by Kate Elliott
The confession made me smile. Blessed Tanit knew it was not in my nature to struggle alone, for I had always had Bee. I wanted to give him something in return for the sandals. “The truth is, I went to see about sending a letter to Beatrice in Adurnam. To let her know where I am.”
“Because she does not know where you are.”
A masked face glimmered where the light sliced down through the trellis roof and across the table. Mumbling, I forced out the words. “‘Because she does not know where you are.’”
He sat in surprised silence. Then he handed me a spoon laden with moist papaya and watched as I savored it. “I must suppose your cousin’s whereabouts have something to do with the spirit world and your bound tongue. Well. I won’t press you. But meanwhile, Catherine, you must be cautious about traveling around Expedition. I heard a rumor today that the wardens are on the lookout for two salters, both women, who escaped Salt Island.”
The sun’s angle shifted, and the vise was released from my tongue. “That’s a rumor I should think the wardens wouldn’t want to get out.”
“Exactly. There would be panic. And anger. Because everyone knows the wardens look the other way if a person who was bitten and healed has the right connections or enough money. While poor people, and maku, take their chances. The people of Expedition are very angry, and the Council fears their anger.”
“What is this ‘Assembly’?”
He cut open a second papaya. “An assembly is like a council, only with more members. An assembly makes laws and governs. These representatives would be chosen from any adult who is a citizen, and would be voted on by the entire adult population.”
I blinked. “Really? Anyone?”
“The mechanics remain to be worked out. There is intense debate over who would qualify for election, and who for voting rights, and who would not. Meanwhile, the Council has called for the arrest of all radicals who propose replacing the Council with an Assembly. But since half the territory sympathizes with the radicals and no one knows the names of the leaders of the radical party, the wardens can’t act on the Council’s order. Still, you must be very cautious.”
“Please don’t tell me I have to stay like a prisoner in the compound.”
He handed me the spoon so I could scoop more papaya. “That would look more suspicious. Establish a routine. Don’t stray from it in obvious ways. Luce can dispatch the letter for you.”
“That’s not the problem, Vai. I can take the letter myself without the wardens seeing me.”
“I suppose you can.” He waited for elucidation.
“The problem is I don’t have money for paper and ink, much less the cost of dispatch.”
“I have enough.”
His bland assumption annoyed me. “The sandals were plenty. I prefer not to be beholden to you.”
He leaned closer. “Then I must suppose you are not desperate to get word to your cousin.”
“Yes, I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.”
He grinned. “I like it when you scratch.” I smiled. He slipped the spoon from my fingers in a way that made my ears burn. “You might try the branch office of the law firm of Godwik and Clutch in the harbor district… Ah. That’s where you went.”
I glanced down at the emptied papaya skins and back at him. “Bee and I were to take employment there. That was how we were going to keep ourselves in Adurnam.”
“Were you, now?” He sat back with a narrowed gaze.
I was sure he was thinking of James Drake, whom he had after all seen at the law offices in Adurnam. Despite my best intentions, I brushed a hand over my belly, and he saw me do it. The collapsed papaya skin next to his hands crackled over with a delicate net of frost.
“What makes you think it has anything to do with him?” I muttered.
“I said nothing. You’re the one who said something.”
“I don’t have to be here, Vai. The troll I spoke to today offered me employment. Yet here I am, still working for Aunty Djeneba.”
“Aunty Djeneba says you’re doing well.” His stiff smile grated on my already jangled nerves. “I hear you’re learning to play batey.”
“Yes, the children are teaching me before they go to school in the mornings.”
“Here are Kofi and the lads.” He rose as if relieved to be shed of our conversation.
I grabbed my work apron and made my escape.
Yet the next day, Vai called me over when he returned at the end of the day to show me a pale green fruit with little spines. He set it down beside a small package wrapped in a length of burlap. “I brought paper, ink, and a pen. This is soursop. It’s not my favorite, but maybe you’ll like it.” He cut it in half in a bowl. “Go on. Write your letter.”
