Despite the heat of the fire, I felt the warmth leach from my cheeks. “Yes.”
“How close?”
My discomfort tripled. “As close as we are now.”
Rosser was silent for a moment, then asked, “Did he touch you?”
I remembered the brush of Lirr’s finger across my skin as he pushed my collar aside. I reached compulsively for my wine and emptied the cup. “Yes.”
“Then he can track you, in the Other.”
I shook my head, fighting down a swell of panic. “Maybe. But someone will catch him eventually,” I insisted. “I’ll lie low until then.”
“He will not be caught.” Rosser paused for two overwrought thumps of my heart. “Not unless Hart has a Stormsinger.”
This again. “Then find someone else,” I challenged.
“There is no one else,” he said, his voice becoming more emphatic as he went on. “Lirr is looking for you. Why?”
“I don’t know,” I told him. Except that he claims to know me. Except that my mother might be his prisoner.
Rosser paused for a moment, evidently deciding whether to believe me, then went on. “Whatever the reason, the fact remains. He can, and will, find you. So why hide? Why wait for him to come for you again? Take the fight to him. With us.”
Just then, the option struck me as tempting. If Lirr did have my mother, I could rescue her as readily with Rosser as I could with Demery. But: “And after it’s over, your captain would let me leave?”
Rosser’s arms remained crossed over his chest, unmoving. “It is not impossible.”
“But it’s not guaranteed.”
He frowned. “Nothing in life is guaranteed.”
“Well, aren’t you the sage,” I muttered.
The maid reappeared to clear away our plates, her eyes assessing our body language and stubborn silence without a word. She left again, whispering something to one of the other maids. They both giggled and looked at me with something between jealousy and pity.
“Ms. Firth, Lirr will find you.” Rosser lowered his voice, and a dark kind of certainty threaded through his eyes. His hand moved compulsively, as if to reach into his pocket, but his coat was hung on the rack nearby. He rested it on his thigh instead, forefinger tapping. “If he found you once, he can do it again. Any Sooth can.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I did not speak.
“He will find you,” Rosser repeated. “So, lead him right to us. Right to the noose. Then, and only then, you will be safe.”
I smiled tightly. “Safe from Lirr, maybe, but not from men like you. If I step foot on your ship, I’ll be trapped. Or can you honestly tell me your captain is a good, trustworthy man?”
He pushed the question aside. “I will ask the inn wife if there are any rooms available.”
“What?”
“If you are not coming back to Hart, you will need somewhere safe to sleep.” He stood up, brushing past his hanging coat and cloak on the way to the bar. “So I will arrange for a room, here. For you. And return at breakfast for your answer.”
He left before I could say anything else, let alone admit I already had a place for the night, if I dared to go back to it. I watched him go, my heart thundering in my throat.
My eyes dragged to his coat pocket, heavy with unseen contents, and the door beyond. I could accept his proposal and risk losing my freedom again, or take what I’d been handed and leave right now.
I stood and went to the rack where Rosser’s outer garments hung. Up ahead in the press of bodies, I could see the young man leaning over the bar, speaking with a burly woman in an apron and black cap. She nodded to the side, and the two of them vanished up a staircase.
Rosser’s gaze glanced off me as he went and I offered a small, instinctual smile. Something about that expression must have startled him, because the way he smiled in return was almost relieved.
Then he was gone. I shrugged on my coat, walled out a stab of guilt and took his too. The garment was heavy and warm and smelled pleasantly masculine, like coffee and sweat and musky soap, all twined with sea salt. It was too big but I pulled it tight, threw his cloak over the top and started for the door.
Bodies pressed. Men threw good-hearted jests at one another and boots stomped. A snow-caked dog shoved past my leg and two women leaned onto one another’s shoulders at a corner table, whispering and laughing.
On my way past the bar, I scooped a loaf of bread off an unwatched plate and shoved it into my pocket. I was already a thief. Why stop now?
Cold wind struck my face as I stepped into the street. The door closed with one last waft of stew and beer and warmth, and I started to walk.
I strode quickly, sure Rosser’s enraged shouts would echo after me at any moment, or Demery’s pirates would peel from the darkness. But fortune was with me, and I was alone.
I made for what I assumed would be the edge of town, cobbling together a loose plan as I went. The forest beyond the graveyard would shelter me, I thought. I knew how to survive in the woods, and I was sure there’d be some summer cottage or woodcutter’s shack I could hide away in until Demery and Rosser gave up and left in pursuit of Lirr. I’d be hungry, but I’d survive. I’d be cold, but Rosser’s coat and cloak were warm.
I could do it. But should I?
Snow reflected starlight as I reached the graveyard. I darted across the open space and tucked myself into the shelter of one of the tithe trees, laboring for breath. I leaned against the trunk, taking solace from the familiar hum of ghisten life as I untangled my hands from my new cloak and brushed stray hair away from my face.
I steadied my breathing as the quiet of the night swelled. The ghisting in the tree did not greet me but I sensed its intelligence all the same, watching.
The wind gusted in off the sea, so cold that I shuddered. Some of the wine cleared from my head and I had a moment of hard reflection.
Even if I ran and Demery or Rosser didn’t find me, even if nothing went wrong and I survived however many days it took them to give up, Lirr could still track me, and my mother was still beyond my reach. Rosser had been nothing but sincere about Lirr’s abilities, and I believed him.
The pirate hunter was right. If I went on the offensive, I might be able to help bring down Lirr and save both my mother and myself. That was what I wanted, wasn’t it?
I sat down at the foot of the tree. Snow cushioned me and the coin-scaled trunk, when I leaned my head against it, almost felt warm.
“Mother,” I murmured. I felt the shape of the word on my lips, listened to my voice form its sounds. I thought of her, and all that I’d felt as I watched her carriage trundle away down the road between the Wold and the hills.
Tears seeped into my eyes, my throat clotted and I pulled my knees into my chest. If I went into that forest now and turned my back on her, on this chance—even if it was a lie—I would never forgive myself.
I shoved my beleaguered courage into line, pushed myself to my feet, and started back towards the town.
FIFTEEN
Negotiations
MARY
Demery met my eyes through a haze of pipe smoke. He sat in the far corner of my inn’s common room, beyond the late-night crowd of patrons, serving staff, and light and shadow.
I wove my way towards him. A table away, a long leg stretched out into my path. I managed not to jump—again, thanks to the wine in my veins—and looked over at the appendage’s owner. It was Athe.