Twenty-Four

TWENTY-FOUR

“Crazy bastards.” Paj had been cursing from the moment we left the harbor, and it had taken all of Auster’s will to ignore him as we walked into Lower Vale.

When I asked Auster to take us to the Roths, I hadn’t expected him to agree.

Auster didn’t say exactly how he’d escaped his family when he and Paj left Bastian, and I didn’t ask. But it was clear that it was a past Paj didn’t want to revisit. He forbade Auster from taking us to Lower Vale, and only relented when he realized that Auster would go without him.

Now Paj had another reason to be angry, and I was more convinced by the minute that the break among us might be too great to be repaired. I hadn’t meant to pull them into Holland’s war on the Narrows, but West had made sure of it when he commanded them to Yuri’s Constellation. The only thing to do now was to see the plan through and hope we could salvage what was left of the crew after.

If Bastian had a slum, Lower Vale was it, though it was nothing to the stench and filth of The Pinch or Waterside in Ceros. Even the pigeons perched on the rooftops looked cleaner than the ones in the Narrows.

West walked shoulder to shoulder with Auster, shooting a warning look to the people on the street around us who were staring. They watched Auster as he passed, whispering to each other, and I didn’t know if it was because they recognized him or if it was because he was so striking. Auster had taken care with himself when he got ready in the crew’s cabin, brushing through his thick, dark hair until it lay over his shoulder like melted obsidian. His shirt, too, was clean and pressed. He was always beautiful, even after days at sea with no washing. But this Auster was magnificent. He was breathtaking.

Paj looked different too. There was an emptiness in his eyes that I hadn’t seen since the day he dared me to fetch a coin from the sea bottom at the coral islands. “I still think this is a bad idea,” he grunted.

That pushed Auster over the edge. He suddenly turned on his heel and Paj almost slammed into him as he came to an abrupt stop.

Auster looked up into Paj’s face, his mouth set in a straight line. “Are you finished?”

“No, actually, I’m not,” Paj growled. “Am I the only one who remembers what it took for us to leave these people behind? I nearly died cutting you from your deranged family!”

“If you’re scared, you can wait at the tavern.” Auster shoved him backward.

“It’s not me I’m afraid for,” Paj answered, and it was so honest and plain that it seemed to make the street noise stop around us. Paj’s face softened, his mouth turning down at the corners.

Auster took the sleeve of Paj’s shirt, as if to anchor him. “If it’s Ezra, we’re fine.”

“And if it’s Henrik?”

Auster gave his best attempt at a playful smile. “Then we’re screwed.” He pulled Paj toward him until he was low enough for Auster to kiss him. Right there in the street, for anyone to see.

I couldn’t help but smile.

“Finished?” West said impatiently.

Auster looked at Paj as if he was waiting for him to answer.

Paj sighed. “Finished.”

Auster let go of him, satisfied for the moment, and we followed him into the narrow alley between the last two buildings on the street. The opening lay between the signs for a tea house and a launderer, and the bricks turned black, painted with the soot.

Auster walked with his shoulders pulled back. I could see the armor going up around him, the softness of his face changing, and the weight of his steps growing heavier. Whatever he was about to face, he was bracing for it.

The alley came to an end, where an iron door lined with rivets was fit into the brick.

A string of something above it caught the wind, swinging. I squinted, trying to make it out, and grimaced when I realized what it was. “Are those…?”

“Teeth,” Auster muttered, answering before I’d even finished.

“Human teeth?”

Auster lifted an eyebrow. “The price of lying to Henrik.” His hand curled into a fist before he raised it, and he looked over his shoulder to Paj once more before he knocked.

“You should wait out here,” he said, keeping his voice low.

Paj laughed bitterly in response, shaking his head once. “That’s never going to happen.”

Beside me, West’s hand went to the back of his belt, ready to take hold of his knife. There was only the soft drip of water filling the silence as we stood before the closed door. I couldn’t stop staring at the string of teeth.

Paj tapped the buckle of his belt restlessly, but Auster didn’t seem concerned. He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting, and when the latch finally creaked, he didn’t so much as flinch.

The door cracked open enough for a young boy’s face to appear. The deep valley of a scar curved over his cheek. “Yes?” He looked more irritated than interested in whatever we wanted.

“Looking for Ezra,” Auster said flatly. “Tell him Auster’s here to see him.”

The boy’s eyes went wide as he stumbled backward. “Auster?” The way he said the name sounded as if it came with a story.

Auster didn’t answer, stepping into the dimly lit entry with the rest of us on his heels. A series of hooks lined the wall, where a few jackets and hats were hung beneath a series of gold-framed oil paintings. They were depictions of the sea in different styles and colors, and completely out of place on the cracked plaster walls. Even the tiles under our feet were fractured, their mosaic patterns tipping and turning where pieces were missing.

The boy’s footsteps sounded in the hall after a tense silence, and he reappeared, motioning us into the dark. Auster followed without a moment’s hesitation, but I pulled my knife from my belt, holding it ready at my side. The boy led us around a turn, and the warm glow of a lantern reignited the dark ahead.

A doorframe left empty save for its hinges gave way to a large, rectangular room. Rippling wallpaper the color of rubies was smoothed over the walls, the floor stained a deep mahogany where it was visible. Everywhere else, it was covered by a thick wool rug edged in fraying tassels.

The desk set before the fireplace was bare, but the boy straightened it methodically, lining up the quill along the right side. Before he was finished, the door along the back wall was pushed open, and the young man I’d seen at Holland’s appeared. Ezra.

His eyes immediately found Auster as he stepped into the room. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

Auster stared at Ezra blankly before a smile broke on his face.

