by Heidi Lang
Lailu sighed and sank back into a chair. “According to Slipshod, no one else was willing to loan us the money.”
“Maybe . . . maybe you should write to your dad.”
“I can’t do that!” Lailu’s stomach clenched. True, she’d considered it in her first burst of panic, but it was a bad idea.
“He’d want to know.”
Lailu shook her head firmly. “He doesn’t have the money to help, and it would just make him worry.”
Hannah hesitated. “What about . . . what about Greg?”
Lailu’s temper flared. “Greg? Greg? No way! I’m not about to go crawling to him for help, not after he stormed out of here this morning.”
“Oh, you guys got in another fight?”
“No.” Lailu scowled. “We didn’t get in another fight. It’s the same one. The one that’s been ongoing. The one where he’s just a stuck-up jerk.”
“But he has plenty of money. And connections.”
Lailu crossed her arms over her chest. Hannah had met Greg a few times when she’d managed a visit to the academy, and the two of them had hit it off instantly, much to Lailu’s extreme and continued annoyance.
Hannah exhaled. “Fine. I know there’s no reasoning with you when you’re like this. What are you going to do, then?”
“Slipshod will take care of it.”
“And just where is your mentor?” Hannah studied her painted nails.
Lailu narrowed her eyes. It seemed like an innocent enough question, but she knew how Hannah felt about Master Slipshod. Hannah had wasted no time in telling her all the vicious rumors she’d heard about him from her time in the city. “Gambler, washed-up, lost his nerve” were some of her choice words. Unfortunately for Hannah, her final comment that Slipshod was “a few recipes short of a cookbook” was made just as Slipshod himself walked in the door. Their mutual disdain for each other after that was as obvious as mold on bread.
“He’s working on a plan to help us take care of our little problem,” Lailu said.
Hannah snorted. “You mean, he went out to take his mind off it all while increasing your debts.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know . . .” She paused. “You do know, right?”
Lailu gave her a blank look, and Hannah threw her arms up, exasperated. “He’s gone gambling again. Obviously.”
“He wouldn’t . . .” But after he had just gambled their future away—her future away—like that to Mr. Boss, Lailu no longer felt so sure about that anymore. The floor seemed to have dropped beneath her, taking her stomach with it. “He said . . . he promised, when I became apprenticed to him, that he wouldn’t gamble anymore.”
Hannah pursed her lips, like she was trying to keep her comments to herself, and Lailu realized how naive she’d been to believe that promise.
“Did he ever tell you why he took you on as his apprentice?” Hannah asked carefully.
“He said I had the most talent he’d ever seen. That together we would go places.”
“And that’s the problem,” Hannah sighed. “He’s using you to get to those places. Don’t you see that?”
Lailu frowned. “No, that’s not it at all. He’s helping me.”
“He’s trying to regain some of his lost glory. He needs you, and your talent, because his own talent has dried up.”
“That’s not true!”
Hannah opened her mouth, then shut it again. “I’ll never understand what you see in that man,” she finally said.
Lailu didn’t respond. How could she explain that Slipshod had believed in her when no one else would, had taken her on as his apprentice when everyone else turned her down? How could someone like Hannah understand what that was like? He wasn’t perfect, but she couldn’t believe he’d only taken her on for selfish reasons. She just couldn’t. Still . . . “He probably is gambling again,” she admitted.
“Don’t worry.” Hannah gripped Lailu’s shoulders. “We don’t need his help. We’ll get the money ourselves.” She looked suddenly determined. “I’ll help. As much as I can.”
“Really?”
Hannah nodded. “But you’re going to have to close up shop tomorrow.”
“What?” Lailu stood up so fast her chair fell over backward. “That’s a terrible idea! I’ll lose money doing that.”
“But you’ll gain a lot more than you’ll lose. Trust me.” Hannah smiled mysteriously. “Besides, if you’re so worried about closing for a day, why don’t you ask your mentor to cover for you?”
“Why? What are we going to be doing?” Lailu asked.
“You’ll see.”
