Hero at the Fall (Rebel of the Sands #3)(24)

I glanced over at the man leaning on the bar. If he actually had a way out of this city, then I was the Queen of Albis.

‘So, tell me, what exactly is your plan here?’ I shifted my chair so that I had him in my sights. ‘Even if you can get out of Miraji, you’re a deserter, Sam.’ I didn’t bother softening the blow. ‘I don’t know what they do in Albis, but here if you turn your coat on the army, they take your head off your shoulders.’

‘In Albis, they let you keep your neck and use it to hang you from a tall tree.’ He didn’t sound all that bothered by it. ‘An oak, if there’s one immediately available, but ash or yew will do at a pinch. And since it’d be criminal to rob the world of me, I’m not going back to Albis. I hear the Ionian Peninsula has beautiful women and good food and the sun lets up every once in a blue moon, unlike here.’

‘So you got shot once and now you’re running scared?’ We’d all got ourselves shot once or twice in this war. I’d dug a bullet out of Jin’s shoulder before I even knew his name. I had a scar across my stomach from a wound that had nearly killed me. Sam lost a little bit of blood and suddenly he was deserting all over again.

But Sam didn’t look as cowed as I’d hoped he would. ‘Yes,’ he said, like I was the one being unreasonable. ‘Anyone who isn’t afraid of dying is stupid or lying.’ He tipped his drink at me like a bow. ‘And I’m a better liar than that.’

I tapped my glass, thinking of what Tamid had told me about the likelihood of me burning alive when I released Fereshteh’s energy from the machine. ‘We’re all going to die some day, Sam. What else are you going to do? Keep running from one country to another until you get a knife between the ribs because you walked through the wrong wall in the next city? Or from poison in your glass because you charmed the wrong woman in the one after that? Or do you think it might be worth standing still for once?’ I asked. ‘Here with us.’

A wry smile crossed his face. ‘They talked a lot about making a stand when I joined the army, too. Turns out what that means for boys who were born farmers’ sons is that they wanted us to stand in front of enemies’ cannons so the rich men’s sons behind us could go home with the glory.’

‘I don’t care about glory,’ I challenged. ‘I care about getting our people home. People I know you care about, too.’

Sam leaned his head back against the wall, like he was truly considering it. Out of the corner of my eye, I realised that the man at the bar was looking at us again. His eyes darted away, like he’d been caught. There was something unsettling about him.

‘Sam,’ I said carefully, keeping my tone neutral, ‘did that friend of yours happen to say how it was he’s able to sail out of Izman now when no one else has managed it in weeks?’

‘Mmm?’ Sam scratched his eyebrow with a thumb evasively. ‘I don’t recall.’

That sounded as good as a no to me. The man’s foot was tapping out a frantic timpani against the edge of the bar. Almost like he was nervous. Or waiting for something.

‘How about a price?’ I asked. ‘Was there a number mentioned before you turned up here with your money, or did you get here to find out that whatever amount you brought wasn’t enough?’

‘Well …’ Sam looked thoughtful. The drinks were dulling him. ‘That’s how business works. When a service is so in demand … it would be stupid to set his going rate too low …’ Now even he sounded sceptical.

‘You don’t think it’s strange –’ my hand strayed to my pistol even as I kept my voice steady – ‘that this is all happening now, right when the Sultan is especially desperate to be get his daughter back. And that you just happened not to have the right amount of money so that you’d have to stick around, gambling for a shot at getting out.’

It finally dawned on Sam what I was saying. He cursed in Albish, looking more annoyed than anything else. ‘It’s a trap.’





Chapter 8

I was on my feet, pistol in hand. That was my next mistake, showing alarm. A shrill whistle went up from the same man who’d tried to stop me when I walked in. Suddenly three more men were on their feet, pulling out guns I hadn’t seen before.

I was already moving, headed for the bar, firing as I went, Sam close behind me. One shot struck a wall, the next struck a man in the chest, the last sent a bottle exploding, forcing two men to cover their faces as we dived over the bar. Sam slid across after me, his foot catching a drink, sending it flying into the wall, spraying liquor and shattered glass. The barman flinched from where he was crouched, trying to stay covered. We were going to get him killed if we stayed back here.

My mind raced. They’d set this as a trap to lure in someone from the Rebellion. That was why they’d staged it here, in this floating box of wood, far from the reach of the desert. They’d been warding against both me and Sam. And the twins, too, since it left nowhere to fly out of if they’d been here. They knew too much about us.

Gunfire started again, shattering the shelves above our heads, raining clear booze and glass over us. I reached up and grabbed a half-empty bottle, shooting a few times over the bar.

‘Sam!’ I could feel the sand deep below the sea’s waters. It was heavy and sluggish, nothing like the wind-quick grace of pure desert sand. But it was still sand. ‘You can swim, can’t you?’