“An arrogant arse?” the Parliamentarian suggested.
“Assertive,” Eld growled. “Gods, woman, she nearly killed herself trying to please you all. Your supply-chain efficiency doubled and was still climbing until the fire happened.”
“Until it all burned to the ground, aye,” she said, arching an eyebrow.
That’s where it had all fallen apart. He’d been on board with Buc’s plans till then. After, everything had changed. The streets were beginning to run red with blood and that warehouse had been the start, somehow, even if none could see it but him. For a moment he was back there, smoke tearing at his lungs, burning his eyes, the heat of the flames beginning to melt the bottoms of his boots. She was trapped beneath broken barrels, with the tonnes of sugar above, waiting to ignite. There’d been a child in her arms and Eld only had strength enough to carry one of them. If she knew that … Then again, if she knew half of what had happened that night—
“Eld?”
He shook himself free of the memory, though he could still smell the harsh scent of ash in his nostrils, and looked up to find the Parliamentarian studying him intently.
“Leave the girl aside. She’s not going to be in the painting for much longer, aye? Tell me the truth about Chan Sha and that artifact—I know”—she waved a hand, jewelry flashing—“you don’t know much. I can help you craft the little you do know and ensure the proper ears hear it. Do that and the blades will be sheathed.”
“Th-th-thanks,” Eld said slowly. “But what do you mean, Buc won’t be around for much longer?”
“Oh, that?” The Parliamentarian chuckled. “The Chair’s going to have her sent to the Northern Wastes on some half-arsed business venture. Like those frozen savages have enough coin to rub together to make it worth our time.”
“When is she leaving?” Eld asked above the pounding of his heart.
“As soon as is practicable,” the Parliamentarian said. “Likely as soon as the Doga’s Masquerade is over and the ice floes north of the Free Cities thaw.”
Midwinter’s Day. That explained why Buc was in such a rush. Where did Sin fit into this? Eld had come to the Parliamentarian hoping to wile out an answer or lead that he could track down, but all he had were more questions. Foremost, why hadn’t Buc told him she was leaving?
* * *
“Follow the carriage?” Govanti asked.
“Aye,” Eld told him. “Buc taught me not to trust anyone, but especially those that seem to have no reason at all to lie.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” the boy said, wiggling the bridge of his broken nose.
“She said it was because the ones whose motives we don’t understand are the most dangerous of all. Hang back, I’m not asking you to eavesdrop, but find out where she goes before she returns to her palazzo and who comes to see her afterward.”
“She won’t know I’m tailing her,” Govanti promised. “Buc knows I’m helping you? I’m loyal,” he added quickly.
“Good lad,” Eld said, clapping him on the back. “We both know you’re loyal. I’ll make sure she knows,” he added. Once I know what the Parliamentarian knows about the artifact. And who else knows as well. Eld watched Govanti disappear into the crowd and headed for the canal where Joffers was waiting. Then I’ll ask her why she’s leaving me. After she’s safe.
25
“Are you going to drink your tea?”
“What?” I asked, looking up from my lap.
Straight into the unfamiliar face of a woman who wore too much makeup, given how clear her sun-browned complexion was. Her hair was pulled back in braids wrapped up and around her head in a spiraled fashion so that it formed a cone, adding a hand of height to her. A drop of oil from the pile of locks gleamed brightly on the shoulder of the black jacket she wore, everything midnight save for the bright mage’s medallion that hung from her neck. My eyes moved past her and the three other Sin Eaters sitting around the tea table to take in my surroundings. The outside wall looked like it was made of perfectly transparent glass, but I’d seen this place from the outside before and knew that out there, looking in, the wall was seemingly opaque. The clear-from-this-side wall let in what little light there was, given that a storm was smashing rain into the window with a ferocity even more intense, because the thick glass muted the sounds of the storm’s ire. Servants lined the opposite, grey wall, where a black door stood slightly ajar.
Sin had told me of Sin Eaters’ sanctums, tucked away in their shrines, and everything I saw told me that’s where I was. With no memory of how I’d got there or what had come before or how I remembered what the wall looked like from the outside. My mind whirled.