Lailu recognized that look in Hannah’s eye and knew her friend wouldn’t tell her any more. “Fine,” she decided. “But only if he agrees.” Master Slipshod agree with Hannah? Lailu thought there was a better chance of a kraken learning to live in the desert.
Lailu could not believe it, but somehow Master Slipshod agreed with Hannah’s plan. This was the first time he had agreed with Hannah on anything, as far as Lailu could remember.
“You can be the face of Mystic Cooking,” he said, nodding enthusiastically. “Don’t worry, Pigtails, I think I can handle the restaurant without you for a day.”
“B-but—”
“Come on, Lailu, we’ve got to get you ready.” Hannah clapped her hands together.
“Did she tell you where I’m going?” Lailu asked her mentor.
“Perhaps.” He grinned.
“And?” Lailu prompted.
“And it’s a surprise.” Hannah pulled Lailu toward the stairs.
“Wait, Hannah,” Slipshod called out.
Hannah blinked in surprise. “Yes?”
Master Slipshod hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Never mind.” He shuffled back to the kitchen.
Lailu and Hannah exchanged mystified looks, but then Hannah shrugged and they headed into Lailu’s room, where Hannah proceeded to gleefully dress Lailu like a little doll.
Twenty minutes later they were out the door and on their way into the city proper. “I wish I was fighting those batyrdactyls again,” Lailu muttered. Facing a gaggle of those beasts would have been more fun than this.
“Relax. You look adorable.” Hannah beamed, looping her arm through Lailu’s and pulling her along the city streets.
“Adorable my butt.” Lailu glanced down at the flowing pink dress she’d been stuffed into. It belonged to Hannah, so the bodice was too tight and the skirt too long. Hannah had compensated for the last part by strapping a pair of very high-heeled silver shoes to Lailu’s feet. In order to hide Lailu’s multiple wounds and scars, she’d also forced her to wear long, dainty gloves with a gauzy scarf, both of which were stifling in the summer heat. Lailu felt strange with her hair tumbling around her shoulders, and even stranger because she could feel the cold edges of the outrageous haircomb shoved into her dark locks.
“Stop messing with it.” Hannah slapped at Lailu’s hand, forcing her to leave the comb alone.
Sighing, Lailu studied the passing buildings, trying to ignore her discomfort. As they passed into the Industrial District, the apartments gave way to larger brick and metal buildings, and the people they brushed elbows with were dressed in worker threads and smocks, many of the men wearing bowl-shaped hats.
Lailu stopped to let a girl with a shock of strawberry-blond hair go by. The girl nodded gratefully, a triangular glass vial full of steaming purple liquid held carefully in both hands. A short man in a brown suit darted over, opening a door for the girl in one of the warehouse buildings.
Lailu narrowed her eyes. There was something familiar about that man . . .
The moment their eyes met Lailu gasped. She did know him! He was Slipshod’s friend, Brennon. She recognized that rodentlike face.
Brennon inclined his head politely, one long-fingered hand touching the rim of his hat, and then he disappeared into the surging crowd around them. Was he following her? Was he spying for Mr. Boss? Shivering, Lailu wished Hannah h
adn’t made her leave her knife belt at home. It may have clashed with the dress, but without it Lailu felt vulnerable, and her mind kept replaying Mr. Boss’s recent threats.
“Hurry up, Lailu!” Hannah waved impatiently, and Lailu sped after her, her skin crawling.
The shift from the middle-class district to the marketplace was subtle at first, the only difference in the buildings being the business signs hung next to every doorframe. BILLY’S BAKERY; PAULIE’S POTIONS AND CURSES; VIXEN: HAIRPINS AND COMBS ESSENTIALS. “Ooh, look at that!” Hannah pointed to one of the items on display in this last store window.
“I thought we were in a hurry,” Lailu said, reluctantly stopping next to Hannah. She glanced behind her, still anxious.
“Stop doing that, you look twitchy,” Hannah scolded. “Besides, even you have to admit that’s a nice comb.”
“I . . . suppose.” Lailu studied the small jeweled piece. It was in the shape of a cat, the eyes made from chips of sapphire. Next to it, a pair of ornate silver chopsticks rested in a velvet holder.
