weight of a salt bag. Then my master secretly arranged to have my hip broken to hide my sex and make me untouchable. All in the pursuit of the power and money he craved. In the end, he regretted causing me such pain — he told Chart as much — and even came to love me in his own way. Perhaps now that I was healed and had the power of a dragon, I should forgive him. Yet my rage was as hollowing and hot as ever.
The innkeeper unhooked one of the oil lamps and climbed the stairs. We filed up behind him, me struggling with my long gown, Vida straining under the weight of the traveling basket.
The air was no better on the second floor; the day’s damp warmth had carried the fishy stink throughout the house. The innkeeper led us along a short passageway that ran between the sleeping chambers, each divided from its neighbor by paper walls. There would be no unguarded talk tonight.
“My best room,” he said, sliding open a flimsy screen. “Since there are no other guests, I’ve put you at the back of the house, so you won’t get the tavern noise.”
It was surprisingly spacious. Two bedrolls rested against the far wall, ready to be laid out, and a low eating table stood in the center. There was no rancid straw matting — a godsend— although the large gaps in the bare planked floor let in weak lamplight from the foyer below. A stained screen in the corner shielded a night bowl from the sleeping area, and a shuttered window promised fresh air.
The innkeeper hung the lamp on a hook just inside the doorway and bowed us into our accommodation.
“I’ll have your dinner and the extra pallet brought up by next bell,” he said.
Another pleased bow took him from the room. We waited in silence until his footsteps descended the stairs and were lost in the lower level of the house.
Finally judging it to be safe, Dela murmured, “Vida and I will go and help Solly.”
“What about me? What can I do?”
“You’ll have to stay here. No merchant woman would enter a stable, let alone wander an inn by herself.” She saw the rebellion in my eyes. “I know it is frustrating, but only a whore or a servant girl would venture downstairs, especially with these soldiers about. You must stay in character.”
“I know, Respectable Woman Overcome with Grief,” I said sourly. “Maybe I can keep watch for you.” I crossed to the window and pushed open the shutters, but the view was of a ramshackle building beyond the compound wall, lit ghostly by the three-quarter moon. The room did not overlook the stable yard.
Dela patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll be back soon.”
Reluctantly, I nodded. “Tell him ‘good fortune,’ then.”
With one last squeeze of my shoulder, Dela headed into the corridor. Vida dumped her basket on the ground and, without a backward glance, followed. Their two shadows moved along the paper wall and disappeared.
For a mad moment, I wanted to run after Dela and tell her she should wait until the inn was asleep to free Ryko. Then again, perhaps this was the right time, when Haddo and his men were setting up their camp, and a bondservant cleaning out a cart would blend into the background.
I slid shut the screen door and surveyed the room again. The place suddenly felt like a prison. I counted my paces across the room: eighteen. Twelve took me its length. For almost five years I had lived as a boy, and even as a lowly candidate I’d had more freedom than this role as a woman. I should be downstairs, helping Ryko, not measuring a room with my feet. I grabbed a handful of my long gown; even the clothes were designed to hinder movement. With the hem tucked into the sash, it made walking easier, but I still had nowhere to go.
I pulled off the mourning headdress and dug my fingertips into the tight coronet of braids; either Dela or Vida had taken care to weave my hair into the style of a grieving mother. At the salt farm, I had seen my friend Dolana do the same for a woman whose son had died from the Weeping Sickness. Although we had tried to comfort the poor woman and observe the death rituals, her grief had grown into madness until she had torn out her own hair and blinded herself with salt.
My thoughts returned to Lieutenant Haddo. A kind man, obviously touched by a son’s death himself, but still a soldier with orders to capture me and kill my friends. I tossed the headdress onto a bedroll and crossed the room again. Our pilgrim masquerade seemed like a flimsy shield against such ruthlessness. One mistake, one tiny moment of inattention, could destroy us all. Still, I was practiced in pretense; lying for my life was second nature.
