A soldier slams the door shut and locks it. The windows are small—too small to allow a full-grown man egress. Now that the prince is closed into the carriage, a dozen hostlers lead up horses for the guards. A quad climbs up to ride on the carriage, while the rest mount up on the horses.
Matsin has paused, watching as the captain leading the escort calls a command. The guards start forward, the carriage rattling over the pavers and through the wide gates, carrying the foreign prince with it. There’s a deep relief in seeing the carriage disappear beyond the gates. I don’t doubt Kestrin has arranged for the prince to be taken far beyond our borders.
“Still here, kelari?” Matsin asks, having turned back to me.
“Yes.” I nod, gather myself. My foot is hurting no more than it usually does when blistered, and my wounded arm only twinges slightly when I move it. No need to delay any longer.
I take a step forward and something twirls past my face, pale as a rosebud, and then flits sideways to land on my shoulder. I blink, turning my head to see a tiny white-breasted bird, its wings pink and its beak decidedly laughing. Not a rosebud at all.
There’s something strange about it though, its eyes dark but not bright. I’m used to birds eyeing things with a sort of liveliness about them, shrewd and aware. This bird is not. Even the slight opening of its beak—what I had initially taken as avian good humor—seems hollow and somewhat unnerving.
It’s not alive. My stomach gives a sickening lurch and I reach to flick the thing from my shoulder before my mind registers that I might not want to touch it. The dead-eyed bird takes flight before I can, though, whirling around and landing on my other shoulder.
I freeze, staring. My thoughts fly to the dead horse’s head speaking from the grave. Is this the same or different? What sort of spell would do this? And what does it want with me? The thing hops once and lets out a single-toned chirp, like a bell.
“What is that?” Matsin asks, staring at the not-bird. “It’s not natural, is it?”
“No.” I flap a hand at it. If it takes off again, I can attempt to make a run for it. Instead of flying, it tilts its head and then spreads its wings, leaping from my shoulder to land on the back of my hand. “Oh!” I jerk my hand back and the bird flattens, its feathers smoothing and its limbs going stiff. It tumbles past the backs of my fingers to the ground, and there it remains, a folded bit of paper, pale against the stone pavers.
Paper.
I rub the back of my hand as if to wipe away the feel of the not-creature on my skin. Matsin reaches down and picks up the paper. It faintly resembles a bird even now, folds for beak and wings apparent. He turns it over, and there on one corner are written the words open here.
“I think,” he says, raising his eyes to mine, “you had better read this.”
It’s mage-sent, that much is clear. I take the paper, grateful that it doesn’t revert to feathers and beak and dead eyes again. I touch the unfamiliar script, and then follow its directions to unfold the paper bird into a single thin square bearing a message.
Kelari Amraeya,
I have attempted to trace your friend. I’m afraid I cannot pinpoint her precise location, even with what you provided me. I can tell you this: she is still here, in this city. If my estimates are correct, and I believe they are, she is right now near the river docks. Unfortunately, I cannot work past the wards that guard her enough to tell you where exactly she shelters, whether within a boat or a building.
I hope that this information is of some use to you.
When you have finished with this note, fold it over once and order it to “Fly away home.”
Adept Midael, the Cormorant
I stare at the words. Kirrana’s in the city. At the docks.
“Kelari?” Matsin glances from the paper to me.
I hold the letter tight in my hand, my heart stuttering with hope. “We have a lead.”
Chapter
49
The moment I walk into the attendants’ suite, Jasmine looks up and says, “The princess wants you. She said to send you in whenever you returned.”
I thank her and turn around to head straight to Alyrra’s rooms. She must have read my letter at last.
Alyrra is getting ready for lunch, but she sends a page for Kestrin at once. While a maid puts the finishing touches on Alyrra’s hair, I pour myself a cup of tea from the pot sitting on a side table and snag a pair of biscuits. I never had breakfast and I don’t know if I’ll manage lunch, so I’ll take what I can find now.
