Page 13 of Saint
“Let’s go.” Clove’s voice was close now.
I turned, giving the girl my back and falling into step beside him.
“Well? What do you make of that?” he asked, his voice a flat line.
I glanced back once more to the dredger as we pushed through the doors. She was watching me.
“I think Zola’s bought into a new kind of trade.”
5ISOLDE
The song of the red beryl was still ringing in my ears even after the helmsman disappeared onto the street. Those narrowed blue eyes had left a feeling like fire everywhere they’d landed and I could still feel it now, the ghost of it alive on my skin.
For a moment, I’d been sure he’d seen me. Like his gaze had held some kind of familiarity in them. Some sort of knowing. But as quickly as I’d spotted it, it vanished again.
That stone was one of the first of the gems my father taught me, a low hum that resonated in the air, and the feeling instantly conjured his face in my mind.
I blinked, trying to clear it before it could bring a lump into my throat.
“Slippery bastard,” Zola muttered, sinking into the booth against the wall.
My eyes lingered on the door for another moment. Whoever the young helmsman was, he was going to get himself killed moving gems inside bottles of rye. It was clever, sure. But a trade like that only lasted so long before someone got the better of you.
“Sit,” Zola ordered.
I pulled my gaze from the door, remembering why I’d come to the tavern in the first place. Burke sat beside him, hunching over the table and puffing on his pipe. The mullein smoke wrapped around me, making my eyes water.
I reluctantly found a seat across from them, setting down the charts I’d been given. They’d only confirmed my suspicions about Zola and theLuna.He was in over his head if he thought they were going to launch a dredging operation. There was a reason the Unnamed Sea ruled the gem trade.
A young woman with a blue scarf tied around the crown of her head appeared, plucking up an empty rye bottle before turning her attention to me. “What can I get you?”
“A pot of tea,” I said, shooting a glance at Zola.
She gave me a knowing look before turning on her heel. Bleary-eyed men with too-loud voices didn’t faze her, but a drunk helmsman was useless to me. Dangerous, even.
Zola drained his glass and wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Have you finished going over the charts?”
“I have.”
“And?”
I cleared the table, sliding Zola’s glass to the edge so Icould unroll the first of the parchments. They were outdated and hard to read, but they were better than nothing. If getting theLunaready to dive would keep his attentions off of me, I would do it. But I’d be gone before Zola ever dropped anchor on a reef.
I set my finger on the diagram of the coral system that snaked down the center of the Narrows, with notations on the bedrock that lay beneath them. There wasn’t much reef to speak of except for the ones surrounding a small island and a large cluster in an area marked as Tempest Snare, but there was enough to work with.
“Here,” I said. “This is as good a place to start as any.”
Burke’s eyes instantly cleared of their haze and he sat up straight, clamping his teeth down on his pipe. Beside him, Zola’s expression had lost some of its arrogant ease.
“What?” I looked between the two of them.
“No one sails the Snare,” Burke answered. “And for good reason.”
“What? Why?”
Zola sniffed. “It’s a death trap. The shallows stretch for miles and the storms blow you right into them. There are dozens of ships sunk on those reefs. We might as well cut a hole in the bottom of the ship and drop anchor.”
“Not even Saint sails those waters.” Burke jerked his chin in the direction of the door the young helmsman had disappeared through.
