Chapter 15

15

Sirsha

The Kegari sky-rat flew far above the little Martial shabka, disappearing at night but always reappearing around midday. On the first day out of Navium, Sirsha saw a few pirate ships approaching the Empire's southern coast. By the third day, she'd seen dozens. She braced for an attack, but the Kegari Sail above served as a warning. The pirates stayed away.

They weren't the only ones. Quil, Sufiyan, and Arelia had steadfastly ignored her. Still angry that she'd taken them west instead of south, as they'd wished.

From Sirsha's position at the helm of the Effie, as she'd taken to calling the ship, she could see the whole deck. Including Quil, mending a ripped sail, and Sufiyan and Arelia, arguing about whether fish should be caught with a line or the trap Arelia had rigged up.

As she watched them, a strange feeling crept through her, like smoke filling her chest.

Guilt.

She harumphed. Why in the skies should she feel guilty? If she'd listened to Quil and his friends, they'd have sailed into Kegari territory. Sirsha would have lost the killer's trail.

Even thinking about it made her oath coin burn, a reminder that she had to see this hunt through.

Sirsha resolutely looked west. Just ten days left in the journey. She'd simply ignore them right back.

Except at that exact moment, Quil approached.

Rather stupidly, she looked over her shoulder. Was he intending to talk to her, or did he have some other business on the quarterdeck?

"Tracker." He stopped before her, arms crossed. A bracelet on his wrist caught the sun, flashing in her view. "I need to discuss something with you."

Sirsha refused to look at him. He was too tall, for one. Sirsha was only a few inches shy of six feet herself, but she still had to look up at him. His very body, beautiful and hard and graceful, seemed to issue Sirsha a direct, insouciant challenge. You might not like me, but try to look away. I dare you.

"Finally willing to chat, are we?" She sniffed. "Sorry, not in the mood."

"You said Elias gave you a mission to track down a murderer."

Ugh. His voice. Deep and warm and sure, belying those unreadable eyes. She hated him a little.

"I wanted you to unbind me. I told you what I had to." Eight years alone had taught Sirsha it was best not to discuss her jobs too much. She didn't need anyone blabbing about her mission to the wrong ears.

"Why are you fidgeting like that?" Arelia came up behind Quil, regarding Sirsha suspiciously. "You don't have lice, do you? Sufiyan, tell me you know a cure for lice."

"Nolgh root and ground sap beetle wings. Stinks like horse dung," Sufiyan said as he joined from Quil's other side. "Who's got lice?"

"She does—"

"I do not have lice," Sirsha snapped. "I am fidgeting because—"

"Because you're lying," Quil said. "Elias did give you a mission to hunt down a killer."

"What's it to any of you?"

Sufiyan looked surprised. Then desolate. "It was my brother who died." His voice was horribly flat. "My little brother. The killer murdered him first."

There was a long silence, and Sirsha told herself to count to three before speaking, instead of shoving her foot in her mouth. "I'm very sorry," she said. "Elias didn't mention that." She sighed. They already knew. She might as well admit it. "He hired me to hunt down the murderer. Didn't tell me it was because his son was killed. Nor that the killer was magical in nature."

Sirsha took in the shock on their faces. "You didn't know that either."

"You hunt magic, then," Quil said. "How? Can you…sense it in people?"

"Not exactly," Sirsha said. "It doesn't matter. I'm not supposed to hunt magic-users. That's the arena of the Jaduna. For me, it's forbidden, and if they find out that I took this mission—"

Arelia—thankfully no longer looking at Sirsha as though she might have lice—spoke up. "I thought you were a Jaduna."

"Not anymore." Sirsha attempted to say it like this wasn't a loss she'd spent eight years mourning.

"Why are you heading to Jibaut?" Quil said. "Do you think the killer is there?"

"Could be," Sirsha said. The sea had been silent since Navium. The only way to tell if the killer was in Jibaut would be to pick up the trail there. "But mostly I have a friend there. I'm hoping he can help."

"The bookseller," Quil said.

"Don't let him hear that." Sirsha grimaced, imagining Kade's face. "He's a dealer of rare and one-of-a-kind manuscripts, enchantments, charmed goods, and information. Books are the least of what he does. If a killer's been active anywhere in Devan or Odista, Kade will know."

