Ravage the Dark: 2 (Scavenge the Stars)

by Tara Sim

  “No, they cleared me for at least a month of shore leave, so I offered to help with the fever relief efforts here instead.”

  “I thought you said that was all beyond you?”

  “They’ll still need soldiers to administer treatments, keep the civilians from rioting, that sort of thing. But that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.” He pulled a thick envelope from his jacket and handed it to her. “These are the papers I took from your father’s Widow Vault when Mercado was ransacking it. The originals are being kept as evidence, but I had a scribe make a copy. I figured you should have them.”

  Slowly she took the envelope and pulled out the papers, an assortment of letters and notes, one filled top to bottom with equations and numbers. A hand squeezed Amaya’s heart as she gazed upon her father’s words in handwriting that wasn’t his own.

  “There’s a note on the back of a report about Mercado and his business that reads more like a journal entry. It mentions you, so I thought you might like to read it.” Remy pointed it out to her, and she read.

  When I think of Rin and Amaya, it’s as if everything else falls away into the ocean. Although some will say my home is Khari, I know my home is with them, wherever they are. It’s a comforting thought. It keeps me working, it keeps me from going into places that are so dark even the stars can’t reach. Rin will make sure Amaya is taken care of, that her legacy may continue. My greatest treasures in this life lie with my wife and my daughter.

  Amaya read the passage again, her heart heavy, longing for the things that could have been. When the pain grew too much, she stuffed the papers back into the envelope.

  “Thank you, Remy,” she whispered.

  My greatest treasures in this life lie with my wife and my daughter.

  But Rin and Arun Chandra were dead, leaving Amaya an heir to nothing but nostalgia and memory.

  Liesl and Amaya were quiet as they headed off for whatever Liesl’s mysterious errand was. The streets broadened into thoroughfares, carts and horse-drawn carriages rattling by. Amaya spotted broadsheets tacked up on a board, showing the likeness of a man in his thirties with a beard and a missing eye. The reward for bringing him in read six thousand solstas. Amaya knew from her few months of staying in Viariche that the solsta was worth a little more than the sena.

  “Maybe we should become bounty hunters,” Amaya suggested. “We can rack up a decent amount of money that way.”

  Liesl hummed halfheartedly, sparing the broadsheets a wary gaze. “If that’s all it took, we should just turn ourselves in. It’s a nice boost to my ego, though.”

  “How come?”

  “Because when my broadsheets were up, they were calling for ten thousand solstas.” She offered Amaya a small smile. “And that’s exactly why we’re on this little errand.”

  Amaya dutifully followed Liesl through the city, watching the girl’s blue skirt sway as she walked confidently through the streets she had once called home.

  Finally, they stopped outside of a squat building with an iron balcony above a large, rectangular sign in Soléne.

  “What does that mean?” Amaya asked, pointing to the sign. She only knew the basics of Soléne, such as hello and goodbye and how to call someone a bastard.

  “It roughly translates to Hall of Beauty.” Liesl’s smile stretched wider at Amaya’s confusion, and she ushered her inside. “Come on, he’ll be waiting.”

  Once inside, Amaya’s confusion vanished. The building looked modest from the outside, but the interior was lavish with dark purple drapes and plush couches. Thick rugs cushioned the floor while a chandelier hung from the ceiling, gleaming in the midmorning light. The air was hazy with smoke and the faint smell of alcohol.

  Just as the sign promised, there were people prowling through the den, all of different shapes and colorings. Their clothing was either skin-tight, see-through, or barely there at all.

  “Oh,” Amaya said, a little strangled.

  “To be clear, I tried to get us to meet in a wine shop, but he thought this would be more discreet.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call this discreet.” A girl caught Amaya’s eye and trailed her fingers over her own collarbone, then between her breasts. “Or subtle.”

  There weren’t many customers at this time of day, but there was enough clientele to fill the space with the hushed sound of murmuring. Amaya spotted a woman in her midyears, her skin leathery from a life at sea, who grinned as a Rehanese woman in a silk robe plopped down on her lap. A young, freckled man blushed and stammered under the attention of a dark-skinned woman on his left and a paler man on his right. The paler man wore a leather collar attached to a chain that the freckled man held.

