Handing him the snacks and stepping over to my grate, she produced a pocket tinderbox, struck up a small flame, and murmured something to it. I jumped as it erupted with a roar.
“Easy there,” Tigo muttered.
“Sorry,” said Rhianne, warming her hands next to the fire. “I’m used to the big hearths up at the castle. Speaking of which…” She glanced out the window. “I’m due to help Cook with supper, and hells welcome me if I’m late.”
“We’ll leave you to get settled,” Tigo said. He glanced down at the sweetnuts, then placed them on my dresser. “And I’ll tell the housekeeper, Miss Haney, you’re here.”
As they turned toward the door, I couldn’t help feeling suddenly very alone.
“What’s it like?” I asked quickly before they could leave. “Working for them. House Shearwater, I mean.”
I was thinking of Zennia’s stories about the Hundred. Of the young man’s cool regard on the causeway.
They exchanged a glance. Tigo seemed to deliberate. “It’s good, solid work,” he said simply, slowly. As though he were trying to convince himself as well as me.
“They leave us alone to get on with things, for the most part,” added Rhianne. “It’s Miss Haney we deal with day to day.”
I thought they would go then, but Tigo hesitated, eyes flicking to the pile of items on the floor. “Zennia’s…passing caused a lot of turbulence,” he said. “Brigant Shearwater—he wasn’t best pleased.”
At Tigo’s word—passing—my stomach flopped. Hearing it spoken aloud, at last, felt like a blade piercing my skin.
“It’s usually a good idea to avoid Rexim’s attention. But he may take a little more interest in your performance, these first few weeks, in the wake of…well”—Tigo scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck—“as he sees it, in the wake of Arbenhaw’s failure, thus far, to provide him with a capable Floodmouth.”
Anger stung me, while shame warmed my cheeks. Tigo had been there on the causeway; he’d seen me fail. If I couldn’t persuade the ocean to listen to me soon, if this feeling of floating adrift got worse, Brigant Shearwater would surely notice. I’d be sent off somewhere else, perhaps somewhere far worse. I’d never make it to my meeting at the Veil, never find out anything more about Zennia.
“Zennia was the best of us,” I said into the silence. “Top of our year. She was more than capable.”
At that, Rhianne darted a quick look at Tigo. But the Mudmouth carefully avoided her eyes.
“We’re needed at the castle,” he said, grim faced. “I’m sure Miss Haney will contact you soon.”
He took Rhianne’s arm—a gentle steer—and the two of them padded out into the hall. Tigo pulled my door closed behind him.
As I stood there, every intake of breath hitching, their murmurs echoed up the stone steps. Quickly, I slipped off my boots and darted to the door. I eased myself through it, footsteps silent, and moved to the top of the spiralling stairs.
“How did the drop-off go?” Rhianne’s voice, drifting upward.
Tigo’s deeper one: “Fine, apart from the crossing back. Turnstone agreed to half the gold now and half in two weeks, on market day.”
A pause. “Do you think he’ll go out again tonight?”
“Undoubtedly.”
The sound of a faint, shallow sigh.
Rhianne: “Did you hear what she said in there? About Zennia?”
I sidled forward, creeping down another stair.
But Tigo’s answer, when it came, was short: “Not now.”
And with that, their footsteps faded to nothing.
I stood there a moment, listening to my breathing, and thought of the Shearwater Tigo had been accompanying. Was that who they’d been talking about? And why had Rhianne been so struck by what I’d said?
Gripped, now, by a sudden fervor, I hurried to my room and stared around at it. There had to be something here of Zennia’s—something other than that sad pile of items. But I went to them first, rifling through them.
The painting I’d noticed was a picturesque scene of the bay, its docks crowded with ships’ masts. Maybe Zennia had bought it with her wages, but it seemed unlikely—we were hardly paid anything. I pried it from its frame, searched for any notes or names, but there was nothing. Perhaps it had come with the room.