“Hey, speaking of haircombs,” Hannah said, not quite looking at Lailu, “I left a special haircomb on your nightstand yesterday, one with a lot of shiny emeralds and stuff on it. Have you seen it?”
Lailu shook her head. “I’ve only ever seen it on you.”
Hannah frowned.
“Was it with the ones you brought last night?”
“No, I thought I left it there earlier. But maybe not . . .”
“I’m sorry. Is it important?”
Hannah waved that away. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” she began, her words drowned by a rushing sound, like water boiling in a teakettle, only fifty times louder.
Lailu whipped around as a strange contraption roared closer. It looked almost like a normal carriage, with four wheels and a driver sitting in the front, but no horses pulled the gaudy red-and-yellow-striped body, which was clearly painted metal with an open top. A huge plume of steam shot out behind it.
As the monstrosity moved alongside them, Hannah waved to the driver and he tipped his black bowl of a hat at her before rumbling past.
“Did you see that?” she exclaimed excitedly.
“Hard to miss, wasn’t it?”
Hannah ignored Lailu’s sarcasm. “That was one of the scientists, trying out his newest invention. They’re starting to become real popular on Gilded Island.” Hannah raised her husky voice to be heard over the buzz of other gossipers on the street. “I heard Beolann is full of amazing creations; practically everyone there is a scientist, and they have to come up with at least one new invention a year.”
“Why are there scientists living here, then? I mean, if their home country is such a great place, why would they leave?”
Hannah shrugged. “Too much pressure? Not enough fame? I don’t know. I’ve never had a chance to ask. But I do know Beolann doesn’t actually let anyone in or out of their country. They don’t want us stealing their inventions.” She leaned in closer. “I heard this group of scientists had to sneak out disguised as fishermen.”
“Do you mean Starling Volan’s group?” Lailu thought of her idol.
“Of course. They’re the only group that matters.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Everyone gossips when they’re getting their hair done. I hear things.” Hannah grinned. “Anyhow, I’m glad they escaped. They’re also the ones who came up with the printing press, you know.”
“Really?” Before Lailu could ask more questions, though, Hannah tugged on her arm.
“Oh, look. I can see the bridge.”
“Why’re you so excited?” Lailu grumbled. “You go to school here every day.” Lailu recognized that bridge only too well; they were nearing Gilded Island, the home of the richest citizens of Twin Rivers. Greg’s home.
As Hannah happily dragged her through the crowds and onto the bridge, Lailu was forced to focus on walking, her ankles wobbling in her outrageous shoes. The only real benefit that Lailu could see in wearing heeled shoes was that she could now stare at people’s chins rather than their chests.
“Hey, there’s Vahn!” Hannah pointed.
Vahn stood against the main wall about ten feet away, talking to . . . Ryon? Lailu would recognize that roguish face anywhere. She kept an eye on them as she let the crowd push her along.
“. . . can’t just go barging into people’s houses,” Vahn was saying. “If they do that, I’m out. You understand that, right? No more violence. Nothing illegal; I could lose my license.”
“Vahn!” Hannah hollered.
Vahn started and glanced around, then smiled at Hannah as they walked toward him. “Well, I was hoping I’d run into you again.” As he pushed away from the wall, Ryon slipped into the crowds behind him.
Lailu frowned. “Where’s Ryon going?”
Vahn glanced down at her. “Oh, ah, Lita, you’re here too, huh?”
Lailu’s frown deepened. “Lailu. And yes, I’m here too.”
“I almost didn’t recognize you. You look so . . . different.”
“I dressed her up,” Hannah said proudly, patting Lailu on the head like she was some kind of fancy pet. “Doesn’t she look beautiful?”
Vahn studied her, and Lailu found herself blushing the same color as her awful dress. “Absolutely breathtaking.” He smiled at Lailu, then transferred that smile over to Hannah. “You can make anyone look good.”
Ouch, Lailu thought, stung.
“Oh, Lailu didn’t need my help,” Hannah said quickly. “She’s always so cute on her own. I just thought she could wear something special since I’m taking her to get her picture taken for the papers.”
