by Trudie Skies
She nodded. She wouldn’t report this to the Council yet, not with the Prince in charge in Solus.
Not until she’d discovered the truth.
They waited outside the Temple of Gai until Raj came with news. His green robes were smeared with blood and his curly hair flat with sweat.
“How is he?” she asked.
“He’ll live. But he may never be able to wield a sword again.”
Her heart sank. The Guardian of Gai had protected them, saved their lives, but at the cost of his hands and likely his title. “I hate to say it, but we can’t return to Solus yet.”
“What’s our next step?” Alistar asked.
The trail led north. Talin had warned her not to go chasing shadows, but these couldn’t be ignored. “Myryn.”
34
MYRYN
Two days of riding north and Mina left behind the Emerald Forest for the shimmering turquoise waters of the Neu Inlet coastline. The thick woods turned to palm trees, and a salty sea breeze replaced the damp heat, though the curious insects remained. Alistar fidgeted in his saddle the closer they travelled to his home, and his nervous excitement infected her. Raj had elected to stay behind and care for Lord Nazim, and she’d dragged Garr with them against Alistar’s protests. The remaining Gaisland Fire Walkers were still leaving for Arlent, and she didn’t trust Garr not to get in their way and sabotage their efforts.
Garr hadn’t complained of their sudden diversion north. If he’d wanted to murder her on this trip, he’d had ample opportunity. He’d seen her incompetence with blood fire, witnessed her fighting style. What was he waiting for? What was she waiting for? The real Garr. The one hidden behind that foolish smirk. Her Lunei instincts told her there was more to the Ash Maker than simply riling her friends.
Bronze boats bobbed alongside them. More dotted the horizon with a multitude of colorful sails. And before them on the coast, a marina the size of Solus came into view. It was like no Sandarian city Mina had ever visited. Because it wasn’t Sandarian.
It was Neu Bosan.
Half of the city seemed to be built right on top of the Neu Inlet’s waters. Unlike the stoic gray stone of Grenai or the comforting sandstone of Solus and Khalbad, Myryn’s buildings and homes were made from wood and sat on thick, moss-painted stilts, allowing the inlet’s waters to slosh underneath. But these weren’t simple wooden shacks. Some were tall like townhouses, with rooves that curved with upswept eaves or pointed to the skies like the bow of a ship. Seashells of blues, yellows, and greens decorated the walls in mosaics of waves and stars. And in place of decorative Sandarian linens and pottery were netting, bunting, and green flags bearing the three-pointed star of Neu Bosa.
“It’s not much, but it’s home,” Alistar said.
Mina gasped aloud. “It looks—”
“Flammable,” Garr said.
Alistar scowled. “You’re not setting foot anywhere near those buildings. Whilst we’re here, you can stay in the Temple of Rahn.”
“Why do I have to be locked away inside the temple?”
“Because it’s made of stone.”
Garr pointed to a building covered in bunting. “That’s made of stone.”
“That’s a tavern.”
“So? You’re not in charge. She is.” Garr turned to her with mock innocence. “Give me a bag of gold and I’ll keep myself out of trouble, Priestess. I swear on my father’s grave.” He placed his hand over his heart and fluttered his eyelashes. “I stink of lavender and I’m itching in places no man should itch. I need a drink.”
She rolled her eyes and dug a pouch of coins from her sahn. “One drink. Any trouble from you, and the Sword of Solus himself will hunt you down and decorate the Keep with your rotting head.” She tossed a single sera into his outstretched hands.
Garr grinned and guided his horse to the tavern.
Alistar’s stare followed him all the way. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
“Would you rather he follow us to your home?”
“I’d rather you dropped him into the ocean.”
They left their horses at the city stables and made their way through the crowds. To her surprise, there were some Gaislanders and Duslanders among the sea of Neu Bosan, mostly wandering the docks as shiphands. Some of the Neu Bosan wore the flamboyant tunics of bright mismatched colors that were apparently common in their homeland, though most wore modest clothes no different from the street rats of Solus and chose to show off their Bosan colors in other ways—mostly tattoos on their cheeks, chests, or arms in the shape of serpents or stars. Some had even painted their lips and nails a lime green, including the men.