I unrolled the cloth to find two folded sheets of foolscap, and a quill pen and tiny bottle of ink, nothing fancy. “It’s what you do, isn’t it?”
“You’ll have to tell me what you mean by that cryptic statement,” he said, not looking up as he pulled off the skin to reveal a white pulpy interior. I liked watching his hands work.
“You’re an unregistered fire bane. You can’t afford to get arrested. So you’ve established a routine and don’t stray from it. Work. The Jovesday trolls. Moonday and Saturnday gatherings.”
Gaze cast down, he smiled as he trimmed out seeds. The man did have lovely eyes, finely formed and thickly lashed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were watching me.”
I fixed my gaze on the blank paper. “I was raised in a household of spies and intelligencers. It’s second nature for me. I watch everything.” Gracious Melqart! What ought I to write to Bee? Dear Cousin, please find a place to hide until Hallows Night is over. You’ll know I succeeded in finding a sacrifice to kill in your place if you’re still alive on the second of November. Would the mansa of Four Moons House protect her? No. Cold mages had no power over the Wild Hunt. And the mansa had only wanted her so as to keep her away from Camjiata. If the mansa sacrificed her to the Wild Hunt, then Camjiata could never make use of her dreams for his war.
“Catherine, what an expression you have on your face!” he said softly. “Please tell me what I can help you with.”
I looked up. He had cleared the bowl of skin and seeds and core, leaving a creamy pulp to eat, but it was me he was considering.
I shook my head. “I just miss my cousin. And my half brother, who’s probably getting into all sorts of trouble. Don’t you have two sisters younger than Kayleigh? Do you miss them?”
He smiled wryly. “The little lasses. They’re a bit saucy and impudent, those two. I do miss them. Here. Try it.”
“Impudent toward you? Now you simply must tell me about them. Oh, and give me the spoon while you’re talking.”
But later, I wrote what I had to write: “I am safe but I can’t come yet as I must find a way or make one to save you. Meanwhile, throw yourself on the mercy of the headmaster. If he saved his assistant, then we must pray and hope he can protect you.”
I accepted Vai’s money and made the delivery. I established a routine: batey practice before the children went to school, sewing and visiting in the morning, the afternoon nap, and an evening of serving and listening to the answers to the cautious questions I asked. Each passing day brought me farther from Salt Island, together with the unpleasant thought that I might be pregnant, and closer to Hallows’ Night. I had arrived on Salt Island on August second, and now August was drawing to a close.
“I hear the cacica has twenty husbands,” I said one evening as I arranged empty mugs on the tray. “Why would the cacica send her husbands to their deaths? Are they soldiers, sent to die in battle? Maybe that’s why she’s negotiating with General Camjiata, so he can fight for her. Or maybe men are married to her so they can serve the powerful court behiques as catch-fires—”
“Hush with that talk!” snapped Brenna.
All within earshot glanced toward the gate, as if expecting trouble might burst in like sharks to the taste of blood in the water. Heat boiled in
my cheeks.
“My apologies,” I said in a choked voice, “if I said something I oughtn’t.”
“Here, gal,” called Uncle Joe from the counter, “cups to serve.”
I hurried over and set down my tray, my hands trembling and my belly in knots.
As he replaced empty cups with filled ones on the tray, he spoke without looking at me. “Speak no careless word about fire mages and behiques, Cat. They guide a dreadful power. Best not speak of them at all, any more than we speak of the unseen spirits who trouble the world.”
“Are there powerful fire mages at the cacique’s court?” I whispered, for the ugly little hope would not die. Was Prince Caonabo strong enough to interest my sire? What about the behica who was training him? What about Drake? It seemed my sire had caught the scent of a powerful mage, and I had to figure out who it was.
Uncle Joe shook his head as a warning. The regulars had gone strenuously back to their cups. At a table too far away to have heard the exchange, four young men with the corded arms of laborers bent together, whispering as they cast glances my way.
