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“Please tell me you’re not looking for your fourth meal of the day already,” Lyra whispered as Callon eyed it closely.
“Hell no,” he said with a snort. “Even I’m not that desperate. I wouldn’t trust anything I ate or drank down here. There’s a reason everyone here looks high as a kite—they are.” Callon nodded toward a man at a copper distillery, a blue, glowing liquid pouring from the spigot into a ceramic jug.
“It tastes good; don’t get me wrong. But take my word for it. You’ll regret it in the morning,” he warned. Callon shook his head like he was shaking away a memory, and I snorted. “Don’t drink or eat anything down here,” he reiterated.
“I thought you said you hadn’t been here before?” Lyra said, eyeing Callon closely. “You sure seem to know where you’re going.”
Callon smirked. “I said I hadn’t been hereon my own, which is true. I’ve only ever been here with Fin.”
Lyra craned her neck to give me a reproachful look.
“We were here on business,” Callon supplied. “Hence the favor we’re going to collect.”
Lyra eyed a scantily clad prostitute leaning against a wall. She winked in our direction, and Lyra’s head snapped forward, looking straight ahead.
A one-legged man, propped up against the wall beside the prostitute, caught my eye. He was clearly a veteran of battle, his Medal of Honor all that held his tattered cloak in place. No matter which kingdom you fought for, that was how men and women were repaid for their service. Once they had served their purpose, there was no place for them in society. No place but down here.
We passed a fighting ring set up in one of the old animal enclosures, one I knew well, and made our way to the gaming sector.
“Stone should be in here,” Callon said under his breath, and Lyra followed him into a gambling den lit with blinking red lights.
“What makes you think this is the place?” Lyra asked, her voice raised over the chanting, cheering, and dice rolling as bets were placed. “You said it’s been nearly three years since you’ve seen him.”
Callon laughed, just as I would have had I been walking beside them. “He’s here. Trust me.”
Lyra followed Callon inside, practically ducking under a cloud of smoke, a thick, rich scent of spicy tobacco mixed with strix wafting over us. There were gamblers everywhere, many looped out of their minds, with dark circles under their wide, bloodshot eyes. They hadn’t slept in days. That much was obvious.
Gamblers looked at me, likely sensing I wasn’t merely a ferret friend Lyra had dragged into the kingdom’s underbelly but afamiliar. I could feel the minds of a few animal Telepaths—strong ones, like me. But I pushed all of their minds away and searched the crowd for Stone instead.
I heard Stone’s booming laughter before I saw him at the edge of the room, a long, rolled cigarette between his fingers and smoke billowing from his nostrils as he sat at a betting table. The moment he spotted Callon, his open expression faltered slightly, his gleaming eyes narrowed, and he straightened.
Callon and Lyra stopped by the wall and waited for Stone to join them.
Murmuring to his tablemates, he stood, his sweat-dampened, days old tunic stretched over his large belly.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Stone said with a hint of curiosity, despite the wariness in his eyes. He stood nearly a foot shorter than Callon, his blue eyes crisp and shrewd as he looked from him to Lyra, gauging their intentions.
When Stone’s eyes lingered on Lyra for too long, Callon cleared his throat. “We’ve come to collect a favor,” he told him.
“We?” It took only a second for Stone to comprehend Callon’s meaning, and his gaze darted directly to me. “Fin,” Stone grumbled in greeting. “I should have known you’d come to collect now that there’s so much chatter about the outerlands.”
“What do you know about the outerlands?” Lyra prodded.
Stone smirked and looked at Callon with a nod in her direction. “Is she new to the crew or something?”
“Or something,” Callon said. “Trevor was killed during a trading trip last winter.”
“I can’t say I ever liked that guy, but if it’s because of King Eduart, I’ll offer my condolences. These days, it seems that bastard is taking more lives than those lost during the Turn.” Stone took a puff from his cigarette, and a bluish smoke billowed from his nostrils once more. “So,” he drawled. “Every second I’m standing here, I’m losing money. Out with it.”
“You’re always losing money, regardless,” Callon volleyed with a grin. “But we’re here about Maylar, ex-advisor to the Corvo queen—”
“Deadqueen,” Stone corrected. His sweaty brow lifted nonchalantly. “And so is Prince Alastor, I hear.”
My pulse raced, though I shouldn’t have been surprised he’d already heard about it. That’s what Stone dealt in, rumors and secrets.
“Yeah?” Lyra tilted her head. “And what do you know about it?”
“Which part? That the greedy queen couldn’t hack it without her elixir fix? Welcome to the real world. That’s all I have to say about that.”
