Slickwalker tucks a curl of wild hair behind her ear. ‘What’s that?’
‘He’s going back to the last place he won. The last place he has anything close to friends. He wants to feel confident again.’
Slickwalker twists his lips sceptically. ‘Did the crows tell you that?’
She sticks her tongue out. ‘Nah, I just know my da. He likes to feel like he’s on the right side of history. Plus,’ she says, fingers tracing lines in the dark hair of his calves. ‘Thell’s the biggest city around after Hesper. The Republic’s a real power. They’ve done well for themselves.’
He catches her hands, traces the fingers one by one. ‘So, aren’t we just picking a bigger fight? If we march all the way to Thell, we’ll tear ourselves ragged if we have to fight Fallon.’
‘That’s not going to happen. We’re getting into Thell.’
His fingers stop. ‘Into that mountain? It’ll tear us apart.’
She shakes her head. ‘We’re getting in.’
He laughs resignedly. ‘How do you know that?’
She grins triumphantly. ‘The crows told me, of course.’
30
Spitethorn (perennial), being those flowers which first arose among the Spires. Preternaturally hardy, of sweet flavour. Rumoured to be drawn to sorrow and blood.
—Lockstep’s Botany Primer(2nd ed.)
None of the legends of Thell had mentioned tea, or a copper kettle, leaves dancing in the pot. Legends left that kind of stuff out. You never heard about the choice of tapestries in the princess’ tower, or the care taken in cutting the rushes that covered the floor.
Quickfish was enjoying the real Thell as it shucked off the husk of stories, as its people thawed a little, and the strangeness of every new sight shifted from terror to wonder. The more he saw, the more he realised how little he had seen, how sheltered his parents had kept him in Hesper and how much those high walls had hidden. And here he was with Roof, hundreds of miles away, seeing things no Hesper lad had ever seen before.
He squeezes Roofkeeper’s hand at the thought, and the taller man turns to him, eyebrows raised.
‘What?’ he says, a smile on his lips, for once.
‘Nothing. Just you. This. Here.’
A step or two ahead, Icecaller stops. She’s kept up a fierce pace, an urgency in her step that Quickfish doesn’t quite understand. The look she shoots back at him is the same as the other glances she’s been stealing as they marched deeper into the Stump. Half pity, half curiosity, like she’s looking at a dog who can dance. Her little sister perches on her shoulders like a rosy cheeked gargoyle, dismantling small, sticky fruit, and watching him with dark, flashing eyes.
Ahead, the passageway curves to an antechamber where coats and hats hang above stitched boots and a few scattered toys.
‘Wipe your feet,’ Ice mutters, and pushes aside a curtain at the far end of the chamber. Clacking bronze and beads announce their arrival. Beyond, Icecaller carries Nigh into a small room, and Quickfish watches as her entire body changes into something softer.
She sets the little girl down on a rug strewn with cushions and crosses to the woman by the kettle, snakes her arms around her waist, and plants a soft kiss on her shoulder.
‘Right on time, love.’
Her voice is dark, steady, like rain on wood. She is a little shorter than Icecaller, but broader at the shoulders, her hair a soft brown, her eyes shadowed and her fingers flecked red and black with ink. Her belt hung with needle, scalpel and gauze. The marks of Thell’s trade in tattoos. Skin magic. Blood magic. The sort of stuff that might save his mum.
The woman catches him staring and smiles, crooked teeth flashing.
‘Oh, we have company.’
Ice settles another kiss on her cheek and slides into a chair.
‘We certainly do. Steel, this is Quickfish and Roofkeeper. They’re Hesper boys. Hesper boys, this is the best girl in Thell, Steelfinder.’
Steelfinder sketches a little bow. ‘Welcome, welcome. Nice to have some new blood. Grab a seat, there’ll be tea, there might be something to go with it if I’m left in peace long enough.’
She shoots a glance at Ice, who shrugs innocently. ‘I’m just here as a chaperone for these two.’