“Your tea,” the woman said, showing perfectly even teeth when she smiled. Her dark eyes searched mine. “It’s going to go cold if you don’t drink it soon.”
I reached out and picked up the cup, glancing down at my lavender jacket, freshly pressed, which meant I hadn’t slept in it. I’d worn a crimson one the day before, so I’d been home and changed. The cup was cool to the touch; I’d been here some time, then. And no notion of what I’d said or done in that time. Godsdamn it.
“Too late.” I raised the cup. “I may just have to have another,” I said, politeness strange on my tongue but not as strange as all the rest I felt. “If you don’t mind?”
“Of course not.” She waved a hand and one of the servants, in grey-and-gilt livery, stepped forward to pour. The four Sin Eaters, two men and two women, stared at me and I smiled politely back, feeling like a prize idiot and wondering if this was how Eld felt all the time.
Eld. Memories flooded in: the woman with the crossbow who’d tried to murder us. Whom I’d killed. Fulsia. I’d set out to confirm Fulsia’s information while Eld had gone … where? I couldn’t remember if I’d confirmed anything or not or if he’d come home last night—or if I had, for that matter. Though my clothes made me think I had.
“Let me guess, Sin,” I muttered mentally. “No fucking recollection either?”
“None, Buc,” he whispered, and I’d never heard him sound so unsure. “Just that it’s getting worse, this memory problem. I really think it’s related to Possession and—”
“I know what you think,” I told him. “We’re going to have a chat soon, you and I, about the past few days. First things first, though: What in the Gods’ names are we doing here and how do we get out?”
“They want to talk.”
“Obviously.”
“Last time they came to your palazzo, now they brought you into the center of their power on the island. Which means they don’t believe what you told them before,” Sin said. “Don’t drink the tea and whatever you do, don’t make it obvious you have me or they’ll know and then things will go down quicker than an overweighted barge in the Grand Canal at storm tide.”
“I’d have thought you’d be the first to urge me to out myself,” I said.
“To the Goddess, aye, but to her servants? We’re all loyal to her, Buc, but some of us have funny ideas about how to best serve her.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning they might decide the best way to serve her is to off you and bring what’s left of me back to rejoin her.”
“So: figure out why we’re here, don’t let these Sin Eaters know I’ve a Sin of my own that’s not like theirs, and get us out in one piece,” I muttered. “Got it.”
“Good lass.”
“Fuck you,” I told him.
“Thank you,” I said aloud. “Now, where were we?”
“You were just about to stop obfuscating and tell us what became of Chan Sha and the Ghost Captain,” one of the men growled. “Jesmin may have time for your games, I do not.”
“Katal means well,” Jesmin told me, shooting him a glare.
“I mean,” the man continued, his white eyebrows bouncing up and down against his dark skin as he spoke, “that we know you’re not dumb, girl, so don’t play the confused, unsure child with us.”
“And in return?” Jesmin prompte
d.
“And in return, we’ll ask the Chair to work with you directly,” Katal added, his tone implying that he considered this a great boon.
I said as much. “If that’s your sales pitch, I’m not sure why the Dead Gods are so worried about losing worshippers.”
The other man barked a laugh and Katal turned his glaring, eyebrow-wriggling stare on him. Jesmin sighed and tugged at her medallion absently. “What Katal means is that when the Chair requests our services, for communication, counsel, and the like, we’ll agree only if you serve as intermediary.”
“I’m sure the Chair will love that,” I muttered. “You ever hear that woman take an order?”
“It will be a suggestion,” Jesmin said with a grin, showing her even teeth again. “From what I understand, the Chair has no love for you now, so what is the expression your people have? The ship that sails?” She shrugged. “If that ship has sailed, then so be it, better that you command a gondola than nothing at all, no?”
“Tell her the rest,” Katal said after a moment. Jesmin gave him another exasperated look, then complied.
“If you don’t give us what we need, then we’ll do the reverse, tell the Chair we’ll not work with the Kanados Trading Company until you’re removed and thrown out on your skinny arse.”
