Fable (Fable #1)(51)

“What—who—?” I stammered.

But Willa was already turning in a circle, her gaze running down the line of ships docked around us until she saw the crest she was looking for. The Luna.

“Zola…” she growled.

We ran after Auster and Paj, pushing through the crowd of people who were already gathered around the ship, staring. The two men Hamish had paid to keep watch were lying on the dock in pools of their own sticky blood, their wide, empty eyes turned up to the sky.

“West!” Willa called out, climbing up the ladder as fast as her feet would take her. I followed, my palms burning on the ropes. But Auster and Paj were already waiting on the deck.

“He’s not here,” Paj said, his eyes still pinned to the ravaged sails.

The look on his face mirrored the ones down on the dock. It was a death sentence. The cost of an entirely new set of sails would empty the coffers and the time it took to repair them would put them even further behind on their route. They’d lose even more coin than what they’d lost in inventory in the storm. For a wealthy trader with many ships, it would be a hit. For a crew like the Marigold, it would sink their entire outfit.

Hamish’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as he fidgeted with his book, his thumb skimming the pages back and forth. There was no way to calculate, argue, or sidestep out of this one. Zola had gone in for the kill, swift and precise.

Willa went to the railing, her face afire. Three bays over, Zola was standing on the deck of the Luna, his gaze cast upon us.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to cut him open and break his bones with my bare hands while he’s still alive and breathing,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“He told me,” I said, remembering Zola in the haze of the night before.

“What?” Hamish and the others came to stand beside us.

“Last night, he told me the Marigold wouldn’t be sailing much longer.”

Willa gritted her teeth, the blood draining from her face.

And that wasn’t all he’d said.

Don’t think the Marigold will be on its feet much longer. Neither will its helmsman.

The wind suddenly turned cold, twisting and turning around us on the empty deck until I was wrapping my arms around myself.

Neither will its helmsman …

The same thought seemed to bleed into all of them in the same moment, their faces shifting almost in unison.

Willa’s eyes suddenly went wide, filled with terror. “Where the hell is West?”





TWENTY-SIX



“Who saw it?” Paj took the harbor master by the jacket, slamming him into the post in the center of the crowd.

Voices erupted all around us, every eye on the Marigold.

“Who?” Paj roared.

The man wrenched free, straightening the collar of his shirt. “I told you, the sun came up and the sails were slashed. No one saw anything.”

If they had, they’d never say it. There was a code in the Narrows among traders that no one ever broke. If you saw something, you kept it to yourself. No one wanted this kind of trouble, and that was what Zola was counting on. If he was reported to the Trade Council, he could lose his license for slashing another ship’s sails. But no one was going to say a word.

The harbor master flung a hand to the two bodies on the ground. “You’d better find that helmsman of yours. I don’t need your coin bad enough to have this mess on my dock.” He turned on his heel, taking off down the walkway, and the crowd slowly dispersed around us.

“Let’s go.” Willa pushed through us, leading the way back to Waterside. We walked in a single line, and Auster and Paj watched the shadows of doorways and windows as we passed.

My heartbeat ticked up in my chest, trying to remember if I’d seen West in the blur of the tavern the night before. I hadn’t. Or maybe I had. I only remembered Willa. Zola. The man in the alley I’d drawn my knife on.

Paj pushed open the door to the tavern, and we went straight up the wooden steps, into the dark hallway. Willa didn’t knock, pushing into the door with her shoulder until the lock busted and it flung open before us.

The room was clean, the gray wool blanket smoothed neatly over the bed. My stomach dropped.

West hadn’t slept here last night.

“Who was the last to see him?” Willa’s voice turned weak. Frailty looked so strange on her. It looked strange on all of them. They were scared. “Think. Who was the last to see him?”

“Last night. He had supper and…” Auster ran a hand through his unraveling dark hair, thinking. “I don’t know if I saw him go up the stairs.”

“He didn’t.” Hamish nodded toward the small table in the corner where an unlit candle still sat in the chamberstick. He’d probably never even stepped foot into the room.

Willa paced before the window, her fingers tapping the buttons on her jacket.

“Hamish, go to Saint. See if he’s heard anything. Maybe he went to the Pinch last night. Paj and Auster, check every tavern between here and each corner of the city. Fable and I will go to the gambit after we talk to the barkeep.”

They were down the stairs a moment later, and as soon as they were out of sight, Willa let out a long breath, the tears welling up in her eyes.

“What are you thinking?” I watched her face carefully. The fury that had been there on the docks was gone now, only the fear left.