‘A little.’
‘If you trust him, then he would be a great asset.’
I bark a laugh. ‘Who can I trust?’
‘Trust us,’ she says, with earnestness so fierce it makes me shudder.
They could have left us to our own devices, our business our own, but since we arrived on Umasa, Morna, Ligaya, and Narra have shown us nothing but warmth and generosity.
I sigh. ‘Why are you doing any of this? You owe us nothing; we’re strangers.’
She laughs. ‘That is why the ports have been closed for centuries.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
‘You have no love of the Bastion, but you run on fear – just the same as them. Ris, you are a startled animal sometimes,’ she says, with a fondness and familiarity I find alarming and disarming in turn.
‘What do you know about fear?’ I snip.
She settles into her chair, waiting for me to calm like a kettle off the boil. ‘Where do you think these books come from?’
I look around at the shelves lined with books and for the first time see the craft and care it takes to scribe and to bind. She must do this all herself: a labour of love.
‘You don’t see many books, not even on the mainland,’ she sighs, adding quietly, ‘What I wouldn’t give to see the library at the Bastion or the Temple of Aistra.’
I bite my lip, not knowing what to say. When something doesn’t concern you day to day, it doesn’t necessarily occur to you to think beyond. My time has been spent with the loom, worrying about the animals. I had no thoughts for books – who wrote them, where they came from, what use the written word could be.
The shop bell rings, and Morna gestures for me to stay in the back room as she goes to the counter. ‘How may I help you? Ah, it’s you. Good to see you again.’
I peer between the bookshelves and see a woman dressed in a travelling cloak with a heavy bag, which she places on the counter.
‘More transcriptions,’ the traveller says, setting out a pile of books for Morna to examine. The traveller leans closer and whispers, ‘And what word on the wing?’
Morna glances back to where I am and I look away, pretending to be fixated on the map.
‘I am with company,’ she tells the traveller, meaningfully. ‘But there is an Umasan maya looking for a new home.’
The traveller nods and bundles the now-empty bag into her cloak.
‘Until next time, Morna.’
Morna carries the books over to the back room and looks at me.
‘That was no ordinary customer, was it?’ I ask.
She looks at me and then at the books, deliberating. ‘Actually, prior to the ports opening, that was my main customer.’
‘Who was she?’
‘I don’t need to tell you everything about my business,’ she says.
I glance at the books she’s acquired. Although I can’t read them, I recognise the Bastion symbol, the same royal sun we saw materialise on the map.
‘You’re working for them!’
Morna shakes her head. ‘No, not exactly.’
‘I knew there was more to your motive than kindness,’ I hiss, starting to make my way out of the shop.
