“And who’s this one?” Charlon demanded, eyeing the witch.
“Don’t ask,” they said in unison.
It began to drizzle, bringing the mist up the hill and into the city. By the time they reached the port, a gray curtain dragged across the Bay, eating up the ships anchored in deeper waters. Despite the weather, the streets quickened with people as the day wore on and the docks spat out sailors.
The Adira port jutted over the water, fat planks hammered together to make a square. It bridged the main peninsula and a set of rocky islands, each one no bigger than a cathedral. The islands were land unto themselves, built up. One had an onion-domed roof painted pale orange, the telltale sign of a Treckish church. A palisade walled another, the planks painted woad blue with white-and-green knots marked over them. Jydi symbols. Charlon led them toward an island with a flat top, crowned in a verdant garden and a small bell tower, its white and yellow-gold pennant flags looping from roof to roof.
An Ishei district. Corayne’s heartbeat doubled. Isheida was the edge of the map, the end of the Ward, farther even than the old Cor borders. Not even Hell Mel had been there, its jagged lands far from the tides of the Long Sea.
The island smelled of sweet flowers and cooking meat, undercut with a rich swell of tea. Isheida ruled the mountains and the Crown of Snow, a kingdom of peaks north of Rhashir. Her sailors were few, and they congregated here, trading news beneath the eaves of cookhouses and tea shops. There were priests too, with white robes and long, glossy hair combed straight down their backs. Each looked bathed in moonlight, even under the gray clouds. The Ishei had high, flat cheekbones and dark eyes. Their faces varied in color, ranging from porcelain to bronze and dusk, but all were black-haired, with long eyelashes and easy smiles. Corayne stared, unable to check her wonder. She didn’t speak Ishei, but she could have listened to them talk all afternoon, jotting notes in her ledger. Sorasa nearly had to seize her by the collar to drag her along.
To her delight, Charlon led them into a tea shop with a cheery hello to the keepers. He must have been a regular. The three other patrons, two Ishei and one Ibalet in wrapped silks, offered him nods from the long bar set down the middle of the shop.
For the first time since setting foot in Adira, Andry seemed at ease, lulled by the smell of brewing tea. He relaxed when they sat, planting his back against the sturdy wall. With the rain outside and the cocooning warmth of the tea shop, Corayne felt as relieved as he looked. Before she could even think to ask, there was a cup in her hand and a pot on the table, steaming gently.
Charlon plucked a flower from the vase, blue petals in the shape of a star. He crushed them in his fist and added them to his cup before drinking. “So the realm stands on the brink of destruction. It might have tipped already. And for some reason, you need me to join this . . .” He glanced down their line. This time his scrutiny felt like an insult. “Merry band of heroes?”
Sorasa snorted into her tea.
“The witch said seven,” Corayne answered. “Sorasa led us to you. I trust her judgment.”
It was Dom’s turn to snort. The Elder didn’t quite know how, and it came out like a wet snarl.
“I’m still not clear on the whole witch thing.” Charlon looked from the table to the eaves of the shop, open to the street. Valtik didn’t sit, choosing instead to stand at the curb, collecting rainwater in her empty teacup.
“Neither are we,” Dom replied.
Charlon sipped his tea again. “And you, Elder, where do you stand on this?”
“Our number is sufficient,” Dom said stiffly. “In fact, I think we could do with one less.”
“One big happy family, then.” The young man laughed. “Well, regardless of why you need me in whatever you’re planning—”
“Close the next Spindle torn open,” Corayne said sharply.
“Wherever it is,” Andry said, almost under his breath. He glanced at Corayne, eyes soft but not apologetic. She felt torn between annoyance and agreement. There was still so much they did not know, so much higher to climb.
But we can’t be daunted by the size of it, or we’re done for.
“I’m in Adira for a reason.” Charlon laid his hands on the table, one finger jabbing at the wood in his fervor. He seemed plain outside his crypt, unremarkable. It was almost too easy to forget his shop full of seals and ink, his fingers stained blue. “No laws means no crowns. No bounties. I might get my throat slit tonight, but no one’s going to drag me out of these walls and back into crown territory to face judgment or execution. Adira is her own, and the streets will turn on anyone who turns on her. I’m safe here. I can shut my eyes without worrying that that Temur wolf is going to snap me up.”