be on his ship, watch Holden agonize over whatever it was that was eating him up, have Ilsa following him around like a lovesick parrot and making Holden scowl with it. Didn’t want to wonder why Tallia wanted him dead, and what plans were afoot to get him that way.
A traitor on the ship. That was the real reason he was out here. A ship was home, but one he didn’t feel safe in anymore, a home that made his little-magics itch even worse.
Here he could enjoy himself, while away the hours before he saw Josie in the best way possible—by stealing everything he could find. That always cheered him up. Already he’d managed to gain three full purses, a necklace and, oddly, some women’s underwear that had been lurking in some merchanter’s pocket.
He was idly trawling the plaza for more handy pockets to pick when he saw her. Gilda, all dolled up and in a dress that only just managed to contain all her extravagant charms. What was it with rack women taking to wearing dresses all of a sudden? Not to mention what the fuck was she doing off the ship when all the crew were confined aboard. He slipped through the human tide and left no trace of his passing—although another man would soon find all his money gone.
All he could think of as he followed her through the crowds was a familiar feminine voice saying “The man in the green shirt.” The sound of bones rattled around his head. Find the lady, win a prize. The itch had started when the new crew had come on board, and he’d thought it was Tallia. It was Tallia, some of it, he was sure, and he was glad she was safe in his brig. Something about her made him itch, but Gilda moving through these crowds, dressed to impress…that made his little-magics burn. He tried to remember her voice, what she sounded like, but he’d not spoken to her since she’d joined his crew, and it had been months since he’d so much as passed the time of day with her.
She entered the dark tunnel that led to the Godsquare, casting a furtive look over her shoulder that had Van Gast ducking behind a stall, before she disappeared into the gloom. He shouldn’t follow her. There were Yelen guards in there, and at least some of them knew what he looked like now. All of them were likely keen to make ten thousand sharks, along with every other person in the city. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He grinned to himself and followed her in.
The Godsquare was full to bursting in the cooler night. Throngs of people moved erratically, from stall to troupe of jugglers to temple. Van Gast just about managed to keep Gilda in sight as she crossed the square, still looking over her shoulder every now and then. Definitely up to no good. Well, she was a rack. Maybe even more up to no good than usual.
Van Gast’s itch grew as she left the square, heading toward the more upmarket end of the city, into broader streets with proper shops rather than stalls, shaded by trees and cooled by fountains. His disguise wouldn’t get him much there—he’d as like be grabbed by a guard for making the place look messy if he went too far. Still, the crowds here were enough that he could still follow without her seeing him, and without attracting too much notice, if he was careful.
The streets opened out into broad avenues lined with feather trees and rich merchants’ shops, quality enough that each had at least one bodyguard on the door. Van Gast could feel them watching him as he passed. What was Gilda doing here? Nothing she should be, that was certain. He risked getting closer as this last avenue widened again into a small square. A fountain in the center, Kyr’s Palace to one side, and ahead, right where Gilda was headed, the entrance to the licensed docks.
No getting in that way without a stamp, or the personal invitation of the Yelen. No way in for a rack of any description. Van Gast had tried it once, when he’d been younger and stupider, before he’d met Josie and found the joys of a good con, a distraction and a twisty plan to go with it. He still had a small scar where the bullet had grazed him as he dove round the corner.