Adam’s lips curled. “Since when is there chance in your games, Izzy?”
The dwarf’s grin rearranged his creased face; lamplight winked off two gold teeth. “It’s dangerous to accuse a man of cheating.” He nodded toward his maimed arm. “Look what happened to me.”
He turned his eyes to Isyllt. “But if you haven’t come for the bones, what can I do for you?”
Isyllt twisted a red-gold ring off her finger and held it out. “Among blind men—” She gave the first half of the code in Selafaïn.
“The one-eyed reigns,” he finished. He reached out to clasp her hand and palm the ring in one smooth gesture.
As his calloused fingers touched hers, a shiver ran up her arm. Isyllt barely managed to keep her face still; no one had mentioned the man was a sorcerer. The sensation vanished so quickly she almost doubted her instinct, but his eyes narrowed as he studied her.
“Well met, I hope. I’m Izachar Teoma.”
“Isyllt Iskaldur.”
His eyes flicked briefly toward her left hand. “What is it you wish of me, Lady?”
“I want to hire your ship.”
“The Rain Dog can take you anywhere you need to go.”
“Actually, I want you to stay in port. We’ll be in Symir for perhaps a month—hopefully it will be a peaceful visit and we’ll leave quietly. But it may come to pass that we’ll need to leave the city very quickly, and we’ll need a fast ship we can trust.”
“Ah.” Izachar ran a hand over his curling beard. His chair creaked as he leaned back. “I understand. But a month…My crew have families to feed, and I’ll lose business.” A gold tooth gleamed with his smile. “And with the new import taxes, my business is booming.”
“We’re prepared to compensate you.”
Adam slid a purse across the table. Izachar hefted it, listened to the clatter of metal and stones. He loosened the ties and pulled out a coin. Silver gleamed smooth, unstamped.
“I’ll keep the Dog in port for a decad,” he said at last. “My first mate’s daughter is sick, anyway, and she’d like to spend some time with the child. After ten days, find me again and we’ll negotiate further.”
Isyllt nodded. She’d expected no better. “A pleasure doing business with you, Captain.”
“The pleasure’s mine, Lady.” The money vanished off the table.
The door swung open and a dark, scar-faced man leaned in. “Time to go,” he said. His hand moved against his thigh, a sign Isyllt didn’t recognize. Then he was gone.
Izachar cursed softly. “A raid’s coming. Business is booming a little too well.” He pushed off his chair and crossed the room, quick enough for his short legs. “We’ll use the back door,” he said, motioning them on. “It’ll be clear for a few more minutes—Desh pays his bribes on time.”
Isyllt and Adam exchanged a quick glance and followed the dwarf down the hall. From the main room she heard a door slam, then a flurry of curses and shouting and the clatter of an overturned table. They stepped outside into a dark alley, as empty as Izachar had promised; the last light caught his grin before the door shut behind them.
“Welcome to Symir,” he called after them as they escaped into the sticky night.
Xinai moved through her exercises by the light of one guttering lamp. The flame gleamed on her knives, shattered on their razored edges. Her breath hissed through clenched teeth as she thrust and spun and stretched. Normally she flowed like water from one stance to the next, but tonight tension trembled her limbs, made her movements too quick and jerky.
The smell of the canals breathed across the casement: water and waste, eucalyptus and brine and citrus-sweet champa flowers. Beneath it her own sour salt sweat clogged her nose.
She’d thought she could do it. She’d thought she could come home after twelve years gone. On the voyage she’d told herself that the city would have changed, that time would have made her memories bearable.
She’d almost believed it.
The exercise wasn’t calming her. She stopped, stretched, and put her blades away. Adam watched her from the shadows of the bed as she stripped off her vest and trousers. He’d asked if she could take the job, one of the rare times he acknowledged all the things she’d never told him about her past. In Erisín, spending the wizard’s money on food and wine, she’d said yes. Even the necromancer hadn’t deterred her, for all the woman’s magic made her skin crawl.