Ravage the Dark: 2 (Scavenge the Stars)

by Tara Sim

  “Hope I’m not bothering you,” he said. His voice was hoarse, eyes tight as if in some sort of pain.

  “You’re not bothering me,” she said, setting the papers aside on her bed. She gestured for him to join her, which he did with a barely suppressed wince. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Tired,” he grunted. “A little sore.” He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck; Amaya had never seen him this nervous. “Look, I’m just going to come out and say it. I… I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

  Her chest tightened. “What are you talking about?”

  Avi crossed his arms, a defensive pose. “It’s about Boon.”

  Her skin prickled with cold, hands curling into fists.

  “What about him?” she asked softly.

  “I never met your parents, but Boon knew them. Was friends with them, I think. He would tell me stories about them when he was drunk enough. Stories about… learning alchemy.”

  A black, oily feeling brewed in Amaya’s stomach. Boon knew my parents? She recalled the way he had reacted to her father’s name on the Brackish, frenzied, shocked.

  “He… My mother as well?” she asked.

  Avi nodded. “He said your mother was a smart woman who helped him with his experiments in alchemy. From the way he talked about her, it seemed like they’d been close once.”

  No. That didn’t sound right at all. Her eyes fell onto her father’s papers, but there was nothing in there about alchemy.

  “Are…” Her voice nearly failed her as she thought back to those barrels of gold under the atoll. “Are you saying she helped him craft counterfeits?”

  “I don’t know. He never told me that the gold he gave you was counterfeit, but considering he knows some alchemy, he obviously made it himself. If your mother helped him, knew about the disease that brinies carry, maybe… maybe she knew how to counteract its effects.” Avi shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t know all the details. I just thought you should know what I know.”

  Amaya’s fingernails pressed crescent moons into her palms. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

  Avi’s face fell. “I didn’t think you were ready. Or, shit, maybe I was just scared, or hoped it wasn’t true. But at least you know now, before…”

  “Before what?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. Sorry.” He stood from the bed, wincing again. “We’ll find him, Amaya. We’ll wring the truth out of him.”

  Boon knew my mother.

  My mother knew alchemy.

  She stared at the ring on her finger. Could she really believe what Avi had just told her, considering Boon was the one who had given him the information? All the things she didn’t know was a library kept under lock and key. Somehow, she had to find a way to smash through the doors.

  After tossing and turning for hours, Amaya was woken by the sound of footsteps. She had become a heavy sleeper on the Brackish—she’d had to, in order to drown out the sound of at least a dozen other children snoring and crying and creaking in their hammocks—but ever since leaving the ship, she tended to be right on the verge of consciousness at any given moment.

  She sat up when the bedroom door opened. She could make out Deadshot’s silhouette in the faint glow of candlelight emanating from the main room. Amaya slipped out of bed as Deadshot eased the door closed most of the way, which allowed Amaya a small window to peek through.

  Liesl was still sitting at the table, surrounded by candles and papers. Deadshot sat beside her and settled a hand on her back. “You need sleep, morija.”

  “I almost have this one letter figured out.” Liesl’s voice was monotonous as she continued to focus on the code.

  Deadshot sighed and rubbed her lover’s back. “You won’t get to her any faster if you work yourself to death. You’ll be able to work even harder after a night’s rest. Right now, your mind is too crowded, too tired.”

  “Don’t tell me about my own mind,” Liesl muttered. “I know my limits.”

  Deadshot gently took her chin, forcing Liesl to look at her. The candlelight gleamed along the edges of Liesl’s glasses.

  “I love you, but I also know when you’re being a stubborn ass,” Deadshot said. The frankness made Amaya smile as Liesl sputtered. “We will save Adrienne. But if you’re sleep-deprived, you’ll be more hindrance than help.”

  Liesl’s lips thinned. Amaya knew her well enough to see the first signs of rage.

  Amaya pushed open the door and joined them. “She’s right,” she said, keeping her voice down so she wouldn’t wake the boys. “You’ll be able to get more done when your mind isn’t overworked.”

