“She said that Kal and Durian often spent time at a place called Red Dog Camp. It’s an abandoned copper mine.”
Cathrynne nodded, fitting the pieces together. “So they find something valuable in an old mine. Take it to Kota Gelangi to sell. Durian ends up dead, and now Kal’s on the run. Consul Casolaba was involved somehow. The question is, what did they find that was worth killing for?”
They reached the quay as the sun cast long shadows across the muddy water. Cathrynne found the harbormaster, a gruff woman with hands like tanned leather who informed her that the last boat to Kota Gelangi had just sailed, and the next wouldn’t depart until the following morning.
“Kal Machena’s not leaving by water,” she told Morningstar.
He chewed this over. “Can you track her with lithomancy?”
Cathrynne sighed. “I think it’s possible, but I don’t know how to cast that kind of spell. Tracking would require receptive magic.”
“You weren’t taught?”
“No,” she admitted. “Only simple projective magic. Enough to knock people around and break up bar fights.” She touched her cudgel and whip. “Mostly, I rely on these.” The flicker of sympathy in his eyes annoyed her. “My point is, Kal could be anywhere by now. Let’s just wait for the next boat back to Kota.”
Morningstar gazed at the distant hills. “I think we should have a look at Red Dog Camp. It’s not far, out near the border. It’s familiar. She might feel safe there.”
A clammy eel slithered through Cathrynne’s stomach. “That’s a long shot,” she argued. “And the border with Kievad Rus is dangerous.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who fears bandits, Rowan.”
“It’s not bandits I fear,” she confessed. “It’s the Sinn.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Of course, quite sensible of you. Yet I cannot give up so easily. Why don’t you wait for me here? There are plenty of hostels.”
Cathrynne was tempted to stay behind. Enjoy a hot bath and soft bed. But she was supposed to protect him. What kind of cypher would she be if she let fear rule her?
Besides which, Morningstar had sounded almost relieved to abandon her in Pota Pras. What did he imagine might happen in the desert? Did he think she would hurl herself at him bodily again? It was ridiculous!
“No,” she said firmly. “If you must go, I will too.”
He studied her for a moment, then nodded. To her relief, he said nothing more about it. They bought dinner at a stall near the quay. Red lentils wrapped in flatbread that drew the interest of marauding gulls. After tossing them the scraps, Morningstar took a map of the region from his valise. They studied it while they made their way to the train station.
Fifty draghas bought two seats in a private compartment for the last train into the hills. Cathrynne searched the faces of the other travelers, but Kal wasn’t among them. No surprise. The girl wouldn’t let herself be cornered so easily. Most likely she’d struck out on foot.
They boarded just as the sun sank behind the mountains, facing each other on worn velvet cushions. The carriage lurched forward with a clatter of wheels, gathering steam as it left Pota Pras behind. Morningstar took off his coat, folding it on the empty seat along with his valise.
“I made a vow to Durian’s mother,” he said gravely. “I intend to see it fulfilled.”
In his starched white shirt and gray pearl-buttoned vest, he looked like a wealthy broker, yet there was a dangerous, quiet edge to his voice. His tawny caracal eyes gathered the light of the sconces.
He would not stop, she realized. No matter where this investigation took them.
She could feel the fierce heat of his body warming the compartment like a banked hearth. Cathrynne turned to the window, pressing her forehead against the vast and limitless darkness beyond.
Chapter 13
Kal
Six of Bastian’s famous egg and paprika sandwiches. Two changes of underwear. One thermos of cold lemon tea. And a rusty tin stuffed with bills of various denominations, most of them low.
Along with the pistol in her pocket and the cursed gemstones, that was the sum total of Kal’s possessions.
She’d told her brother that she had a plan, but the only plan was to get as far as possible from Pota Pras.
Kal set a steady pace she could keep up all night. She and Durian never wasted money on trains, not when the journey itself was half the adventure. He would limp along at her side, his deformed foot slowing but never stopping him, that flop of sandy hair bouncing with each step.
She belly-crawled up to a ridge. From here, she could see the places they’d explored together. Broken Boot to the west, the abandoned structures of Red Dog Camp just visible in the distance, and somewhere beyond, Little Thunder, where they’d found traces of agate and quartz but nothing worth selling.