As soon as the maid departs, Alyrra turns to me. “Any news about your friend?”
I swallow the last of my biscuit. “We have a lead. I need your help, zayyida. We believe she’s being held on a boat at the docks. We need to be able to search for her.”
“I’ll see it done. Tell me everything.”
By the time Kestrin and Garrin arrive a quarter of an hour later, Alyrra has heard my story and briefed me on how to retell it once everyone has gathered. At her request, Kestrin dispatches a page for Verin Melkior, the lord high marshal of Menaiya, and sends for Captain Matsin as well, who has already requested permission to report in.
Melkior bears the power of his authority in his very person, tall and broad shouldered, his hair just starting to gray. When he enters the room, his bow to the royals seems almost a favor granted them rather than their due. Matsin enters just behind him.
I wait as everyone settles into place, trying not to fidget. I cannot push this meeting to move any faster than the royals wish. The royal guard doesn’t have the authority to stop a merchant ship—for that, we need the river guard, which falls under Melkior’s jurisdiction. Thankfully, the disappearance of a tax office employee falls under him as well, which means Matsin has already made him aware of Kirrana’s case.
Finally, Kestrin asks Matsin for his report. He provides a concise summary of Kirrana’s disappearance and what has been learned in the intervening hours.
“I fail to see why this concerns all of us,” Melkior says heavily. “It’s a worry, of course, but the girl and her father were out at night and clearly set upon by some shady characters. We will try to locate her, but I don’t see any reason to believe she was taken because of whatever special case you had her working on.”
“She was investigating the snatchers, as they are called,” Alyrra says steadily. “Slavers.”
Melkior raises his brows. “Yes, I understand that you are concerned about them, zayyida, however small their actual presence might be. But how would they have known of this girl’s involvement? There is no reason to believe they are at work here.”
However small? No reason? Does he mean to imply that her abduction was a chance coincidence? That the men who took her meant only to—to assault her? Even if that were true, how is that any less concerning?
Kestrin frowns. “The girl was warded against traces within hours of her abduction. That would imply more than a random attack. Wards that can stand against a trace are carefully controlled by the Circle, are they not?”
Melkior nods grudgingly. “Too much opportunity for misuse. The Circle rarely issues them. Very well, then, there’s a chance there’s more at play. We have no leads on where the girl might be, though, unless you, Captain, have uncovered anything further.”
“Not me, verin,” Matsin says, nodding toward me. “Kelari Amraeya requested aid from . . . a mage of her acquaintance.”
My fingers itch at the thought of the paper bird. I’ve already sent it back to the Cormorant. If I want to be able to call on him or Stonemane again, I must protect their identities now. Which means not having anything to hand over should I be so ordered.
“What did you learn, then, kelari?” Melkior demands.
I take a breath. “In confidence, I asked a mage known to me to try to bypass the wards blocking Kirrana from being traced. They were not altogether successful, but they sent word that she is somewhere near the docks.”
“Somewhere?” Melkior shakes his head. “That hardly narrow
s down her location.”
“I suspect she would be on a galley operated by Berenworth Trading Company, based on the research she completed. It’s possible we are wrong; we didn’t manage to find conclusive evidence. But the fact that the trace succeeding in narrowing down her location to the docks leads me to believe that a search of the ships would be worthwhile.”
Melkior huffs. “A fine idea, kelari. But every decision has its ramifications. We can certainly search all of Berenworth’s ships, but that will undoubtedly cause significant loss for the company, and it’s unclear that it’s necessary. This girl could be anywhere at the docks, and there’s no certainty that she’s on a ship at all. To punish the whole company”—Melkior shrugs—“that could be construed as excessive.”
Excessive? Unnecessary? I open my mouth to argue. Matsin clears his throat, shaking his head at me once. Melkior looks inquiringly toward him, then back to the royals. I take Matsin’s cue and wait for Alyrra to respond. But she doesn’t; instead she flicks a single glance at Garrin, then looks back at Melkior as if in thought.