Alistar led her north and the buildings grew in size and extravagance. Bronze plating covered some of them, like the boats, and the glass lanterns hanging over the streets weren’t Sandarian in design. They passed Lune’s temple, which was made of stones and far more generously decorated in silver stars than was customary. The Temple of Gai was covered in pink flowering vines across the entirety its stone walls, so much so that it looked like a tree.
“Where’s the Temple of Rahn?”
“The lighthouse.” Alistar pointed beyond the docks to a stone tower separate from the city. There were no signs to indicate who lived inside, but the top burned bright with flame. “The Fire Walkers keep it lit so that boats can reach shore safely.”
She’d never known a lighthouse to act as a temple. Neu Bosan culture surely was different.
They approached a tall brass gate decorated in the banners of House Myrbond: lime green with a three-pointed star. The guards stationed outside were dressed in Sandarian scale armor, but carried the two-forked scimitar of Alistar’s House.
The guards bowed as Alistar walked past and he led her into his home.
House Myrbond. The exterior of the mansion was a mixture of Sandarian sandstone and light brown wood, with etched bronze panels like the Neu Bosan boats. The effect was rather cozy. A wide pond separated them from the rest of the courtyard, with a wooden bridge leading to the mansion.
“Wait here,” Alistar said. “I don’t want to drag you inside if my brothers are prowling.”
“Would it be so bad if I met them?”
“Yes. I’ll be a moment.” He jogged across the bridge and slipped inside the mansion.
She tucked her hands behind her back and peered into the pond. Golden fish the size of her arm swam in the shallows. Did Neu Bosan eat these?
Guards walked by on their patrols and ignored her. It felt like an hour before Alistar returned with a scroll clutched in his hand.
“My father’s in residence, but he’s entertaining some foreign guests. He’s invited us to come back for dinner. Just us. No Ash Maker.”
She tugged at her dirty sahn. “Like this?” She couldn’t turn down an invitation from the ambassador, but she didn’t carry any clean clothes.
Alistar’s cheeks reddened. “We can visit the market and get you something more suitable if, uh, you’d like. Speaking of…” He waved the scroll. “I couldn’t get into my father’s private records, but I dug out a list of merchant marks. Those bottles? They came from an apothecary in town.”
“This apothecary is smuggling Rahn’s Breath?”
“Maybe. I doubt my father knows.” He dug out a coin from his sahn. “Want to hit the stalls? My treat.” He flicked the coin at her.
She caught it and smirked. “Lead on, Myrbond.”
Alistar led her back to the docks. They pushed their way through the crowds of sailors returning home with their catch and tradesmen counting their coin. Neu Bosan families argued as they threw their belongings onboard ships, preparing for departure.
“They’re leaving for the isles,” Alistar said, following her eye. “No one wants to stay in case war reaches us, though it rarely does. There’s a lot of Sandair to conquer before the Hartnords reach Gaisland, and their ships don’t travel this far out.”
The atmosphere relaxed as they pas
sed the larger boats and came to a busier section of the docks. Even Alistar wore an easy smile and exchanged welcoming nods with those he recognized.
Canal boats bobbed peacefully in the waters, tethered to the docks. Hundreds of them. So many that Mina couldn’t see the inlet beneath. Some Neu Bosan sat atop their boats, either drying out linens or angling a fishing rod. Children hopped between the boats, chasing one another, and their laughter drowned out the gulls. Scents of mint tea and cooked fish rose from a nearby boat, and colorful windchimes clinked in the breeze. It was so Bosan it almost didn’t feel like she was still in Sandair.
Some of the boats were floating market stalls with canopies to keep out the flies. These almost seemed like a Sandarian market, except they bobbed to the gentle sway of water underneath her feet. Most offered a range of fruit, fish, grain, and cloth, and a few displayed foods she didn’t recognize.
“Is there not enough dirt around here to build a real market on?”