“What?” said the youngest of the four. “The Sweet Cat and she man not living as husband and wife? Might there be a chance for me with she?”
The thin one snorted. “Sure, if yee want to risk a chisel through yee eye. None of us reckon ’tis that maku being stubborn. He used to go out every night, he and he radical friends. He don’ hang around here for the conversation.”
The third, his hair bound back in a dusty kerchief, chimed in. “He bring she a present of fruit every day, like he is courting she, if yee want me opinion on it. I don’ fancy she, me own self. Did yee hear she scold that sailor yesterday who put he hand on she ass? Yee want a wife who shall talk to yee like that?”
“She talk to me that way and I shall do she a rudeness,” said the fourth and largest, with a crude laugh.
Really, this spying business wasn’t so difficult, as long as you could control your betraying blushes and vexed grimaces. Like he is courting she! I sashayed over to the table, enjoying their consternation as I closed in. Even the big, crude fellow looked unsure of how to react.
“Not done with those drinks yet? I’ve never seen men drink so slow.” I offered a cutting smile to the big man, who smiled sourly.
“Drink with us, Sweet Cat, and we shall drink faster,” said the nice one who admired me.
“What? While I’m working? I’d like to keep my job.”
“If yee fancy going to a batey match, I’s yee man for it. I play on the Anoli third team. I know moves yee have never been taught.”
“There’s a bold boast.” I could not help but smile, for besides being an amusing flirt, he was very well built, clearly a young man who knew how to use his body.
His friends glanced toward the table where Vai was drinking and talking with friends. By not a flicker of his gaze did Vai show interest in my doings. Yet Kofi, sitting beside Vai with arms crossed, looked at me with a frown that made me feel queasy, as if he thought I was deliberately making a scene. What had I ever done to Kofi? I wasn’t obliged to never even smile at another man just because Vai had found me on the jetty. Everything tonight was making my belly ache.
“I’ll bring yee back a round,” I said quickly to the table, gathering the cups and taking them to the two women who washed up. Then I kept going to the washhouse because something was going on to upset my stomach. Just inside, I leaned against the wall, stricken by cramping and a sudden feeling I ought to at least respect Vai’s kindness by not flirting with other men until after Hallows’ Night, when I would be free, and Bee would be safe or she would be dead.
Even at this distance I could still hear them talking, more belligerently now, louder, fueled by too much drink and too much male posturing.
I recognized crude man’s voice. “If the gal don’ want him, why shall she not be free to go with another man? Everyone know that maku never went walking out with other gals. Like he figure Expedition gals not fine enough for the likes of him. Me, I reckon he got nothing in his rifle to shoot.”
“No need for this talk,” said my nice admirer. “Let’s just have another drink.”
“Yee reckon I fear him?” Crude man raised his voice another notch. “He got a smart mouth and a pretty face and fancy clothes on festival nights, and what else? For he surely don’ got that gal in he bed! Maku! Ja, maku! Yee reckon yee scare me?”
“I reckon either you’re very drunk,” said Vai, “or you’re an ass, or likely both, if this is your best attempt to start a fight. Let’s go, lads. I’m of a mind to drink elsewhere tonight.”
Was he? I peered out past the washhouse curtain just in time to see Vai, Kofi, and the lads rising from their table. But the moment Vai took a step toward the gate, the crude fellow deliberately placed himself in his path. He topped Vai by half a head, and he was considerably bulkier, with meaty hands and a sneering face.
“Best if yee run, maku,” he said. “I shall just give yee a pat on the ass as yee go.”
The air changed, charged with a spike of cold that made everyone in the courtyard shiver and look around in surprise.
“Vai, don’ do it,” said Kofi suddenly. “Yee know why yee shall not.”
But he was going to do it. The set of his shoulders, the lift of his chin, and the arrogant curl of his lips betrayed him: He had lost his temper, and now the prideful fury of a roused and exceedingly powerful cold mage was about to hit.
