The Well of Prayers

by Anne Boles Levy

  She pulled away and looked up at me. “You kill him?”

  I shook my head. Two eyes glinted just a finger’s width from mine.

  “Please?”

  I shook my head again.

  She peered over her shoulder into the blackness, where Valeo’s form loomed not far away. He’d been watching us. Bugsy snarled at him, flicked her long tongue, and darted toward the doorway, the ledger tucked under an arm. A moment later, her shadowy form had flitted across a single beam of moonlight and was gone.

  17

  If men were any more complicated, they’d be women.

  —Feroxi proverb

  The powerful hand that clenched mine held it so tight my knuckles rubbed. Valeo’s many rings dug into the skin on my fingers. He dragged me forward, faster than my long legs could keep up, an angry jolt to each of his giant strides. We were out on the wharf, crossing behind the warehouses toward the rows of brightly lit cantinas called Sag Town. Its rotting boardwalks jutted far into a shallow corner of the bay and did indeed sag under our feet. It was not the sort of place a man should take a pious woman. Not at all. As soon as I had realized he wasn’t escorting me home, I tried to pull away. Valeo had jerked me forward by the hand until my left arm felt like it would pop from its socket.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “To give me my alibi.” His voice was a throaty growl.

  “Meaning?”

  Valeo halted, and I nearly plowed into his back. He spun on his heels, a snarl on his rugged face. “You have the Temple’s blessing, I don’t. Maybe you think you can use whomever you wish, maybe you think you’re better than the Azwans at whatever game you’re at. I don’t have that luxury. If I’d known, Nihil’s nuts, if I’d only known …”

  “I’m sorry.” I shrank under his glare. I’d no idea I could upset anyone this way. First Bugsy, now Valeo. I was ruining everyone’s lives tonight and had no idea how to make it up to either of them. All I could do is mumble another apology.

  “You’re not the least sorry.”

  “My people …”

  “Are going to be in ten times the trouble if the Azwans think there’s anything missing from there. There isn’t, is there?”

  I stammered. The warehouse had obviously been too dark for him to see the ledger disappear along with Bugsy.

  Even in the dark, I could see Valeo grimace as he spoke. “Nihil’s damn nuts. What’d you take?”

  “Stop swearing. Please.” I wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t hurt me. I remembered how he’d reacted when I’d called him a half-brow—this was a hundred times worse. I’d used him and he knew it and I wanted to sink under the boardwalks in shame.

  “And that creature.” There was that scowl again.

  “She’s gone, I promise.” Poor Bugsy.

  “You promised earlier she was gone.”

  “This time I mean it.”

  “Who by all three moons do you think you are? Do you know who I am?”

  My voice came out weak and wavering. “First Guardsman Valeo of the something-or-other unit? No different from anyone else?”

  Valeo exhaled sharply and looked up and all around, as if the right thing to say were being carried toward him on a breeze. “Here I thought I was the luckiest man on the island because you don’t seem to have any idea how beautiful you are to a Feroxi. Tall, willowy, strong, smart. I could go on. Nihil’s nuts, I thought we were friends, even. But I could be prince of the sewer-sweeps for how you treat me. Yes, I know, I wanted you to not notice my rank and title and birthright and I don’t know what else. If I wanted proof it wasn’t an act, I have it now. And that bothers me too. Do I know what I do want? Not really. Maybe. A little. But I know what you’re all about, at least. You really don’t give a swamp rat’s behind for me.”

  “Oh, but I do!” I could punch myself. I’d gone back and forth on my feelings for him all night, but I’d made up my mind too late. I realized that I adored him and his wise-cracking self and his childhood stories and even his short fuse and rough features. I wanted him to adore me, too, but I’d apparently missed my chance. Stupid, stupid me. “You’re right, I don’t care that you’re a prince. Well, not exactly, though it is amazing. But I do care that I made a mistake and put you in danger and now you hate me enough to swear at me and say such awful things. Or nice things. They were kind of both, weren’t they? You said nice, awful things. Oh, please shut me up or I’ll babble like this all night.”

  He sighed. “I’m in this so damn deep right now, I don’t even care if you did cast a love spell on me. At least tell me what I risked Nihil’s wrath for tonight. What were you up to back there?”

