He helped me find work I was better suited for.” He touched the hilt of his sword. “So I owe him.”

Isyllt’s mouth twisted. “He always did like taking in strays.” She glanced down and found her goblet empty. Condensation glistened on the curve of the flagon-chilled, but the wine burned going down and kindled a pleasant warmth in the stomach. She refilled her cup, let the sweet plum vintage ease the bitter taste in her mouth. Adam watched her, waiting.

The next cup emptied the pitcher and the waiter appeared to replace it. When he was gone, her bitterness began to leak.

“He found me when I was fifteen. Not thieving, but bad enough. Selling charms to pay for a tenement room with three other girls. I was too stubborn to ask the temple of Erishal to take me in.” She shook her head at half-forgotten pride. “But Kiril found me, offered me training without the temple vows. I’ve studied with him for twelve years.” She drained the last of her cup in a single swallow. It was enough of an answer, but she couldn’t stop the rest from spilling out.

“I don’t think he ever imagined I’d fall in love with him. Neither of us did.”

Adam blinked. “What happened?”

Her laugh was soft and ugly. But she might as well finish it now. “Three years ago I finally said something, when he realized I wasn’t a child anymore.” Though perhaps she’d been wrong about that. “And it worked. We were happy.”

Adam sipped more wine and speared a twisted creation of raw fish and seaweed, finishing it in two bites. “But not anymore?”

The quiet curiosity of the question nearly undid her. She’d grown used to the feigned grief and relentless probing of the court gossips, and her friends had learned not to ask. She glanced aside, stared at the canal lapping gently below them.

“Did he tell you what happened last summer?” she asked. Her cheeks were flushed, from wine or embarrassment she wasn’t sure. At least she wasn’t going to cry.

Adam shook his head. “I heard of the plague, but I was in the north that season. Kiril didn’t say anything about it.”

“The plague, yes.” Such a small word to hold so much horror and grief. “The bronze fever. It tore through the city, all the way to the palace. The queen fell sick. The king begged Kiril to save her, and he tried.” Her voice felt cold and dead in her mouth. “He tried until his heart gave out, but she died all the same. I thought he was dead too-”

Lanterns swayed in the breeze, rippling blue and violet light across the balcony. Isyllt swallowed against the tightness in her throat, concentrated on the press of corset stays as she breathed. She hadn’t told this story before, not in so much detail.

“He recovered, but he wasn’t the same. We waded through death to the knees every day, but it finally came too close. And he said…He said I was too young to nurse an old man to his grave. I argued, but he put me aside. We fought for a year. And now he’s sent me away, far enough that I can’t play the termagant.”

She smiled, bright and bitter, and shook her head. “And that’s the whole of it, mawkish as a bad play.”

They sat in silence for a time, music and laughter and water swirling around them. “I’m sorry,” Isyllt said at last. “You didn’t need to hear all that. But as I said, I know what we’re here to do, and my feelings won’t interfere.”

Adam only nodded.

She glanced at the nearly empty flagon and blinked. “Black Mother. Lucky I haven’t made more of a fool of myself than I have.”

“Eat some more,” Adam said, nudging the plate toward her. “Then we can walk it off.”

Isyllt shivered in spite of the heat as they left the tavern, wrapping her silk shawl over bare shoulders. Wine burned in her blood, stung her cheeks. Corset stays pressed against her ribs, and she wasn’t sure more food had been a good idea.

Moonlight shimmered on rooftops, glittered on the water. The city was full of spirits tonight. Or maybe it always was, and she only now heard them. Not ghosts, but water creatures, jungle creatures, flitting and whispering in voices she couldn’t understand. She paused, eyes closed, and let the strange sounds wash over her. The ground spun beneath her.

Adam’s hand closed on her arm and she opened her eyes. “Are you all right?” he asked. His calloused fingers were warm against her clammy skin and she fought not to sway on her feet.