The Bone Shard Daughter (The Drowning Empire, #1)(72)

Across from her, at the table, a man watched her. Straight-backed and handsome, dark eyes regarding her with wariness. His blue silk robes spilled about him like a waterfall. “What is it exactly that you want to know?”

Sand found her mouth opening, and a voice that wasn’t hers emanating from her throat. “Everything.”

A blink, and she was back on Maila once more, her empty bowl in hand, Coral’s hand at her elbow. “Are you all right?”

These memories that weren’t hers – whose were they? She knew instinctively that she wouldn’t find her answers here on Maila. “Fine,” Sand said. “But the sooner we find the cove, the better.”





27





Lin


Imperial Island

I waited by my window, watching the sun set over the city. I ran my hands over the green-covered journal, trying to calm my racing heartbeat. Tonight, I would reprogram Mauga. Numeen’s engraving tool pulled on one side of my sash, its weight a constant reminder. I had to do this now, before I was caught.

I’d rewritten the spy guarding the cloud juniper in much the way I’d done with the first one. Two of the trees berries nestled against the engraving tool in my sash pocket. If I ate them, they’d give me strength and speed, but I wasn’t a cloudtree monk. I didn’t know how long that would last. Still, I might need the advantage.

The journal entries hadn’t at all been as enlightening as I had hoped. I sounded like a younger, much more carefree version of myself, excitable at small things, like seeing dolphins in the Endless Sea.

The sun was lowering itself to the horizon, slow and steady as an old man into a too-hot bath.

I flipped the journal open again, finding a random entry. “I went to Imperial City today. It was beautiful – all the roofs here are tiled, and the streets narrow. So many food vendors!”

I frowned. I’d written as though I’d never been to Imperial City.

The previous entries had all been small highlights. Little experiences that any young woman would write about, but with few identifiers on the specific place or even the people I’d been with.

“It’s much larger than back home.”

Back home? The palace? I flipped pages, scanning, trying to glean something useful. Just the mundane activities of a girl.

The light from the window dimmed. I looked up to find the city bathed in the pale light of a fading sunset. By the clouds on the horizon, it would rain tonight or tomorrow.

I snapped the journal shut. It was time. If I didn’t move now, I’d never move, frozen by indecision.

I’d read the books on advanced commands and overwriting commands over and over, and had pulled several more off the shelf for good measure. I’d had to return twice to the storerooms for more oil for my lamps. My mind felt stuffed with the strange, smooth tones of the command language; I couldn’t fit anything else into the tired recesses of my head. I wasn’t sure it was enough.

I wished I’d had years to study it.

Mauga would be in the dining room, reporting to my father. Mauga wasn’t my father. He had no reason to lock his room when he was away.

My spy construct appeared on my windowsill, ready to report.

“Later,” I said, holding up my hand. “Check the halls on the way to Mauga’s room. Tell me if there’s anyone there.”

The construct squeaked. Sighing, I fished around in my drawers for a nut, which I handed over. “Did you ask Ilith for nuts too?”

It only chattered and scampered away.

“I’ll bet you don’t,” I said to the empty room. “I’ll bet my very bones.”

I went to my door and cracked it open. No one, not even a servant.

I watched the end of the hall until my construct appeared there, running toward me. I stepped back to let it pass.

Its tiny chest heaved. “Nothing,” it said in a quiet, highpitched voice.

Hearing it speak still unnerved me. It was too much like a person, even though I knew it wasn’t. Somehow it felt different for the higher constructs, which behaved more like servants than animals.

“Give me your report tomorrow.” I left my room and stalked down the halls. No one had lit the lamps yet; the sunlight hadn’t completely faded.

For once, I was grateful Father didn’t keep enough servants.

I smelled Mauga’s room before I saw it – a musky, earthy scent. I came abreast of Bayan’s room. Perhaps he was right that I was the favorite. My nose wrinkled. I certainly had a better room.

For a moment, I stopped, overcome by curiosity. What did Bayan do when he had hours to himself? He’d brought the sickness with him – at least I could always be sure I didn’t have buried memories of him. The relationship we had was the one we’d always had. In the quiet of the hallway, I could hear him moving within his room. The floorboards squeaked as he stepped. If I put my ear to the door, I might even be able to hear him breathing.

I shook my head and stepped away. What did it matter what Bayan was doing? Why did I even care? Just because he’d been kind to me once or twice didn’t mean we were friends.

Mauga’s door was still three doors down. I held a sleeve to my mouth and nose and focused on my goal.

The hinges creaked as I slipped inside Mauga’s room. Darkness shrouded me; only a sliver of light peeked in through the heavy curtains.