  “I was desperate,” I said. “I figured you’re a Temple Guard, no one would question you if they saw us together.”

  “So you needed some big, dopey dromedary of a man to maybe batter down a door and lug a few sacks for you,” he said, his voice seeped in sarcasm. “Should I have spit like dromedaries do? Or placidly chewed my cud while I waited around for you?”

  I shook my head, not trusting my voice to keep from breaking. “I’ve never seen a dromedary. And please don’t spit. I’ve already said I’m sorry. Maybe you should just take me home.”

  Valeo shook his head. “Not until you’ve covered for me. There’s a chance I could get us out of this, or at least me.”

  “Covered for you?”

  “My company knows I took you out tonight. I need to be seen with you. It’ll help your alibi too. This dopey dromedary has a few tricks of his own.”

  “Your company?” I peered around him toward the cantinas, where lanterns shone on people spilling onto rickety walkways, singing, waving bottles of spirits, weaving and wobbling and staggering off.

  Valeo’s hands slid from my shoulders down my back and pulled me closer. I brought my hands up in time to keep him from holding us chest to chest, only to find my arms pinned between us. The silk of his shirt slid beneath my fingertips, and the skin of my palms roused again to the hardness of the muscles beneath. A tremor seemed to go straight through my fingers up the length of my arms, settling around my breasts, the curves and slopes of my torso, all the way through me. I could melt into him and stay that way forever.

  His voice sounded breathy in my ear. “Everyone. And they’re expecting this.”

  I gazed up into his brown eyes, his pronounced brow no longer knit in anger. “Expecting what?”

  “This.” He pressed his lips on mine, sudden and firm. I pulled back. This wasn’t what I’d pictured for a first kiss, and certainly not what I’d practiced against my pillow. I pushed against his chest, then angled my head away, expecting to see his frown. Instead, he seemed hesitant, unsure, his eyes roving my face as if waiting for my response. Without thinking, I leaned in again. Rough fingers entwined in my hair near the nape of my neck. His tongue parted my lips and I felt myself opening up to him.

  He tasted of salt and sweet, of nectar and tisane—like silk would taste, I suppose, if you could glide your tongue around it. I took in his scent, a mannish mix of warm spices and the outdoors, of breezes carrying aromatic hints of forbidden things. Maybe it was a good first kiss, after all.

  “Hadara of Rimonil, is that you?”

  A male voice shattered my reverie and Valeo and I pulled apart. I turned toward a lantern held up in my face. I squinted into the sudden, painful light. Beyond it, I made out a yellow constable’s uniform, garish even at night. You couldn’t miss a constable in our city, ever: they were the color of citrines and could be just as tart. I recognized the constable as the one who’d flirted with me near the boat launch shortly after the Azwans arrived.

  “Natanno, how nice to see you.”

  “I didn’t think you were the sort to be out late at night. Does Lord Rimonil know you’re here?”

  Valeo took a small step forward. “Constable, Natanno, is it? Everything’s fine here. I’ll take the lady home soon. Promise.”

  Natanno bristled. I’d overheard at the sick ward that the port wa
tches hated surrendering even a jot of authority to the Temple Guards. It was a kick in the stomach that they somehow couldn’t be trusted to police their own turf. Natanno kept his eyes on me.

  “I guess you didn’t get my courting note, then.”

  Oh, that poor man. I would’ve tossed it even if I’d seen it. I suppose I should’ve sent a rejection note, all formal and apologetic, if I weren’t busy breaking into warehouses and kissing soldiers.

  “I’m sorry, Natanno. I’ll look again for it.”

  “In the stack, you mean?” The knife’s edge in Natanno’s voice cut a few lengths from my size. He continued, his voice low and hurt. “I never pegged you for the mean sort, Hadara. But I guess you found someone you like better. What’ll you do when his ship leaves? Sort through the stack again?”

  Valeo broke in again. “Look, Nutyo, or whatever your name is, we’d love to chat about your love letters. But it’s late, yes? And your job is to clear the streets. So if we go, you have no quarrel with us. Goodmoons to you, sir.”

