Emilie & the Hollow World - By Martha Wells Page 0,57

to the lighted areas, leading them toward the docks.

Emilie was relieved to be moving. The wait for darkness had worn on her nerves, though at least the anxiety had kept her awake. It had been a long time since her last good night's sleep, as well as a long time since breakfast. At one point Rani had demanded, “What is that noise? Is that you?”

“It's my stomach,” Emilie had replied defensively. She had noticed that Rani didn't speak Menaen as readily as Kenar; she thought that was because Kenar had been with Miss Marlende, probably talking himself hoarse to help her convince Lord Engal of what had to be done to come to Dr. Marlende's rescue, while Rani had been locked up with not much of anyone to speak with. “Doesn't your stomach grumble when you're hungry?”

“Yes, but not that loud. No one's stomach is that loud.”

Now Emilie was almost willing to believe she was right, and hoped her stomach didn't alert any merpeople swimming through the dark water below them. She had kept her boots off in case they had to swim, tying them together and looping them around her neck, and the smooth stone was cool underfoot.

They came down a narrow walkway above a deep canal, and out onto the docks, under the shelter of the lower level of the big gallery. It was quiet except for the breeze on the water, and this part of the gallery smelled of the bundles of wet reeds stacked and piled everywhere. There were more lamps lit here, illuminating the piers that ran out into the water. Rani drew Emilie forward, using the reed bundles as cover, to where they could look out over the ships.

Emilie's heart sank immediately, but she still squinted, studying the piers, the place she was sure the Sovereign had been anchored. But the Sovereign would have been the most obvious thing in the crowded harbor, with all its running lights lit. “Not there?” Rani asked quietly.

Emilie shook her head, unexpectedly and stupidly feeling tears well up. They had known this was a possibility. She swallowed hard and managed to say, “No, it's gone.”

“Hmm. Then we go with the other plan. Wait here.” Rani ghosted away down the gallery before Emilie could say, “What other plan?”

Emilie crouched on the cool stone, waiting. She heard merpeople talking somewhere nearby and flinched, but after a moment it was obvious they were on the gallery a level or two above, and walking away. She realized she was trying not to bite her nails, recalled that her aunt was not here to remonstrate with her about it, and that she could bite them as much as she liked. It was a relief to her abused nerves.

Rani finally returned with a net bag slung over her shoulder. “This way,” she whispered, and they went the other way down the gallery, away from the lighted piers. Emilie wanted to ask where they were going, but was afraid their voices might carry over the water. If one of the merpeople in the gallery heard a conversation of more than a few words, they might realize they were hearing a strange language and give the alarm.

They left the shelter of the gallery and were heading toward the far side of the harbor. It was so dark, Emilie couldn't make out much, but when she tripped over a coil of rope and stumbled on a ramp, she realized they were passing the taller piers where the big barges had been docked. Had been docked. Now that she looked, she could see the empty water glinting faintly between the dark shapes of the piers. She tapped Rani on the back, and whispered as softly as possible, “The barges are gone.”

Rani stopped, leaned back to cup her hand around Emilie's ear and say softly, “They've gone with your ship, after the nomads.”

Oh, no, Emilie thought. They must have left when the Sovereign was forced to go, sometime this afternoon. When Rani started to pull away, she caught her arm and whispered, “Where are we going?”

“After them,” Rani replied.

Oh. Startled, Emilie followed Rani through the dark. Good, she thought.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Past the big barge piers, Rani turned and stepped down onto a platform at the water level. From the dim glow of the lights on the gallery, Emilie could just make out the shapes of small boats, no bigger than the rowboats that plied the village pond at home, tied up along it. Rani selected one, motioned for Emilie to