The Bone Shard Daughter (The Drowning Empire, #1)(35)

“Fine,” I muttered to the creature curled about my ears. “Just don’t get in my way or make a nuisance of yourself.” After thinking for a bit, I added, “Or say anything.” I was here to sell melons, not to spin lies about what sort of creature Mephi was.

It took me asking a few friendly strangers for directions before I found the market. The market here was larger than on the last isle, though still small. This one wasn’t cramped into two narrow streets; it was laid out in an empty square at the center of town.

I did some mental math and tried not to think of the fortune of witstone I’d tossed overboard, possibly still sinking into the Endless Sea. If I could sell the melons at a profit, I could buy a little bit of illegal witstone. The blue-sailed boat was still small, and it wouldn’t be braving the vastness of the Endless Sea. It would hop to another island, and there was only one other island nearby. I was out on the Monkey’s Tail, a string of isles one after another. Farther east, after the Monkey’s Tail, was Hirona’s Net, and the blue-sailed ship might lose itself in that cluster of islands. I didn’t have much food left, but I could fish from the side of my boat – enough to get by, at least. The other ship would have to make stops to resupply and to rest, and if I made decent time, I’d be able to catch it still on the Monkey’s Tail, before the Net.

I bought a hat first, setting it firmly on my head, the straw brim shading my eyes. And then I searched the market for a likely buyer.

When I set my boxes on the table of a nearby farmer, he only looked at me warily. “Melons from Deerhead Island,” I said. “The island is gone, as you’ve no doubt heard, and we’re going into a wet season. It will be years before any of these melons are grown again.”

The thin man glanced at me sideways, rubbing his palms over his pants before he stood. “It’s ill luck, trying to make a profit off of others’ misfortune.” But he gestured for me to open the boxes anyways.

With his permission, I took his pry bar and lifted the first lid off.

The farmer peered inside and then shrugged. Oh, he was a liar almost as skilled as I was. “I grow these on my farm as well.” Both he and I knew that didn’t matter. The season was over and he was likely already getting a good price for them.

“And I’ll wager if you wait even ten more days, you’ll get a better price for them. If you grow them, you know these store for a full year. What more could anyone who is facing a wet season ask for? They’ll get tired of their greens and soft-rind fruits, and they’ll have a sweet melon to remind them of warmer, drier days. The supply will be less than it’s been in prior years. Deerhead grew a lot of them.”

“They’re blemished,” he said, pointing to a nearly imperceptible scar on one of the melons.

Mephi made a little squeak of protest. I reached up to scratch his head, hoping he would keep quiet. “That doesn’t change the taste.”

“Those willing to pay a high price prefer their fruit to be as beautiful as their jewels.”

And so it went, back and forth, until we both declared a deal could not be made – before he grudgingly acceded that perhaps some sort of accord could be reached.

The silver coins filled my purse with a delightful jangle. Finding someone willing to sell me witstone under the table though, now that would take some doing.

“Jovis?”

I didn’t recognize the voice. It was gravelly and low, and didn’t belong to anyone I knew, I was certain of it. I kept my head low, my shoulders pulled so tight that my cheeks were hidden in Mephi’s fur. The hat covered nearly the full top half of my face. Did they put up posters on as small an island as this?

“Jovis!” the voice said again, more insistent.

Just when I was hoping that there was some other person named Jovis in the marketplace, a hand grabbed my arm, pulling the wrapping of my tattoo just far enough to expose the rabbit’s ears.

“I knew I’d find you here.”





13





Lin


Imperial Island

I stared at the spy construct on the shelf, my mouth dry, my heart fluttering at my ribs like a caged bird. It must have come in through one of the high windows, sent to skulk around the palace at night, checking for anything gone awry. It had found what it had been looking for.

It would scurry back to the courtyard and beneath the boulder in the center, down into whatever lair the Construct of Spies lurked in, and it would tell her I’d been found where I didn’t belong. My father would disown me and the Empire would fall into pieces at his death. It would be broken.

Like I was broken.

No. I gritted my teeth. I could not let this be the end.

We moved at the same time – the construct toward the window, and I toward the construct. It reached the end of the shelf at the same time that I reached out my hand.

I expected to close my fingers around empty air, but I was quicker than Bayan or Father had ever been. I caught the creature by its winding tail. It screeched, a terrible, high-pitched sound that rebounded from the walls and shelves. It rang in my ears. By all the isles and the Endless Sea, it would wake even the servants in their separate quarters! I pulled the creature tight to my chest, curling my hands around it. Its teeth clamped down on my palm.

That smarted. I did my best not to cry out. I jerked my hand away and swaddled the construct in the bottom of my tunic. It shrieked at me until I wrapped its head too. It could still breathe through the cloth. If I killed it, where could I hide the body? I could take it outside the palace walls, leave it somewhere or bury it.