Kestrin sighs, and it is finally enough to prod Garrin to sit forward. “I believe that in this case we might consider it a necessary investigation. We’ve been focused on the thieves in the city, but if the rumors of children being snatched are actually true, then this warrants an equal focus. If the girl can’t be found—if there is nothing at all being hidden—then let it fall to me to manage the merchants’ displeasure.”
Melkior considers Garrin. “You may have less to lose, verin, but a single note of concern from an unnamed mage hardly constitutes the sort of evidence one should accept to close down our docks.” Melkior turns to Kestrin. “Zayyid, we endanger our merchant class by impounding boats over rumors and a single girl gone missing.”
Alyrra tilts her head. “One would think we might also be endangering the common folk by ignoring their pleas and what evidence we do come across that such rumors are not grounded in falsehood. You forget, verin, but I lived among the people, and I asked you about the snatchers before I ever returned to the palace. I have no doubt that the problem is an epidemic where you see only a few incidents. We have this chance to investigate. It must not be squandered.”
“No,” Kestrin agrees. “Garrin has the right of it. Melkior, if you will send your men with Captain Matsin, together they can inspect the boats at the docks at once. If we find no further evidence, then the boats will be released, and the captains and crew will have lost no more than an afternoon. If, however, we find that at least one of them carries a shipment of children, then the crew must be brought in for questioning.”
“I should like to go alone,” Garrin says. “I’ll take my own men to see to my safety, but I think it best that I be there to assuage any of the galley captains’ concerns.”
“And I as well,” I say, before the moment can slip away.
“What?” Garrin says blankly as the others stare. “You?”
“Yes, verin. Kirrana may answer to my voice where she might not to those of unknown men.”
“A merchant galley’s hold is hardly a place for a lady,” Garrin says. “Nor are the docks.”
“Then it is just as well I am a horse rancher’s daughter. I would help search for my friend, verin. I will stay out of your way; I will not hinder your men. But I must be there.”
He considers me, his eyes narrowed, and I cannot tell what he is thinking. Alyrra doesn’t speak, and Melkior just shakes his head. Finally, Garrin says, “As you wish, kelari. Let us only hope we do not meet with any trouble.”
Chapter
50
It takes more time than I would like for Melkior to send out orders, and for Garrin’s men to assemble alongside Matsin and his quad in the front courtyard. I wait inside the first of a pair of carriages: one for Garrin, and one for me, given that I shouldn’t ride alone with him. I shouldn’t have been alone with a handful of fighting men either, but that’s somehow less noteworthy. Palace folk have an interesting way of assessing propriety. I suppose all the noblewomen go places alone with their guards now and then.
Finally, Garrin arrives and we set off. I check my calf sheath as we leave the palace, but my bone knife is still safely in place. I take a moment to assess the magic-sealed cut in my arm as well: it’s healing well, the glimmer of magic nearly gone, the scar tissue showing through where the scabs have fallen away. It’s still tender, but it hasn’t leaked even a drop of blood in days. My turned foot is tender but the last of the blisters from the wedding procession have either burst or drained. They aren’t infected, at least, and should heal up well enough. And the bruise on my cheek has faded to a mottled yellow, barely visible, in large part thanks to the healer-mage’s aid. I may be a bit roughed up around the edges, but I’m holding together.
When we arrive at the docks, the head warden with his resplendent mustache comes out to meet Garrin. I step down to join the conversation, glancing around once for any sign of Bren. I sent his page with a second message for him, letting him know we were going to the docks. Given his last interaction with Matsin, I told him not to join us, that I was only informing him of my movement because I didn’t want a lecture. Although, truthfully, I want him to know where to search for Kirrana as well, in case he can do something the guards cannot.
Thankfully, though, there’s no sign of Bren just now. The head warden bows to me, recognition flashing in his eyes, but he focuses his conversation on Garrin. Within a few minutes, we know which of the three Berenworth galleys docked will leave next.