And Sirsha might get a better sense of what the hells she was hunting. A wraith perhaps, or an efrit, one that had been cursed or ensorcelled. She doubted it was a jinn—they tended to their own troublemakers for the most part—but it wasn't out of the question.

Whatever it was, she needed to know. Binding a magical entity required an understanding of their weaknesses. Trying to bind a monster you couldn't identify was like trying to aim a bow while tied upside down to a tree after you'd been slapped a few times.

Quil cleared his throat and considered Sirsha, thoughtful. "Thank you for telling us." Sufiyan and Arelia nodded, and Sirsha suspected that whatever Quil was going to say next he'd already discussed with them.

"We're traveling together for at least another week and a half. I thought it might be good if we made peace."

Sirsha smiled tentatively. "A truce, then."

He offered his hand. Sirsha meant to shake it firmly to seal their agreement. But as her fingers found his, a spark leapt between them and her breath caught. Her lips parted in surprise and Quil's gaze flickered to her mouth before he met her eyes, some dark emotion flashing across his own.

"Truce," he said, before releasing her and walking away.

After that, the mood on the shabka was easier. Sufiyan made Sirsha a tea for cramps and shared remedies for headaches and sore muscles. Arelia explained Mehbahnese engines in impassioned and incomprehensible detail.

The two of them, at least, had softened toward her. Quil was a tougher nut to crack.

Even though he'd been the one to suggest a truce, he hadn't spoken much to Sirsha. When she attempted conversation, he responded with variations of: Just a moment. Please, excuse me. Sorry, I should trim the jib sail. The message was irritatingly polite and very pointed: Piss off.

Right now, he was at the other end of the ship—as far away as he could get without jumping into the bleeding sea. While Sirsha took the helm, he'd spent most of the morning fixing a storm-damaged windlass. The day wasn't too hot, but he'd doffed his shirt.

Which Sirsha didn't necessarily mind. It's just that it was distracting. All that rippling skin. The Martial was a beautifully built man, and Sirsha was a dedicated admirer of beauty.

Still, she'd kept her eyes to herself. Mostly. As she glanced up, she noticed that he'd dropped his tools, and was examining something in his hands. Could be a weapon he was planning to sharpen and stab her with. Could be a poem he'd written about how she was a treacherous viper.

Not that she cared what he thought.

Sirsha gazed at the speck barely visible above them. Their Kegari escort had kept herself scarce, never descending, never speaking to them at all. Just as well. Sirsha thought she'd have to tie Quil up if that sky-hag came down. Every time he looked up at her, the wrath fairly radiated off him.

But he kept it bottled up. It was fascinating, the way he suppressed his emotion, forced it down and killed it dead.

"Tracker."

The girl jumped.

"Sorry to startle you," Quil said, and she was minorly disappointed to see he was fully clothed. This close, she saw that his light brown skin had freckled in the sun, and his dark hair had glints of gold in it. "Will we make it into Jibaut by tomorrow?"

"I have a name, you know." She tried to stare him dead in the eye, but, as always, he looked away, unwilling to show how much she vexed him.

"Sirsha," he said quietly, almost patiently, and there was something about how he said it, low and intimate without meaning to be, that made her wish he'd say it again. "Will we make it into Jibaut by tomorrow?"

"Should be in by evening." She glanced down at the scroll in his hand. So that's what he'd been looking at. He tucked it away quickly.

"What is that?"

He shook his head and glanced up at their escort, jaw hard. "Nothing good."

Quil disappeared into the crew's quarters shortly after, no doubt to find Sufiyan and Arelia.

Sirsha smiled. The earth still lived in the wood of the shabka, and her magic always allowed her to hear the earth most clearly. In cities and over long distances, eavesdropping using her skill was difficult, or at least time-consuming. But here on a ship, with no other conversations? Child's play.

"—are we going to do once we reach Jibaut? Go south? Go back?" Sufiyan asked.

"I don't know," Quil said. "I— Let's see what this says, and we can decide."

"Give it to me," Arelia said. "In case it's been tampered with or poisoned."

"I'll open it," Sufiyan said. "If anyone deserves to get poisoned, it's me."

"Sufiyan." Arelia's pragmatic voice was surprisingly considerate. "That's not true."

"That wasn't an invitation to converse about my feelings." The crack of a seal breaking. "Lo. I am not dead."

Silence. A gasp. And then Quil staggered out onto the deck and retched neatly over the side. She thought at first that he had been poisoned. But then she read the contents of the note he'd dropped.

