Amarande drew in a thin breath. Was that really what others thought of her? Locked away, a prisoner in her own home?
“Nice try, mouthy littlebrat.”
CHAPTER
19
BYnightfall, the pirates were pointed along a new track.
Luca didn’t know if they had a ship; all he knew was that there was absolutely no harbor in the direction they were currently headed. The Port of Pyrenee would’ve been the closest, and even that was far. Torrent’s single functional port was to the north and west, but it was still a week away at this rate. Maybe.
But then, just as the dark settled in tight, stars guiding their way, Luca saw that they’d changed course not to find their ship but something else—a ranch of some sort. One with a main house and little outbuildings. More than one campfire flickered through the privacy fence encircling the property.
“I thought all of the Torrent was nomadic. This looks like a compound,” he whispered to Ula, who’d taken him back from Dunixi a few hours before. No permanent settlements, only caravans, as dictated by the Warlord.Control by chaos, as old Zuzen called it in his Itspi lessons—move or die. If one stopped long enough to make a stand, he or she was already dead.
“There is much that is misunderstood about the Torrent, Luca,” Ula said. “Those who pay their tax and live alone are let be.”
Luca had so much to ask but didn’t when Dunixi confounded him further with what he did next. The leader dismounted and handed his reins to Urtzi. “You know the drill. Come for me with your daggers in five if I’m not out.”
And then the Eritrian walked toward the compound, alone.
“Why five minutes? Why aren’t we just going in there with him, daggers drawn now?”
“You ask too many questions,” Urtzi answered, one hand snaking into Dunixi’s saddlebags. He pulled out a palmful of dried meat made from an animal Luca could not identify and stuffed it straight in his mouth, as if he believed that eating it before Dunixi came out would prevent the boy from noticing that it was missing at all.
“You don’t ask enough,” Ula shot back. Rather than grumble at her, Urtzi laughed. It was true—from what Luca had seen, the Myrcellian took orders without ever thinking them through. He just collected them like sips of water—or pieces of dried meat—until there was a break in action, and then he did it all over again. Ula shifted so that she could look Luca in the eye. “He’s getting us a spot for the night.”
“And we’re not in there because… you showed me off in my restraints at the river but don’t want to do so here?”
“Not everything is about you, Luca,” Ula replied with a smirk.
“No, it’s all about me,” Urtzi crowed over his chewing, delivering the full-mouthed words with some sort of faux self-disparagement that didn’t work with his overconfident nature. At all.
Ula ignored him and the boy seemed to shrink a little when she didn’t punctuate his answer with her bell-like laugh. “You outsiders see the Torrent as this lawless place, but the truth is it has more rules than the rest of the Sand and Sky put together.”
Luca cocked a brow. “And what rules live here?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Ula turned away from him, trying to play coy. She wasn’t very good at it. He’d spent a little more than a day with her, and he’d learned she was one who loved to tell it like it was, and loudly. Making someone work for her thoughts was not something she was terribly gifted at.
So he waited. There was a sign several yards from them, but hecouldn’t read it with the lack of light. And even if he could, a conversation like this was one way to keep in her good graces.
As she began to turn, Urtzi swallowed the last of his pilfered snack. “I’d like to know. All I know is that I hold the horse here.”
Ula sighed. “The key words when I described this place were ‘tax’ and ‘alone.’ The proprietor pays his taxes on time and the Warlord turns a blind eye to the fact that he lets people congregate—renting rooms or campsites at this place. It looks like a compound, but it’s technically an inn. The key is that one must enter the main structure alone to purchase a night’s stay.”
Luca’s eyes fell to the leader’s saddlebags. He hadn’t rummaged through them before he dismounted. If Dunixi had gold pieces in his pockets, they were small in number—there’d been no telltale jingling as they rode together. No bulges in his pockets to account for larger bars tendered in troy ounces either.
Urtzi, though, did not have this information. “But we don’t have any gold. We never have any gold. That’s why we have him.” The boy nodded at Luca.
Ula pursed her lips. “This man takes more than physical valuables—if you have useful information, it’s as good as gold.”
“That’s quite the business model.”
“He’s survived on it for many years. I wouldn’t disparage it, Luca.”
Just then, Dunixi returned, a key dangling from his hand, the metal catching the starlight with a blink of shine as he walked.
“That one nearly cost me a dip in the compost.” It was a funny thing to say, but he delivered it with a tic of nervousness and something in his eyes that made Luca believe that there actually was the possibility of him becoming worm food, though it didn’t make much sense.
