CHAPTER FOUR
Can Throw a Punch
Liv
I frown at the pile of coins like I’m disappointed in the cold metal pieces.
And I am, really. That pile is far too small.
I’m not an idiot. I knew my coin wouldn’t go far once the river barge docked at Silver City.
I just didn’t realize just how quickly it would drain out of me.
A few coins for a meal from a street vendor, a few more to spend the night in a room filled with cots where I tossed and turned, listening to strangers talk in their sleep and fantasizing about being able to afford a private room.
Just finding the damn Towers took me all day yesterday, and then I had to trace my steps back to the gritty inn near the water to spend another restless night in the common room.
I sigh, then slowly place most of the coins back into the lining of my bag, leaving enough in my purse for dinner. If I order something small.
I am making progress. I am. I expected I’d be laughed out of Silver City when I asked how to get into the Towers. But the woman I talked to just shrugged and said I could take a tour when the moon is full.
I almost dropped the bag of sugared walnuts I bought from her. A tour? The place that swallowed my husband whole gives tours?
Yes, apparently. The fearsome Towers of Silver City, the place Pytr swore would give us a chance at a better life before he vanished on a river barge, sells tickets for a tour when the moon is full.
I bite my nail and glance up at the darkening sky, as if I could hurry the damn moon along.
I still have five days to wait. Five days of walking up and down the streets of Silver City, staring at the walls surrounding the glistening white turrets of the Towers and the one shattered black ruin in the middle.
Five days of watching my pile of coins get smaller and smaller.
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath.
Then I glance over my shoulder to see if anyone is listening.
Thank the gods, the common room is still empty.
I slip my bag into the trunk at the end of the cot, snap the lock, and slip the key into my pocket.
I don’t completely trust that lock. If the innkeeper wanted, I’m sure they could bust into the chest and steal everything. But what choice do I have?
I square my shoulders, toss my hair back, and walk down the narrow, dimly lit hallway until I reach the dining hall. The innkeeper is lighting the lamps that hang along the walls. There are a few people sitting around the fire, but not too many.
Good. I know it’s vanity, but I don’t want too many witnesses.
I walk up to the innkeeper, then clear my throat. He turns and squints, like he’s trying to remember who I am. Or maybe he always looks like he’s trying to read something that’s written in a language he’s never studied.
“Can I help you?” he finally says, making it sound a bit like a question and a bit like a command.
I smile as politely as I can manage.
“Hello,” I say. “I’m Liv. I’m staying with you.”
The innkeeper frowns as he stares at me. The lamp behind him flickers, casting strange shadows over his face.
“You—” I begin. “You said something about work being a possibility.”
I’m smiling so hard it hurts my cheeks. My heart thuds dully inside my chest. The innkeeper rocks back on his heels, then looks over my body in a way that makes me want to take a bath.
“You’re a pretty girl,” he says.
“I can throw a pretty punch,” I reply.
He makes a wheezing sort of laugh, then shakes his head.
“You can cook?” he asks. “Wash up? That sort of thing?”
“Of course.”
He nods. “Just checking.” He tilts his head toward the kitchen. “Go in there. Tell my wife you’re here to help. You do what she asks, we’ll call it even for the bed.”
I thank him and bow. He moves on to the next lantern without looking back.
And I walk toward the kitchen, trying not to think about what other jobs he might have imagined after he called me pretty.