Page 70 of The Isles of the Gods
“Tear a piece off your shirt,” Selly replies. “We’ve got food coming up for dinner. Once it gets here, Keegan can eat that, and you and I can slip down the fire escape to the night market. We’ll get more to eat and some fresh clothes. It’s fine to walk around the docks in clothes so stiff with salt they could stand up on their own, but if we head out into the city to the embassy, we’ll draw attention.”
I hadn’t even thought of that.
So I rip a section off my shirt and strike a match, and I reach out for the spirits that swirl around it on the warm air currents, encouraging them to creep across the rest of the coal. The section of my shirt vanishes as their energy pours through it, and they dance as light flares and the fire catches, and I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror by the window.
I look…well, I look like I’ve been dunked in the sea and sailed halfway from Alinor in an open boat. Selly, meanwhile, still has her hair in a neat braid and isn’t even a shade pinker than usual beneath her freckles.
“Keep quiet,” she cautions us. “The food will be here soon.” She points at Keegan and beckons. “Come here and I’ll show you how to heat water over the fire so you can wash while we’re out. The bath’ll be through that little door by the headboard.”
“Should he go out into the city?” Keegan asks, tilting his head at me.
“Try to stop me,” I reply. “I’m not missing out on this. Anyway, we’re not sending Selly out there alone, are we?”
“Why not?” Keegan asks, brows lifting. “If it is too dangerous for her to go alone, it is surely too dangerous to risk you.”
“He’ll be all right,” Selly replies. “This place is busier than Kirkpool, and he’s not looking anything like his usual self. I’d rather have some company in a foreign port.”
“Do you need more money?” Keegan asks, his hand going to his throat—after a moment, I realize he’s pulling his shirt aside to show us the gold chain he was wearing when the ship went down. The twin to the one he gave the girl who sank it.
Selly’s eyes widen as she studies him. Then she shakes her head. “I’ve still got twenty dollars,” she says. “It’s enough. When this is over, you still want to go to the Bibliotek, right? That’s all you’ve got to do it. Hold on to it.”
Keegan lets his shirt fall closed, his jaw squaring as he nods. I don’t think he’s used to that sort of kindness. He certainly never got it from me, back at school, and yet here he is, loyal anyway.
There’s a sharp knock at the door, and Selly gestures at me vigorously—at first I’m baffled, and then I understand.
Give them one big thing to notice, and they won’t notice anythingelse.
There’s no way this woman’s going to think of the lovers she gave a room to if anyone comes asking about princes or castaways.
I feel the tips of my ears turn red all over again, and my cheeks, too, I’m pretty sure. Thisneverhappens to me. But I follow Selly’s mimed instructions and quickly unbutton my shirt, running a hand through my hair before I open the door a crack. I studiously ignore the way the woman shakes with silent laughter as she hands me the tray.
“Make sure she lets you get a little sleep,” she cautions me, and I shut the door firmly behind her without a word.
Keegan’s watching all this with interest, but asks no questions, though I almost wish he would.
Instead of trying to explain myself, I set the tray on the bed for him, maintaining what I’d like to believe is a dignified silence. My stomach is turning itself inside out at the scent rising from underneath the metal cover, my head spinning as mybody takes this opportunity to point out it’s starving. There’s some kind of stew in there, and I could eat my way through the cover to get to it, then chomp on the tray for dessert.
“Ready to go, handsome?” Selly asks, tilting her head at the door.
“Oh, you finally noticed?”
She snorts. “I just wanted your attention. Let’s get back down that fire escape. Time to hit the night market.”
SELLY
The Night Market
Port Naranda, Mellacea
A sailor out in the square gives me directions to the night market, which I’ve heard about the few times we came into port but never seen for myself. Rensa didn’t want me going far from the ship.
“Back through there,” he says, shifting whatever he’s chewing on to one side of his mouth and storing it in his cheek, then pointing at the far corner of the square. “Then two blocks along, and you can’t miss it.”
He pauses, squinting at Leander, who’s standing behind me, and my heart stutters. Surely nobody could recognize him here. I still shift my weight, preparing to move quickly, grab Leander’s hand, and yank him away into the crowd. Then the sailor grins.
“Watch those accents when you get farther away from the docks,” he warns us. “We saltbloods know folks come fromeverywhere, but not all of Port Naranda feels the same about Alinorish crews. And buy her something nice, son,” he adds, shaking one finger at Leander in a fatherly fashion.
Leander’s pulled himself together since I gave him a heart attack with the innkeeper, and he simply wraps one arm around my waist, tugging me in close, his body warm against mine. He smells like a sailor, like salt and sweat. “Yes, sir,” he says before he pulls me away into the crowd.
