Suddenly, Risa remembered the red shape she’d seen in the Bosque and the matching one of the Sanguines at the stables.
“Red crescent moons,” Risa realized with a gasp. “I saw a tattoo on someone’s arm.”
“That must have been Alex Boss.” Amina rolled her eyes. “He does not even run the show.”
“What about the one with the mustache?” Javi mimed the handlebar mustache with a hand. “I’ve been calling him Mustacho in my head. You know. Muchacho, mustacho.”
“If you have to explain the joke, it isn’t funny,” Risa muttered.
“Eto Gib,” Amina replied to Javi with a grimace. “But they call him El Gib.” She shrugged. “The one with the eyepatch is named Carlos. There are a few others, but I never bothered to learn their names.”
“It was El Gib in the Bosque,” Risa mused aloud. “I remember his eyes.”
“So this was their second attack?” Javi asked, puzzled. “Your good luck is failing.”
This garnered surprise. Amina turned to Risa. “What does he mean?”
“That’s why our royal witch made her come on this journey,” Javi said brightly. “Risa is meant to keep me from harm. She’s not here because of my dastardly good looks or my charm.”
“You’re right; I’m not.” Risa threw her tangled long hair over her shoulder while Javi scowled. “But enough about me. I’m not the criminal.”
Amina sighed. “Okay,technicallyI hunt bounties.” Amina pulled her hood even lower.
Risa was beginning to doubt the princess could even see; she must use echolocation or her strong desire for revenge to know where she was going.
“But I…” Amina trailed off pathetically.
“It’s far more impressive for you to be a merciless killer carrying the decapitated heads of your enemies in a sack.”
“Alas, I am not that ruthless.” Amina breathed harshly out of her nose. “I run an underground rehabilitation program. I help criminals leave their lives of crime behind and find new lives and professions. It is called Crimi-No-Longer.”
Risa gasped. “No.”
“I was eleven when I thought of the name! I believed it was a very clever pun.”
“Not agoodone,” Javi mumbled.
“What kind of professions?” Risa asked.
“Bakers. Potters. A lot of librarians.” She raised her nose to the sky. “My contact in Monpira is a bookseller. He will be able to get us to the San Cirilo outpost without the Sanguines being any the wiser. He makes weekly trips to other towns for book purchasing.”
Risa snorted. “Is he going to use paper cuts to defend us fromthe group of mercenaries determined to murder the prince for no reason?”
“There has to be a reason,” Javi huffed.
“I guess you can add them to the list of people who dislike you.”
Javi flashed her a smile. “You are still number one.”
Monpira announced itself with a few shacks that had small chicken coops attached to the sides. Then with small cottages peppering the dirt road, until finally, an entire city sprouted from the ground.
Coming from Barrow, which was barely bigger than a village, Risa had never seen anything quite so grand. Large buildings loomed over their smaller brethren, though each facade was in a different vibrant color, a rainbow painted across each street. There was blueberry blue here, sunflower yellow there, ruby red that rivaled the gem in Javi’s ring. The doors were painted contrasting colors, adding a distracting whimsy to the entire scene. White balconies jutted out from the higher floors of buildings to oversee the goings-on of the street below, while trees and bushes were planted between each edifice, green leaves and budding flowers shielding owners from nosy neighbors.
The place was a celebration reflected in the dress of its people, who strutted about with great importance, noses tipped in the air. The new arrivals went unnoticed, as the Monpirans were all too concerned with their passing reflections, pausing only to fix their flamboyant ensembles when they shifted slightly out of place. Fabrics ranged from blinding white to violet, fuchsia to new-leaf green. There were bustle skirts with large petticoats, billowing sleeves, tall hats on the verge of toppling from an errant breeze.
Unaccustomed to such an expansive place, Risa found herself overwhelmed. She couldn’t help reaching for the tail of Javi’s tunic, or shifting closer when one of those tall hats nearly crashed into her, its owner unaware of the near accident.
Amina approached the sprawling city with unwavering focus. She weaved through the busy streets until they reached the most nondescript building Risa had seen by far, an ugly brown thing made of mismatched wood that readSTABLESin large block letters carved by a rough hand. Inside, they paid with enough reales to get the horses a feast and promised the animals they’d return.
