I fill our glasses and pass the wine around. The room is warm, and the hum of voices reaches a new wave of intensity.
‘My body is begging for a nice soft chair,’ I say, finally setting down my cutlery and patting my full belly.
In the corner a revelry of song has started, with empty cups tapped as accompaniment.
‘All right then, let’s get sentimental. Are you old enough to drink?’
‘You know I’m not,’ they say.
‘Let’s get you a tankard anyway.’
‘Do you think that’s a responsible thing to do?’ Ris asks with a hiccup.
I shrug. ‘Well, let’s get me one, then. I want to feel my age tomorrow.’
‘Well, you’ve fewer turns of the sun than I do.’ Ris laughs.
‘Surely not.’ I squint at her.
She playfully punches me on the arm. I’ll admit it hurt worse than I would’ve expected.
‘All right, that’s a game I can’t win. How about Soklan?’ I suggest, taking my cards out of their cloth pouch.
Ris’s shoulders loosen and her eyes sparkle. ‘I’ve heard your shanties; I know you’re a sailor. Most honest sailors don’t dabble in Soklan.’
‘Is that so?’ I ask. ‘And how many dishonest sailors do you know, farmer?’
‘Wasn’t Soklan invented by the royals?’ Isagani chimes in. ‘That’s what my grandmother always told me.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ I say, shuffling the deck. ‘The game’s about reading your opponent. Using their own secret weaknesses against them. So, I propose a wager.’ Ris raises her eyebrows asI continue: ‘If I win, you show me that map you’ve got Morna deciphering.’
Ris considers this. ‘And if I win?’ she asks.
A discordant thudding interrupts our conversation, and we abandon the game setup.
‘Is that knocking?’ Ris asks.
I weave my way through the crowd, leaving her and Isagani in my wake.
As I approach Narra, she is deep in conversation with Morna and Ligaya, and looks perturbed by the disturbance. Ligaya looks grave, the most serious I’ve ever seen her, and Narra chews her bottom lip, mulling something over. Morna turns, wiping away tears. This feels like something more than newly-wed emotions.
‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ I begin, warily. ‘But there’s someone at the door.’
‘We’ll continue this discussion later,’ Narra tells Morna, sternly.
‘Something amiss?’ I ask.
‘Nothing to concern you,’ she says, moving through the guests like water on her way to the door.
She opens it casually and, I can’t see who’s she talking to, but her expression remains placid. Then she looks back inside and catches my eye. Her expression remains unchanged, but she brings her hand up to her face, as if brushing away a stray hair. Her fingers are splayed across her eye like a child playing a game of hide-and-seek. I follow her silent instructions, twisting through the guests and looking around for Isagani. They aren’t anywhere in the downstairs common areas, and I dash up the narrow stairs to our room. Isagani is deep in thought looking out the window.
‘Hide,’ I command, grabbing their hand and pulling them back into the corridor.
‘Where?’ they whisper, following fleet-footed in my wake.
We make our way to the top of the inn, and I look around frantically. Then there’s nowhere left to run. We hear people stomping up the stairs, their gait slow and heavy. Doors slam below us, and the sound of furniture scraping. Seaguardians. They’re checking all the rooms.
Isagani struggles with a window, and I join them, hoisting the stiff wooden casement open. It’s awkward and narrow, but we wriggle through, perching on the sill. The brickwork is firm and luckily it hasn’t rained in Umasa today, so the stone is rough against our fingers and easy to grip. Isagani goes first, smearing against the wall and using their feet for purchase to scramble up to the roof. I see their small face peering over the ledge at me.