  “Adrienne—”

  “Has survived this long,” Amaya finished for her. “She can wait another couple of days.”

  She was taken aback by the crumpling of Liesl’s face, the tears that welled in her eyes. “But what if… what if she didn’t survive? What if she…?”

  She heaved a shuddering breath, holding her head in her hands. Deadshot continued to rub her back, whispering soothing words in Circíran. Amaya placed her hand on Liesl’s shoulder.

  “You helped me in Moray,” Amaya said. “Now it’s my turn to help you. And you know how you were always ordering me around, saying it was for my own good? Well, here I am, telling you to go back to your damn bed.”

  That surprised a laugh out of Liesl. Deadshot gave Amaya an approving nod.

  “Fine,” Liesl said, dropping her hands. “But no one better disturb my work tomorrow.”

  “We wouldn’t dream of it, morija.”

  Amaya blew out the candles as Deadshot led Liesl back to the bedroom. She lingered a moment in the doorway, allowing them some privacy as she watched tendrils of smoke drift up from the burnt wicks, gray and ghostly in the moonlight.

  She was about to close the door when the one across from theirs opened, slow and uncertain. Amaya peeked around the frame, wondering if Avi was coming to check if everything was all right. Maybe she could ask him more about what Boon had told him about her mother.

  Instead, Cayo leaned out to make sure that they were gone. He snuck into the main room and closed the bedroom door silently behind him, fully dressed despite the late hour.

  Amaya frowned as he headed for the front door. Once he left the apartment, she rushed to pull on her trousers and a jacket.

  “Amaya? What are you doing?” Liesl called sleepily from the other bed.

  “Taking a walk now that I’m awake. You get some rest.”

  “All right,” the girl said around a massive yawn, snuggling against an already snoring Deadshot. “Don’t get murdered.”

  Amaya grabbed her boots but didn’t put them on yet. She left the apartment and silently stole down the stairs, only just catching the sight of Cayo sneaking through the main entrance.

  Where are you going? She shoved her boots on and followed him into the night, the moon nearly full above their heads. Keeping her distance, she watched as Cayo wove through the cobblestone streets, his hand occasionally flitting to his side where he kept his new pistol.

  They kept up their game of cat and mouse for nearly half an hour. Lights shone brightly ahead, and she could hear the raucous sound of people having a good time. Cayo hesitated on the outskirts, gathering his nerve before moving forward.

  Amaya’s stomach sank as she turned the corner and realized where they were.

  The Casino District.

  The avenue before them was strewn with hanging lanterns and streamers, the buildings lined with iron balconies and colorful signs. A large building down the way had its doors flung open, people streaming in and out like competing schools of fish. Outdoor cafés and alehouses were set up with wooden tables, their chairs occupied by those already on their way to drunk or those who merely sipped at their drinks as they watched the crowd pass by.

  Cayo stopped to take it all in. Amaya took the opportunity to slink up to his side.

  “What in the hells do you think you’re doing here?” she demanded.
<
br />   Cayo jumped back. “What—How did you—”

  “You’re bad at sneaking out. Is it because your manor was so big that you couldn’t wake anyone even if you tried?”

  Cayo frowned. “Before you get the wrong idea—again—I’m here for a reason.”

  “To get more money for Soria’s treatment?”

  “No—I mean, I thought about it. I won’t lie and say I didn’t…” He raked a hand through his hair, agitated. “But I couldn’t sleep, so I thought maybe I could try to find that man Julien Caver mentioned. Trevan Nicodeme. He’s supposed to be integrating counterfeits into the casinos, right?”

  “You…” She couldn’t help it; she laughed. The look on his face only made her laugh harder. “You wanted to do this by yourself?”

  “I’m tired of wasting time. The sooner we discover who’s making counterfeit coins and who isn’t, the sooner we can stop this.”

  She sobered at that, at the steel hiding under his words. Cayo held his body defensively, angled slightly away from her, as if wanting to run.

