Shadowbridge - By Gregory Frost Page 0,127

a bond had grown already between them that he would be foolish to try to sever—and bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. His head hurt. He should have objected to such language from her, but he couldn’t work up the false ire. He deserved every invective. Worse, he had no good argument to justify this change of plans. In that tense moment he could think of only one story, lame as it was, and only one promise that might convince her.

“You won’t have to,” he said. “You don’t have to pretend to be Jax anymore—or, rather, Jax becomes a woman. We’ll sail to a span where they won’t mind. Colemaigne. We’ll go to Colemaigne.” It had been the span of choice anyway. “It’s one of the oldest spans, and they have no restrictions about—”

“About women?” She might have been crying but her voice remained all threat.

“About much of anything. They’re the epitome of the debauched.”

“Like Vijnagar.”

“Oh, my dear, Vijnagar is positively puritanical. It hides its predilections beneath its surface.” He gestured at Diverus as living proof of what he said. “In Colemaigne there’s no hypocrisy of that sort. And they’ll welcome you. Perform a Meersh story for them first thing. They always loved him. Positively their favorite. I’ll be surprised if they haven’t erected a statue to him by now.”

“I don’t have to pretend?” She was wounded, but the anger had drained from her voice.

“No,” he assured her. “No pretending. And we’ll work our way around, you see, while the story of you spreads from two sources instead of one. By the time we play half a dozen spans on that spiral, the tales of you will have closed up, they’ll meet with us in the middle. Then we’ll have a circuit to travel. Maybe we’ll even sail to a third one before then and spread your reputation farther. Why, by the time we return to Ningle, we’ll be riding in on the shoulders of crowds, too esteemed for your uncle even to—”

“Ningle?” she said warily. “We’re going back there?”

“Not soon, but, you know, it was part of the circuit in Bardsham’s day, and there are many good venues on that spiral, but above and below it. We’re just broadening our compass, is all, as well as our repertoire. You wanted to see the world and collect its stories, didn’t you tell me that?” He waited for her reply, hanging everything on that reminder—the argument fabricated even as he was saying it.

She sniffled and made a weak smile. “All right. That is—” She turned about. “—Diverus?”

“Yes?” He seemed surprised that anyone cared to ask his opinion.

“Would you want to go? To sail to another span?” Behind her, Soter observed him coldly with a look that might have implied a threat.

He replied, “I’ve nothing to compare it to. I’ve never been on a boat.” Then as an afterthought he added, “But if it takes me farther from Vijnagar, that’s probably good, isn’t it?”

“Well, there you are,” Soter said.

She nodded. “All right, Soter. It’s settled.” He smiled but she didn’t meet his gaze, wouldn’t look at him as she parted the fabric and stepped out of the booth. He tried to listen to her retreat, but she tread silently like a cat.

Then it was just the two of them, with Diverus looking puzzled and uncertain. “You care about her,” Soter said. “Well, so do I. I’m protecting her, though she’s unaware of it.”

“Protecting her from what?” asked Diverus.

For an instant he contemplated confiding, but as quickly rejected the idea as insane. “From everything,” he replied. He stared at the open case and shivered. The Coral Man lay hidden in the bottom compartment. When that figure had invaded Leodora’s dreams, he’d dismissed it, or at least pretended to. Now he appreciated what it meant to have something without a mouth, without a face really, speaking to you.

He’d have liked to open the case, haul out the boxed puppets, and confront the figure. In his mind’s theater he carried the Coral Man to the edge of the span and tossed it into the ocean where it sank without a trace, for someone else to find. What he said was, “Be sure you secure that case well and then grab yourself some sleep, boy. We’ll be up early tomorrow for us. Or, rather, today.” Then he, like Leodora, stepped out of the booth and left Diverus alone to secure the lid and blow out the lantern.

From the stern of the ship, she

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