House of Salt and Sorrows(12)

I tried to hide my disappointment, arranging my face into a smile of thanks.

“Wasn’t Ekher with him?” asked the dockhand’s companion, who’d overheard the conversation as he rolled an enormous spool of thick rope.

“Was he? Didn’t think he left the docks these days.”

The second man grunted, and together they flipped the spool over, setting it upright. “He’s a couple of piers down, the old netter. You can’t miss him.”

I navigated the maze of connecting docks, keeping my eyes out for someone with nets. Three piers down, I saw him.

Ekher sat on a bench, surrounded by coils of cobalt and indigo cording. Decades of life on the docks had left his skin dark and leathery, with wrinkles worn in deep. His sinewy fingers were hooked around a wickedly curved needle used to knot the nets together. As they lightly danced over a pile of cords beside him, searching for the right piece, I realized he could not see them.

He was blind.

I paused, wondering what I ought to do next. It was obvious he wouldn’t be able to tell me any details about finding Eulalie—Billups must have been the one who spotted her. I was about to leave when he slowly turned from his net and stared directly at me with milky, unseeing eyes.

“If you’re going to ogle an old man all morning, girl, at least come and keep him company.” He reached out, beckoning with clawed fingers.

Pushing back a nervous laugh, I approached his bench. “I didn’t realize you could see me,” I apologized, smoothing out my linen skirt.

“Of course I can’t see you. I’m blind,” he retorted.

I cocked my head. “Then how—”

“Your perfume. Or soap. Or whatever it is young girls wear. I could smell it at a hundred paces.”

“Oh.” My heart dropped with surprising disappointment, saddened his answer was so pragmatic.

“What do you want with an old blind netter anyhow?”

“I heard you were with the fisherman who found that body….”

“I’ll be ninety-eight next Tuesday, my girl. There have been a lot of bodies in my life. You’ll need to be more specific.”

“Eulalie Thaumas. The Duke’s daughter.”

He lowered the needle. “Ah. Her. Terrible business.”

“Did your friend—Billups—think there was anything unusual about it?”

“It’s not very usual to see pretty young ladies falling from cliffs, is it? Is that what you mean?”

I sank down on the bench beside him. “So you believe it was an accident?”

Ekher raised two gnarled fingers toward his chest, as if warding off bad spirits. “What else would it be? She wouldn’t have jumped. We saw the locket.”

“Locket?” I echoed. I’d never seen Eulalie with a locket.

He nodded. “Chain was smashed to bits, but we could still make out the inscription.”

Before I could ask more, he stiffened and grabbed my hand in his. His fingers dug into my palm, and I cried out in surprise and pain. His grasp was too strong to jerk away from.

“Something’s coming.” His voice rasped, hoarse with panic.

I raised my other hand to my eyes, shielding out the bright sunlight. The wharf bustled along with its usual rhythms and sounds. Gulls screeched overhead, plotting to filch bits of chum from unsuspecting fishermen. Captains shouted at dockhands, issuing orders and sometimes curses as the wayward lads struggled through headaches undoubtedly the result of a wild time at the tavern the night before.

“I don’t see anything.”

His grip tightened; he was clearly frightened. “Can’t you feel it?”

“What?”

“Stars. Falling stars.”

I cast a dubious glance overhead at the morning sky, colored deep peach and amber. Not even Versia’s Diadem—the brightest of all constellations, named after the Night Queen—was visible.

“What happened to the locket?” I asked, trying to turn his attention to the matter at hand and away from unseen stars. “Did you bring it back with the body?”

He fixed his milky eyes on me, clearly affronted. “I’m no thief.”

I thought back to Eulalie’s funeral, remembering that horrible necklace she’d had on. It was the only time I’d ever seen her wear it. Had that been the locket?

I let out a sigh of frustration. The funeral was over two weeks ago. Her coffin had undoubtedly split open by now, returning Eulalie to the Salt, necklace and all.

“Do you remember what was written on it?”

Ekher nodded. “Billups read it out loud. Brought a tear to both our eyes.” He cleared his throat as if preparing to recite a poem. “?‘I dwelt alone In a world of moan, And my soul was a stagnant tide, / Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride.’?”

My mouth dropped open. “Bride? Eulalie wasn’t a bride.”

He shrugged, stabbing the needle back into the cording. Ekher missed his mark, and the curved metal sank into the pad of his wizened thumb. He didn’t seem to feel it. The dark blood stained the indigo net black.

“You’re hurt.”

His mood shifted abruptly again as the blood welled up and he rubbed his fingers together. “Get away from me before I lose the whole finger, you daft girl!” He wrinkled his nose and spat.