“I think you’ve made a mistake,” said Kell dryly. The X was, after all, not on the coast, or inland, but in the Arnesian Sea.
“Hardly,” said Alucard. “Ferase Stras is the largest black market on water.”
Lila broke into a smile. “It’s not a market, then,” she said. “It’s a ship.”
Alucard’s eyes were bright. “It’s both. And now,” he added, tapping the paper, “we know where to find it.”
“I’ll summon my father,” said Rhy as the others pored over the map. According to Alucard’s calculations, the market wasn’t far this time of year, sitting somewhere between Arnes and the northwest edge of Faro.
“How long to reach it?” asked Kell.
“Depends on the weather,” said Alucard. “A week, perhaps. Maybe less. Assuming we don’t run into trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Pirates. Storms. Enemy ships.” And then, with a sapphire wink: “It is the sea, after all. Do try to keep up.”
“We still have a problem,” said Lila, nodding at the window. “Osaron has a hold on the river. His magic is keeping the ships in their berths. Nothing in London is likely to sail, and that includes the Night Spire.”
She saw Lenos straighten at this, the man’s thin form shifting from foot to foot.
“Osaron’s strength isn’t infinite,” Kell was saying. “His magic has limits. And right now, his power is still focused largely on the city.”
“Well, then,” sniped Alucard. “Can’t you magic the Spire out of London?”
Kell rolled his eyes. “That’s not how my power works.”
“Well what good are you, then?” muttered the captain.
Lila watched Lenos duck out of the room. Neither Kell nor Alucard seemed to notice. They were too busy bickering.
“Fine,” said Alucard, “I’ll need to get beyond Osaron’s sphere, and then find a ship.”
“You?” said Kell. “I’m not leaving the fate of this city in your hands.”
“I’m the one who found the Inheritor.”
“And you’re the one who lost it.”
“A trade isn’t the same thing as a—”
“I’m not letting you—”
Alucard leaned across the desk. “Do you even know how to sail, mas vares?” The honorific was said with serpentine sweetness. “I didn’t think so.”
“How hard can it be,” snarled Kell, “if they let someone like you do it?”
A glint of mischief flashed in the captain’s eyes. “I’m rather good with hard things. Just ask—”
The blow caught Alucard across the cheek.
Lila hadn’t even seen Kell move, but the captain’s jaw was marked with red.
It was an insult, she knew, for one magician to strike another with a bare fist.
As if they weren’t worth the use of power.
Alucard flashed a feral grin, blood staining his teeth.
The air hummed with magic and—
The doors swung open, and they all turned, expecting the king or the prince returning. Instead there was Lenos, holding a woman by the elbow, which made a strange picture, since the woman was twice his weight and didn’t look the type to be easily led. Lila recognized her as the captain who’d greeted them on the docks before the tournament.
Jasta.
She had to be half Veskan, broad as she was. Her hair plumed in two massive braids around her face, dark eyes threaded with gold, and despite the winter cold she wore nothing but trousers and a light tunic rolled to the elbows, revealing the silver lines of fresh scars along her skin. She’d survived the fog.
Alucard and Kell trailed off at the sight of her.
“Casero Jasta Felis,” said the woman, by way of grudging introduction.
“Van nes,” said Lenos, nudging the captain forward. Tell them.
She shot him a look Lila recognized—one she’d doled out a dozen times. A look that said, quite simply, that the next time the sailor laid a hand on her, he’d lose a finger.
“Kers la?” demanded Kell.
Jasta crossed her arms, scars flashing in the light. “Some of us are wanting to leave the city.” She spoke the common tongue, and her accent had the rumble of a big cat, dropping letters and slurring syllables so that Lila missed every third word if she wasn’t careful. “I might have mentioned something about a ship, down in the gallery. Your fellow heard me, and now I am here.”
“The ships in London will not sail,” said the king, appearing behind her, Rhy at his side. He spoke the captain’s tongue like a man who’d mastered Arnesian but did not relish the taste. Jasta took a formal step to the side, bowing her head a fraction. “Anesh,” she said, “but then, my ship is not here. It is docked at Tanek, Your Majesty.”
Alucard and Lila both straightened at that. Tanek was the mouth of the Isle, the last port before the open sea.
“Why wouldn’t you sail it into London?” asked Rhy.
Jasta shot the prince a wary look. “She is a sensitive skiff. Private-like.”
“A pirate ship,” said Kell, bluntly.
Jasta flashed a sharp-toothed grin. “Your words, Prince, not mine. My ship, she carries all kinds. Fastest skiff on the open seas. To Vesk and back in nine days flat. But if you are asking, no, she does not sail the red and gold.”
“Now she does,” said the king pointedly.