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“Yes, I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.”
He grinned. “I like it when you scratch.” I smiled. He slipped the spoon from my fingers in a way that made my ears burn. “You might try the branch office of the law firm of Godwik and Clutch in the harbor district… Ah. That’s where you went.”
I glanced down at the emptied papaya skins and back at him. “Bee and I were to take employment there. That was how we were going to keep ourselves in Adurnam.”
“Were you, now?” He sat back with a narrowed gaze.
I was sure he was thinking of James Drake, whom he had after all seen at the law offices in Adurnam. Despite my best intentions, I brushed a hand over my belly, and he saw me do it. The collapsed papaya skin next to his hands crackled over with a delicate net of frost.
“What makes you think it has anything to do with him?” I muttered.
“I said nothing. You’re the one who said something.”
“I don’t have to be here, Vai. The troll I spoke to today offered me employment. Yet here I am, still working for Aunty Djeneba.”
“Aunty Djeneba says you’re doing well.” His stiff smile grated on my already jangled nerves. “I hear you’re learning to play batey.”
“Yes, the children are teaching me before they go to school in the mornings.”
“Here are Kofi and the lads.” He rose as if relieved to be shed of our conversation.
I grabbed my work apron and made my escape.
Yet the next day, Vai called me over when he returned at the end of the day to show me a pale green fruit with little spines. He set it down beside a small package wrapped in a length of burlap. “I brought paper, ink, and a pen. This is soursop. It’s not my favorite, but maybe you’ll like it.” He cut it in half in a bowl. “Go on. Write your letter.”
I unrolled the cloth to find two folded sheets of foolscap, and a quill pen and tiny bottle of ink, nothing fancy. “It’s what you do, isn’t it?”
“You’ll have to tell me what you mean by that cryptic statement,” he said, not looking up as he pulled off the skin to reveal a white pulpy interior. I liked watching his hands work.
“You’re an unregistered fire bane. You can’t afford to get arrested. So you’ve established a routine and don’t stray from it. Work. The Jovesday trolls. Moonday and Saturnday gatherings.”
Gaze cast down, he smiled as he trimmed out seeds. The man did have lovely eyes, finely formed and thickly lashed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were watching me.”
I fixed my gaze on the blank paper. “I was raised in a household of spies and intelligencers. It’s second nature for me. I watch everything.” Gracious Melqart! What ought I to write to Bee? Dear Cousin, please find a place to hide until Hallows Night is over. You’ll know I succeeded in finding a sacrifice to kill in your place if you’re still alive on the second of November. Would the mansa of Four Moons House protect her? No. Cold mages had no power over the Wild Hunt. And the mansa had only wanted her so as to keep her away from Camjiata. If the mansa sacrificed her to the Wild Hunt, then Camjiata could never make use of her dreams for his war.
“Catherine, what an expression you have on your face!” he said softly. “Please tell me what I can help you with.”
I looked up. He had cleared the bowl of skin and seeds and core, leaving a creamy pulp to eat, but it was me he was considering.
I shook my head. “I just miss my cousin. And my half brother, who’s probably getting into all sorts of trouble. Don’t you have two sisters younger than Kayleigh? Do you miss them?”
He smiled wryly. “The little lasses. They’re a bit saucy and impudent, those two. I do miss them. Here. Try it.”
“Impudent toward you? Now you simply must tell me about them. Oh, and give me the spoon while you’re talking.”
But later, I wrote what I had to write: “I am safe but I can’t come yet as I must find a way or make one to save you. Meanwhile, throw yourself on the mercy of the headmaster. If he saved his assistant, then we must pray and hope he can protect you.”
I accepted Vai’s money and made the delivery. I established a routine: batey practice before the children went to school, sewing and visiting in the morning, the afternoon nap, and an evening of serving and listening to the answers to the cautious questions I asked. Each passing day brought me farther from Salt Island, together with the unpleasant thought that I might be pregnant, and closer to Hallows’ Night. I had arrived on Salt Island on August second, and now August was drawing to a close.
“I hear the cacica has twenty husbands,” I said one evening as I arranged empty mugs on the tray. “Why would the cacica send her husbands to their deaths? Are they soldiers, sent to die in battle? Maybe that’s why she’s negotiating with General Camjiata, so he can fight for her. Or maybe men are married to her so they can serve the powerful court behiques as catch-fires—”
“Hush with that talk!” snapped Brenna.
All within earshot glanced toward the gate, as if expecting trouble might burst in like sharks to the taste of blood in the water. Heat boiled in my cheeks.
“My apologies,” I said in a choked voice, “if I said something I oughtn’t.”
“Here, gal,” called Uncle Joe from the counter, “cups to serve.”