Navium has fallen. Silas at risk. Serra and Antium under attack. Floods in the spring. The Butcher lives, the Orphan roars. Death to the east, the north, and the south. They search for you. Find him. Stay away. Stay alive. —AH

Some of it made sense, but the rest was in code. Sirsha didn't pay attention to Martial gossip or politics, but Elias Veturius—and his son—were heirs to a powerful Gens. They would have powerful friends. Quil might be the son of a high-ranking military official or ambassador.

Or he might be a spy.

She watched him. Spy seemed likely. It would explain how he'd gotten so good at controlling his emotions.

Though he wasn't doing so now. He looked oddly vulnerable with his back bowed, his fists hanging over the side of the shabka and the sea winds tousling his black hair. He looked as if he bore a yoke around his shoulders no one else could see.

"Here." Sirsha offered him a stick of what looked like cinnamon. "Lilangia," she said. "Helps with nausea."

He took it, and looked moderately less green after a few moments of chewing. The wind tore at Sirsha's hair, pulling it free from the knot atop her head. Her gaze fell upon his bracelet—a medallion strung tight on black leather, a gold sun against blue lapis. That and an etched band of silver on his middle finger were the only adornments he wore.

Sirsha sniffed experimentally. Something about the bracelet spoke to her. It had an aura. She glanced up at Quil. It would be easy enough to nick it off him. Kade taught her the basics years ago. She made to touch Quil's wrist as if offering him comfort—

He snatched his arm away.

"I hope you weren't thinking of stealing that." Quil's tone was more musing than chiding, but Sirsha still felt like a schoolchild who'd been reprimanded. Her face heated in embarrassment.

"I hope you aren't accusing me of something untoward. Just because your bracelet is precious to you doesn't mean I give a fig about it."

She waited for him to stalk off. To find something else to do, as he had whenever she said more than two words to him. Instead, he stared at her. Long enough to make the scowl fade from her face. Long enough that she wanted to look away, but found she could not, caught by the sudden storm of feeling in his eyes, which faded almost as swiftly as it had appeared.

He stepped toward her, but there was no anger in his expression. Only curiosity.

"Why do you do that?" He sounded strange—careful. Almost gentle. "Distract. Deflect."

She shoved her hands in her pockets, vexed at the way he could read her so easily. "Why do you keep your anger so bottled up when it will feel better to let it out?"

"Because I have self-control."

"Or," she said, "because you're so afraid if you feel something, you'll actually have to do something. And that if you do something, it will be the wrong thing. Now, if you'll excuse me, Effie needs steering."

"Effie." He looked confused. "Who—"

"The ship." Sirsha spoke to him like he was a child. "E-F two."

"That's not—" Sadness flashed across his face. "That's not what E-F stands for."

Well, what does it mean, then? She didn't ask. Instead, she turned on her heel and walked away, knowing she'd frustrated him yet again.

Strangely, she took no satisfaction from it.

The next morning, the verdant line of the Southern Continent appeared on the western horizon, growing thicker and greener, until the city of Jibaut was before them. The strange hodgepodge of wooden buildings drooped in the heavy drizzle that began when they were still out at sea.

The rain was miserable, but it dampened the sewer stench that pervaded the port, at least. Jibaut was new, with the coltish sprawl of something unplanned. Only twenty years before, it had been a fur trading outpost for the Karkauns. But since those idiots had attacked the Empire and been routed by Empress Helene, they'd withdrawn from the port and no nation claimed it.

Despite the stench, Sirsha loved Jibaut. She loved its ever-changing nature, usually reflecting whichever gang or family happened to be strongest. She loved the way the edges of the city disappeared into the misty, pine-drenched hills. She loved that by day, Jibaut was languid, but by night, the lamps flared and knives gleamed and the real business took place.

But her favorite thing about this grubby little city was that, unlike the rest of the south, the Jaduna hated visiting it. Which was why it was the perfect place to learn more about the killer she hunted.

If Kade was still in the city, that was. There was a crater in Jibaut's outer wall, and one sector of the docks was destroyed, littered with the splintered masts of half-sunken ships. Jibaut had not escaped Kegari violence. Atop a tall wood-shingled building in the center of the city, a white flag of defeat fluttered. Night approached, and many of the buildings that should have been lit up remained dark. Either a fair number of Jibaut's residents had fled, or they were lying low.

