“Fishy bitches.” Clotty puts her feet up, the dirt on her shoes scuffing the bejeweled table. “They should catch their men like everyone else.” She looks down at her crotch. “With their squeezebox, not their voice box.”
Gareth pinches the bridge of his nose.
I reach for her with my other hand. “Did I mention I missed you?”
“A few times, lass, yes.” She squeezes my fingers.
“All right, so no sirens. What about the Neverending Sea? Maybe the stories about that place are sort of exaggerated? I mean, an entire beach can’t be made of bone, right?”
“It can.” The stone man speaks, and I jump. He’d been standing so still in the shadows I forgot he was here. “I’ve seen it. The waters teem with creatures whose teeth can rip flesh in only a moment. They devour all, even their own kind.” He rubs his hand along his bald head, the sound like someone striking flint. “None can venture there.”
“Hang on. You’re strong. Why didn’t Cenet take you?” I turn toward him.
He knocks his fist on his skull with a harsh thud. “Can’t enthrall me. Too thick.”
“Oh. Makes sense.” I lean back in the cushioned chair as the bonfire begins to send flames shooting into the falling night. “Maybe we chase Cenet down? Take him out, and then the slaves would be free?”
“Cenet would sacrifice every one of those slaves to save his own hide.” Chastain grits his teeth. “We can’t risk it. Our only chance is to get to Cranthum first and defend the city. There, we have at least some advantage. During the battle, perhaps we can breach far enough to get to Cenet and break his control.” He sits, but the gold is still in his hand, always turning into something new. Now a turtle, then a snake, then a bear, then a wyvern. “I don’t want to fight our own people, to go to war against the enthralled slaves. But we have to defend Cranthum. If it falls, the rebellion is lost.”
I stare as the gold in his hand flashes into something else, but the wyvern sticks in my mind. “What if we flew?”
“Flew?” Parnon shakes his head. “Unless you sprout wings, changeling, I don’t think we’ll make it.”
“What about the wyverns?” I point in the direction of the Brute Volcano.
“There aren’t any more.” Gareth pulls my hand back to him and kisses my fingertips. “Not since the volcano stopped erupting.”
His mouth is soft on my skin. How long has it been since I’ve gotten a good taste of him? Too long. I lick my lips. He starts to purr.
“They’re up there,” Clotty says matter-of-factly.
Gareth stops nibbling me. “What?”
“The wyverns,” the stone man, Boland is his name I think, fills in. “Whenever the mountain rumbles, they circle the peak.”
“Scores of them, yes.” Clotty nods. “They steal slaves to eat. Made the masters so mad to lose perfectly good workers, but what can you do against a hungry wyvern?”
“Run,” Parnon grunts.
“We can go speak to the wyverns, get them to fly us to Cranthum, and then we’ll be good to go.” I nod along with my words.
No one else nods back. Not even Chastain.
“That is certain death, lass.” Clotty pats my knee. “Meddling with wyverns is never a good idea.”
“Sure, it’s a bad idea. But so was fleeing to the jungle, and travelling to Cranthum, and navigating the Abyss, and coming to liberate the mines.” I shrug. “Maybe this one will turn out to be good like the others.”
“We almost died in the jungle—remember the poison?” Gareth asks.
“You loved the poison. You made friends with trees,” I deadpan.
“We were in grave danger in Cranthum. Several times. Actually, you were a hairsbreadth away from going to the Glowing Lands without me. Remember Cenet’s blade at your throat?” His countenance darkens with each word.
“It was just a scratch really. And I’m alive. See?” I point at myself (like an idiot).
“A scratch?” Gareth’s voice rises along with his ire. “What about the vines?”
“Iridiel is surprisingly anti-veg with that glowy horn thing. So, we were fine.I’mfine.”
