“There,” said Belamy, nudging his chin up. Following his gaze, I finally saw it: the beginnings of a stone track raised above the marsh, snaking out from the reeds into the water. “Tides move fast here. It’s goin’ out already.”
He was right—the sea was receding in front of us, each swell breaking well short of the last. By now there were stretches of mudflat exposed, strewn with glistening seaweed and shells.
“Better get a move on,” he added to Egard. “Innkeeper said to follow close behind the tide.”
“Oh,wewon’t be leaving,” Egard replied, tightening the ropes that held down my case. He shot me a disconcerting smile. “Nowhere for her to go this time but onward. So she can cross by herself while we sit here and watch. And she can tell them nobles up at the castle to have the cart returned to its owner tomorrow.” He clapped a hand onto the mare’s flank, making her jump. “Up we get, then,” he said, lip curling, “Orha filth.”
My heart thudded painfully as I looked out at the tide. Although it was receding, it was still unruly, slapping at the dull stone, sending spray up over the track.
“You were contracted to see meallthe way to my destination.” I had no desire to spend another second in Egard’s company, but the thought of heading into the bay alone made me uneasy—the very place where my friend had met her end.
“That may be,” Egard retorted, “but you can’t exactly tattle on us now, can you?” He shaded his eyes, looking out to where the island must lie, and shook his head. “Hells if I can guess why anyone’d choose to live out there.”
I half expected Belamy to protest, or at least look discomforted by the plan, but he seemed relieved; I suspected his head was still pounding. Idling by the bay’s edge with some breakfast no doubt sounded far more inviting than bumping along that causeway and back.
I climbed, with as much dignity as I could muster, into the cart.
“Farewell, then, Floodmouth,” Egard called, already seating himself heavily on a low wall.
“Enjoy your well-earned wages,” I shot back, but goading him was far less satisfying this time. My nerves fluttered and my neck was damp despite the breeze.
Egard chuckled as Belamy folded his long body down next to him. I was left to urge the gray mare onward, and my cart slowly trundled off into the bay.
5
Thesalt marsh was a vast tapestry sprawling along the coastline. Marsh reeds speared skyward like pikes around me, while waders and wildfowl were buffeted by the surf. Eventually the stone track spilled me out onto the causeway, which looked to have been reinforced with durable nabyrium to offset the tides’ relentless erosion. Gradually the reeds thinned, the bay opened out in front of me, and I was faced with an expanse of steel ocean beneath a dull sky.
Bower Island was a dark smear, a suggestion, on the horizon. It looked immensely far away. Nine miles, I recalled Rhama saying back at Arbenhaw—a three-hour journey at the plodding pace of this mare.
I swivelled, but Egard and Belamy were hidden by the reeds. I supposed I might have fled over the mudflats, but the tide wasn’t going out all at once—it was ragged, rivulets snaking around me. I saw ditches in the sand, great frothing pools, areas of mud that looked like they might swallow me…
Egard had been right: I had nowhere to go but onward. Besides, there was no way I was going to miss that meeting, miss the opportunityto find out more about Zennia—and that meant surviving this placement, at least for the next week. So I sat and watched the endless uncovering of the causeway ahead, seaweed laid across it like clumps of dark hair.
An hour passed by, then an hour and a half. The clouds thickened and thunder rumbled in the distance. Behind me was a constant cacophony of screeching: gulls feasting on the delicacies left behind by the tide. It was clear, I thought as I watched redshanks wheel above me, why this whole stretch of shoreline was called the Chorus Coast.
About halfway along the causeway, I came to a stone harbor, which looked to be built entirely of nabyrium. The sea sloughed off it in sheets as it emerged. There were no boats, of course, not at archwater—only iron rings set into the stone.
The harbor must have cost a fortune to build. Nabyrium—volcanic and almost as strong as diamond—was rare and not widely available. The coastal Houses used it to counter the tides, while the rest of the Hundred liked it becausewecouldn’t damage it—though a very determined Mudmouth might shake a nabyrium tower down.
The waves broke ahead of me, drew back out, came back in again. It was monotonous by now, even a little mesmerizing. I found myself gazing at the emerging sands, wondering if here, or there, was where Zennia had struggled…I was sinking back into that black hole of grief, wallowing, pulled under by the movement of the cart. I closed my eyes, almost nodding right off, when abruptly—
Crack!
The cart jolted violently.
I clung on as the mare reared, nearly upending the cart—and me. The wheels groaned; something scraped against the stone. Before the mare could send us toppling onto the mud, I sprang down, tottered briefly, and caught hold of her reins.
“Steady.Steady.” I had no idea how to manage horses, but I spoke as calmly and firmly as I could, and she seemed to respond, whickering gently. Once she was still, I went to inspect the damage.
“Hells,” I muttered as I dropped into a crouch. A fitting had splintered near one of the wheels, and something else important-looking had cracked right through. I mentally cursed Egard and Belamy for securing the cheapest cart-for-hire they could find in Port Rhorstin.
As I straightened stiffly and gazed out at the island, closer now but still some distance off, I saw the tide drawing inexorably away from me, the gap between us lengthening even as I stood there. The mare had no saddlebags, not even a saddle—no means of carrying either me or my case.
I chewed my lower lip. I’d just have to walk. The broken-down cart—surely no loss to its owner—would fall victim to the next tide, smashed to splinters and scattered.
I unfastened the mare and used some of the rope to fashion a makeshift handle for my case, then took her by the bridle, yanked the case down off the cart, and began to drag it behind me up the causeway—just as a thin rain began to fall.
“Hells, hells, hells.”