“Verin,” Matsin calls. We turn to find him approaching in company with nearly a dozen river guards. “Allow me to introduce Captain Diara. She has received Verin Melkior’s orders and will lead the soldiers performing the search.”
The captain at his side proffers us a bow, a polite smile on her lips and the gleam of intelligence in her eyes. “We are honored to be of service.”
“Very good,” Garrin says, his expression warming.
I smile, delighted to find a woman in command. I’ve seen only a few among the guards.
“I understand you wish to search The Silver Star. We’ll make quick work of it.”
“Excellent.” Garrin nods to me. “Kelari, if you’ll wait on the docks, I’ll rejoin you once we’ve gained access to the holds.”
I dip my head. I promised not to interfere, and I’ll adhere to that for the time being.
Diara has brought a pair of quads with her. They follow behind as she and Garrin walk up the dock to where The Silver Star is moored. Matsin orders his quad to stay with me, and continues on after the others.
I station myself a few paces from the gangplank, aware of the quad arrayed silently around me, as if I were at immediate risk of attack. Their weapons are sheathed, but there’s no way anyone would think of bothering me regardless.
I turn my attention to the ship. It’s a wide-bottomed river galley. From the boys Bren stole free from the brickmaker, I know the single-level hold is where the snatched will be hidden. Will Kirrana be there? Or am I wrong, every coincidence of proof I’ve attempted to gather lined up incorrectly, so that we will be searching the wrong boat? There are a dozen here; if we search the wrong one, then the true criminals will have the chance to escape, taking Kirrana with them. But I don’t have anything else to go on.
I stare at the slim mast with its sails tied up, the green-and-white pennants flapping in the light spring breeze. There are a few men on deck, busy with whatever work it is a boat such as this needs. It hardly seems possible that people might be held captive beneath their feet.
As I watch, Garrin strides forward to meet the captain of the galley, nodding to the man’s bow. They speak for a few minutes, the captain frowning and then nodding and gesturing to the lower level where the rowers would sit. No doubt the hatch to the hold is there.
They move forward together, the soldiers first and then the captains and lord, disappearing from view. I wait what feels like an eternity, my eyes going from The Silver Star
to the other galleys, the warehouses behind the docks, the houses built out along the edge of the opposite bank.
One of the soldiers beside me clears his throat. I glance back quickly to see that the party has emerged from the hold. My breath catches as I scan them, but Kirrana isn’t among their number. There’s no one new there at all.
No.
I step forward without realizing I’m moving.
“Kelari?” one of the soldiers asks.
“We’re going on deck,” I say tightly. “I intend to look as well.”
The soldiers don’t argue, though I sense the look they exchange among themselves. It’s not their place to stop me, though.
I pause before the gangplank, remembering how easily Diara traversed it, how Matsin stepped right across it. The boat bobs at its moorings. It’s steady enough for someone who is used to such things, but I’m not—either steady myself, or used to these things.
But if Kirrana is hidden on that boat, I’m not going to let this stop me. I step onto it, limping my way across. I have only one moment, when the boat dips just as I take another step with my turned foot, and the plank isn’t where I expect it. I throw out my arms, wavering, and then my feet take my weight again and I continue on, aware of the guards tensed behind me, watching.
By the time I step on deck, Garrin and the captains have all come up to it, as if waiting patiently for me to finish crossing. I raise my chin, aware of the faint warmth of my cheeks.
“Kelari,” Diara says as they shift toward me. “Allow me to introduce Captain Grefan.”
The captain of The Silver Star is tall and graying with a sinewy, ropy look to him, all lean strength and hard living. I murmur a greeting and, because my ankle is still not quite steady after that dip, attempt a bow in the manner of Diara herself. It feels a hundred times more graceful than the best of my curtsies. Why did I never think of this myself?
The Theft of Sunlight Page 36