Otherbound

36

Amara stole a basket and clothes from a servant house at a nearby dairy farm and dumped her own bloody rags in a pond. Checking the setting sun for directions, she trudged by the side of unpaved roads into the city, boots cracking the autumn leaves. By the time she reached Bedam proper, the chill had taken root in the tip of her nose and every bit of the hand clutching the basket. The skin of her fingers was bone yellow.

She swallowed the pain. Keeping her chin respectfully raised, she crossed slabs bridging narrow, foul-smelling canals, through alleyways, past a stand showcasing exotic Jélisse birds and felines, and stalls offering snacks from places Amara had never heard of. No one stopped her. Servants visited central Bedam for errands daily.

Finally, the harbor noise reached Amara. Shouts, seagulls, horns. The click-clack of cargo horses’ hooves on cobblestones. Amara dawdled at the edge of the harbor. Ruudde would’ve forbidden detection spells to prevent further mixed-magic blowups, but the number of marshals had doubled since her arrival a few days ago.

From a safe distance, alternating hiding behind groups of people, crates, and warehouses, she squinted at the crates stacked for loading. There were few at this late hour. Most of the crates were marked with their contents or destinations. Amara read the words slowly. Far too slowly. Standing still for that long put her so on edge that every seagull’s squawk made her start.

She repeated Cilla’s lessons in her head, piecing together slashes and dots until they became letters, then formed words. The biggest trading ships would sail to the Alinean Islands and Eligon, maybe even the Interterran Sea for the State of Jélis on the other side of the Continent, but the smaller ships couldn’t go that far. Those had to have Dunelands destinations. None of the crates were labeled ROERTE, though some might stop there on the way. Amara waffled about taking the risk, then spotted another set of crates, already being lifted into a ship: TESCHEL WT WLLW, the letters said.

She hesitated. She’d hoped to find Captain Olym at her farm in Roerte, but the island Teschel might work, too. She could find the bartender who’d helped before.

She memorized the ship—a fluit like Olym’s—and its location.

Then she found a quiet spot by the water a few minutes from the harbor and finally put down the basket she’d been clutching. She rapped numb, pale-skinned knuckles on the pavement. She checked for scrapes and saw nothing. Nolan was here. Do you have time? I’ll need you for several hours.

The thought of cooperating didn’t feel as dirty as it had before. Maybe it ought to, but without Nolan, she had no chance of saving Cilla—which she had to try, even if it still felt like a betrayal of Maart or herself or both. She couldn’t leave Cilla to Ruudde, and she wouldn’t beat herself up for that. The world was bad enough without her help. That one kiss in a storm-soaked world, for all its baggage, was the only good thing to happen to her in a long time.

She remembered what she’d told Cilla: I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay even less.

The lesser of two evils. That was all Amara could hope for. It’d have to be enough.

Nolan took too long to answer. He was here, though, evidenced by her knuckles gleaming orange in the almost-gone sun, the skin fully healed. Finally, her hands spread out, his doing. “Ruudde visited my world,” he said, with slow, deliberate signs. “He threatened my sister.”

She stared. Seagulls wailed, circling the harbor.

So much for that flash of optimism. Nolan would abandon her. He would make her walk back to the palace and nod her head to whatever Ruudde said, and she couldn’t even blame him for it. If Amara had a family, a way out of this mess, she’d take that chance, too.

The thought of returning to her old life still tore her apart.

“He took my pills. I can’t give you long. Find out what you can.” Nolan retreated.

Amara stayed in her crouch. She let his words sink in, breathing in cold, salty air and pushing it out again. Nolan was still on her side. He still thought they had a chance. But a chance of what?

She thought about what Nolan had said. Find out what you can. If Ruudde wanted Cilla safe so badly, Amara could at least use this limited time to find out why.

And that meant returning to Teschel.

Regretfully, Amara looked down at her winterwear and scarf. She couldn’t seem to go long without ruining her clothes.

She dove into the water and swam for the ship.