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“I learned a strong necromancer can force the recently dead into bodies. That the mark you asked about”—I focused on Morovara’s secrets instead of Ealhswip’s—“is connected to the ones behind it.”
Our eyes met.
His suspicion cut like a knife, carving away layers of deceit.
My hand itched to reach for the letter or for him. Which would push him away and bring him closer? Should that even matter?
He broke the connection first, turning toward the bustling street.
“They’re attacking my people.” He spread his free hand to encompass those passing by. “You and me—this plot regarding who I marry—doesn’t matter compared to this. People don’t speak to theguards, instead they seem to be killing them, for half of the patrols do not return. You know Tal. Help me find the food that should have arrived in the city. Find out why people uproot their lives and leave your Spirit of Lowtown behind.”
“I think you overestimate my skills,” I said reluctantly. “I’m…” I had been an indentured servant and a thief, a dancer and actor. All roles filled with lies.
His face hardened. “After all your words of kindness you won’t even try? I think you owe me that much.”
Shame burned my cheeks. Only bells ago at the temple, I had wondered how much he really cared. I had skills, magic, and connections. Just because I could not find my own twin, I should not give up before trying. I did owe him.
“You’re looking for missing food?”
He nodded stiffly. “From the free farmsteads on the steppe—herds and people are missing. There are no records of either entering Tal.”
“Much goes on in Tal without official records.”
Something in his eyes softened. “Then you’ll help?”
I patted our linked arms. “Come. Where there’s food, people talk.”
This time, I led us out of the alley, and stiffly but seemingly curious enough to not challenge me, he followed.
We walked like a normal couple might into Rivertown proper, where Talians and pilgrims alike enjoyed life on the hundreds of docked river barges and elaborate bridges, all illuminated by colored oil lamps swaying in the welcomebreeze.
Despite the fire and plague bells ringing only days ago, no one here covered their faces or hands. The poor always lived in death’s shadow.
Around us, men in unbuttoned coats and women with hiked dresses danced the night away to heady drums. On the next bridge, four girls sang for coin, their high voices piercing the night and telling the ancient tale of how the moon loved the sun. Once, I danced here, adding each penny to our debt repayment. It had never been enough.
We paused and to my surprise the prince dropped a coin into their cap. He did not need to. Most passed without a second look.
I only realized I’d tried to rub the debt sigil on my thigh when I found the bag instead. The mark was gone, but I had heavier burdens.
I turned, following Raius, one of the Taliell’s arms. Dimitri did not resist. The touch was still formal, but the distance did not seem as great. We had a truce, even if it was only for tonight.
Two streets later, on the border to Midtown, we arrived at the Sinking Spoon.
Prices being what they were, it would not surprise me if more food than usual was smuggled in to avoid the royal tax. And if someone was selling food, the Sinking Spoon—a two-floor barge, supposedly named to trick fate—was the place to start. And their stew, full of herbs and sweet prunes, made a visit worth it anyway.
Like most of the Rivertown barges, the Sinking Spoon was not made to move. It had been built on the river decades ago and there it would stay. Despite its age, the shiny red paint showed no wear.Pebble—the dark-skinned Sorachian owner—had once been a sailor, though some said pirate, and he ran his barge as tight as any ship. No one would fight inside the Spoon. It was also one of the few places without the Spirit of Lowtown painted across the keel. Pebble would have skinned anyone who tried to mark his darling.
“They have information here?” Dimitri asked suspiciously as we walked across the wide gangplank.
I directed us up the steps to the second floor. “You’re looking for food, where better? After ordering and tipping generously, we might get some answers as well.”
We settled at the only free table on the riverside, allowing the breeze to chase away some of the wet heat. He sat opposite me, impatiently tapping his fingers. The delay might irk him, but if I was going to rebuild the trust between us, we needed to talk. The Wishmaker brought us together again. Surely, he would not let me down now.
“I have questions of my own,” I said, still unable not to push until he pushed back. “If you really want me to help, that is.”
His fingers stopped. “Tempest, I expect nothing else of you.”
“I’ve never left Tal,” I said, feeling silly. “Are there many farmsteads?”
