The Bone Shard Daughter (The Drowning Empire, #1)(40)

The same praise was never offered to me.

There were no Poyer playing cards in this drinking hall. It was halfway empty this time of day, but there were still a couple of fishermen at a table, having finished their day’s work. I could hear them muttering to one another. “The only thing the Emperor will say is that Deerhead Island sank because of an accident.”

“An accident. What sort of accident sinks an entire island?”

“I’ll wager it’s the Alanga, and he’s just too old and weak to stop them. Maybe this island is next. Maybe they all are.”

They gave me sharp looks when I slid into a chair at their table. There were, after all, plenty of other tables without occupants.

“I’m intruding, I know,” I said, “but I’m looking for someone.”

Their expressions did not change until I waved down the owner of the establishment and ordered sweet melon wine for us all. And then they exchanged glances. One of them shrugged. They both eased in their chairs and looked to me, waiting to hear what I’d say next. Drink was an easy way to make friends, and I wasn’t looking to make permanent or loyal friends of them. Just afternoon friends. Friends enough to pick their minds clean and leave them with the thought, “He was a nice fellow.” Enough to dissuade them from finding any Imperial soldiers stationed here as soon as I left.

“A boat came this way. A dark wood boat with blue sails. Smaller than an Imperial caravel, but large enough to carry some passengers – perhaps ten uncomfortably.”

“When?” said the man on the left.

“Recently. In the last few days.”

He rubbed at his chin. “No, haven’t seen it. Wish I could give you more for your trouble.”

The other man only shrugged again, and I wondered if that was all his body was capable of doing. But then he frowned. “You should ask Shuay. Older woman, works just north of the docks selling cooked crab. She knows nearly everyone on the island and keeps a sharp eye on the docks. Sees everyone that comes in and out.” The owner set our mugs of melon wine on the table, and he took a drink. He laughed, his gaze on the bottom of his mug. “Probably saw you when you came in.”

Mephi crept down my shoulder toward the man on my left, who proffered a hand to him. Mephi sniffed it, and the hair on his back lifted. He backed away, head low, ears flat to his skull. Lips drew back from bright white teeth.

“Hey now,” I said, scooping him up and depositing him back on my shoulder. I was half-afraid he might spout off “not good” again, raising far more questions than I knew how to answer.

“What sort of pet do you have there?” the man on my left asked.

A thousand lies ran through my head at once. But these were just fishermen who found Mephi curious, and Mephi hadn’t said a thing. “I’m not sure,” I said, trying to soothe the creature. The fur on his back eventually smoothed. “He claimed me, I suppose. Lost his mother. Have you seen anything like him before?”

“Can’t say I have. I’d be careful though. I know a woman who took in a baby seal. It was an orphan and she though it was cute. Grew to nearly the size of a fishing boat and bit three of her fingers off before it swam away.”

“I’ll be careful.” I took a small sip of melon wine. One more piece of information. I spoke slowly, gauging their reactions. “I’m heading for the next island in the Monkey’s Tail. East. I need to get there quickly.”

They exchanged glances.

“You won’t find much of that trade here,” said the shrugging man, “except through the Ioph Carn.”

The Ioph Carn. They were as bad as the Empire sometimes. Either you paid the Empire, you paid the Ioph Carn or you paid them both.

“I’ve heard that fishermen keep pieces of it sometimes, just in case they need to outrun a storm.” I brushed my purse, the coins inside clinking together. “I’m willing to pay a premium.”

The man on my left grunted, tapping his fingers on the table. Dirt and fish blood stained his fingernails. And then he reached into his purse and pulled out a sizeable chunk of witstone, showing it to me beneath the table.

Mephi curled tighter around my neck, his whole body going tight until he felt like a snake trying to make a meal of me. I had to untangle his paws from my shirt, loosening his grip. “I’ll pay you ten silver phoenixes.”

“Not good!” Mephi shrieked. “Not good not good!” He darted down my arm, hung over the edge of the table and swiped the witstone from the man’s hand. It clunked onto the floor.

Even a half-full drinking hall had too many eyes. All of them locked onto me and Mephi. Infernal creature! I shot up from the table so quickly that my chair overturned. I should have left him there, screaming, his fur all on end. I could find witstone somewhere else and be rid of both this island and beasts that spoke. Emahla should be all that I cared about. But I’d not even finished the thought before my hand was around the nape of his neck, lifting him, setting him back on my shoulder. “May the winds be favorable,” I said to the two fishermen, and made for the door.

“Are you trying to get me killed?” I hissed to Mephi. Outside, the clouds had crept in. The air smelled of damp grass and ocean. Wind brushed through Mephi’s fur, and it wasn’t until I put a hand on his back that I felt him trembling.

“Not good,” he whimpered, miserable.