My restless pacing was interrupted by the arrival of a serving girl. She hauled in the promised pallet and murmured a timid reassurance that our food was on its way.
When she was gone, I squatted under the lamp and unwound the pliant black pearls from my arm to release Kinra’s journal. There was no use dwelling on the threat of Haddo and his men. It merely stoked my fear. Instead, I forced myself to study a page of the precious folio, recognizing only one of the faded characters:
In the few days of recuperation at the fisher house, Dela had started to teach me Woman Script. It was usually passed down from mother to daughter, but I had been sold into bond service before I was taught its secrets. My progress with it was painfully slow, the task of reading the uncoded parts of the journal complicated by the ancient form of the script. Even Dela was having trouble translating it, and I still knew only ten or so characters, not enough to discover what I desperately needed to know: how to control my power and ward off the ten bereft dragons.
The soft sibilance of voices broke my concentration. Were Dela and Vida back already? I strained to hear who was talking— two men, in the foyer below. Not my friends, then. I pushed the folio back under my sleeve. The pearls slithered up behind it and held the small book tightly against my forearm.
On hands and knees, I pressed my eye to a generous gap in the planking. Below me, all I could see was the dimly lit foyer wall and floor. Whoever was talking was out of my sightline, and too far away for their words to be distinguished. Did I dare creep to the stairwell and listen? Dela would be furious if she found out I had left the room. But there was no real danger— I could run back to safety if anyone mounted the stairs. And maybe I would hear something useful rather than just waiting for the others to return.
Gathering my skirt, I stood and carefully slid the screen door open. The corridor was clear. As I edged closer to the top of the staircase, one of the muffled voices sharpened into Haddo’s crisp authority.
“… and I’ll need to restock with rice and some of that salted fish. Same as before.”
“I haven’t been paid for the last lot.” It was the innkeeper, his tone rising into peevish complaint.
“You’ll get it on our next pass over the mountain,” Haddo said. “Right now, my problem is hungry men, so have the supplies ready. We’re moving out at the dawn bell.” There was a pause and then Haddo asked, “Tell me, do you know the whereabouts of the merchant who arrived with us?”
“I think he’s out back overseeing the stabling of his animals.
Why, is something amiss? They don’t bring more misfortune with them, do they? I gave them my best room, too.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure the lady’s misfortune will not taint you or your inn.” The lieutenant’s voice was wry. “I just want to offer them an escort tomorrow. That door leads to the stable yard, doesn’t it? Or must I go round?”
My heartbeat quickened. If Haddo went outside now, there was a chance he would see Ryko. I tried to estimate how much time had passed since Dela and Vida had left the room; not even a quarter bell. It was possible that Ryko was still being freed. We could not risk it; just a glimpse of the islander would give us all away. I had to stop Haddo. A few short steps took me to the top of the staircase, Dela’s warning loud in my head. She was right. I could not go downstairs; no respectable woman would approach two men by herself. I had to stay in character.
“All I’m saying is she’s got the markings of a lost one,” the innkeeper said. “I’ve seen a lot of them on their way to and from the Moon Lady Waters, and some of them never come right. He’d be better to return her to her parents and move on to one who can produce a living son.”
I clutched the handrail, his harsh words bringing a sudden, desperate idea.
“Keep your voice down, man,” Haddo said, lowering his own. I strained to hear his next words. “… to the Moon Lady Waters as fast as possible. It worked for my wife.”
“I meant no disrespect,” the innkeeper said hurriedly. “Your wife was one of the blessed. Maybe this girl will be, too. Go straight through, it takes you into the yard. The merchant is in the far stable.”
If ever there was a time for skillful pretense, this was it. I yanked a few of my braids loose and, with a mute prayer to the gods, pushed myself forward, bundling my tucked skirt even higher above my ankles.
“Is that you, husband?” I called, running down the stairs. “I have seen him, husband. I have seen our