  With that, Valeo grabbed my hand again and pulled me toward the nearest cantina. I glanced over my shoulder to see Natanno, the lamp held aloft, glaring at me. Valeo drew me closer to him.

  “Cover your hair, Miss Meanie.”

  “What?”

  “Mistress Heartbreaker, cover those Nihil-blessed tresses of yours.”

  I tugged my wrap back over my hair. I hadn’t bothered with it since it had come loose. No wonder Natanno had been shocked—me with my hair uncovered, kissing a man, out late at night. I hoped he kept his mouth shut about it. I didn’t think he would, and I wondered how long it would take until the first rumors got back to me. Nothing this night was going according to plan, but considering how hastily I’d made those plans, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Dismayed was more like it.

  That dismay turned to something much worse when Valeo held open the door to the cantina for me. I took one step in and realized I absolutely should’ve stayed home that night. Or gone anywhere else, like maybe back to the swamps or to one of the moons.

  18

  Your good name is my gift to you. Defend it well. Build upon your name as the foundation of a house, and tend it as a fertile pasture, that what grows there shall be the virtues of a life well lived.

  —“The Highest Oblation,” Oblations 1, The Book of Unease

  I walked into chaos: Feroxi everywhere in everyday clothes, all noise and raunchy singing and mugs raised. A few scraggy women danced with heads uncovered, revealing shorn hair that framed their gaunt faces. They wore ragged clothes that bared more flesh than I’d reveal in a bathhouse and gyrated around the men or sat in laps, heads bent toward their customers, whispering.

  Prostitutes.

  I turned to stomp right out, straight into the solid wall known as Valeo. He stopped me with those oversized paws of his, one on each shoulder, and spun me around again.

  “Alibi, remember?” He had to shout in my ear to be heard.

  “This isn’t a fit place for a proper girl,” I said, my voice almost a roar.

  “And that wouldn’t be you right now, would it?”

  “This is wildly inappropriate. Besides, the constable already, and we don’t even, not really, I mean and well, this … it’s, it’s …”

  I wanted to elbow him, but he leaned over and patted my shoulder. “It’s just for a bit. C’mon, my friends will love you.”

  Oh. So this was about his friends. Well, I guess I couldn’t really object if he wanted to show me off to his friends, but he’d have to live up to his promise to make this short. Very short. Valeo was already steering me toward a table against a far wall. He’d pressed one hand against the small of my back, part navigator, part owner. I tensed and walked slower. I almost wanted to run outside and scream, but then I’d have to find my own way home with miserable Natanno lurking out there. Still, I didn’t have to let Valeo get his way so easily.

  I got the creeping sensation I’d been noticed. The noise was dying down and the musicians were setting down their pipes and string instruments. Faces flush with boozy cheer turned my way and fixed glazed stares at me. I lost my nerve again, spinning around to once again find myself blocked by my boulder-sized escort, who wrapped an arm around me protectively. Or maybe possessively. At least it offered a measure of comfort in this wicked place. I looked up at that unhandsome face, and it grinned back at me.

  “They’re staring at me,” I said.

  “Well, of course they are. That’s the whole point.”

  “There are prostitutes.”

  “They’re not the ones interested in you.”

  Honestly, the man made me fume. Maybe I should change my mind about him. Did he have to have a sarcastic reply for everything I said? Couldn’t he just kiss me again and shut up? I didn’t want to be kissed in front of this nasty bunch though. Just looking at them made me feel like I might catch something.

  Valeo nodded to a few men in the crowd and the music picked up again. What a shame I’d never, ever be able to share this with Amaniel. I’d never know the instant comfort of her shocked look, or her words of shared outrage and sympathy. She’d be much too angry with me to pat my arm or reassure me how awful I must’ve had it. Maybe I would tell her anyway. The shocked look had to be worth it.

  I glanced down at the rickety chair he’d led us to and wondered if it would snag a hole in my dress. Before I could move, Valeo had plunked himself into it and patted his lap. There didn’t seem to be another chair anywhere, so with as many frowns and grimaces as I could muster in one small instant, I plopped into his lap and then did my best to ignore him. I pushed away the arms that wrapped around my middle, but he just laughed. What was so funny? I turned to scold him but he’d buried his face in my neck and was making soft “mmmm” noises. He gazed up at me with eyes that suddenly seemed much bigger and browner and rounder and—if I didn’t know him any better—almost adoring.