“You know,” I said slowly, “I used to think that Ciris ran the Company. It’s one of scores of rumors about the kan trade and the Company, but it seemed plausible.”
I picked up my tea and brought it to my lips, Sin hissed a warning, and I smiled and took a sip. Your job is to protect me, so do it. Shard of a God or no, if he was losing his powers, he was of no use to me and I needed to know that sooner rather than later.
“Then I got on the Board and realized they’re too fractured to be run by any one God or Goddess and the Chair wouldn’t allow it even if they weren’t.”
“There’s no poison,” Sin said.
“Small miracles and all that,” I muttered mentally.
“I confess myself disappointed. I expected better than cold tea and empty threats,” I said. I let the smile touch my eyes, taking them all in, and tried to keep my pulse steady. I didn’t need the Sin Eaters’ charity; I’d already found a way out of the Chair’s trap—maybe—via the Doga. Only they don’t know that. I hoped.
“You’re not the first to ask me of the summer, and I’ve nothing to hide, so I’ll tell you the truth,” I lied.
“So you said at summer’s end, when we spoke last,” Katal snapped.
“We verified some elements of your story, Buc,” Jesmin said slowly, “but others are less certain.”
“You lied, girl,” Katal said baldly. “I don’t want to hear more lies. Tell us what you told them.”
“Them?” I asked, feigning confusion.
“The Shamble Gods,” Jesmin said, her lips pulled back to show her teeth.
“I don’t know what you think you’ve learned, but of course I’ll tell you what I told them,” I said after a moment. Another lie. I’d three versions of events, four if the honest one counted, and told each one to different audiences, depending on the occasion. This being an especially special one, I chose the story that painted Chan Sha in the colors of both hero and traitor.
“… I’d ferreted out that he was heading to the next group of islands over and I brought word back to Chan Sha, in return for her freeing Eld. Deal was, I told the pirate where the one who killed her crew went and she’d help us kill said person. Then she played me false.”
“She wasn’t one to lie,” Jesmin said.
“I don’t know that she out and out lied,” I explained, “she just did some obfuscation of her own. She freed Eld, but when she lit out after the Ghost Captain she left us both marooned on the island with Bar’ren and his people.”
“Then what happened?” Katal asked, his glower growing deeper.
“Search me.” I shrugged. “She left with two canoes full of islanders. Only one canoe returned, with half its hull missing. No Chan Sha. No Ghost Captain. Just a lot of islanders as happy as pigs in shit, and that happiness bought us our freedom.”
“Say it plain,” Katal growled.
“The Ghost Captain had been ‘recruiting’ their people. He’d swoop down, kill a few, and turn them into Shambles. Taking my word of where he was, Chan Sha killed him and, they said, disappeared in the process of doing so.”
“That’s it?” Jesmin asked.
“For those two, aye. Eld and I commandeered, er, borrowed, a ship of Normain and sailed straight back to Servenza. We told the Board and the Chair our stories, paid our dues, and the rest”—I drank the tea in a single swallow and set down the cup, smacking my lips—“is history.”
“I don’t believe her,” Katal said in the silence that followed.
“Tell her, not me,” Jesmin said.
“I don’t believe you,” Katal said, leaning forward. His dark eyes pierced mine. “Say it again, using different words.”
“The problem with you mages is you think we’re all intimidated.” I pushed myself up from the table. “Now, you didn’t try to poison me and I didn’t try to kill you, but I’m not going to repeat the truth over and over again to placate your paranoia. You’ve heard it twice and that’s more than enough to ascertain the veracity of my claims.”
I straightened my jacket, feeling the weight of my slingshot inside. With Sin I could fire off half a dozen shots in a breath or two, and if this went south I was going to need that kind of firepower. That repeating crossbow would have come in handy right about now. Must be sitting back in my room and a damn lot of good it’s doing me there.
“So get to ascertaining, but I’ll not be repeating my story again.” Unless someone else asks. “Tea’s good,” I told Jesmin. “Little sweet for my taste.”
“Another cuppa?”
