Ship of Smoke and Steel (The Wells of Sorcery #1)(20)

“I suppose you only speak Imperial?” he says.

I nod, glancing back at the door. I heard the thunk of the bar, and there are no other exits. A prison cell, then. I’ve been in less commodious accommodations.

He takes a half step forward. “Rotting listen to me when I’m talking to you. That’s your first lesson. My name is Ahdron, and I’m pack leader here. Don’t forget that unless you want to end up like your friend.”

Options. On the one hand, I could kill him. Not a guarantee, not on a ship where everyone is mage-born, but he’s stepped inside my reach, and I’m fairly certain I could take him by surprise. He’s locked in here with us, so he can’t be too important. On the other hand, I have no idea what the consequences might be and I can’t fight the Butcher and her whole crew. So probably best to be cautious, at least for now.

I square off with Ahdron and look him in the eye. He’s a little taller than me and my guess is a few years older. Like the Butcher, he’s a familiar type, the small-timer clinging to whatever scraps of power he has, blustering and cruel in his weakness.

“It would help if I knew what a pack leader was,” I say. “Or a pack, for that matter.”

“Fresh meat.” He rolls his eyes. “A pack, like a hunting pack of wolves.”

“Just you, me, and Meroe?”

Ahdron grits his teeth. “There’s also the Moron and the Coward.” He nods out toward one of the little islands, where a younger Jyashtani boy is sitting alone. “That’s the Moron. The Coward is probably hiding somewhere.” He cocks his head. “What about you? Can you do anything useful?”

“My Well is Melos. I can fight.”

His expression shifts, just a little. Fear, greed, or a bit of both. “Can you, now?”

I nod again. He looks me up and down, appraisingly, then glances over at Meroe.

“What about her?”

I shrug. “She doesn’t know her Well.”

“Better and rotting better.” He sighs. “At least she’s toothsome.”

“Don’t touch her,” I snap. Cautious is one thing, but some lines need to be made explicit immediately.

“Oh, fresh meat? You going to stand in for her?” He runs his eyes over me again. “I prefer my fresh meat with a little more meat, frankly.”

I match his stare again for a long, quiet moment. Then his mouth twists, and he laughs.

“Relax, fresh meat. Captain’s law. Any man takes a girl who doesn’t want it, that man better look forward to having angels pull his arms and legs off. Or any girl who takes a boy, for that matter. Captain doesn’t discriminate, and neither do the officers. This isn’t like landside. Soliton is civilized.” He cocks his head. “What’s your name?”

“Isoka,” I tell him. “And she’s Meroe.”

“Very well, Isoka. Since you’re so worried about your friend, why don’t you go make sure she’s not going to bleed to death. I’ll see if I can get someone to explain the facts of life to you.”



* * *



I’m no doctor, but I’ve patched people up after enough street fights to know the basics. I roll Meroe onto her back and check for broken bones. It seems like she got lucky, or else the Butcher is fairly skilled at administering beatings; probably both. Either way, she hasn’t broken any ribs. Aside from the cut on her cheek she’ll probably get away with some bad bruises. I wrap her cut and mine with strips of linen slashed from an old pillowcase.

When I’m finished, I lean back against the pile of carpets, suddenly exhausted. The adrenaline that’s flooded my veins drains away, leaving me shaky and weak. I haven’t slept since Kuon Naga grabbed me, and that feels like a lifetime ago. I can feel my eyes drifting shut when there’s a bit of movement across from me, and then I’m suddenly wide awake, heart slamming against my ribs, a half second from igniting my blades.

A slight figure shrinks back against the carpets. He holds a heavy canteen in front of him, like a peace offering.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I just … Ahdron said I should bring this to you.”

“It’s all right.” I rub my eyes and breathe. When he shuffles a little closer, I take the canteen and guzzle a long swig. “You just startled me.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “You can keep that. Don’t drink the water from the pool; it’ll make you sick.”

I sit up and look at him more closely. He’s a couple of years younger than me, with a gauntness that speaks of hard, hungry days. He looks Imperial, though a darker tone to his skin might indicate some Jyashtani blood. His clothes are mostly layered rags.

“Thanks,” I tell him, taking a slower drink. The water is tepid but tastes pure. “I’m Isoka.”

“My name is Berun,” he says. “Most people call me the Coward, though.” He glances past me, at Meroe. “Is she going to be all right?”

“I think so.”

“That’s good.”

He settles a little, coming out of his protective crouch. His eyes are still constantly moving, alert for danger. He reminds me of a rabbit, or a rat.

“Ahdron told me to come answer your questions,” he says, after a moment’s pause. “About Soliton, I mean. I’m sure you’re confused.”