  Sitting on a purple chaise in the corner was Jasper. He was currently trying to woo a young woman to come sit with him, but she was playing hard to get. She batted her lashes and opened a silk fan, using it to obscure the bottom half of her face.

  “I think she’s trying to tell you no thank you,” Liesl said as she sat beside him. “I bet I’m more her type.”

  “Didn’t you say your partner was trigger happy?” Jasper said.

  “Oh, she is. Why do you think I’ve kept her away from you today?”

  Jasper laughed. The woman with the fan, realizing they were wasting her time, drifted off toward the blushing young man. “Isn’t the mean one gonna sit?”

  Amaya scowled and lowered herself onto the armchair across from them. “If you keep calling me that, I get to call you the annoying one.”

  “See? Mean.” Jasper leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His left sleeve was buttoned up around the stump of his wrist. “I brought what you asked for, but this stuff doesn’t come cheap, Li.”

  “I know. Let me at least take a look before I decide if it’s worth my money.”

  They waited for a thin young man to saunter by, his expression haughty and his torso bare save for a thin golden chain that crossed over his chest. When he realized none of them would call him over, he scoffed and moved along. Jasper then took a stack of papers from a pocket inside his jacket and handed them to Liesl. Liesl shuffled through them and passed one to Amaya. As Amaya took it, she saw the writing was in Rehanese, not Soléne.

  She scanned the document and quickly realized what it was. “This is… a fake identity?”

  “We’ll need to be careful in Baleine,” Liesl told her. “Because it’s a port city, they’re tighter on security. Ever since we were conquered by the Rain Empire, it’s not uncommon for checkpoints to pop up randomly so soldiers can verify your identification papers. Everyone needs to carry theirs with them at all times.”

  “And if you’re caught without one…” Jasper shrugged. “Let’s just say our jail’s looking mighty full these days.”

  “Not to mention you and I have names to bury,” Liesl said to Amaya. “Mercado likely exposed you in Moray once he found out your true identity. We can’t risk anything.”

  Amaya read the paper again. Her name was listed as Yara Sakan, and her place of origin was a city in Khari, not Moray.

  “Memorize those details in case anyone stops you,” Liesl warned her. She reorganized the stack of papers and carefully put them into her reticule. “And memorize everyone else’s names, too. When we’re in public, call me Vivienne.”

  “Vivi,” Jasper said. “I like it. Rolls right off the tongue.”

  “Is your real name Jasper?” Amaya asked. He only winked in response.

  “Thanks for this, Jas,” Liesl said. She handed him a coin that flashed gold, but one knowing glance at Amaya told her it wasn’t fake. Amaya knew they had a small amount of money, but how long would it last?

  “You know,” Jasper said, biting the coin before rolling it casually across his knuckles, reminding her of Cayo, “stuff like this usually goes for twice this amount.”

  “You still have that interest to pay off, remember?”

  “Ah, it’s always the interest. That’s how they get you.”

  Liesl stood as if to leave, an
d Amaya followed her lead. A young woman passing by shot Amaya a coy smile, dressed in a slip of sheer gauze and feathers. Amaya blushed and tried not to stare. After living in the close quarters of a ship for seven years, she was comfortable enough with the human body, but the thought of using it for specific things gave her no rush of desire, no lust. It wasn’t impossible for her to feel those things—she reluctantly recalled her kiss with Cayo in the rain—but it seemed to take her longer than most people to get to that point.

  She was too flustered to notice that Liesl had stopped walking. Amaya ran into her, the girl rigid and tense, blue eyes wide as her face drained of color.

  “Li—I mean, Vivienne?” Amaya put a hand on her arm. “Are you all right?”

  A man had walked into the den and was speaking with the proprietor not too far away. He was dressed in a finely tailored suit in the style of the Rain Empire, a double-breasted coat with pressed trousers and two rows of gleaming buttons down the front. He was in his midyears, handsome, with light brown skin and threads of gray in his dark hair.