“Picture taken? Me?” Lailu asked. Suddenly, Master Slipshod’s comment about her being the face of Mystic Cooking made a lot more sense. Her stomach tightened, and she couldn’t decide if she was excited or anxious. “D-does it hurt?”
Hannah giggled. “It’s painless. I think.”
“You think?”
“Well, I’ve never done it personally.” Hannah shrugged. “But, you know, if Greg could do it . . .”
“Let’s go,” Lailu said immediately.
“How about I walk you ladies over there?” Vahn asked.
“That would be very nice of you,” Hannah said. Vahn offered her his arm, but she shook her head. “I think Lailu could use help more than me. She’s like a baby elephant on stilts in those shoes.”
“Thanks, Hannah,” Lailu grumbled, but when Vahn offered her his arm she was happy to take it. Around her, the crowd seemed to part, letting them walk through. Then an uneven cobblestone caught her by surprise and her ridiculous shoe twisted under her. Lailu stumbled, flailing about with her other arm while clutching at Vahn.
“Careful there.” He caught her and set her upright, holding her steady.
Lailu flushed. “Sorry,” she mumbled, trying not to be too embarrassed as a group of women on the other side laughed.
“Oh, no problem, kiddo. At least I was here to catch you.”
“Are you coming?” Hannah turned around, then blinked, clearly surprised to see Lailu looking flushed, one arm looped through Vahn’s, his other hand on her shoulder. “Am I interrupting?” A small crease formed between her lovely brown eyes.
Vahn grinned. “Not at all. Lala here was just showing me her baby elephant impersonation.”
Lailu flushed even brighter and didn’t bother to correct her name. Consequently, Vahn called her Lala for the rest of the walk.
Finally, Hannah stopped in front of a line of small, expensive shops. This was clearly where the wealthy went when they didn’t want to make the trip all the way out to the main market. All the buildings were notably larger than Mystic Cooking, but smaller than the surrounding houses and estates. The one they stood in front of had the same brightly colored shingles and turrets as its neighbors, but thick black curtains blocked out all the windows, almost like the house itself was in mourning.
“Here it is,” Hannah said.
Lailu exhaled in relief. She felt so embarrassed, she was sure her face would be tomato-red for the rest of her life. Letting go of Vahn’s arm, she turned and walked as carefully as she could to her friend.
“Thanks for walking us,” Hannah said.
“Oh, it was my pleasure.” Vahn gave her a slow smile.
Lailu stared back and forth, her embarrassment boiling over into anger. “Ahem,” she said.
Hannah jumped guiltily, but Vahn just transferred his smile to Lailu, who froze under all that charm. “Well, Lala, I’ll see you around. I’m still planning on collecting that breakfast you promised me.”
“Y-yeah?” Lailu felt strangely elated at his words, and then immediately annoyed with herself for her reaction. Get a grip, Lailu, she told herself firmly. Still, he wanted to come and see her, eat her cooking. She couldn’t stop the silly smile that crossed her face.
“Oh, definitely. And in the meantime, maybe you can get your graceful friend here to give you lessons on walking in heels. Trust me, it’s something every woman needs to learn.” Lailu’s smile wilted like lettuce left out overnight. “I mean, right now it’s fine if you don’t, but when you’re grown-up, you’ll be expected to,” he continued, giving her his best “big brother” tone.
“Oh, Lailu’s plenty grown-up,” Hannah cut in.
Lailu walked away from them both, feeling completely dejected. Behind her she heard Hannah asking Vahn about delivering a message to someone. Lailu didn’t stick around to listen to his response, but kept walking until she reached a pair of bronze doors stamped with a strange engraving: a large box with a circle in front.
Hannah caught up to her. She glanced sideways at Lailu and bit her lip, then pushed the door open. “Let’s go in.”
Lailu spared one final look at Vahn before following Hannah inside.
10
THE APOLOGY
As the door shut behind them, Lailu blinked, adjusting to the dim lighting. It felt good to hide in the dark.
“Really, Lailu, don’t worry about it,” Hannah said softly. “I mean, he doesn’t know any better. He’s just a stupid boy, after all.”
