The Drowning City

She stood, tugging her coat smooth. “I seem unsuited for meditation today. Perhaps I should see if my sister has a place for me on her boat.”

Across the room, Zhirin set her tiny flame adrift and rose, the knees of her trousers damp-darkened.

“Would you like to have tea with us?” Isyllt asked. “We’re only sightseeing before the festival.”

“Thank you, but I should go home. Lilani and Vienh will want to attend the Dance and I should find something to wear. Perhaps we’ll meet again on a happier day.” With a farewell nod she turned away.

Xinai’s first mission with the Dai Tranh took her and Riuh into the city, where a Xian clansman poled them through the twisting back canals of Jadewater. They leaned together like young lovers, clasping hands and laughing. Sometimes her throat tightened when she met his eyes-black instead of green.

Rain misted cool against her face, glistened in Riuh’s braids. A common sight, couples walking or boating in the rain, making wishes. An ancient custom adapted to the city, when once they might have walked through the forest or along the riverbank. Most couples today hoped only for a child or good business, not for the overthrow of the Assari.

It’s only a job, she tried to tell herself when Riuh’s thumb stroked her knuckles. But that was a lie. It was a job, it was home, it was clan-ties and blood-ties and her mother’s fingers brushing her cheek, soft as memory. It was freedom and revenge and other memories hot as coals in her breast, and she couldn’t tell one from the other anymore, couldn’t tell where she stopped and everything else began.

All she could do was smile back and try not to think of Adam.

The skiff drifted close to the canal bank, where flowers overflowed their window boxes. The water had already risen, but not all the way. The low waterline bared wards carved in the stone.

Riuh leaned close to shield her movements as Xinai drew a slender chisel from her sleeve. She tensed as his lips brushed her shoulder, but managed a giggle. With one careful motion she dragged the blade across the stone, gouging through crusted moss and grime to mar the sigil beneath, then palmed the chisel and reached up to pluck a violet blossom from the vine. She barely felt the shiver as the ward-spell broke. With an aching smile, she threaded the flower into Riuh’s hair.

Something splashed softly beside them. Xinai looked down, and found herself staring into the flat face of a nakh. She stiffened; she’d never been so close to one before. Skin pale as a snake’s belly, hair a weed-tangled cloud. Black eyes blinked, flashing white as pearlescent membranes slid sideways. Xinai’s hand dropped to her knife.

The nakh grinned, baring rows of bone-needle teeth, and lifted one webbed hand from the water. A ruby glistened blood-black in its palm. It hissed softly, then sank beneath the surface.

Riuh touched a charm-bag at his throat. “Ancestors,” he whispered. “I hope my grandmother knows what she’s doing.”

“So do I.” The nakh had no love for the warded city, or the invader mages who had driven them out of their delta, but they weren’t allies Xinai would have sought out. Gold skin or brown made no difference once someone was at the bottom of the river.

The steersman pushed farther into the city. They’d finished their section of canals and now there was nothing to do but wait for the others, and for the nakh.

The skiff neared the Floating Garden, which was full of barges and workers swarming to set up platforms and hang lanterns. As Xinai watched the construction, movement on the far bank caught her eye. A flash of white skin and a familiar cloaked shape. Adam and the witch. Her stomach tightened painfully and she swallowed. She brushed a charm, vision honing, and watched the Laii girl lead them toward the temples.

“Let me off here,” she said, before she could think better of it.

“What is it?” Riuh asked.

“Something I need to take care of. Wait for me behind the temples.”

The steersman pulled up to the nearest steps. Riuh reached for her arm as she rose, but she dodged easily. “Don’t worry, I won’t be long.”

She waited for Adam in an alley beside the canal. Rain dappled the murky green water, and low clouds cast an early twilight between the walls. Marks covered the stone, children’s pictures drawn in charcoal and chalk, scrawled names and vows of love. A handprint stood out in the midst of the smeared scribbles, red brick dust not yet streaked by the rain-another of the Dai Tranh had already been here.

Rain dripped cold against her face and hair, warmed as it trickled down her neck. She didn’t have to wait long, as she’d known she wouldn’t. Adam could always find her. He’d thrown his hood back and tendrils of hair clung to his cheeks. He grinned when he saw her, but her own face was stiff and numb.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Her control slipped, brows pulling together. Nothing was easy now that she faced him. “I’m sorry.”

“Xin? What is it?” He glanced around, hand dropping to his sword hilt. Afraid of an ambush, and that left a bruised feeling in her chest. Voices drifted from the temple yard and rain pattered against the water. He moved closer, laid his hands on her shoulders. She fought a flinch, but his eyes narrowed and she knew she’d failed.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’m staying here.” A clean break was always best.

“Here?”

“In Sivahra. I won’t become a pirate with you after all.” Her mouth twisted.

“I’ll stay with you-”

She shook her head, short and sharp, and shrugged off his touch. “No, you can’t. I’m sorry.” The words fell like stones from her mouth, but she kept on. “Please, stay away from the festival tonight. I don’t want you hurt.”

Wariness diluted the pain on his face. “What’s going to happen?”

She didn’t answer, only reached up and unhooked a heavy silver hoop from her ear. “It’s been…good.” She pressed the earring into his palm, the metal warm as flesh, and let her hand linger against his for a heartbeat. “Thank you for bringing me home.”

She leaned up and kissed him, tasted rain and salt. Then she turned and fled toward the canal. The red handprint dripped down the wall.

Adam returned as they left the temple. Isyllt frowned at the grim lines of his expression, and Zhirin flinched.

“What’s wrong?” Isyllt asked in Selafain. Zhirin drew back to give them privacy.

“I found Xinai. She’s left us, left the job.” Left me, she read in the unhappy set of his shoulders. “She’s joined the rebels.”

“The Dai Tranh?”

“Looks that way. She warned me away from the festival.”

Isyllt’s eyes narrowed. “Lovely. So we’ll get a better show than masks and lanterns tonight. So much for our day off. We need to know this part of the city by tonight,” she said to Zhirin, repeating it in Assari after the girl gave her a blank stare.

As they followed Zhirin toward the far side of the plaza, Isyllt slowed and laid a hand on his arm.

“Are you all right?”

He shook his head, scattering raindrops. “Just stupid.” He tried to smile-or maybe it was a grimace. “I won’t let it interfere with the job.”

She nodded wry acknowledgment. “If you don’t want to go tonight, I understand.” He turned away from the sympathy in her voice.

“And let you get killed?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“You’ve forgotten the part where Kiril skins me if you get hurt. It’s the job-I’ve got your back.”

She smiled. “Good. I bought you a mask.”

Chapter 10

I’ll be half-blind in this thing,” Adam said, glaring at the mask in his hands.

Isyllt chuckled as she unwrapped her own costume. “But very menacing.”