Thread of Frost

Ch. 20: A Song of Blood

"Not far enough," Slaine said.

She watched as a balloon nearly careened into a stone tower. Scratch that. Bloody difficult to fly one of those, apparently. "There must be other ships leaving. Traders, or people carrying goods. Someone that can give us a lift back to the Gongo Islands."

"I'm afraid not," Slaine said. "We're entering monsoon season. All the commercial ships departed last week."

"Okay," Anna said. "Let me think."

She dropped her hand, staring out at the burning waves. The sound of lapping waves and a brass bell drifted over the sea. The ship was sinking into the sandy banks below. Would it become a home for fish? A wreck for young swimmers to explore? She ought to offer to help remove it, Anna thought tiredly; it would be a hazard for incoming ships.

"How about some dinner?" Althea asked.

Anna blinked. "Now?"

"Why not?" The other girl shrugged. "I'm starving. Do you hear those bells? The evening meal is just beginning."

Ryne raised an eyebrow. "I thought I wasn't allowed in the citadel."

"You're not," Althea said. "But I've always been a fan of breaking the rules."

Anna rubbed her temples. "I don't know."

"Stay here for the night," Slaine said. "Rest." He went to place a hand on her shoulder, apparently thought better of it, and stuck it in his pocket instead. "There's nothing more you can do now."

Anna bit her lip.

It could be a trap, Anna thought; someone could have easily planted the dragon egg on their ship. Blown up their ship on purpose. But why? To cut off their exit route and keep them on the island? To punish them? That was the question.

She sized up Slaine. His twin sister Althea.

She could take them. Even in her weakened state, she was confident of that. And, Anna thought, she had the benefit of being immune to most poisons after years of mithridatism, so dinner wasn't an issue.

So.

What was there to lose, really?

Anna looked away from the burning ship. "It's not turtle soup?"

"It's not," Althea said.

"Or duck fetus?" Anna asked. "I do hate duck fetus."

Althea's face was the picture of abject horror. "What in Parthas's name do you eat in Wynterlynn?"

"You'd be surprised," Ryne said mildly. "I had goat eyeballs, once. Surprisingly delicious, except for the texture. Hard to get past the chewiness."

"Okay," Anna said, sticking out an arm. "No more talk of eyeballs. Let's go."

***

Dinner passed in a blur of fragrant curry, savoury sauces, and jasmine rice. Fiddlers walked up and down the tables. A man made a crown out of fish bones to uproarious laughter. Anna nibbled on a piece of soft flatbread, wistfully eyeing the mango-and-coconut ices that had been brought out for dessert. Her appetite still hadn't fully returned after the tower. She was beginning to worry that it never would.

Most people ignored them.

A few gave tentative smiles.

Several healers shot Ryne dirty looks. Her mother had visited Zarob a dozen times over the years, Anna knew; she used to climb the summer cliffs and doodle in her notebook. How many of these healers had known her? How many of these people had laughed and danced and drank honeyed wine with Princess Lotta? How many had mourned her death?