Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
The transit yard was louder than expected and busy enough that no one paid me any attention.
I pulled the collar of my coat high over my cheeks, concealing half my face from the dockhands, but they were too invested in their work to care that I was a wanted criminal.
Voices shouted over pressure valves and steam whistles.
Black plumes from the ships’ funnels bled into the gray sky.
A wooden sign dangled above the wharf office, the paint faded and peeling so much I could barely make out the words: Canal Passage—Valveron Port.
Inside the office, lines to the ticket counter threaded through the building, cramping the space with a damp heat that formed a sweat down my spine, such a contrast from the open air of the trawler’s deck.
I found an open lane and made it to the ticket clerk, who sat behind a barred window, combing through a stack of forms with ink-stained fingers.
Pinned to the glass beside her station was a bounty poster. I tore it from the window before she looked up from the paperwork.
“Single or return?” she asked flatly.
“Single.” I slid a few coins across the counter, the remaining crowns from the previous job with Maurice. My face hid behind my collar.
She took my coins and tossed them in a small register, scrawling something across a ticket before stamping it with a rusted seal.
“Your steamer’s the Sea’s Essence. Departs at noon.”
Somewhat smug I’d made it this far without Max’s help, I tucked away my ticket and headed for the small market near the dock, searching for something to eat since I had time to spare.
I found a comfortable spot in the shadow of a nearby warehouse and watched the crowd as I nibbled on a meat pie. Max was nowhere to be found, and I wasn’t looking for him, anyway. Instead, the docks teemed with strange faces from across the Continent.
A group of northern traders in wool coats argued over a shipment of timber.
A merchant from the Southern Continent leaned against a crate, the air around her heady with cardamom and smoke.
Factory men from the city hauled heavy equipment onto the deck of a barge, bare backs sweating in the steam that slipped from the machinery around them.
Different accents tangled together in the ruckus.
Watching it all, I felt like I was standing in the seam of the world.
The Sea’s Essence sounded her whistle, and the crowd collected toward the ship.
I shoved the last bit of pie in my mouth before pushing off the brick wall to join them, letting myself be swept up in the tide leading to the nearest gangplank.
The purser took my ticket, glancing at me a second time before moving on to the next passenger.
Just as my hand touched the railing of the gangway, a voice cut through the crowd. “You there! Girl… Stop!”
A quick look over my shoulder, and I noticed the guard.
One of the Commissioner’s men was scanning the crowd, pushing between people to get ahead. He was coming from the ticket office, and I wondered if someone had tipped him off—if there had been someone who recognized me.
What was Valveron’s police doing this far outside the city? Trying to catch me leaving town?
Running up the gangplank would only make me an obvious target. I’d need to find a different avenue. Before the constable caught up, I slipped away from the purser, running between the mooring ropes toward the stern of the ship.
Crates swung overhead from cranes loading cargo, and I ducked beneath one just in time. The constable’s shouts were swallowed by hissing vents and the clang of metal on metal. A valve released a cloud of steam nearby, cloaking the loading deck in a brief, blessed fog.
I ran straight into a sailor.
“I’m sorry, I—” The rest of my apology was covered by another whistle from the ship. Last call.
“You ain’t supposed to be back here,” the heavyset worker spoke, assessing me with a wandering eye.
Another whistle—this time from the copper—sent a thrill down my spine. “Please,” I begged him, holding out the rest of my purse. “I just need to stay somewhere belowdecks. Just until we get to the North Docks.”
He glanced toward the direction of the pursuing constable, then took my purse, weighing the coins in his meaty palm. Pulling his cap lower on his sweating brow, he muttered, “You didn’t hear this from me. The cargo hold is half empty. Keep your head down.”
The sailor beckoned me to follow him between a stack of crates, where a hatch led to the cargo space. A heavy breeze carried the scent of coal and hot iron, warm as a breath.
“I’ll warn you,” he said as I trespassed. “If you’re worried about the constable, there’s a whole lot more of them where this ship is headed.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He squinted at me before throwing the hatch shut. Already, the steamer’s horn was sounding a final time to signal our departure. With the cargo hold sealed shut for the trip, I took in the quiet room filled with packaged treasures. For the first time in weeks, I was alone.
