As soon as the sun rises, we leave the safe house behind and descend back down the hill to the heart of the Sleeve to meet with Zagar, that scumbag who set us up.
I trail behind Eban and Vergel and think about what they’d said the night before. How they’d immediately thought that I’d scored a mark in Rollo, or that Rollo had used me, or that he’d only been kind to me out of guilt, that our friendship wasn’t even real. That no real friendship can exist between an Ophir and a Laconian. But Rollo’s all I have. But what if they’re right? What if he was just using me? Did he ever care about me? I’m so confused, and I’m tired, and everything in my mind is a whirl. Does it even matter since I’ll never see Rollo again?
We walk separately, considering the Blackcoats are likely searching for two men and a woman traveling together. That way we’ll be less conspicuous. Vergel crosses to the other side of the road, and I keep about half a block behind Eban. I keep my face down, avoiding eye contact. Can I trust these two? Eban made us pledge to the Kingdom of Waves, but so what? And the symbols on our arms—what do they mean?
I decide I’ll stay with them for now, but once I can shake them, I’m out. I’ll find the boat Bahram was supposed to procure for me, and make my way to the Lashing on my own somehow. Eban’s wrong. Rollo was my friend. I trust him and I know that wewillsee each other again. I don’t know Eban from a stranger on the street, even though he saved my life last night.
We snake through the throngs of daylight wanderers on the streets, dodging aggressive beggars and the occasional patrol. After the recent rain, people are happy to go back out again, so the huge crowds help keep us anonymous.
Eban disappears inside a bar. I back under a building overhang and pull my hood closer around my face, eyes focused on Vergel across the way. I watch him look around before he crosses the street and enters the same bar where they’re supposed to meet Zagar to give him his cut. I wait before approaching to make sure they’re neither apprehended nor thrown out. After another minute or two, I step away from the building and head for the entrance to the bar, pushing past leering vagrants outside who stink of ale and weeks of filth.
It isn’t much better inside. Dim and dusty, it reeks of pickled vegetables and more ale. The floors are covered in a thin layer of grime, and tables and chairs seem like they were tossed into the room haphazardly and left wherever they fell. Sour-looking patrons line the bar, nursing their mugs. They all stare when I walk in, and don’t stop until I find my new companions. They’re sitting at a small round table in the back corner, their faces concealed in the shadow.
I pull out a stool and join them. There are three large frosty mugs of beer on the table and Eban nudges one closer to me. I nod my thanks and take a sip, grateful for the cool rush down my throat. Eban motions to the other side of the room to a man wearing familiar tattered brown robes leaning over the bar. He’s twirling an amber bottle around with his fingers.
I look at Eban and Vergel for confirmation. Eban nods. “That’s him.”
“Yep. Definitely the same man I saw with Aris. Has he seen you?” I whisper.
Eban shakes his head. “Not yet. But he will.”
As if he heard him, the man stands suddenly, pushing the stool back as he does. It screeches sharply across the floor, but the bartender pays him no mind.
“He’s coming,” I say.
“I can see that,” Eban says. “Let me do the talking.”
Without greeting us, the stranger pulls an empty chair from the neighboring table and sits down across from us. He leans forward and places his tanned, bulging arms on the table. “You’re early.”
“And you’re a liar, Zagar,” Eban replies coolly. I’m impressed at how calm he looks, in control, as if he were just discussing the weather.Now there’s someone who’s solid, I think,someone who could have your back in a knife fight. Then it occurs to me—that’s exactly what Eban was doing when we met. He had my back.
Zagar leans forward, crosses his arms, and regards the three of us with amusement. “There were no lies. I gave you information, in return for a small kickback.” He opens his arms wide, a challenge. “Where is the lie?”
Eban stares him down, mouth set in a thin line. “You gave the information about the job to another team as well. This is Gin. She was working with Aris.”
Zagar shrugs and smiles, like this is all fun and games. “Never said it was exclusive information. Did I?”
“Lies of omission are lies,” Eban growls.
“So. You got the loot. Where’s my cut?”
“How can we be sure you won’t sell us out to the Blackcoats?”
“Thieves’ honor,” he laughs. “You have no choice. But a good question, I suppose. You left a mess.”
“You meant us to.”
“Perhaps. But still, the Blackcoats are enraged. Looks bad, you know, poor gong farmers murdered in cold blood. Doesn’t look good for the high houses.”
“We could pay you, or we could kill you,” Eban says coldly.
Zagar laughs. “If you were going to kill me, you’d do it now. Why are you here?”
“Old times’ sake, I guess. Maybe I just wanted you to look me in the eye and understand that you weren’t able to get rid of me that easily.”
Zagar growls back, and for a moment it looks like it might come to blows. But then I see something peeking out from beneath his right sleeve. A mark I’ve seen before. A gold tattoo on his wrist that all Rollo’s servants, liverymen, and bannermen carried.
The mark of House Eternal.
