Still, I’ll take reticence over the open hostility and danger of the Sleeve any day. Wary strangers are nothing new. It’s exhilarating to walk around without concern for my physical safety, though I do startle more than once when someone turns a corner and heads toward me.
All the tents look comfortable and well-appointed yet simple, similar to mine, with added personal décor like handmade pottery and homespun tapestries, and some with braided ropes in vibrant colors to replace the utilitarian one that secures the entryway. No one seems to lack for anything, or possess much more than anyone else, either. It’s a far cry from the rigid Laconian hierarchy, where the estates look down on the cottages, and the cottages and farmhouses look down on the shantytown of the Sleeve. In Lacon, you can tell exactly how rich and important a person is by the cut of their cloth alone.
But after sampling the luxuries of House Eternal, I wonder if this simple kind of life won’t be enough for me. Another thought occurs to me, one that maybe floated around on the periphery but that I’ve refused to face: Do I actually miss Rollo, or only the perks he’d provided? And will I ever see him again?
Back in my room, I check beneath the bed and under the table for spies, then peek out from the door curtain to ensure nobody lingers outside. Then I tie the sash to the hook on the wall and return to the bed. I reach my hand behind the pillow, against the wall, until I find the tightly wound scrap of fabric I’d placed there earlier. Before removing it, I listen once more. No footsteps or voices.
I pull the relic out from behind the bed and unwrap it, but stay right where I am in case I need to hide it away with little notice. No one can know I have this precious magic. Not yet.
“Tadhana?” I whisper. Hopefully the spirit is able to shed some light on this place and tell me where Rollo is and why he’s sent me here.
I’m here.
“What do you think of the Lashing? Is it too good to be true?” I ask.
“Who are you talking to?”
I nearly jump out of my skin. I shove the relic into my pocket and turn to see Darius standing in the doorway, carrying a wooden tray of food. How had he approached so silently?
He doesn’t wait for an answer to his own question. “Since you probably haven’t eaten, I brought you something.” He places the tray on a round table in the corner.
There are goblets of water for both of us, along with bread, and soup, and a mug of steaming tea. “That looks wonderful. Thank you.” I’m so used to staving off hunger, I didn’t realize how famished I was until faced with the sight of a fresh hot meal.
Are you going to tell me what you woke me up for?
“Shhh!” I say as Darius sets the tray down on the table.
“Did you say something?” he asks, turning back to me.
“I think it was from next door,” I answer quickly. I clang the spoon around noisily and shove the relic deeper into my pocket with the other hand.
“Are you joining me?” I gesture to the open seat across from me. I make note of the fact that even though I’m technically a guest in his space, he waits until he’s invited to sit down. Once he does, I clear my throat and take a sip of the tea. It’s strong, but not bitter, and sweet, but not overly so.
“I hope you don’t mind if I ask you a few questions,” he says, after I’ve had a chance to eat a few morsels of bread.
“Of course not, I’m at your service,” I say with a bright smile. My time with Rollo at the palace taught me manners, I suppose.
“Your—companion? Eban? He isn’t as forthcoming,” he says.
I titter a bit. “Oh, that’s just Eban, you know what thieves are like,” I say, then immediately regret that I might have said too much. I shrug casually and swallow a spoonful of soup. As perfect as the tea. “This is quite good,” I say. He nods, accepting the compliment on behalf of the cooks of the Lashing.
“So he’s a thief, is he?” Darius asks.
“Aren’t we all who live in the Sleeve?” I say, a bit defensively. I don’t tell him I’m a thief, too.
“Hmm,” he says. “There are always choices.”
“Maybe since you live here—in a free colony—you think there are. But in the Sleeve there aren’t many. We’re either servants or thieves. Groveling or sneaking. There’s not much else.”
“I wasn’t judging,” he says softly. “But I did want to ask you. My sources on the mainland tell me that a massive heist went down two nights ago.”
My heart begins to pound. “Oh?”
“And it involved quite a bounty.”
“Did it now?”
“Yes, and some of it was recovered, but some of it was stolen, they say.” He leans forward. “Do you know what Ophir relics are?”