Ezra came around the desk, opening his arms and clapping Auster on the back as he embraced him. It was a different mask than the one I’d seen Ezra wear the day before in Holland’s office. But the warmth between them seemed to irritate Paj. He rolled his shoulders like he had the urge to punch something.

Ezra ignored him, leaning in closer to Auster as he spoke. “Might not have been a good idea to bring him. Henrik will be here any minute.”

“Good luck getting him out of here,” Auster muttered.

But Ezra’s easiness disappeared, his edges sharpening as his attention landed on me. He recognized me almost immediately. “What is she doing here?”

“She’s a friend,” Auster answered.

“You sure about that? I just saw her at Holland’s.”

“I’m sure.” Auster set a hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “How are you?”

Ezra had a hard time pulling his gaze from me. “I’m fine, Aus.”

Auster didn’t seem convinced, leaning low to catch Ezra’s eyes.

“Good,” Ezra pressed. “I’m good.”

Auster gave a nod, accepting the answer. “We have a commission for you.”

Ezra surveyed him skeptically before he went back to the desk. “What kind of commission?”

“One we know you can do,” I interrupted.

Ezra’s hand froze on the book in front of him at the sound of my voice. The lantern light cast the scars on his hands silver. I pulled the parchment I’d prepared from my jacket and unfolded it, setting it before him.

Ezra’s eyes ran over it slowly, widening. “Is this a joke?”

The door behind him flung open, slamming against the wall, and I jolted, taking a step back. The flash of steel glinted in West’s hand beside me.

An older man stood in the opening, one hand tucked into the pocket of a leather apron. His mustache was curled up on the ends, his hair combed neatly to one side. Pale blue eyes shone from beneath bushy eyebrows as they jumped from me to Paj, finally landing on Auster.

“Ah,” he crooned, a wide smile breaking on his lips. But it was missing the warmth that Ezra’s had. “Tru said the lost Roth darling was sitting in my parlor. I told him it wasn’t possible. That my nephew wouldn’t have the guts to show up here as long as he lived.”

“Guess you were wrong,” Auster said, meeting his gaze coolly.

“I see you brought your benefactor.” Henrik looked to Paj. “Happy to re-break that nose. Maybe we can get it straight this time.”

“Only one way to find out,” Paj growled, moving toward him.

Auster caught him in the chest with the flat of his palm, and Henrik laughed, taking a pipe from the shelf. “Thought you were done with the Roths, Auster.”

“I am. That doesn’t mean I can’t do business with them.”

Henrik arched an eyebrow curiously. “What business could you possibly have that we would want?”

Auster jerked his chin to the parchment on the desk and Henrik picked it up. “What the—”

“Can you do it or not?” Auster barked.

“Of course we can. The question is, why the hell would we?” Henrik laughed.

“Name your price,” I said, ready to negotiate.

Henrik narrowed his eyes at me. “Who’d you bring into my house, Auster?” The timber of his voice was verging on dangerous.

“I’m Fable. Holland’s granddaughter. And I’m looking for a silversmith.”

Henrik looked down his nose at me. “There is no price I’d take for that commission. Crossing Holland will put an end to our business in Bastian. For good.”

“What if I told you that Holland won’t be your problem anymore?”

“Then I’d tell you that you’re as stupid as you are pretty,” Henrik taunted. “I’d make more coin telling Holland you were here than I would off of your commission.”

It was exactly what I’d been afraid he’d say. There was no reason for him to trust me and there was nothing I could offer him that would be more valuable than what Holland could. He’d be taking more than one chance by helping us.

My eyes trailed around the room. Peeling wallpaper, expensive candlesticks, the finest tailored jacket hanging on a rusted hook. Henrik was like Zola. A man trying to be something he never could. Not until he had one thing.

“Do this commission and I’ll give you what Holland can’t,” I said.

Henrik’s smile faded, replaced by a tick in his jaw. “And what is that?”

I stared at him. “A merchant’s ring.” The words withered in my mouth as I said them. There was no way to know if I could actually deliver. But if anyone could get one, it would be Saint.

Merchants had to apprentice for years before they could make a bid for a ring. And there were only so many rings to be given from each guild. Often, merchants were working beneath an older one, waiting for them to die or give up their trade.

His hand stilled on the match until the flame was so close to his fingertips that he had to put it out. “What?”

“I can get you a merchant’s ring if you deliver. And only if it stays quiet.”

“You’re lying.” The words dripped with fury.

But I could already see that I had him. The desperation of the prospect was all over his face. “I’m not. One merchant’s ring from the Trade Council in the Narrows.”

“The Narrows? We live in Bastian, sweetheart.”

“We both know that a ring from one guild makes it easier to get one from the other. Which do you want more? Holland’s favor, or a ring to buy your own?”

Henrik lit another match, puffing on the pipe until smoke was billowing from the chamber. “Did Auster tell you what will happen to you if you lie to me?”

“He did.”

“Your grandmother will be finding pieces of you all over this city,” he said softly. “And I’ll have to take my nephew off your hands in the spirit of restitution.”

Paj’s fists clenched. I was sure that at any moment, he was going to tear across the room and break Henrik’s neck.

Henrik picked up the parchment, studying the rendering. I’d done it only by memory, my skill not even close to what it should be. But they knew exactly what I was looking for. “Only a Narrows-born urchin would be this stupid.”

“Only Saltbloods would be this soft,” I shot back. “Will you do it?”

Henrik looked to Ezra, who stood stoically against the wall. Whatever he was thinking, he kept it to himself.

After a moment, Henrik reached up, taking hold of Auster’s shoulder. He squeezed it. A little too tightly.

“We’ll do it.”