Sirsha counted on the fact that Kade had fought too hard and sacrificed too much to leave his business. He'd be here. She just had to find him.

The Jaduna girl bounced on her heels, anxious to get away from this little crew. It wasn't that she disliked them. Rather the opposite. The three of them had an easy camaraderie that Sufiyan and Arelia, at least, had extended to Sirsha.

But that same affection set her on edge. She looked forward to it. Craved it, even. But she was a tracker, and trackers needed to move swiftly and selfishly, with no thought of anything but the hunt.

Now that Jibaut approached, the hunt was on again.

As Sufiyan angled the boat into its slip, Quil appeared. He wore a set of dark fatigues and plain leather armor he'd found in the shabka's stores. His hood was pulled low, but as he peered up to the skies, dotted with Kegari Sails, rain dripped down the hard line of his jaw.

"Where is she?" Sirsha eyed the Sails. "They all look the bleeding same."

Quil nodded to a now-distant speck, heading north. "She wheeled off a half hour ago," he said, hand tight on his scim. "Shame she didn't say goodbye first."

Sirsha eased his hand off his scim with a light touch. "Don't draw attention to that." She nodded to the Kegari in their blue-scaled flight leathers, weaving through the few dockworkers loading cargo in the downpour. "Those sky-pigs will take no prisoners."

"You saved us. Outside Navium," Quil said, and Sirsha looked at him in surprise. He was staring out at the city, taking in the Kegari damage. "Whatever your reasons, if we'd headed directly south, we'd probably be dead. Or imprisoned. Thank you."

About time you showed some appreciation. She nearly said it, suppressing it at the last instant. He was being sincere. It wouldn't kill her to return the favor.

"You're welcome."

The boat lurched as it hit the dock, and Sirsha stumbled, catching herself on Quil's arm. His peppery scent washed over her and she pulled away quickly. As she straightened her pack, she looked up. His hazel gaze was guarded but softer than it had been the past two weeks. She wished she knew what he was thinking. Or that he'd talked to her more. She wished—

The gangplank landed with a thud onto the dock when Arelia unhooked it behind them.

"This is good riddance, then." Sirsha stepped away quickly. "Good luck in Ankana."

She didn't wait for his response. In moments, she was down the gangplank and lost among the blue-inked Karkauns and fur-clad Mariners, the dour-faced Kegari, and the green-clad Devanese. She made herself push away any thought of the rich boy and his voice, his body, the way his skin felt under her hand.

As she walked, she squared her shoulders, threw back her hair, and glared at any who dared look at her with disdain. The only way to survive Jibaut was to make sure everyone knew you were smarter, meaner, and better with a blade than them.

Which was why it was a shame that at that exact moment, Sirsha felt a presence so oppressive it was like a great hand squashing her head. Her steps faltered, and she looked frantically for a place to disappear and collect herself. But the crowd tightened around her even as the earth screamed that a monster had walked these streets, left cracks in the bones of the earth.

Someone scrabbled at her pack, and despite her disorientation, instinct had her smashing the thief away and snarling, knives free and spinning in her hands.

The criminal retreated quickly, but there would be others. She needed shelter. Fast.

Once she'd made her way past the main thoroughfare, Sirsha stumbled into a side street, catching her breath against a wall. She wasn't sure how long she waited for her breathing to slow, for the awful feeling to recede. But it lingered at the back of her head, a sustained buzz that made her nauseated. She knew she should search for the presence of Jaduna, as unlikely as it was. But it was all she could do to remain upright.

Sirsha glanced around, expecting, at least, to see a trail somewhere in the air, bold as if painted in blood. But there was nothing.

She jumped when she felt something brush against her leg, but it was only a cat, brown and white, one eye shuttered from some old battle. Sirsha knelt and stroked the creature's soft head. It nuzzled her hand, purring.

Sirsha shook herself—she wouldn't be safe on the street for long. Especially if anyone had trailed her from the docks. Kade's quarters were halfway across the city.

She hurried down the alley, surveying the flat brick of the buildings on either side, the empty windows above. The killer's presence had hollowed her out so thoroughly that she struggled to muster enough will to draw on her own magic. But she didn't need magic to know that something was deeply wrong with the city.

When she was nearly to the end of the street, her neck prickled and she stopped. Turned.

The cat still watched her, eye gleaming green in the shadows. But other than that, the street behind her appeared empty, so Sirsha walked on.