Page 101 of The Isles of the Gods
But Ican’tlet myself dwell there. Not when I have work to do. Work that might well save everyone left alive that I care about. My father, the crews on all his remaining ships. The friends and acquaintances in every port. Thousands, tens of thousands of people I’ve never met.
When I think in those terms, though, my heart tries to stop inside my chest.
So I just think in these, instead: Leander and Keegan.
That’s who I’ll do it for.
These two boys, who are counting on me.
“Be careful,” Keegan said softly before I left, and I bring my focus back to his words now, reciting them to myself. “Every person you speak to is one more person who remembers you were there. Every person you pass by, there’s a chance they take note of you. We have to assume Laskia killed the ambassador, and she’s looking for us next. And we have to assume she has eyes everywhere.”
Strangely, even though there’s a girl out there trying to murder us, there’s still something simpler, calmer, about where we are now.
Everything has narrowed down to just the three of us, and one task.
There are no more calculations, no more angles, no more risks to take or measure. We just have to get ourselves a boat and sail for the Isles.
Everything else, we can leave behind. Because nothing else matters.
We have to make the sacrifice—whatever it takes, and whatever it costs.
I steal a sailor’s cap off the clothesline at the back of an inn and tuck my hair underneath it, giving me one less feature for people to remember me by. If I stick to the docks district, with any luck I’ll be just another saltblood.
I speak to as few people as possible. Watch for anyonewearing a ruby pin at their lapel. I go as few places as necessary, do nothing to draw attention.
The problem is, I’m Alinorish—and just how big a problem that is becomes clear in minutes.
Down on the docks the mood is volatile. I do get a look at the Salthouse Inn, and though there are fire crews clustered around it, they’re packing up—their work is done, and nobody’s carting away bodies.
The innkeeper is out front in tears, another woman’s arm around her shoulders, and guilt lances through me. I did that to her. If I’d just let Leander fight the fire magician, instead of panicking, instead of making demands of the spirits a second time…
I turn away and push through the crowd. Alinorish crews are packing up, hurrying aboard as they prepare to cast off, with or without their cargo. Big barges from Kethos are doing the same, and a Trallian captain’s talking to one from Beinhof, debating whether it’s safe for them to stay. As a squadron of the city guard marches out into the square, they silently part ways and hurry for their own boats.
Within minutes the city guard are arguing with captains about searching the ships, and it’s clear nobody would be willing to risk taking passengers, let alone allow Leander to talk them into changing course and heading for the Isles. I was right to say we’d have to go south, down the coast.
I slip my hand into my pocket and brush my fingers against the paper boat hiding there, warm from the heat of my body. It was a promise from Leander I’d be back at sea soon enough, but neither of us thought it would be like this. Still, it sits thereat my hip like a good-luck charm, a companion, as I hurry through the city.
I try to pull off a Petronian accent when I take Keegan’s necklace into the pawnshop, but one raised brow from the skinny man behind the counter tells me it’s not going to float.
“And where didyouget a thing like this?” he asks, running the links between his fingers. “Brass?”
“You know it’s not.”
“I know an Alinorish girl should be on her ship by now, and on her way to somewhere else. Not trying to sell me stolen property. The money won’t be much use to you if you’re not here to spend it, sailor.”
I’m about to reply when a squad of the city guard goes marching past his shop window, the panes rattling with the heavy tramp of their feet. They’re heading for the docks.
Our eyes meet. He could call them in, tell them he’s got an Alinorish girl with stolen property. I’d lose the necklace. I might lose my freedom.
“I’ll give you a thousand dollars even,” he says calmly.
“A thousand?” I can’t keep the anger out of my voice. Keegan told me it’s worth at least twice that, even at pawnshop prices.
“Take it or leave it.” He curls his hand around the necklace, gaze unyielding. “It’s a generous offer under the circumstances. We can call the guard, if you’d like to complain.”
My fury is boiling up my throat, and I clench my teeth to keep it there, my jaw aching. Silently, I curl my fist around the bills as he places them on my palm.
“Come again anytime,” he says, and I barely resist the urge to kick over his displays as I march out of the shop.