  All too clearly she understood. He had become just as restless as she’d been earlier, and for good reason. It was no wonder he couldn’t sleep. After what Avi had told her, she couldn’t, either.

  What Cayo needed right now wasn’t admonishment. What he needed was a distraction.

  “All right,” she agreed. “But that means blending in to get information, right? I hear two players are better than one. You focus on playing, I focus on listening.”

  His lips parted in shock, as if unable to believe what he was hearing.

  “You want me to gamble,” he said slowly. “To gamble with me.”

  “You said you’re tired of wasting time.” She set off down the street. “So let’s go.”

  Cayo reluctantly followed her. Admittedly, she had no idea what she was doing. But she felt oddly emboldened by this new side of Cayo, even if it did bring them dangerously close to the things he was supposed to be avoiding. She sent a silent apology to Soria.

  Amaya had been to the Vice Sector in Moray; she knew what casinos looked like, how they operated. Still, when they entered the casino’s open doors, Amaya had to stop to process all she was seeing. The place was huge, the carpet below their feet stretching out in an ocean of blue and yellow. Chandeliers dripped from a ceiling that was a riot of gold molding, bearing a circular glass dome in its center. The walls were painted a rich blue, studded with veined marble columns.

  There were gambling tables everywhere, as well as three different types of bars. The noise of the crowd was like a typhoon, a storm of sound and energy that made her fight-or-flight response kick in. A cheer erupted in the back of the hall while a shriek of laughter cut through the air nearby, raising the hairs on Amaya’s arms.

  Beside her, the bleak expression on Cayo’s face had melted into a grin.

  She’d never seen this look on his face before. The tension had seeped out of him, and his eyes held a glint of mischief with the promise that it would soon be fulfilled. He seemed… confident.

  Surprisingly, she didn’t hate it. Didn’t hate that she was the one who put it there.

  “Where should we start?” she asked.

  He turned to her, cupping a hand around his ear. “What?”

  She raised her voice. “What’s your plan?”

  “I thought this was your plan?” He looked around again, gaze snagging on a couple of tables. “Like you said, we should mingle with the crowd. Gambling is the easiest way to do that. Ask harmless questions while other players are distracted.”

  “Like if anyone’s seen a man with a pocket watch and muttonchops?”

  “Exactly.”

  She hesitated, hating the question she knew she had to ask. “Do you have enough to put down?”

  He slipped a hand into his pocket. “It’ll have to be enough.”

  “What if you lose?”

  His expression darkened. “I learned some tricks from the Slum King, if worse comes to worse. But I don’t plan to cheat if I can help it.”

  “I don’t want to see your face up on a broadsheet, Cayo.”

  “Me neither. They’ll probably get my eyes wrong.” He turned and waded into the crowd, leaving Amaya to chase after.

  Although the casinos in Moray ranged from opulent to seedy, there was something uncannily extravagant about this one. Cayo told her it was named the Golden Harbor, appropriate considering the gilded ceiling and walls. Small stages lay scattered across the room, the one nearest them occupied by a young woman in a skin-tight outfit cut off at the arms and legs.

  The young woman’s brown skin was coated in a glittery substance that made her sparkle as she danced upon her square of a stage. Her head was haloed by a fan of feathers, her feet encased in dangerously high-heeled shoes. As she danced, she threw winks and smiles at the people who came closer to watch, the sway of her curves almost hypnotic.

  Amaya was so distracted by the dancer that she didn’t realize Cayo was no longer beside her. She looked around, frantic, then relaxed when she saw he had merely found a game to observe.

  She didn’t recognize the game that was being played on the table covered in a fine blue felt. There were both dice and cards involved, and the players kept saying numbers and colors out loud. Cayo watched through a single round and sat down before the next one started.

  Amaya bent down to whisper in his ear. “Do you know how to play?”

  “I’ve played it in Moray before. It’s fairly easy.” He turned to look at her, which brought their faces unexpectedly close. They both froze before Amaya leaned back.

  “If you’re sure,” she said, her voice strained.

