Cold Fire (Spiritwalker 2)

o;Not to mention no man in this city who speak against such shall ever again enjoy the favors of he wife or gal,” Brenna added before she glided off like a ship under sail.

A judicious silence calmed the courtyard’s chatter. Then the men chuckled nervously and got going again. I moved on, and Vai caught the eye of a new customer who had been about to pat my backside but decided to pat his kerchief instead. Vai looked away before I could skewer him with a chiseled glance meant to inform him that I had to take care of myself, not be beholden to him.

“Say, is it true? After all that big talk about he search for she, the lost woman.” The speaker was a young man I did not know, talking in a low voice to his lads. He did not see me passing behind him although his companions had begun gesticulating wildly. “Now the maku found she, he is not getting any—?” He yelped as I upended my tray over his back.

“Oh! My apologies! I tripped.” I wasn’t sure he could hear me over the guffaws and snorts of laughter that exploded around the courtyard. “Let me get you something to wipe up with.”

At the counter, Uncle Joe handed me a cloth. “Yee know, Cat, beer is not cheap. Don’ go trying me patience.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Vai slid in beside me. “Did he say something to you, Catherine?”

“The gal just tripped,” said Brenna, stacking coconut shell bowls on a tray for me to take to the women who did the washing up back by the cistern. “Happen sometimes, don’ it?”

“Not with Cat it doesn’t,” he muttered. Then he looked past me, and his eyes widened as he smiled in a disconcertingly anticipatory way.

I turned. Over at the gate, Kofi was greeting a pair of vivacious young women who had the bearing of clever girls who assume men will listen to their words and not just stare at their breasts.

“My pardon, but I have to go.” He made his way to the gate.

With a lack of greeting I found peculiarly disturbing, for it made them all seem exceedingly familiar with each other, they went out.

“They radicals mean trouble,” muttered Uncle Joe.

“Trouble is what come before change,” said Brenna, “for yee know we is overripe for some manner of change.”

“How deep in is Vai with these radicals?” I asked, one eye on the gate.

“Why do yee care?” she retorted so tartly that my face flushed. “I reckon yee have made yee feelings known to all.”

“Good-looking gals, they two,” remarked Uncle Joe right over the top of Brenna’s comment. “I would surely have a mind to know them, was I a young fellow.”

Brenna snorted and slapped him on the arm. “A sad day for yee should yee be taken blind.”

“Surely true,” he said, gathering full cups onto my tray. “But I’s not blind yet.”

“Do you think the Council should be replaced by an Assembly?” I asked them.

Uncle Joe scratched his beard. “Hard to say how an Assembly shall be chosen, is it not? Fools and wise men look a lot alike. But listen here, Cat. Yee shall not go running after the radicals, for the wardens have they eye on them something fierce. Kofi-lad say we shall give the vote to every adult male and female, even the poor and the idle, with no regard to property or responsibility. He reckon it is the natural right of each person, troll or rat, to have a say in they governance.”

“Vai agrees with that? Do you have any idea how much power he has in Europa as part of Four Moons House?”

Uncle Joe and Brenna exchanged a glance whose contours I could not fathom.

“And Kayleigh is working at Warden Hall, passing on information to Kofi, and thus the radicals, and thence to Vai.”

“Keep silence, Cat,” said Uncle Joe sternly. “Don’ draw notice to yee own self. Or to him.”

A memory of the conversation I had overheard in Chartji’s office swept over me, the words Vai had said just before Chartji had opened the door to reveal me eavesdropping: “What if people bound by clientage could say they want to reclaim ownership of themselves??”

“Cat? Is yee well?” Brenna put a hand on my arm.

A man came in through the open gate. The man was not Vai. “Fine. I’m fine.”

“Take that cloth and these drinks over,” said Uncle Joe, “and be certain not to spill this lot.”

I walked off, measuring my steps because I felt disoriented, like I was losing track of my path. I had to concentrate on Bee. I needed more information on fire mages, in case Drake wasn’t strong enough to feed the Hunt. I heard them murmur, thinking I was out of earshot.