Alistar huffed a laugh. “Beware: my people are the best merchants in all Sandair. They’ll sell your own boots to you. The apothecary is somewhere in the middle.”
She shielded her eyes against the golden Rahnlight and squinted at the boats. “How do we get to it?”
“You hop.”
“Between the boats? Are you serious?”
Alistar leaped onto a merchant boat selling green silks. He grabbed a railing to steady himself as the boat rocked in the water, but neither he nor the Neu Bosan merchant seemed to care. “See? It’s easy.”
Hunting rogue Fire Walkers across Gaisland was nothing compared to climbing from boat to gods-damn boat. She’d hated Dustan Hawker’s boat back in Khalbad. The motion made her sick, and after she’d fallen off and almost drowned in the river, she held no desire to ever set foot on one of the floating deathtraps again. These boats were at least nestled so close together that the likelihood of drowning seemed slim, but the gods were surely testing her.
There were many times in her life when she’d felt truly uncomfortable: begging for food in the Temple of Gai, riding whilst covered in filth the first time Talin took her to Arlent, dealing with her bleed, suffering the rains of Lune’s Shadow, bowing before a certain pompous prince, receiving her Fire Walker tattoos, and this. This was one of those times.
Alistar held out his hand. “I’ll keep hold of you.”
Mina muttered a curse and grabbed his wrist. He hoisted her forward. The world shifted underneath her, but not like the shifting dunes of the Duslands. “Oh gods.” She stumbled into him, grabbing onto his sahn.
He wrapped an arm around her waist. “You’re fine.”
“Don’t let me go or I swear I’ll gut you.”
“You won the tournament and you’re scared of boats?” The silver stars of his brows crinkled with bemusement.
“I can’t fight a boat.”
She kept a firm grip of his wrist as he led her across another boat that sold barrels of brown rice. This too bobbed underneath her feet and she chewed her tongue to stop herself from unleashing a torrent of curses that would make Samira blush. Children hopped by and giggled as Mina stumbled like a drunken noblewoman.
As they jumped between boats, Alistar tried to explain what each merchant sold: potted plants, tea leaves, ginger root, coconuts, duck meat, pork buns, shrimp, and a pungent fish broth that was popular on the isles, so he said.
On the next boat Mina rested against a wooden railing. “Give me a moment,” she gasped.
“I could go back and get some ginger? That’s good for sickness.”
She tried to shake her head but gagged instead.
“Look.” He pointed to the center of the marina.
The floating stalls were all centered around three statues of serpents painted red, blue, and green, each as tall as a man. The same imagery repeated throughout Myryn and even the Neu Bosan quarter of Solus. “They’re Bosan gods, aren’t they?”
Alistar’s face lit up. “That’s right. They guard the different oceans of the world: the sea, the starsea in the sky, and the sagesea of our forests. And others like the sandsea of Sandair or the snowsea of Hartnor. We named our town after the first, Myr.”
His chatter was meant to distract her, and any other time she’d want to learn more, but it didn’t help. The motion of the boats and the intensity of the overlapping colors and smells made her stomach churn. She stared over the railing at the water sloshing underneath them.
A darkness rippled across the surface that wasn’t the natural swell of waves. Her inner embers stirred.
Shadows. There were Shadows under the boats.
Bodies lay at the bottom of the marina. They might have been sailors who died in shipwrecks or drowned by accident, though in a city as large as this, these poor souls could have been murdered and dumped where no one would find them.
She couldn’t help these Shadows, not without learning how to swim and burn underwater. But her presence could rouse them into forming wraiths, and if that happened, the entire marina was in danger. Wraiths could rip apart these boats in a heartbeat. Nor could she summon her fire and risk burning down the entirety of Myryn. She hung at the edge of a storm ready to break.
“We need to find that apothecary now.”
“It’s only a few boats farther in.”
There wasn’t any time to worry about her stomach, not when she could be leading wraiths to Neu Bosan homes and merchants. She followed Alistar’s lead and leaped to the next boat, and the next. Her boots slipped on the wood and the whole boat rattled.
