The Bone Shard Daughter (The Drowning Empire, #1)(7)

She wiped at her eyes again, nodded and turned back to pleating dumplings with the ferocity of a warrior on a battlefield. It seemed the lie she told herself was that these dumplings were the most important thing in the world right now.

I turned to go and the earth moved beneath me. Mugs rattled in their cupboards, Danila’s rolling pin fell to the floor, and the dried fish swayed on their strings. I put my hands out, unsure of where to steady them. Everything moved. And then, just as quickly, it settled.

“Just a quake,” Danila said, though I knew already. She said it more to soothe herself than me. “Some people think it’s the witstone mine causing them – it runs deep. It’s nothing to worry about. They’ve been going on for the past few months.”

A lie she tells herself? Quakes happened sometimes, but it had been a long time since I’d felt one. I took an experimental step and found the ground steady. “I should go. May the winds be favorable.”

“And the skies clear,” she responded.

Spiriting a child away from the Tithing Festival wasn’t going to be easy. The census takers made sure that all children who had turned eight years old attended, so I’d need to find a way to strike his name from the list. But I’d dealt with census takers before, and Imperial soldiers, and even the Emperor’s constructs.

I smoothed the front of the uniform jacket and went to the door. I should have drawn aside the curtains, or cracked the door to look beforehand. But the quake had unsettled my nerves, and I was close to finding the boat that had taken Emahla. I was close to an answer. So instead, I stepped back into the narrow street, the sunlight hot on my face, wide-eyed and unsteady as a newborn lamb.

And found myself in the midst of a phalanx of Imperial soldiers.





3





Jovis


Deerhead Island

If only the street were busy, or loud, or anything but quiet and still. Ten uniformed men and women turned their attention to me. Sweat prickled in the small of my back.

“Soldier,” one of them said. The pins at her collar marked her as a captain. “You’re not one of mine. Who is your captain?”

Lies were well enough when you had substance to back them with. “Sir, I was with the first company to disembark.”

She peered at my face, frowning, offering me nothing.

“Lindara’s?” another soldier in the phalanx asked.

“Yes,” I said in a tone that implied this was obvious, and the soldier foolish for verifying.

But the way the captain examined my features had me wanting to sink my chin into the collar of the uniform. Still studying me, she said, “You should be with your captain. This isn’t a pleasure outing.”

“I understand. It won’t happen again.”

“Did you happen to see another soldier around? Short, stocky, big nose and stinks of star anise.”

I’d seen him, though we’d not become acquainted. His uniform and I had become intimately acquainted, however. I hoped fervently that the smell of fish and seaweed covered the scent lingering on my jacket. “No, I’m afraid not, sorry. And you’re right, I should be with my captain.” I turned to go.

A hand landed on my shoulder. “I didn’t dismiss you,” the captain said.

Oh, I would have made a terrible soldier. “Sir?” I pivoted back and did my best to wear “deferential” better than I wore this jacket.

Her fingers tightened around my shoulder and she squinted at my face. “I’ve seen you before.”

“Probably digging latrine ditches. Lindara doesn’t like me much.” The other soldiers cracked grins, but the captain was uncrackable. I ran through all the tried and true tricks in my mind. Flirting with her would probably get my head chopped off. Self-deprecation didn’t throw her off. Flattery maybe?

“No,” she said. “There’s something about your face.”

Damn the Empire and their pettiness over a small bit of stolen witstone. Damn their power over both men and magic. But most of all, damn their stupid posters. “My face?” I said, to buy some time. “Well, it’s—”

The ground beneath me shook again, and this time it shook harder. Everyone eyed the buildings above, hands out in vain attempts to stave off falling walls with fingers. A tile fell from the roof behind me, shattering on the stones by my feet. The shaking stopped.

“That’s another one,” one of the soldiers said. “Two in one day.” He sounded anxious. Truth be told, I didn’t like it much either. Sometimes there were small aftershocks, but this one had been stronger than the first.

The captain turned her attention back to me. Her eyes narrowed.

I cleared my throat and straightened my shoulders. “Should we be at the square, captain? It’s nearly time for the Festival.”

I’d finally hit the right note – respect and discipline. The captain’s hand dropped from my shoulder. “We’ll have to find our comrade later. We’ve a duty to fulfill.” She strode up the street, beckoning for the others to follow.

I saw a couple of hands reach behind right ears to touch their trepanning scars. I wondered if they remembered that day as crisply as I did. I fell into step behind them – I had business at the Tithing Festival too after all. I might be a liar, but I kept my word. Always kept my word. So I put my legs into it and climbed the hill with the rest of them. The stones beneath my feet shifted as I trod upon them, loosened by the quake. The street opened up at the top of the hill, joining with two others.