  She anchored her hands on the back of Cayo’s chair as he put down one of his silver nieras. The dealer passed around cards, and Amaya peeked at his hand despite not knowing what it meant. When it was his turn, Cayo threw a pair of dice and said seven and blue in Soléne. The dealer turned a card over and the players groaned while Cayo smiled. They went around like this a few more times until it happened again, and the dealer announced Cayo the winner.

  Amaya’s stomach fluttered as Cayo gathered the handful of niera toward him, his motions practiced and easy. She took the now-empty seat beside him, watching him transition the coins into a gambling pouch that the dealer provided him, the casino’s insignia embroidered on the fabric. No gold coins, thankfully.

  “Is it enough?” she asked. “For Soria?”

  “No.” Cayo gazed at the pouch in his lap, frowning. “Mother Hilas said the next batch of medicine they produce will be even more expensive than the first.”

  He nervously pressed his thumb into the pouch, as if to reassure himself that there was money inside. Amaya realized this was the most money he had held in a long time.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked suddenly. “Before, you were so upset at the thought of me gambling.”

  She winced at the reminder of her outburst. “I was. But now… Well, we’re ultimately doing this for good, aren’t we? To help bring down Deirdre and expose her as the Benefactor.” She shrugged. “Besides, I’m here with you.”

  He paused at the words, thumb digging harder into the pouch. The dealer began to set up the next game, but Cayo stood, abandoning his chair and his place in the round.

  “Come on, then.” That glint had returned to his eyes. “Let’s find some bigger stakes.”

  Sin is always better with company.

  —A HUNDRED AND ONE VICES FOR THE EVERYMAN

  Cayo, now up by six niera, decided it was time for a drink.

  The instinct came as easily to him as breathing. It was in his routine: gamble a little, get on a roll, grab a drink. That was always how he’d done things, until it became habit, until it became a luck ritual.

  His friends had all had their own luck rituals. Tomjen’s was to kiss someone on the cheek, and Sébastien’s had been to hum a bar of his favorite song.

  Cayo’s was to have a drink in his hand. He told himself he wouldn’t ac
tually drink it, but remembering the way the sparkling wine had tasted at Basque’s gala, he knew full well he wouldn’t keep to that.

  “You win money and then immediately decide to spend it?” Amaya asked beside him, leaning an elbow against the bar and fixing him with an unimpressed glare. “I thought the whole point of this was to get as much as you can while gathering information.”

  “I’m only getting started,” Cayo argued. “Sometimes you have to spend money to make money.”

  “By betting, perhaps, but not with alcohol.”

  “So you think. I happen to play even better with a drink nearby.”

  “If you say so,” she muttered. The bartender came back and placed a full glass before her. “What’s happening? What is this?”

  “Liquid courage,” Cayo answered, accepting his own drink and paying the bartender. “To be more specific, it’s called a Gilded Lotus.”

  “You got me one? Why?”

  “Because drinking alone isn’t fun.” Cayo picked up his glass, a rounded tumbler filled with a greenish-yellow concoction, its rim coated with crushed lime salt. He held it out, and Amaya carefully clinked their glasses together before taking a sip. Cayo tasted lemon and orange, as well as the heady, heavy overtone of vorene, one of the Rain Empire’s most commonly exported alcohols.

  Amaya hummed, pleased with the taste. She licked a bit of lime salt off the rim, and Cayo had to avert his gaze. “It’s good. But are you sure you should be drinking? I thought you wanted to avoid it.”

  “One or two won’t hurt.”

  She didn’t look convinced, but he ignored it in favor of staking out his next table. As they weaved through the crowd, Amaya kept glancing at him, taking small sips of her drink.

  “You’re different,” she said eventually. “In here.”

  “Am I?” He did feel different, standing in an environment he’d come to think of as his sanctuary—before it had become a hell. But even with the distance he’d put between himself and this lifestyle, he still yearned for the nights where living had been simpler, easier, better. To dull pain and chase highs and for once not be afraid.