Alistar grabbed her shoulder to steady her. “We’re here.”
The apothecary’s boat twinkled like a glittering gemstone among a sea of wood and bronze. Glass bottles of every shape, size, and color filled the shelves or dangled from the roof. A counter stocked with more bottles filled the center—including the familiar purple ones.
Hidden behind them sat a short Neu Bosan man. Two round glass orbs covered his eyes, an odd contraption she’d never seen anyone wear before. His attention remained fixed on a bottle he was polishing with a dirty rag, and he didn’t once look up at their arrival. Instead, he muttered a few words in his Neu Bosan language and continued his work.
“He says he doesn’t speak Sandarian,” Alistar translated.
“Convenient.” She drew Hawk and thrust the tip of her blade over the counter. “Do you speak Sandarian now?”
The man squealed and dropped his bottle with a crash. “Yes, yes, I speak it!”
“What are you doing?” Alistar said aghast.
“We don’t have time to be polite. There are wraiths under the boats.”
“Wraiths? Stars above.”
She kept her sword steady. “You sell Rahn’s Breath. Who did you sell it to?”
The man gripped the edge of his counter and the racks of bottles clinked together. “I don’t know what you’re speaking of—”
“Rahn’s Breath has been appearing in bottles with your merchant mark.” She stepped forward and lifted the curve of her blade close to the man’s cheek. “Who bought it?”
Alistar cursed and thumped his fist onto the counter. “Look, my Sandarian friend doesn’t play games. A merchant as well stocked as you must keep records, and you know the penalty for smuggling illegal contraband.” Then he spoke more words in Neu Bosan and flashed his sahn.
The man’s eyes opened wide, which through the glass orbs, looked comically large. “Yes, yes, I sold it! I beg you, lower your sword.”
Alistar nodded to her.
She sheathed Hawk. “Who did you sell it to? How many bottles? Spare no detail.”
“I—I sold them to a Water Bearer. Six of them. No more.”
Six bottles? “From the Temple of Lune? Are you sure?”
“Yes, yes. There’s nothing odd about that. They regularly buy potions, though I hadn’t seen her before. A young girl. New to the temple.”
“Why would a Water Bearer need Rahn’s Breath?”
“I don’t question my patrons—”
“You just sell deadly poisons to Sandarians for coin?”
“No, no, it’s not like that!” The man yanked up the glass orbs and rubbed his eyes. “It came into my stock by accident. I never ordered it, it’s not worth the risk. I wanted rid of it. The Water Bearer, she said she’d escaped from the isles for a better life and was being hounded by a Sandarian master who owned her contract. She needed something to protect herself from him, so I sold her my stock. That’s the truth of it.” He turned to Alistar. “I sold it to her. No one else.”
“I believe you,” Alistar said. “But that doesn’t make it right. These bottles have fallen into the wrong hands and caused harm. Why didn’t you destroy them?”
The man sank behind the counter. “I needed to recoup my losses.”
“Your losses!” she shouted. “People have been losing their lives—”
It was the sea that interrupted her, as if churned by her fury, and the boat lurched sharply. Water splashed over the side, and the blood bond tugged—not her House bond, but her inner embers, and the guiding hand of Lune urging her to reach out for the Shadows.
If a Shadow grabbed her here, it would likely drag her underneath the floating market and to her death. Even if she avoided its grasp, there were plenty of Neu Bosan trinkets to gather to itself and create a wraith, let alone the wooden planks of the boats themselves. She had many more questions for the merchant, and she wanted the satisfaction of watching the city guard drag him away after she’d gotten the answers, but that would have to wait.
“Ali, we need to go.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He skipped from one boat to another and she did her best to keep up.
The water bubbled underneath them, causing the boats to sway. Some of the Neu Bosan hissed in their language with curses she didn’t understand, but she didn’t mistake their tone.
“I’d never picture a Water Bearer as a killer,” Alistar said as he pulled her onto a fisherman’s boat.
No, neither would she. “You think the seller was speaking the truth?”