Chapter 2 #2
“Most obscure?” The woman peeled at the flaking rouge on her lips. “Well, now. I’ve not been asked that in an age.” She raised a tinted eyebrow. “Obscure in what way?”
“Rare. Taboo. Expensive.”
A second eyebrow joined the first. “Are you good for it?”
Lux could see the leather bag partially exposed behind the woman’s stall. If it was full with goldquins, then she was certainly not. She reached into her pack. A handful of coins—and two seeds.
“I’m good for it.”
The woman crouched at once. When she rose, she held a vial identical to the one before. Lux’s heart beat in her ears. “Made from smoked phoenix feathers, though I won’t tell you more details than that. They’re drops for the eyes. Drip them on the dead and they’ll tell you how they died.”
It isn’t lifeblood. A relieved lightness swept through Lux—only to be followed by an odd, bitter disappointment.
“Interesting,” she said, and she meant it. It could be useful during a revival, for those invisible deaths. Not that it mattered much to her, but to those commissioning her for their loved ones? She could add the diagnosis for a small fee. Just enough to cover the cost. “How much?”
“Thirty goldquins.”
“Devil’s tits!”
The vendor reeled back. “Language, girl! This is a respectable market!”
But Lux had already clapped a hand over her mouth to avoid allowing anything else out. When her shock ebbed, she said, “Why so much?”
“Did you miss the part where I said phoenix feathers? Those birds are as elusive as the devil and twice as cunning.”
“Sakes. I’ve never come across anything for such a high price before.” She released the coins in her purse and held onto only the seed. “What can I get for a gorga seed?”
“A gorga seed?” The vendor’s face fell as she replaced the vial. “I’m not sure I know anything about them, so I’ll say nothing, thank you.”
“A botanist called Edgar Dosem said if you swallowed the whole thing you’d lose your speech forever.”
“Dosem? Dosem…the mountain trader? Saints above, does it really? Well.” A devious gleam entered the woman’s eyes, and Lux felt abruptly sorry for whomever had wronged her.
“It’s not worth the tincture, but I’ll trade you this.
” She pulled at a feather in her scalp and winced when it came away. She held it out.
Lux stared at the narrow, yellow thing. At the white tip, tinged scarlet and wet. “Did you—”
“It doesn’t work if you don’t bury it under your skin, but once you do, it’ll stay until you pluck it out. It’s a canary feather. If you wear it, you can never be duped.” When Lux didn’t immediately take it, the vendor waved it beneath her nose. “Well? Do we have a deal?”
“Fine,” said Lux. She placed the seed on the counter. “But wipe the blood away first, won’t you?”
In the Loxlen market, Lux purchased everything she needed for a revival. Everything save marsh snapper eyes. Who knew such a thing would be nearly impossible to find? She’d never thought of the creatures as scarce, but there were no marshes here and not a lot of other uses for them.
Her money dwindled. All this time away, she’d not recited a single incantation and not told a single soul of her brilliance.
At this rate, she would need to change her circumstances very soon, and she didn’t have a clue how.
In Ghadra, her occupation and whereabouts were known—or at least speculated.
Out here in the wide world, she could be anyone.
How did a traveling necromancer advertise?
She’d just finished eating her lunch, shouldering her heavier pack out the establishment’s door, when she encountered the sleek carriage again.
The “M” was stark on its side, and it was parked across from the pub she’d stepped from. The man who’d served her had followed her out, trimming shears in hand for the wicked-looking shrub beside the entry.
“Do you know who that carriage belongs to?” she asked.
The man lifted his eyes to where she gestured, and his jaw hardened. “Mothlock.” Then he snipped at the air and went back inside.
Mothlock. A person? A rival establishment?
A town? The name didn’t sound familiar to her.
Unsurprising, though, as nothing sounded familiar to her anymore.
She hadn’t even seen a full map of the country in all her life until she’d bought one off a peddler on the road.
With one eye on the carriage, she dug for that map now.
Her fingers encircled a roll of thick paper, and she pulled it free.
She found Loxlen easily enough. It wasn’t small, and her eyes roved a circle around it, spreading wider and wider—but there was nothing. To the north were the mountains, Ghadra to the west, a winding river cut across the south, and to the east was the sea.
Her thumb brushed along the vast body of water.
An image filled her head of Shaw’s immersive painting before it’d been shredded to pieces, the scent of salt and brine and the rhythmic roll of waves.
Of all the things, of all the places that called to her, this shouted the loudest. She wanted it so badly it caused pains in her chest.
If only she didn’t have to travel through a saintforsaken forest to get there.
The rich man in the tall hat emerged from the building across the street, and Lux held the map a little higher in front of her face.
She peered at him from over its top. She guessed he was a similar age to his driver, and he carried a new bag this time.
One that was large and long, oddly shaped, and not made of leather but fabric.
He didn’t strap it to the back but attempted to wrestle it inside the carriage. The driver helped, shoving the bag through once the other man had climbed in.
The driver glanced her way when it was done, and Lux flung the map up even higher. Behind it, she waited until she heard the snap of reins and the crunch of wheels. Only then did she look again.
The carriage ambled away, and there had been a body in that bag.
She was sure of it.