Sunlight spilled through a line of circular windows, barely sunken beneath the waterline, sparing me little light as I pulled a crumpled piece of paper from my pocket.
The bounty poster from the ticket office. My bounty poster.
It was an imperfect sketch of my face the day I’d been arrested.
My crimes were listed beneath my picture, my first and last name, and a bulleted list of my attributes.
My hair was pinned back, as it had been that day, ready to go to the chemist with Mother.
My lip was busted from where Commissioner Cassien had struck me, the first injury to my body that Max had healed.
I ran a thumb over the spot, still shocked at the Commissioner’s anger when I’d insulted the dead Governor.
Word of what I’d done must have spread throughout the Continent, and the law would follow me no matter how far I ran. If I was within their borders, I was within their reach. I crushed the poster and tossed it across the aisle.
I peeled an orange and leaned against a shipping crate, wishing I could have shared the space with a cargo that was more comfortable.
Through the portholes, the sun passed over the water, and the angles of shadows moved as the hours dragged by. I didn’t know if we were close to Valveron, but the day was latening. The hold of the ship was heating up.
Alone as I was, I stripped down as sweat dampened my spine, tossing my coat and shirt across a nearby crate. That same crate just so happened to hold crates of liquor, and I saw it as a sign to indulge myself a little after a few days of hell.
I was relaxing with a bottle of wine, cooling off, when a door opened. The sound jolted me upright.
In nothing but my bralette, I hid with the wine still in my hand, the other going for the gun Maurice had given me. I hid behind the crate.
Footsteps were slow, lazily circling the cargo hold as if on an inspection. I held my breath, clutching the gun in a trembling hand. The steps went quiet.
“What are you doing down there?”
The voice came from above, and I looked up to see Max sitting on top of the crate, staring down at me with an amused smirk.
“Maxence!” I shouted his name in surprise, dropping the gun immediately. He was strangely relaxed, jumping from the crate to offer me a hand.
“Came to make sure you weren’t caught and thrown in here against your will.
” His gaze fell to the peeled orange and the bottle of white wine before realizing I was shirtless.
He swallowed hard, lingering for a heartbeat longer before finding something else to look at. “I see you’re doing well enough.”
“I am. I told you I’d be fine. So you can go back to making small talk on the deck.”
“Nina.”
I groaned, despising the way he’d said my name, like I was the one being unreasonable. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to fucking listen for once in your life,” he said. “Forsaken Architect, I can’t say anything before you dismiss me.”
I mimed sealing my lips and locking them with a key, then motioned for him to go on.
He rolled his amber eyes. “Look, I didn’t intend to upset you this morning.
I just wanted you to understand how dangerous the Glamour die can be.
It’s easy to have boundaries with Forge.
The elements aren’t personal like the mind.
The world becomes the weapon for Forge, but Glamour makes a weapon out of all of us. ”
“You were fine with me practicing on the dockworkers,” I pointed out.
“Had I known you wanted a smile so badly, I would have volunteered.” His hands formed fists at his sides, and he tore his stare away from me. “I know I took things too far today. I never intended to make you do something you didn’t want to do.”
Something I didn’t want to do.
I shook my head, dispelling an unnecessary argument. “Is it so hard just to say you’re sorry?”
“I felt an explanation was more appropriate.” He cleared his throat. “But I am. I am sorry, Nina.”
Even his apologies sounded like he was furious, but we’d made considerable progress from our first encounter, at least. I jumped slightly to sit on top of a shipping crate, letting my legs dangle over the edge.
“I understand why you did it. It’s helpful to know what it feels like to be charmed, but you see training very differently than I do.
As a surgeon, I’m used to learning on the job through real practice.
Bernard let me jab him often in the surgery.
Insisted on it before I touched a real patient.
Sometimes I practiced on cadavers, too… before they became lucrative. ”
“I don’t like being experimented on,” he muttered. His shoulders shook for a moment, then he rolled them and stood tall, hands in his pockets.
“I don’t think of you like that at all. To me, you’re…” I struggled to find the right words. He would never be the subject of my experimentation, a lab rat, and I would never be the one to add more scars to his skin.
“What am I?” he wondered.