unpleasant taste in the back of her mouth. Twenty-five days with no news was chancy where politics were concerned.
The other officials emerged from the cargo hold a few moments later and the captain grudgingly paid their fees. The woman turned back to Isyllt, her expression brightening. “If you like, meliket, I can take you to the Silver Phoenix myself. It will be a much shorter route than getting there from the docks.”
Isyllt smiled. “That would be lovely. Shakera.”
Adam cocked an eyebrow as he hoisted bags. Isyllt’s lips curled. “It never pays to annoy foreign guests,” she murmured in Selafaïn. “Especially ones who can steal your soul.”
She tried to watch the commotion on the docks, but the skiff moved swiftly and they were soon out of sight. A cloud of midges trailed behind the craft; the drone of wings carried unpleasant memories of the plague, but the natives seemed unconcerned. Isyllt waved the biting insects away, though she was immune to whatever exotic diseases they might carry. As they rowed beneath a raised water gate, a sharp, minty smell filled the air and the midges thinned.
The inspector—who introduced herself as Anhai Xian-Mar—talked as they went, her voice counterpoint to the rhythmic splash of oars as she explained the myriad delta islands on which the city was built, the web of canals that took the place of stone streets. Xinai’s mask slipped for an instant and Isyllt saw the cold disdain in her eyes. The mercenary had little love for countrymen who served their Assari conquerors.
Sunlight spilled like honey over their shoulders, gilding the water and gleaming on domes and tilting spires. Buildings crowded together, walls of cream and ocher stone, pale blues and dusty pinks, balconies nearly touching over narrow alleys and waterways. Bronze chimes flashed from eaves and lintels. Vines trailed from rooftop gardens, dripping leaves and orange blossoms onto the water. Birds perched in potted trees and on steep green- and gray-tiled roofs.
Invaders the Assari might be, but they had built a beautiful city. Isyllt tried to imagine the sky dark with smoke, the water running red. The city would be less lovely if her mission succeeded.
She’d heard stories from other agents of how the job crept into everything, reduced buildings and cities to exits and escape routes, defenses and weaknesses to be exploited. Till you couldn’t look at anything—or anyone—without imagining how to infiltrate or corrupt or overthrow. She wondered how long it would take to happen to her. If she would even notice when it did.
Anhai followed Isyllt’s gaze to the water level—slime crusted the stone several feet above the surface of the canal. “The rains will come soon and the river will rise. You’re in time for the Dance of Masks.”
The skiff drew up against a set of stairs and the oarsmen secured the boat and helped Adam and Xinai unload the luggage. A tall building rose above them, decorated with Selafaïn pillars. A carven phoenix spread its wings over the doors and polished horn panes gleamed ruddy in the dying light.
Anhai bowed farewell. “If you need anything at all, meliket, you can find me at the port authority office.”
“Shakera.” Isyllt offered her hand, and the silver griffin she held. She never saw where Anhai tucked the coin.
The she stepped from the skiff to the slime-slick stairs and set foot in the Drowning City.
The Phoenix was as decadent as Xinai had promised. Isyllt floated in the wide tub, her hair drifting around her in a black cloud. Oils shimmered on the water, filled the room with poppy and myrrh. Lamplight gleamed on blue and green tiles and rippled over the cool marble arch of the ceiling. She was nearly dozing when someone knocked lightly on the chamber door.
“Don’t drown,” Adam said, his voice muffled by wood.
“Not yet. What is it?”
“Dinner.”
Her stomach growled in response and she shivered in water grown uncomfortably cold. She stood, hair clinging to her arms and back like sea wrack, and reached for a towel and robe.
The bedroom smelled of wine and curry and her stomach rumbled louder. The Mariah’s mess had been good enough, as sea rations went, but she was happy to reacquaint herself with real food.
Adam lit one of the scented-oil lamps and sneezed as the smell of eucalyptus filled the room. The city stank of it at night—like mint, but harsher, rawer. Linen mesh curtained the windows and tented the bed. The furniture and colorful rugs were Assari, but black silk covered the mirror, true Selafaïn fashion.