Page 131 of The Infernal Battalion

Abraham let out a long-​suffering sigh and muttered something that might have been a prayer.

By the time they reached the harbor front, Alex had harvested three more purses, from what she assured her companions had been very deserving-​looking targets. They found an inn, nameless and unmarked except for a painted sign of a man climbing into bed. It was guarded by a broad-​shouldered mountain of a man with a stout cudgel at his belt. Winter slipped the bouncer a silver coin to demonstrate that the three of them weren’t as indigent as they appeared, and he grunted and stepped aside.

The inn was a large, two-​story building, a rarity in Dimiotsk, with a common room on the main floor and ship-​style bunks cramming a single big space upstairs. The prices were absurd, as Winter had predicted, but there was enough gold in the purses Alex had cut for at least a few days’ room and board. They sat at a table made from planks nailed over a barrel and told the proprietor to bring them lots of everything.

She wasn’t expecting much, but apparently there was plenty to eat in Dimiotsk, if you could afford it. Most of it was fish, bowls of thick chowder followed by something pink-​fleshed and fried crispy. Thick, crusty bread topped with pork fat accompanied the seafood, along with a dark, bitter beer. The first round only managed to take the edge off Winter’s hunger, and she called for more, which the smiling, potbellied man who ran the place was only too happy to bring.

As the proprietor was laying out another set of iron skillets, Winter said, “A question, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course, honored guest.” The man was beaming. He ought to be, for what we’re paying him.

“We’re looking for passage on a ship south, to Vordan. Do you know any captains who might be taking on passengers?”

The innkeeper’s face fell. “You have not heard?”

“Heard what?” Alex said, sucking the meat from the bones of her last course.

“There is war on the sea. The Borelgai king has sent ships to aid the Vordanai child-​queen against our new emperor. Wise captains are staying close to shore and the guns of His Imperial Majesty’s forts.”

“The Borels have attacked Murnskai ships?” Winter said.

“Not yet, that I have heard, but it cannot be long.”

Winter swore silently. “I’d pay generously. Do you know anyone who might be willing to risk the danger?”

“Captain Fyrnor of the Black Cat has always been a little bit mad,” the innkeeper mused. “But even he would have to be very well paid to risk the Borelgai navy.”

“I see.” Winter waved the man away, ignoring his apologies. She looked around—​the common room was mostly full, and the sailors and merchants were making quite a bit of noise. Quietly she said, “That doesn’t sound promising.”

“If you need me to steal enough to bribe a pirate, it might take a few days,” Alex said. “Just finding someone with that much cash is going to be the hard part.”

“At that point,” Abraham said, “why not just steal the ship?”

“And a crew to sail it?” Alex said. “I’m no seaman, but I know that an ocean voyage is a long way from a quick jaunt down the river.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Winter said, lifting something out of the skillet. “Anyone have any idea what this is?”

“Looks like a bit of gristle,” Alex said.

“Fish guts?” Abraham hazarded.

“Barnacle,” a woman’s voice said. “A bit like a snail. Not bad with butter.”

All three of them looked up. A slim figure in a hooded cloak stood beside the table, though moments earlier Winter could have sworn they’d been alone. She let one hand drop to the hilt of her saber, while she popped the barnacle into her mouth with the other.

“You’re right,” she said, after a moment of thoughtful chewing. “It’s not bad. Now, would you mind telling us who you are?”

“You don’t recognize me, Winter Ihernglass?” The voice did sound familiar. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Winter’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not in the mood for games.”

“Fair enough.” The woman drew back her hood, revealing olive skin and short, dark hair. “Better?”

“Rose,” Winter said. She’d been part of the group that had gone into the Vendre, the night of the revolution. Afterward, the queen had introduced her by another name. “Or is it Sothe?”

“Whichever you prefer,” Sothe said.

“You know her?” Abraham said.