My nice admirer and his friend with the kerchief grabbed their companion and hauled him back. With a confidence that astonished me, Kofi propelled Vai in the opposite direction, murmuring in his ear. Uncle Joe stepped out from behind the counter. Before any of the men could look my way, if they even meant to, which I doubted, I let the curtain drop, my heart pounding.
A moment later, Aunty pulled the curtain aside and looked in. A pale light in the form of a lamp hung from a hook on the wall, but it was not real fire; it was an illusion shaped to resemble it.
Aunty was frowning. “I’s telling yee right now, gal, don’ come out ’til this blow over. Joe shall take care of this arseness. Bless, gal! Yee reckon this is somewhat to laugh at?”
For I was laughing softly. I was staring at the inside of my ankle, at the smear of blood oozing down the skin. I hadn’t been made pregnant with James Drake’s seed.
It was like feeling the first chain slip off my body.
22
The next afternoon after work, Vai brought a fruit he called mamey. The smooth pink flesh had a rich flavor, spiked with the lime juice he squeezed over slices scooped out of the rind.
“Perhaps you would like to attend a batey match,” he said.
“Perhaps I would. Mmm. The texture is like cream.” I licked my lips. “But I have to work.”
The intensity of his serious gaze disturbed me more than did the sweetness of his charming smile. “You work hard, Catherine. You’ve sewn singlets for the little lads, and blouses for the little lasses. If I ask, Aunty will say no harm to miss one afternoon’s work.”
“If you ask?” I examined him. “Does this have anything to do with last night?”
The flare of his eyes told me something, only I did not know what. He obviously did not intend to discuss the incident with me. “Let me know.”
“I’ll go with Luce and her friends,” I said with a defiant lift of my chin.
He agreed so quickly I wondered if this had been his plan all along. “Yes. They’re tall gals, too. You won’t stand out so much.”
“Do I stand out?”
He rose and took a step away, and just as I thought he was going to leave without answering, he paused and looked back as if he knew what I was waiting for. “Always, Catherine. Always.”
With that parting shot, more like a taunting volley of stinging crossbow bolts in advance of a battle, he deserted me for the company of his friends who just then surged in through the gate. After an excited conversation they hurried out. For the next three days I barely saw him. Ou
r regular customers talked of nothing except a huge outdoor meeting planned in support of the call for an Assembly. They began a betting pool on how quickly violence would break out and how many would be shot or arrested by the wardens.
“Can I go?” Luce asked plaintively, to which her mother and grandmother united in a staggeringly firm “No,” after which they confiscated the money collected by the betting pool and distributed the coins to the beggars and mothers of twins in the local market.
“Yee shall not go either, Cat,” Aunty said to me later, “for there shall be wardens out in plenty. Yee must do nothing to come to they attention.”
“I won’t go,” I promised her.
The morning of the day planned for the demonstration dawned red. The winds died, and the air’s flavor deadened and then came alive with an odd anticipatory snap. People hurried home early from work, and at the boardinghouse we shuttered all the windows and braced doors and furniture and storage barrels as well as tightly roping down the roof cistern.
I overheard Uncle Joe say to Vai, “They shall have to cancel the demonstration.”
At dusk a storm blew through with gusting winds and pelting rain. Flying above it, a shuddering voice sang in a language I did not know, with words like drumrolls and trumpet shrieks whose cadence made me twist and turn all night until dawn came and the winds calmed and the rain ceased. The storm had torn down a few trees and damaged a few roofs.
“Was that a hurricane?” I asked Luce as her little sisters swept away leaves and broken branches while we took down the shutters and unstacked tables and benches.
She grinned cheekily. “Yee’s such a maku. That was nothing. I’s so angry. I was all set to sneak out to the demonstration. Yee shall not tell, will yee?”
“Will you promise me you’ll never go to such a demonstration without permission and someone to keep an eye on you?”
She frowned. “Yee’s no help! Anyway, Vai say yee want to go to a batey match. There is a women’s game here in Passaporte come Venerday. Yee shall go with me and me friends.”
