Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky, #1)(86)

“I’ll send a crow to find you.” He shouldered an oversized travel bag and picked up a bone staff. She’d noticed the staff in his room on the ship, but she had never seen him use it. Perhaps the ship was small enough that he didn’t need it. It looked part walking stick and part weapon, and he handled it well.

“Crows can do that?”

“Of course.” And then he was walking away, staff in hand, travel pack on his back, his crows following.



* * *



She didn’t find the harbormaster, but she did find a fisherman, a short boxy fellow morosely casting a net off one of the outlying piers. She traded a barrel of salted fish they no longer needed for directions to the harbormaster’s home. It wasn’t far, and she trudged through the empty fog-filled streets, wondering why she bothered. Did she think she would be able to return to Balam after this? Sell the cargo and stay in Tova or in this apparent craphole until spring and then return with a fresh crew and full purses? And what of Serapio? She hadn’t let herself think past the Convergence, but now that it was imminent, she realized she didn’t want to leave him. Not that she was attached, because she wasn’t. Or at least, not that way. She didn’t get attached. But he did intrigue her with his secrets, and they had an undeniable kinship, a shared connection. She didn’t know what she wanted exactly, but she knew she wanted… more.

She found the house the fisherman had described and knocked on the door. After a moment, a woman answered. She was dark-skinned, darker than Xiala, and she wore her orange-colored hair in an elaborate bun atop her head. Xiala couldn’t place her origin immediately. Somewhere on the continent, but that was about it.

She looked Xiala up and down, clearly judging her shoddy clothing and generally bedraggled looks.

“I’m looking for the harbormaster,” Xiala said. “I was told he lived here.”

“She lives here,” the woman corrected her. “I’m the harbormaster.”

Xiala managed a genuine grin. She had gotten used to Cuecola, where men seemed to hold most of the power. It was nice to be back on this side of the Crescent Sea, where women were often in charge.

“My apologies,” she said. “I’ve just come into port. I’m docked out at the far pier. I’ve got some cargo to offload and…”

The woman had raised a skeptical eyebrow, hands on her hips. “You came in from sea? Just now? All by yourself?”

Xiala had known this question would come and had an answer with enough truth to it to feel authentic. “I had a crew. We set out from Cuecola, but most were lost at sea during a shipkiller. I and another survived, but the rest…” She lowered her head, and the sadness she felt for Loob and for others, even Callo, was real. Baat and Patu could rot in hell. “We were lucky to find shore.”

“What fool lord sent you out in winter on the Crescent Sea?” the harbormaster asked, sounding outraged. “He must have been desperate.”

“I just want to sell what’s left of the cargo,” Xiala explained. “Find a steam bath and a soft bed.” She let some of her real desperation show through.

The woman’s eyes narrowed. Xiala caught a glint of greed there. Ah, yes. That should help push things along.

“Come back tomorrow, then,” the woman said. “I’ll have dockhands to unload your cargo and find you a buyer. It’s hard this time of year, but there’ll be a few who want a jump on the season. Especially with what’s happened in Tova.”

Xiala frowned. “What’s happened in Tova?”

“Tomorrow,” the woman said, and made to shut the door.

“Wait!” She stopped the door with an outstretched hand. “Tomorrow’s too late. I need to make a deal tonight.”

“There’s no one—”

“Please! I’ll take…” She took a deep breath and steeled herself. “I’ll take half of what you would normally offer. If we can strike the deal tonight.”

The harbormaster paused.

“I’ll throw in the ship,” she added.

“Your ship that’s been through a storm big enough to kill your crew?” The woman crossed her arms and glared down her nose. “The one that’s likely ravaged and haunted?”

“For free.” And stars and skies, that hurt. She tried not to wince. Serapio owed her on principle alone.

The harbormaster hesitated a moment before letting out an unimpressed snort. She disappeared inside while Xiala waited at the door, coming back a few minutes later in a wool cloak that kept out the drizzle and cold.

Xiala eyed her enviously. “Don’t suppose you have one of those you want to sell?” she asked.

“Let me see your ship and cargo,” the woman said. “If I like them enough to pay, I’ll throw in the cloak for free.”

It was as good an offer as she was going to get under the circumstances, so Xiala led the harbormaster back through the soggy evening to the pier where she’d left her hopes and dreams.



* * *



An hour later, Xiala was following a crow along the banks of one of the many inlet streams that ran through Tovasheh. The weather had settled in, finally turning to a steady rain, and she pulled up the hood of her new wool cloak and hugged it tight around her shivering body. In her hand she carried a bottle of xtabentún. The xtabentún was all she’d kept of the cargo she’d sold to the harbormaster. No personal belongings, no clothes. Nothing to her name, quite literally.