  Maybe he needed me to stomp his foot again. He seemed to sense my unease and held my head to his shoulder and murmured into my ear. “It’s alright. My brave Hadara. My naughty, thieving, law-breaking girl.”

  I made a sad face and puckered my lower lip. “So have I made it up to you yet? We can go home now, right?”

  Valeo chuckled. “Not even close,” he joked. “Though you’re on my good side for being the prettiest woman here.”

  I glanced around at the other women. “But they’re all … you know.”

  I sighed. A lot of these women would be patients in the sick ward tomorrow with welts and bruises after their customers sobered up and got all pious again. I then had a thought that made my stomach do a somersault.

  “You don’t do this, do you?” I said. “Patronize these prostitutes? Send them to the sick ward?”

  Valeo jerked back, his brow instantly crinkling darkly. “No. I don’t. I’m with the company I prefer.”

  “And …”

  “And let’s try to enjoy ourselves.”

  “Can we go yet?”

  Too late. A Feroxi threaded his way among the tables toward us. He pushed a man off a chair at the table next to us, dragged the seat to our table, and dropped into it. His graying blond hair framed a square-jawed face and cold blue eyes. I’d seen that stare before.

  Valeo nodded toward the man. “Commander.”

  The commander called to a woman carrying a tray of bottles. “Over here.”

  Like that, it was done, and a lopsided bottle and three battered tin cups were set before us. I wondered if he ordered his own mother around like that. Probably.

  He spoke in Fernai. I pretended not to understand.

  “Make up your mind whether you love her or hate her,” the commander said. He didn’t even look at me. “I have fifty coppers riding on the outcome.”

  Valeo picked up the bottle, poured two cups, and handed one to the other man. “When I set my mind to something, you’ll know.”

  He took a sip and leaned back. They were sizing each other up, that much I gat
hered, but why? Didn’t they already know each other? Maybe men are such unknowable creatures that even other men can’t figure them out.

  The commander smirked and leaned toward us, speaking in a conspiratorial hush, still in Fernai. “She’s trouble. I know it, you know it.” He glared at me, as if daring me to contradict him. He couldn’t know I understood his language, so I sat wordless and wide-eyed.

  Valeo shifted under me to bring his own face close to the commander’s and answered in Fernai as well. “Nihil has something of mine, and I have something of his. It’s a fair trade, isn’t it?”

  I managed to keep the smile frozen on my face, glancing from one to another as they spoke, pretending my heart wasn’t pounding in my ears. Pretending I was a sweet little thing who had no idea I was the subject of a chilling, under-the-breath chat. What did Nihil have of Valeo’s? Maybe dragging him to the warehouse had put him in more danger than I realized.

  The commander sipped from his cup and regarded me again. “She’s not his, exactly. Though he could change his mind. Iana’s dying, remember, and he won’t save her. He’ll be needing his next wife soon.”

  “He has thousands of willing women to pick from.” Valeo drained his cup, which reeked of something strong and bitter, then refilled it. “Tens of thousands.”

  The commander shrugged and continued. “Or he could change his mind the other way and you could find yourself with a blasphemer on your lap. That’d be my preference, by Nihil’s whims and wishes.”

  “I know your preference, with all due respect.”

  The commander narrowed his eyes at Valeo. “You didn’t see yourself in that sick ward. Or the other men. My men. Drooling and pissing yourselves, raving about some golden-eyed prophetess.”

  “The Gek did that.” Valeo’s voice held firm. “Nihil’s made everything right for once.”

  “Nihil’s not here.”

  “But the Azwans are.”

  The commander kept quiet for a long moment, swirling his cup and staring from me to Valeo and back again. It was the same disapproving glare from when I’d first met him. Mami and I had helped the Azwans locate the meteorite in the swamp, where the cold-blooded Gek people were keeping it. I’d squished into his boat on the way back from the swamp and had squirmed under the ruthlessness of that same iron gaze.