The Bone Shard Daughter (The Drowning Empire, #1)(81)

I moved her to the side. The book she’d been sleeping on was broad and wrapped in brown leather, the cover unmarked. I opened it, shuffling through the pages. It took me only a moment to understand the contents. Names were written inside, and dates. The top of each page was labeled: “Imperial Island”.

Birth records. And deaths, by the end dates next to some names. Why did Uphilia have this and not Mauga? Mauga kept track of such bureaucratic matters. It wasn’t in Uphilia’s purview.

Out of curiosity, I flipped through the birth dates, searching for my own. I found it closer to the end, written in a neat and orderly script.

Lin Sukai, 1522–1525.

My gut turned, a cold mass of writhing serpents. 1525. I scanned the page again, and then the next page, and the page before. This was the only Lin Sukai listed in the year I was born. I’d been born in the year 1522, but I was also still alive. It was 1545 now, and I was still alive.

I ran my hands over my chest and belly, feeling somehow less solid than I’d felt just a moment before. Why was it written in this book that I was dead? My hands trembling, I placed the book back on the floor and covered it with straw. I couldn’t ask my father. I couldn’t ask Bayan. The numbers written on the page fluttered in my mind, a bird’s wings beating against a cage.

The sun was rising, and I was out of time.

I shoved the shard into Uphilia, just below the other three reference shards. Before she could awaken, I lowered myself to an overhang below. I had to let go to fall the rest of the way, but the strength of the cloud juniper was still in me. My knees bent only a little on impact. I could make it into a window from here, though I’d need to hurry before the servants began their chores.

I was dead. According to the birth records, I was dead at three years old. Perhaps this was tied somehow to my memory, to why I couldn’t remember anything beyond three years ago. But then what were the memories in the journal, written in my handwriting?

And why did my father think these memories should be mine?





30





Jovis


Nephilanu Island

I found Gio in the main hall with the others the next morning, pacing in front of the fire. It seemed he’d had an even more restless night than I had. I’d searched through the book into the late hours, finding other words I recognized. Whoever had written in it had taken some time to practice Empirean. They were crude replications, but the author had been learning. I’d realized I could work backward from these writings, figure out some of the words of this language.

Alanga. I’d seen their monuments, some of their artifacts, but I’d never seen one of their books. I should try to sell it. I could use the money to pay down more debts, to buy more supplies. What did I care for these mysteries? Yet I couldn’t deny its discovery had awoken something within me – reminding me of my nights of study at the Academy, the satisfaction of solving a problem.

I was a smuggler. Not a navigator.

Did Gio know about the secret room?

He stopped abruptly in front of the fire, his back to me. Mephi bounded ahead to beg for fish scraps from the cook. He’d already had an enormous breakfast, but I let him go. Gio turned when he saw Mephi, and our gazes met. “You’re awake. Good.”

I spread my arms. “So it seems. Although this could be a dream.”

“Not a dream. A nightmare.”

“Yours or mine?”

Gio rubbed his brow, squinting into the fire with his one good eye. “I sent one of my scouts out last night to gather some information on the palace and the best routes to the governor’s rooms. She hasn’t returned. We need this information if we’re to accomplish our aims without being caught.”

Before I could form another thought, Mephi was at my feet, crunching on a fish head. He watched me with bright black eyes.

“Send someone else after her,” I suggested.

“You saw the shard-sick. We don’t have an unlimited supply of spies.”

Mephi turned the fish head over in his paws. “Help.”

I shot him a dagger-filled look. Of all the times—

“What?” Gio turned, his eye narrowed. He looked to me, and then Mephi, and then back to me.

The last thing I needed was anyone finding out Mephi could speak. They’d run me off the island. The only creatures that spoke in stories were the bad kind. “I said I’ll help.”

Gio looked me up and down. “You’ll help?”

Inwardly, I sighed. This was how it began – agree to help fix someone’s roof; the next thing you knew you were building them a new house. “Tell me where you sent her and the information you wanted her to uncover. I’ll look for her and gather the information. This doesn’t mean I want to join the Shardless. I just want to be on my way as soon as possible.”

He considered for a moment and then sighed. “I don’t have much choice. She had a contact in the city. A soldier who’s on our side. He gets off his shift late afternoon. You should be able to find him at the drinking hall near the docks. Tell him that the fish were jumpy today, use those exact words. They serve fried squid at this hall – you can smell it before you see it.”

“And how do I know who this man is?”

“He sits at the corner table. Middle-aged fellow.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Does he have a name?”