Sersha marched them down one of the dirt roads to a thatch-roofed cottage and opened the door. Other than a bare cot and a table with two chairs, the cottage was empty. “Somewhere for newcomers,” she said. “We do shifts in the gardens; yours can starttomorrow. Once you get accustomed, you can see about either trading for one of the empty houses or building your own—”
“We aren’t staying,” Dani said primly.
Lore was too far away to kick her ankle. But, gods, did she want to kick her ankle.
Sersha raised a brow, her perpetually downturned mouth pursing. “How you figure?”
“The Ferryman—Raihan—seems to get off the Isles just fine.” Dani shrugged. “Stands to reason he could teach someone else.”
The look on Sersha’s face said she thought Dani had an inflated view of her own intelligence. “You’re welcome to ask him, I guess. His hut is just down the way.”
“I certainly will.” Dani walked farther into the hut, arranged herself at the table in a clear dismissal. “Thank you, Sersha.”
With one more withering look, the older woman left.
Lore crossed her arms. “Hate to break it to you, but I don’t foresee Raihan spilling extremely valuable navigation secrets just because we ask. Do you know how much the Empire would pay for easy passage near the Isles?”
“He doesn’t have to tell us,” Dani said. “You can control Spiritum, Lore. If anyone should be able to use an instrument calibrated to the magic of the Fount, it’s you. All we have to do is get our hands on one.” Her teeth ground, a near-feral look crossing her face. “If I’d fucking known, we wouldn’t have handed over the one we had. Martin had a thousand other things in his room I could have stolen for payment. I grabbed the first thing I saw, after I slit his throat.”
When Dani took the instrument out of her pocket, it hadn’t spun to Lore. Hadn’t done anything at all. And if it had been attuned to the lines of magic still emanating from the Fount, wouldn’t it have reacted like the ones on the ship? Surely Dani would have noticed.
“I don’t think the one we had worked, anyway,” Lore said.
A sharp cut of Dani’s eyes her direction. But the other woman just shrugged again. “I suppose you can sense that shit.”
“When are we going to steal one, then?” Lore had no moral compunctions about it. She’d done far worse.
Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, the memory of Anton sneaked up on her. His bloody face overgrown with roses. The sound his bones and cartilage had made as she sawed through his neck with the rusty garden shears.
“Wearen’t doing anything.” Dani crossed to the one unmade cot and stretched out with a sigh. “You’re the criminal. You’re doing the stealing. You’ll be much better at it than me.”
Lore had to agree there.
“But I’d wait until it gets dark.” Dani shifted on the tiny cot, grimacing as she tried to get comfortable. “And do your best not to get killed. Though I guess I don’t have to tell you that, do I?” She yawned. “Thus far, you’ve put quite a lot of effort into staying alive.”
Clearly, Dani was taking the bed, but Lore’s weariness was great enough that she didn’t really care. She stretched out on the floor, her back to the wall, facing the closed door of the cottage. It probably wasn’t safe enough for both of them to sleep. She resolved just to rest her eyes for a moment.
Less than a minute later, she was on the beach.
It wasn’t empty this time. Malcolm stood on the shore, looking pensively out at the false horizon.
Lore rushed to him, afraid that he might turn ghost and fade away before they could speak. Even though this was a dream, she was still out of breath when she reached the tide line. “I was starting to think you weren’t using your power.”
Malcolm’s mouth twitched. “Not willingly.”
There was much to unpack in those two words. “So you channeled it just for this? How did you know about the beach?”
“I didn’t. Though I’m not surprised, really.” He glanced around at the white sand and blue ocean as if expecting it all to disappear at any moment, and half hoping it would. “I suppose we can all dreamwalk now?”
“As long as we’re channeling.”
His eyes closed. “That’s something, at least.”
Lore sat down in the sand. After a moment, Malcolm followed suit.
“So you said you aren’t using it willingly,” Lore said. “Is it just… happening?”
“Once,” he answered, brushing sand off his knee. “Sometimes I hear Him.”