  “Shit.” Jasper jumped to his feet and turned Liesl around, sitting her back down on the couch. “Mean girl, sit here and don’t let him see her.”

  Amaya did as she was told, too frightened to even snap at him for the nickname. She leaned toward Liesl, blocking her from the man’s view as her heart pounded. She didn’t know why she was afraid, but anything that could make Liesl look like that was something Amaya wanted no part of.

  Finally, Jasper let out a tight breath and nodded. “He’s gone. Went upstairs.”

  Amaya put a hand on Liesl’s shoulder. The girl was trembling, her lips pressed into a thin, pale line. “Who was that?”

  Jasper plopped down onto the armchair with a scowl that seemed unlike him, glaring at the stairs. There was genuine anger in the burn of his gaze, in the tightness of his limbs, as if he was considering following the man and putting an abrupt end to him.

  “André Basque,” Jasper muttered. “A politician here in Chalier who’s only kept his title because he favors the Rain Empire.” He turned his head as if to spit, then thought better of it. “The man who caught Liesl and Adrienne during a coalition raid.”

  “Adrienne?”

  “Her sister.”

  Amaya’s hand tightened on Liesl’s shoulder. Sister? Liesl had never mentioned having a sister. Hadn’t mentioned much about her previous life at all, really.

  But Amaya knew firsthand that coming back to the place of your birth was only an invitation to let the ghosts in. To face the things you would have rather left forgotten.

  “He’s the man that made you Landless,” Amaya said. Liesl nodded. “I’m so sorry.” Did that mean her sister was Landless, too?

  “Let’s just go.” Liesl stood, the horror on her face overtaken with a manufactured calm. “Before he finishes, which I’m sure will be quick.”

  “I’ll stay here,” Jasper said, catching sight of a young man whose trousers hung low on his hips. Jasper flashed the coin Liesl had given him, and the young man sent him a wink. “I’ll keep an eye on Basque.”

  “You’ll certainly be keeping an eye on something.” The lightness in Liesl’s voice was just as manufactured as her expression.

  As Liesl turned toward the exit and glanced at the stairs where the man had gone, Amaya felt a chill go through her. There was something unsettling in Liesl’s eyes, a coldness that seemed to warp the very air around her.

  Whatever business Liesl had with André Basque, it was far from over.

  Those with wealth make rules and laws for their own kind, understanding little of how they destroy the lives of those whose coffers are lined with dust.

  —POLITICAL PAMPHLET IN THE RAIN EMPIRE, BY ANONYMOUS

  Cayo was lying on his back and glaring at the ceiling the next day when he heard the door to the apartment open. The sound was followed by an accented tenor that was quickly becoming familiar: Jasper.

  Cayo sighed and turned over. He didn’t want to deal with the others right now, not when he finally had a bit of time to himself. Time to figure out how exactly he was going to make enough money to pay for Soria’s treatment.

  He had never held a paying job in his life. He had worked for his father on the docks, checking inventory and ship records, but that had been an obligation. A way to try to win back his father’s favor.

  And working for the Slum King… well, that hadn’t been a job, not really. Not when the majority of his winnings went into the Slum King’s pockets. That had been nothing but a hobby, because for a long time he could afford to maintain it.

  And then…

  Cayo thought about Sébastien, his long-time gambling partner from Moray who had often worked the tables with him. Unlike his other friends, Bas hadn’t come from wealth, so anything he made at the casinos was his only source of income. Bas had been the one to initially discover the counterfeit scheme—the one whom the Slum King had punished by gouging out his eyes.

  Cayo clenched his fists as he thought back to the day they’d said goodbye, the feeling of Bas’s cheek under his lips. Sébastien had gone to Soliere, a couple of hundred miles to the northwest from Chalier. Cayo wondered how he was doing, if he ever missed Moray. Missed Cayo. Missed their old way of life.

  The door to the bedroom opened and Avi stuck his head in. “C’mere.”

  “No.”

  “We need you. Also, there’s wine.”

