for me.” The two women disappeared into the crowds, dodging people with the skill of long practice.
Curious, Tris sent a ribbon of breeze after them and called it back. It returned with their conversation.
“Keth’s teacher!” That was the voice of the blonde Xantha. “Of course! Why didn’t I realize that? Come on, Yali, if you keep pulling my nose like that, it’ll be as long as hers!”
“I’m not joking, Xantha,” was Yali’s reply. “She’s a dhasku — ”
“And I’m Baoya,” interrupted Xantha. “Let’s take the short cut. We’re going to be late.”
Tris smiled at the remark about her nose. She was above all a realist, and her nose was long. She also had no intention of going home, but it was sweet of Yali to worry.
What if she listened to her breezes for the Ghost? He took his victims from Khapik — she might hear something. Eagerly, Tris summoned them all to her, adding a double handful from the streets of Khapik, then sent them out to listen. She couldn’t see things on them, but she might hear something worthwhile.
Her meal over, she set off once again, looking at the sights as she listened to dollops of conversation that came to her on currents of air. With the ease of practice she listened only for something unusual in the bath of chatter about money, music, politics, affection, excitement and boredom. She also considered the situation she and Keth had been plunged into.
If the Ghost was grabbing yaskedasi, he did not do it among the processions, clusters of performers, idlers by the streams, or gate traffic. Someone would have seen him. He took his choices in deserted places. Accordingly Tris followed the maze of streets, looking for Khapik’s hazards. They were endless. There were too many shadowy nooks, unlit passages, alleys and blind curves for the arurim to patrol. The courtyards shrank; the houses rose to three and four storeys. Many outdoor stairways led to flat rooftops. A fugitive could go up there and run the length of the district to escape pursuit, if he knew his way.
Tris wandered down an alley, eyeing the houses on either side. Business was done back here. Her breezes told her what sort of business it was. Intent on her surroundings, toying with the end of one thin braid, Tris walked on, ignoring those who offered to sell her various items.
A hand darted from the shadows to grip her wrist; a man pulled her close. “Here’s a nice little armful. What is it, wench? What’s your price?” The man was big, his tunic rumpled and stained with wine. “If you’re sweet to me, I’ll be sweet to you.”
Tris looked up until she met his eyes. Rage fizzed under her skin, but she gripped it tight. “Let me go,” she told the man, her grey eyes glittering as they locked on his. Her free hand itched to undo a spark-braid. “I’m not what you think I am.”
The man laughed. “Then what are you doing here by your lonesome?” he wanted to know. “I know what you’re looking for. Give me a kiss to seal the bargain.”
Tris slammed her hard-heeled northern shoe straight down on to his sandalled foot. The drunk yelled and let her go, then reached for her again. “You little mirizask,” he said, his voice a growl. “You’ll learn respect for me!”
Tris grabbed the little finger of his hand and pulled it back in its socket until he howled with pain. She had learned the stomp from Briar and the finger-hold from Daja, both of whom had given her long instruction in all the ways they knew to end an unpleasant conversation. “It’s a dreadful thing,” she said grimly as he tried to free himself without breaking the finger, “when a respectable tourist can’t enjoy the sights without some idiot getting in her way. And I do so hate stupid people.”
She stepped back as she released his hand, yanking the tie off a spark-braid. Then she waited, holding it as she watched the man. It would be shameful to turn lightning on someone who was clearly drunk, but she didn’t want any more nonsense, either.
The man cradled his aching hand as he glared at Tris. Something in her gaze made him think at last. “Stick to the main streets, then, shenos,” he snapped. “And bring a guard, next time you feel like a stroll.”
“Oh, I don’t think I need a guard,” Tris replied. “Do you?” She walked off, sending two breezes in her wake