betrayed her: She wasn’t quite as sure of herself as she meant to sound.
The dragon’s breath huffed over us, not rancid but sweet, like the aroma of coconut milk as it bakes through a rice pudding. It pushed out its tongue over the ridge of its lip to make a bridge.
Never let it be said my courage had failed me when put to the test.
I tightened my grip on the loose skin of Rory’s neck. Together we walked up the slope. The tongue was oddly firm and dry beneath our tread, not at all slimy. Rory again gave that moaning growl as the tongue shifted beneath us. To keep our balance Bee and I set down the chest and held on to it, and I grabbed Rory, as the creature pulled its tongue back inside.
We slid backward into the smoke. The jaw closed.
Darkness fell as a smothering blanket. Strange noises like drones and squeaks drifted at the edge of my hearing.
Bee and I sat on the chest, clutching each other. Rory leaned against us as if he wanted to climb inside either the chest or us. His trembling shuddered through me. I rubbed his head.
From my oldest, sleepiest memories I scoured out a song. It whispered in my mother’s raspy voice, scarred by war and pain. I sang in a low voice.
“Cat, are you crying?” Bee whispered, pressing her cheek to mine. “What is that lullaby?”
“My mother used to sing it to me.”
The creature moved in a gentle undulation. The air stirred with a rhythmic pulse, in time to the slow drum of its heart, like the breath of secrets untold. Atop it floated a sound like a bell’s resonant ring drawn out as a thread is spun out of a mass of wool. I trembled, struck by such an upwelling of fear at being trapped inside a living beast that I took a slug from my flask of rum for fortitude. The only way to battle the fear was to talk.
“Bee, how could you think I would go with Camjiata? He probably meant to throw me overboard once we were out of sight of land.”
She tensed. “It’s not that simple. He told me you’ve never given him a chance to properly explain. He got you exiled to Salt Island to protect you.”
“To protect me?” I snorted. “How can he say these things? And with such sincerity! It’s like a disease with him. Protect himself, he means, since he believes I will be the instrument of his death.” Rory gave a rumble and nosed against me as I went on. “ ‘Where the hand of fortune branches, Tara Bell’s child must choose, and the road of war will be washed by the tide.’ The general thinks my choice will be to kill him. But I already made a choice on Hallows’ Night at the ballcourt. I was the instrument of the cacica’s death, not his.”
“That’s not what he thinks.” Bee’s tone wound like darkness, mellow and soft. The heat made me yawn. “He thinks it’s the choice you made between Andevai Diarisso and James Drake, between cold mage and fire mage. James Drake has an ugly, unpredictable temper that might have been soothed by the love of a good woman.”
“I hope he did not really say that, and in those nauseating words.” I took another slug of rum. “The point is, the general could have entirely misunderstood his wife’s words about Tara Bell’s child. She wrote down her dreams in garbled poetry. He interprets everything as having some relationship to him. I’m quite sure the dream has nothing to do with me choosing between two men… what a tired story that would be!”
Yet what if it referred to the same choice my mother had been forced to make? What if my sire meant to force me to sleep with him to save Vai’s life, as he had forced my mother to have sex with him to save the lives of Daniel and the other men in the Baltic Ice Expedition?
“Cat, why are you shaking? I’m sorry I said anything.”
I swallowed a huge gulp of rum. Some things I refused to speak of even to Bee. “The point is, James Drake has stayed alive this long by murdering unwilling people as catch-fires. Beggars, the rootless poor, people no one will miss. Salters and dying men. Meanwhile, the general means to allow Drake to go on killing people as long as it helps him win the war he means to wage in Europa. That’s why Drake obeys him, because he knows Camjiata will turn a blind eye to his crimes. Who will miss enemy soldiers who perish in war? So how can we trust Camjiata, knowing he employs a criminal like James Drake?”
“Listen! After Caonabo divorced me, I went to the general. I really didn’t have anywhere else to go, as you can imagine. Of course I demanded to know what his intentions are toward you. He promised me that you have nothing to fear from him. Your life is his life. As long as you are alive, he knows he is alive. The general has offered us employment as spies and couriers in his army.”
“I’m not spying for the general!”
“How do you plan to eat? In what bed do you plan to sleep with your handsome husband? Do you have any money at all, Cat?”
“No,” I admitted sullenly. I groped for the flask, but Bee had hidden it. “Didn’t Caonabo give you a dower, some pittance from the Taino treasury?”
“Why, yes, he rewarded me very generously. I was granted the right to collect taxes from two towns on the northern coast of Kiskeya. It’s a fine income, but one I have no access to. I received also several thousand cowrie shells, which make me quite wealthy in the Taino kingdom but are worth nothing in Europa. A chest full of exceptionally fine cloth, as well as several crates of excellent tobacco. All of which are on the ship you and I were meant to sail on, together with Vai’s other chests. We’re destitute, Cat. We haven’t a single sestertius to our name. All we have is the gear that is in this chest, which fortunately is the one Luce packed for you.”
I crossed my arms fumingly. “I don’t even know how I’m going to rescue Vai.”
“I do have some gold jewelry I can sell,” she mused. “The dash jackets can be sold. We won’t starve, not for a while. But those things will run out. At least hold the general’s offer in reserve, just in case we need it.”
Every road led away into darkness, and while normally I could see unusually well in the dark, my eyes could not penetrate the future. I yawned again, eyelids drooping. The heat made me sleepy. Rory was sprawled out like a big warm comforting purr. He snored in a catlike way with little huffs between times as if he was dreaming of chasing down plump deer. Bee and I leaned against his belly. The rocking motion of the beast had a soporific effect.
I rested my head against hers. “Whatever happens, I love you, Bee. Always.”
“Always,” she whispered, holding my hand.
My eyes closed. I sank into sleep.
As in a dream, I bucketed through the heavens on the back of a horse whose coat was as black and sticky as tar. I braced the butt of a spear against my booted stirrup. My arms were bare, the skin marked with blue coils like the ink-painting common among the Celts. With a hawk’s sight I saw our prey running, a girl with long hair streaming out behind her. Her blood smelled of smoke and dreams, and as we galloped up alongside her, I thrust my spear into her back and brought her down. With my hands gripping the spear, I swung off the horse. She was thrashing, trying to crawl, trying to live. I pressed a foot onto her back to trap her and wiped my fingers through the blood pumping out of the wound. Brought it to my lips.
The blood was redolent with the fragrant bloom of powerful cold magic as mouthwatering as spice. But it was not mine to drink. I owed it to my masters. The chain that bound me to them dragged me back toward their presence.
A voice was murmuring, honey words luring me away from the kill. Vai’s kisses sweetened my lips and warmed my flesh. His hands measured the map of my body, fingers tracing each curve as he rolled me over on the bed he had built for us.
I stirred, eyes opening as my hands reached for him.
The basket gaped open and empty across my lap. I blinked, trying to focus, for I was back in the belly of the beast. Its comblike teeth shone with a phosphorescent gleam.
By this light I saw Bee talking to Queen Anacaona. The dead flat shine of the cacica’s eyes had deepened to a warm brown.
“I’m not sure I understand, Your Highness. Is the Great Smoke the ocean of dreams through which I walk in my dreams?”
“Yes. The Great Smoke is the ocean of all existence. The currents which we call past, present, and future
