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He laughed again. “I knew you would.”
“Can you teach me? Really?”
“I cantry. Some people never get the knack.” He appraised her again. “You’ve got the right build for it. And a good sense of balance, would be my guess.”
“Usually.”
“And you’re not afraid of anything.”
She felt her lips move in a wry twist. “Well, I’m not afraid of heights, if that’s what you mean.”
“Oh, so therearethings that scare you?”
She had one free hand, so she poked him sharply in the ribs. “Nothing I’d tellyouabout.”
He grinned. “Not yet,” he said. “But maybe someday.”
Chapter Twelve:
Jayla
The ride to the island district took close to an hour, although Jayla and Cody were able to snag seats after the first twenty minutes. Unlike Tivol’s little sprinter, the chugger pulled over every few minutes to allow more riders to board, and this slowed their progress considerably. Jayla didn’t really mind. She was enjoying looking out the open windows at the changing architecture of the city. Since she’d arrived at the Alayne house, she hadn’t strayed farther east than the Quatrefoil, generally taking routes that led straight down the middle of the city. Cody had put them on a transport that appeared to be circling to the north and east before it carried them to their destination. She could feel the chugger strain as the road made a gradual ascent where the edge of the city met the mountain. This was as close as she’d gotten to the flinty black wall of stone, and she briefly stuck her face out the window so she could get a better look.
As soon as they passed the center point of town, the road began descending, and now the squeal of brakes was added to the clacking of wheels, the rush of air, and the rumble of conversation. Around them, the city changed again, the buildings growing first larger and more impersonal, then smaller and dingier. The wealthier-looking riders had all disembarked before they crossed the center line, and most people who boarded now wore shabby clothes and expressions of exhaustion. Jayla noticed that while the more affluent passengers had mingled relatively freely, these riders tended to cluster by race. When a Zessin woman boarded, she would pass up three empty seats by Chibani women to sit by a Zessin man. No one seemed overtly hostile, but no one appeared particularly friendly, either.
They passed through a district that looked to be nothing but cramped, crumbling buildings and empty alleys for as far as Jayla could see. The transport had slowed to a crawl because it passed over pavement so cracked and buckled that to take it at any speed would probably cause the vehicle to overturn. People hopped off or jumped on without waiting for the chugger to come to a complete halt. As it creaked around a wide curve in the road, two young men swung on board. They were both Maratan, lean and feral, wearing long cloth coats even in the summer heat. Moving casually, Jayla shifted her arms to check the placement of her hidden weapons. Everyone else watched the newcomers covertly while pretending their attention was somewhere else.
“This is the northeast district, I take it?” Jayla breathed in Cody’s ear.
He nodded. “It gets better in a couple miles.”
Sure enough, about ten minutes later, the pace of the transport picked up. The buildings visible on either side of the road seemed to shake off a creeping malaise and straighten to their full height. The dangerous young men exited without a backward glance, and the sense of relief among the other passengers was palpable.
“Come on,” Cody said, nudging Jayla to her feet. “Next stop is ours.”
The chugger came to a stop long enough for eight or ten passengers to hop off and a handful to climb on. As the transport sparked away, Jayla stood on the side of the road and looked around.
They were in a small, lively urban plaza that had a distinct and unfamiliar look to it. While the buildings were constructed with the same stone, plaster, and wood that made up the rest of the city, there was something markedly different about this section of town. Maybe it was the colors of the curtains in the windows or the flags over the doors. Maybe it was the exotic flowers growing in the pots and small plots of land. Maybe it was the heavy, spicy aromas that seeped out through open windows.
Most everyone Jayla could see looked like Aussen—small-boned, freckle-faced, and auburn-haired—though there was much variation in height and weight and individual features.
Jayla took a deep breath. “These are Aussen’s people, all right.”
“Now if only we can find the ones she belongs to.”
Jayla did a slow pivot, trying to determine the purpose of each different structure. Some were houses, she thought; a couple appeared to be storefronts. “I’m supposed to be looking for a temple.”
“How do you know that?”
“Madeleine’s cook speaks a little Zessin, and Aussen told her that’s where her mother is going to look for her.”
“That’s useful,” Cody said. “Let’s see what we can find.”
They tried the largest of the three shops, because Jayla reasoned anyone who planned to sell to the public could probably speak a couple of languages. The interior was overloaded with goods—swaths of fabric, shelves of books, stands of spices, counters full of jewelry. The scents of leather, paper, and food combined into a dizzying incense.
Several people, all islanders, moved through the narrow aisles, casting suspicious looks at Jayla and Cody, but no one approached them. Jayla headed toward the center of the shop where a heavyset woman of late middle age appeared to be arranging necklaces in a display case.
“Do you speak Cordish?” she asked.
