Chapter Seventeen. Gin
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
GIN
After leaving Eban, I take my time on the way back from the infirmary, meandering around the passages.
The community is shutting down for the evening.
People head back to their quarters after a long day; some carry woven baskets full of yarn and thread, others are toting a child on their hip and another by the hand.
There’s an elderly woman with a fishing pole and another with a tray of beaded necklaces she made to sell at the market.
They all regard me with a combination of suspicion and curiosity.
I smile, which softens a few, who smile back.
The children stare with wide eyes. I wonder how they know I don’t belong.
Or if they’ve ever laid eyes on an outsider before.
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?”
Not until two nights ago. But I sure do know about them now. “I’ve heard a little about them, yes. Why?”
“Supposedly they made up a large part of the treasure,” he says. “When I was a child, we pretended we had relics as weapons. That we had marvelous powers and could tear down buildings and defeat whole armies of Blackcoats.”
“Did you grow up here? In the Lashing?” I ask.
He nods. “Sort of.” He looks at me intently. “I’ll tell you what I know about them. Ophir relics aren’t just mere antiquities. They’re reliquaries. Holy objects. Spirits that allow the bearer to channel the power of the gods.”
“Sounds incredible.”
He nods. “If these rumors about the heist are true and our relics have been found, then whoever holds that power…” He shakes his head. “They could rule this world or build a new one. I cannot imagine…”
“Could they remake Ophir?” I ask. “Bring back the Kingdom of Waves?”
He nods again. “The relics hold power that could conjure a hundred cities on the water. We could have a real home for our people instead of this floating tent city.”
My breath catches in my throat, and I say nothing.
Is it truly possible? I feel the relic tucked away in my robes and press it close.
I wish I could tell Darius that I have one of the objects, right now, but I don’t know him well enough yet.
Would he take it from me? What would he do with it?
I have no idea. And Eban’s right, I know better than to trust strangers.
But Darius has been nothing but kind and welcoming since we arrived.
We are nothing to him, and yet he didn’t turn us away.
He welcomed us as kinsmen just because we are Ophir.
It’s not like that in the Sleeve, where the only thing that unites us is misery.
“These relics could do much for our people, much good or much harm. If the high houses were to take possession of them, they would use them for their own gain,” Darius says. “Although only an Ophir can wield a relic.”
“So what use are they to Lacon?” I ask. Then I gasp when I realize the answer. “The servants. They’ll make the Ophir who serve them use the relics for them.”
“Exactly,” says Darius. “Some Ophir would probably even choose to do it voluntarily. People crave power. So it is crucial that we control it. Don’t you agree, Gineth?”
I feel a little thrill when he says my full name like that, though I try to push it away immediately, ashamed. Yes, he’s handsome, but I think of Rollo and a wave of guilt flushes over me.
Darius continues without waiting for me to answer. “Are you sure you and Eban don’t know anything about that heist that just went down a few days ago?”
I want to trust him, but trusting him means betraying Eban and, somehow, I feel bound to him. I know Eban wouldn’t want me to tell Darius what happened, and my instinct is to trust Eban. I hate lying but I do anyway. I shake my head. “Nothing. I wish I did. I wish I could help you.”
“Well, if you do hear anything, promise you’ll tell me? The Lashing is a temporary home for our people, but we need a real one, a permanent place to call our own. The relics could help us make it.” He looks me in the eyes.
I hold his stare. His eyes are deep and dark. “I would like that,” I say.
“Good.” He breaks away. I feel strange, like he ended a kiss. “I’m setting off for Lacon tonight,” he says. “I have contacts in the Great Houses. They might know more about what happened that night and where the relics ended up. The highborn are terrible at keeping secrets. They brag too much.”
“You’re leaving? So late?”
“It’s the best way to avoid pirates or Blackcoats.”
“How long will you be?”
He shrugs. “Not long.” He looks at me thoughtfully. “Care to join me? I’d appreciate the company.”
“Oh,” I say. “I don’t think I should leave Eban…”
“You’ll be safe with me,” Darius says.
“Won’t I be safe in the Lashing?” I ask.
He considers that. “Of course.”
He stands, and so I do as well. I almost feel like he might reach out and hug me, but he doesn’t. Instead he asks me a question. “Tell me, why did you come to the Lashing?” he asks.
“A friend sent me here,” I say truthfully. “He said it’s the only place I could be safe.”
“A friend,” he echoes. “He must have been a good one. Do you miss him?” he asks gently.
I shrug. “I suppose.” I look down at my teacup and remember all the nights Rollo and I spent drinking tea, solving puzzles, and talking late into the night.
“He must miss you, too,” Darius says intently.
I catch his gaze and my cheeks burn. Does Rollo miss me? Or has he already forgotten about me? And why does Darius care?
“Take care of yourself while I’m away, will you?” he says.
Then he’s gone. I listen as his footsteps travel farther and farther away from my quarters.
Then, suddenly, I think of Eban, stuck in that infirmary bed, and feel a strange stab of guilt, but I shake it off.
He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.
But did anyone bring him a hot meal? And tea?
I sit on the bed and remove the bottle from its hiding place to consult Tadhana about my dilemma. “Are you still there?”
Always.
“What do you think of Darius?”
The real question is, What do you think of him?
I think about his kind eyes, and his fierce loyalty to his people. But I don’t know him, truly. “Is he trustworthy?”
That depends on who you ask.
“Why are magical beings so aggravating?”
Tadhana harrumphs at me. Well, I never! Magical beings aren’t aggravating. We are precise. In my experience it’s the nonmagical beings who cause all the problems. I’ve merely been minding my business for all these many years, until your lot appeared and began demanding—
“Perhaps I should sell you to the highest bidder,” I mutter.
What was that?
“Never mind.” As tempting as the coin would be, I know I’ll never sell the relic.
Not for all the estates in Lacon. I think of all the relics we had to leave behind in the barrel, falling into Laconian hands.
If news of the heist has reached even the Lashing, then most of Lacon must know what happened, too.
And I need to tell Eban that Darius knows about the relics.
I flop back on the bed and stare at the canvas ceiling.
Some laughter drifts through the air from a nearby tent.
It sounds like a party. A memory comes to me: Rollo, after one of his mother’s grand balls, bringing me a goblet of wine.
His face flush and his lips curled into a secret smile just for me.
I get out of bed and walk over to the tray of food and pick up the goblet. I knew I’d seen it before. Sure enough, on the bottom of the stem, there’s an engraving: the sigil of House Eternal.
I whip open the curtain at the doorway, but Darius is long gone.
As soon as he returns, I’ll ask him when he was at the palace, and what else he’d stolen from the Great House. Whether he’d ever seen me there.
And how he knew my full name.