  Cayo reluctantly followed Avi into the main room, barefoot and dressed only in a shirt and trousers. Once he would have cringed at the thought of his hair being this messy, his clothes this rumpled and ratty. But he couldn’t afford to think of nice coats and shiny boots and cologne. Not anymore.

  Probably never again.

  There were, in fact, two bottles on the table. They were a dusky red and unlabeled. Jasper grinned upon seeing Cayo and gestured to the bottles.

  “I come bearing gifts,” he said.

  “We’re not paying you back for them,” Liesl said.

  Jasper put a pinkie finger in his ear and made a motion like he was trying to get water out. “I’m sorry, has the definition of a gift changed in the last few seconds? Must I relearn everything I once thought I knew of this great, terrible world?”

  “What’s the occasion?” Amaya asked, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. She kept glancing at Liesl with a worried set to her eyebrows.

  “The occasion,” said Jasper, yanking a cork out of one of the bottles, “is that I believe I found a lead for you.”

  Deadshot leaned forward in her seat. “The Benefactor, you mean?”

  “The very same.”

  Cayo pressed his lips together. When they had asked Cayo if he knew anything about this so-called Benefactor, he had told them the truth.

  “My father rarely included me in his business. He let me handle the inventory, and that’s about it. Whatever this is, he kept it from everyone, including me.”

  “Feel free to share anytime,” Avi said as Jasper poured the pungent-smelling wine into one of the chipped mugs.

  “It’s not much information, so the buildup’s all I have,” Jasper argued. “Would you really deny me that?”

  “Yes,” Liesl said flatly.

  “Fine, fine. I told you I first heard about this mysterious Benefactor of yours in connection with the currency exchanges offices, correct? Well, I asked a friend in the Financial District to do some digging, and they found out one of these offices is on Heliope Avenue. Seems like a good place to check the records, don’t you think?”

  “And if we check the records, we might have a shot at finding the Benefactor’s address,” Amaya said.

  “More than a shot.” Jasper handed her a chipped mug full of wine. “I’d dare say you have a very good chance indeed.”

  Amaya took the mug, and Cayo watched as her long, callused fingers wrapped around it, cradling it like a newly hatched egg. Her mother’s jade ring glinted on her finger. She wore a hint of a smile, as if finding new purpo
se in the wake of Jasper’s discovery. She turned and caught Cayo’s eye, that small smile still in place.

  Cayo suddenly forgot how to breathe. He stood on a precipice of all things possible, and instead of being afraid of the fall, he relished the thought of surrender. Of tumbling through blank space, knowing he would be all right because there was someone falling beside him.

  Then he remembered how he’d felt standing beside her on the ship, learning she was a stranger—nothing but a con artist. He looked away and her smile died. Cayo’s breath rushed out, his chest aching.

  Falling, as it turned out, was not that simple.

  Burning with embarrassment and frustration at himself, he barely registered the mug being shoved into his hands.

  “Oh, I don’t…” Cayo looked at the contents of the mug, red and smelling of vinegar. His mouth dried. All he wanted was to grab that second bottle and nurse the entirety of it through the night. “I shouldn’t.”

  He’d usually drunk much more than one bottle on a typical outing in the Vice Sector. He could still remember perfectly the moment between sober and intoxicated, that surreal descent into a pleasant, numbing state of being. The world was softer then. He hadn’t been as afraid to navigate it like a corridor of daggers, knowing that even if he got cut, he wouldn’t be able to feel the pain.

  It was only now he could see just how terrifying that descent really was. Cayo forced himself to give his mug to Avi.

  “Suit yourself,” Jasper said. “More for us.”

  The others began to talk about ways of finding the Benefactor, sipping at their wine and only occasionally grimacing at the taste. Cayo turned back to his room, then paused.

  It was a long shot, but right now, long shots were all he had.

  He cautiously approached Jasper, who was leaning against the table as he listened in on the conversation. When Jasper noticed him, he batted his eyelashes.

  “Come to charm me?” Jasper asked. “I’ve been waiting.”