Page 59 of Ship of Smoke and Steel

I spend another uncomfortable night in the stupid Jyashtani-style bed, suspended several feet above the floor for no readily apparent reason. At least the crab juice, the soup of miscellaneous crab parts and mushrooms ubiquitous on Soliton, is hot and delicious.

In the morning, I go back to Meroe’s room. She’s still asleep, and a young man in dark robes is carefully giving her water. He pauses as she moans, and shifts uneasily.

“Her fever has come down nicely,” Sister Cadua says, when she bustles in. “She’s going to be fine, though of course the leg will take some time to heal.”

I remember the feeling of the hammerhead’s jaws closing on my own leg, the snap of breaking bones and the hot gush of blood from shredded flesh. Now the only evidence is a ring of curling blue marks around my calf, thanks to Meroe. My stomach still lurches when I think about her power, but not as badly as it once might have.

Sister Cadua and her assistant leave me alone with Meroe. Her features are smooth now, calm. Her eyes quiver, shifting restlessly under closed lids. I wish she’d wake up.

There’s a knock on the wall beside the curtain doorway, and a hesitant voice. “Isoka?”

It’s Berun, looking even more nervous than usual. I force a smile, trying to put him at his ease, but it doesn’t seem to have the intended effect. I don’t have a lot of practice not frightening people. Better to get to the point.

“What’s going on?” I ask him.

He’s looking past me, to Meroe. His eyes are wide. “Is she really going to be all right?”

“Sister Cadua says she’ll be fine,” I say, irritably. The way he looks at her bothers me. “What are you doing here?”

He looks back at me and swallows hard. “Ahdron sent me.”

“Is he ready to talk?”

Berun shakes his head, miserably. “He says … he accepts your challenge. He’ll be waiting in the Ring at midday.”

I look at him blankly. “The Ring?”

“It’s where formal challenges are fought,” Berun says. “So there can be witnesses.”

Rot. I’d hoped Ahdron would come to his senses. “Did he tell you anything else?”

Berun shakes his head again. “But…”

“But what?”

“I shouldn’t tell you this.” He glances at Meroe. “The Butcher came to our quarters last night. She and Ahdron talked for a long time.”

Which explains a lot. No doubt the Butcher promised him her favor if he kills me. So much for Ahdron coming to his senses.

Rot them both, then. We’ll do this the hard way.

“Okay,” I tell Berun. “I’m going to go and get this over with.”

“But…” He looks like he’s about to cry. “Ahdron is … strong. You should apologize. He might—”

“Stay here with Meroe,” I say, ignoring him. “If she wakes up, tell her I’ll be back soon. Can you do that?”

“I’ll tell her. But what if—”

“Tell her,” I grate, “I’ll be back.”

Berun blinks, and nods.

It can’t be long until midday, so I don’t have time to waste. Fortunately, the Ring isn’t hard to find. All I have to do is follow the crowd. Apparently the news that the infamous Deepwalker will be fighting has spread rapidly, and a steady stream of crew drifts down the ragged street. Word of what I look like has spread, too, and I can hear the whispers around me, see the glances at the marks on my face. I keep my eyes fixed ahead, ignoring them.

The Ring isn’t as elaborate as I imagined. It’s just a large, clear area of deck, roughly circular, surrounded by a chest-high barrier improvised from scrap metal. A single gate leads inside, and rising platforms around the perimeter provide somewhere for crowds to stand and watch. Opposite the gate, there’s a dais, like one of the fancy boxes at the theater, with a half-dozen chairs.

Much of the arena is already ringed with crew. The sound of conversation dies as I walk through the gate, leaving a moment of silence. Then it returns, much louder. I look around, but I don’t see Ahdron. I must be early.