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“Both common names among the islanders.” The guardian shook her head. “But there have not been any recent inquiries about anyone with those names. And I would be certain to know of it if such a search was under way.”
“Then, with your permission, I will return every week or so until you have news.”
“Of course.” The guardian took a moment to scan Jayla’s face, and then went on. “But perhaps there is a better arrangement? You do not speak Zessin, and I would guess a young girl from the islands does not speak Cordish.”
“You would be right.”
“You have done this girl a kindness by escorting her to Corcannon, but perhaps it is time to turn her over to people who might understand her better?”
Beside her, Jayla felt Cody stiffen, though he still seemed to sprawl at ease on the bench. Her own face creased into a frown. She hoped it looked more like concern than suspicion. “Thank you. That is generous,” she said. “And I admit that I am not used to caring for children.”
“I know several young mothers who would be happy to take her in.”
“But—” Jayla let worry seep into her voice. “There was a man who traveled in the same group. I thought he took an odd interest in Aussen. I thought he frightened her. He learned that she was supposed to meet her mother at the temple, and I’m afraid he might come looking for her. If I keep her with me, he won’t be able to find her.”
“That is indeed disturbing,” the guardian agreed. “If you told us his name or described his appearance, we could be watching out for him.”
“I’m sorry,” Jayla said. “I don’t want to take the risk.”
The guardian nodded, seeming to accept that far more easily than Jayla might have in her position. “Zessaya put the girl in your hands, and you want to honor the goddess’s will. Then you should do so.”
“So if I come back every week—”
“You could let me know where to send word if her mother arrives,” the guardian said.
Jayla smiled apologetically. “But then I have the same worry,” she said. “What if this man found out where Aussen was staying and came for her there?”
The guardian widened her eyes at that. “You seem to think this man is capable of an astonishing level of stealth and evil.”
“I don’t know what he’s capable of,” Jayla said. “But he himself told me he has powerful friends.”
“Then we will rely on your visits to reunite mother and child.”
“Thank you,” Jayla said. “I will hope that day comes soon.”
They took a different route from the Zessin neighborhood to Cody’s part of town, boarding a transport that followed a more central road. Jayla was getting a better sense of the city’s layout, and she thought Cody lived in the warehouse district just east of the Quatrefoil. At any rate, once they hopped off the chugger, they walked through row after row of big, boxy buildings and throngs of people dressed in the loose, rough clothes of physical laborers.
“Here we are,” Cody said, guiding her to a building almost indistinguishable from all the others. It was four stories high, made of rough gray stone with absolutely no ornamentation. Two or three windows on every level appeared to be original to the house, but intermixed with them at irregular intervals were another ten or so that looked like they had been hacked out of the thick walls at a later date. Each window was open to the heavy summer air.
When they stepped through the door, they were instantly in a big open chamber that contained the entire ground level. The high ceiling was supported by a series of columns made of stacked stones the same color as the exterior. There were no mosaics or paintings on the walls or pillars—nothing to brighten the unrelenting gray—but the floor was a mad jumble of dilapidated chairs, fat pillows, colorful rugs, tables, shelves, baskets, and the odd bit of broken statuary that looked like it had been appropriated from the garbage heap of a second-rate temple. Six or seven people lounged on the furniture in various spots, talking, arguing, or playing games; none of them seemed to notice when Cody walked in. Even in the low light, Jayla could see that they all wore bracelets set with the highly reflective gems of the professional courier.
“This is the common room,” Cody explained, guiding her toward a corner where a sturdy metal stairwell made a switchbacked ascent. “There’s a kitchen against the back wall and we take turns cooking, though none of us are very good at it.”
“How many people live here?”
“Ten right now. Sometimes there have been as many as fifteen, but that feels like a lot.”
At the base of the stairwell, Jayla glanced up, tracing the crisscrossing black struts up three more stories. “Where does everyone sleep?”
“We’ve put in walls on the third floor to make six bedrooms. Some people have their own rooms, some share. On the fourth floor, it’s mostly just a big empty space, like it is down here, but some people prefer to camp out up there. Rig up blankets for privacy if they feel like it. Those tend to be the people who don’t stay too long.”
“And what’s on the second floor?”
He lightly touched the small of her back, urging her upward. “That’s what we’re here to see.”
The second floor was a giant playroom, or training yard, or some combination of the two. Like the bottom level, it was one large open space filled with a collection of oddments, but here Jayla was sure there was a purpose behind each accumulated piece. In one section were hand weights and pulley contraptions the couriers probably used to build up their strength. In another corner, a system of ladders and hanging nets seemed designed for runners to practice their climbing skills. Down the center of the room was a narrow lane, wide enough for two people to travel side by side; it was completely free of debris. Jayla suspected it was a short track designed for running abbreviated races. Around the perimeter was a longer track, similarly free of clutter, for practicing endurance runs.
Fully half of the space was given over to a low web of cables and wires suspended about a foot off the floor between the supporting pillars. Jayla headed over to inspect it, and Cody came behind her to explain.
