Fable (Fable #1)(52)

“I’m thinking I’ll burn this city to the ground until I find him.”

She pushed past me, and I followed her down the stairs, straight for the counter, where the barkeep was stacking clean green glasses in neat rows. Willa took a bottle of rye from where it sat before him, and he looked up, watching her from the top of his gaze.

“What is it, Willa?”

Every bit of the feebleness she’d had upstairs was instantly gone, replaced by the hard, cold face of a trader. “Did you see West last night?” She uncorked the bottle, taking a long drink.

The barkeep leaned on the counter, looking between the two of us. “No, why?”

“Hear any talk about him?” There was an eerie calm to her voice, the look in her eye almost dead.

“I don’t deal in gossip.” He picked up another glass, ignoring her.

“You do now.” She held the bottle out before her and turned it upside down. The rye spilled out onto the counter, pouring over the edge onto the stools and pooling at our feet.

“What the—” He reached over the counter, but she already had another bottle in hand, dropping it onto the wood floor. It shattered around us, and I knew what she was going to do before she did it. She turned on her heel and walked past him to were three candles were burning inside a glass lantern on the wall. She took it from the hook, holding it before her.

“Willa…” His hands went up before him, his wide eyes trained on the lantern.

It hovered over the puddle of rye at Willa’s feet. We all knew what would happen if she dropped it. The tavern would light up like kindling. It would burn to the ground and spread to every building this one touched so fast that there wouldn’t be a thing anyone could do about it. A fire in a city like this was a guaranteed death for us all.

She’d meant it—burning the city to the ground.

“Did you hear any talk about West last night?” she repeated slowly, the wax from the candle dripping onto the glass casting of the lantern.

“Maybe!” He took a step closer, his hands now shaking. “Maybe a coin master from one of the trading ships.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I swear. He only asked if the crew of the Marigold was staying here.”

“And what did you say?” Her head tilted to one side.

“I said you were. That’s all. Nothing else.” He gulped. “I swear, I don’t know anything else.”

“I thought you don’t deal in gossip.” Willa stared into the white-hot flame. “If I don’t find West by sundown, I’m coming back. And before I set this tavern on fire, I’ll stake your body to that counter.”

He nodded frantically, the glisten of sweat beading at his hairline. She was terrifying, her beautiful face marred with the scar of the hot blade. She opened the door of the lantern and blew out the candle before she dropped it on the ground and it broke into pieces, scattering over the floorboards.

“Come on.” She opened the door, filling the tavern with daylight, and we stepped out onto the street.

I followed her back toward the harbor. We slipped into the same alleys that we’d walked only that morning, but this time with quick steps. Our boots splashed in the mud, and we pushed through the bodies crowded between the buildings until the cool scent of the sea found us, cutting the stench of the city. Willa led us away from the docks, where the hovels of Waterside were clumped together in a maze of leaning, rotting structures.

“I thought we were going to the gambit,” I said, trying to keep up.

She didn’t answer, cutting left and right without even looking around her. She knew exactly where she was going.

When she stopped before an empty doorframe, she slid her knife back into her belt, taking a deep breath before she turned to face me. “Can I trust you?”

“Yes,” I said, surprising myself with how quickly I’d answered. I hadn’t even taken a moment to think about it.

“This stays between you and me.” She met my eyes for a moment before she ducked inside. “Only you and me.”

The squalor of the city was even worse in the dark, cramped room. It was bare, with hardly any furniture, and the walls empty. The air was stifled, making it hard to breathe. Only a small wooden chair sat beside the window, where a basin and a small fire bin made up something resembling a kitchen.

“Mama?”

I froze, my boot hovering over the next step.

“Hmmm?” a high-pitched voice answered.

My eyes adjusted slowly, and the thin, sticklike form of a woman appeared in the shadowed corner. A violet shawl was draped over her bony shoulders, a smear of red painted over her thin lips.

Willa sank down beside her, reaching for her hand, and the woman took it. “Willa.” She smiled, blinking slowly.

I’d seen a hundred women like her on Waterside in my lifetime. Poor, hungry. Selling themselves to traders who were docked for the night and ending up with swollen bellies. That’s why Waterside was full of children.

“Mama, was West here? Last night?” Willa spoke softly.

I looked around the room for any sign of him, my eyes landing on a basket of turnips that sat in the corner beside a jar of pickled fish and an unopened tin of tea. Maybe he’d made Willa’s mother his problem too.

“Mm-hmm.” The woman nodded, but she looked tired.