“Another time,” I said, moving before Jesmin could stand. “I’ve other engagements, though this has been lovely, I assure you, thanks to Katal’s great conversation.”
The man’s frown deepened when the other three all laughed. When you’re surrounded by vipers the only way out is measured steps and no sudden movements, or they’d strike. Fuck it.
“You know what you didn’t ask?” My question caught them off guard, Jesmin still laughing.
“What island I sent Chan Sha haring off to. Either you already know, in which case this really was an epic fucking waste of my time, or”—I dragged the word out—“you aren’t half as clever as you think you are.” Jesmin had stopped laughing and Katal looked as if he were going to be sick. I shrugged. “You know where to find me if you want the location. And now I know my price.”
I turned to leave, fixing a look on my face I’d seen Salina use with servants other than her own, and one of the Sin Eaters’ servants slid away from the wall and opened the door for me. “Take me to my man,” I said, hoping Joffers was waiting. The woman bowed her head and led the way. I followed, the sound of the door shutting drowned out by my heartbeat throbbing in my ears. I’m losing my mind.
* * *
“The girl’s story supports what the Parliamentarian said,” Katal growled after the annoying brat had left and the servants had been dismissed. He smacked the table with his palm. “The last report we had from Chan Sha was obtuse at best.”
“I stand by what I told Buc,” Jesmin said, her voice smooth, but her eyes told the truth. She was just as worried as he was. “Chan Sha wasn’t one to lie.”
“She fooled an entire pirate’s crew for the better part of three years,” Wuxu said, her angled eyes dark and troubled. “That took not-inconsiderable skill. Alone, a thousand leagues from her priesthood, and without contact with the Goddess?”
“You Cordobans never trust anyone,” Jesmin said. “Least of all other Cordobans.”
The short woman shrugged.
“There are three possibilities,” the fourth member of the group spoke at last. “First”—he held up a finger—“the artifact was never recovered and waits for us to recov
er it. Second”—he raised another finger—“Chan Sha recovered the artifact and chose not to return.”
They all winced. None had ever betrayed Her before. It was impossible. Easy, Katal. Of course, it is … but we don’t know what the Ghost Captain did to her. His Sin’s voice, high and melodic like wind through chimes, soothed him.
“Or third,” Katal said, finishing Vodal’s list, “Chan Sha died with the Ghost Captain and that girl and her partner took the artifact.”
“Unlikely,” Vodal replied. “Ciris said it would be as if Sin entered her and who amongst us ever resisted Sin? If the girl took the artifact, she would have been compelled to find Ciris.”
“Perhaps, but who amongst us didn’t choose to have our Sin?” Wuxu said. “We went through the trials required to earn the right to serve the Goddess. Who knows what might happen to someone who did not?”
“It matters not,” Katal growled. “You heard her words.”
They all nodded. It wasn’t a question.… The Goddess had spoken to all of them through their Sins and they’d felt her all-encompassing need. Whatever the artifact had been when it had lain forgotten in the haunted isles of the Shattered Coast, now that it had been found, it was a weapon. But one to help Ciris or hurt her? Katal’s thought made his Sin shiver.
“We must proceed as if all three options are correct.”
“The girl holds the key to all three,” Vodal said.
“We can no longer afford to wait,” Wuxu agreed.
“If we move against her openly—” Jesmin whispered.
“Imagine if the Dead Gods actually found the artifact and weaponized it?” Vodal said.
As Katal opened his mouth to reply, a presence filled him, exploding through every bone and vein in his body in a wave of unending, unceasing light, an orgasmic joy that nearly obliterated his mind. His consciousness was subsumed; he saw himself from above and knew that he was dead, Katal sacrificed so that his Goddess could speak. She was him and he was Her.
“Vodal and Wuxu will leave this very hour to find the man named Bar’ren and the natives that helped our Chan Sha.” It was Katal’s mouth that moved, but the voice that came forth was ancient, a lilting accent foreign to his tongue that made his lips crack. Through the slits of his narrowed eyes he could see the others writhing in ecstasy and agony as Her words fell over them.
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