Beside Giddon, Hava stepped forward slightly. Caught and held Trina’s mismatched eyes so Trina could see her own.
“May I ask what he wanted your help with?” said Hava.
Trina seemed to be considering Hava’s face. She raised her chin, a slight defiance. “I never knew for sure,” she said. “He and Brek had gone north and come back. There was something there they wanted me to see if I could find.”
“Something they’d lost in the north?” said Hava.
“No. Something they’d found there. Something they wanted confirmation of. But before we met again so he could give me the details, they drowned.”
“Where did they go in the north?” said Hava.
“I don’t know,” said Trina, her voice beginning to rise again. “You ask a lot of questions. I know who you are and I think you know what it’s like to be used, but that doesn’t mean you get to use me.”
Trina took a step back. She glanced once at the shopkeeper, who’d quietly watched the entire exchange. Then she turned on her heel and exited the shop.
Chapter Nineteen
Two of Ozul’s friends who crewed for the Ledrami boating company came to the Monsea that afternoon to play cards. They were happy to sit with Giddon and Hava in the salon first, drinking tea as the room bounced lightly on the small swells of Ledra’s harbor.
One was a Keepish woman named Sorit. The other, a man named Riz, was Kamassarian. Both had been working in the harbor the day the Seashell foundered. Both remembered that a new, Kamassarian-speaking crew of six sailors had sailed the Seashell, setting off practically the instant the Monseans arrived.
“It’s not odd for a leasing party to hire their own crew,” said Riz. “But I do remember thinking it was odd for anyone to hire a crew who didn’t speak their own language!”
“I think Mikka spoke some Kamassarian,” said Hava.
“Maybe that accounts for it,” said Riz.
“And what do you know about the accident?” asked Giddon.
Riz and Sorit shared a blank look. “Nothing,” Sorit said.
“Nothing?”
“The Seashell was never seen again,” said Sorit. “Of course, a few people saw her entering open water, but after that, nothing. It’s a big ocean. We did a full-scale search the next day and found no sign, but by then, we weren’t expecting to. The sea takes everything.”
“Isn’t it strange that no one survived in the lifeboats?” said Giddon.
“There was only one lifeboat on board the Seashell,” said Riz. “We don’t know what made the ship sink. If it was fire, the lifeboat could’ve been damaged. Or, it could’ve capsized in a wind. The weather on the Brumal Sea can get violent very fast.”
“How was the weather that day?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” said Sorit, squinting like she was trying to remember.
“Don’t you remember what Katu Cavenda said when he came back ashore?” Riz said.
“Katu?” said Giddon, keeping his voice even. “He also sailed that day? What did he have to say?”
“He was out in this little yacht he has, this beautiful slender craft he travels and races in,” said Riz. “Usually he handles her all by himself. You have to admire his skill. He came back laughing, said it was so blustery, he’d almost capsized.”
“Now that you mention it,” said Sorit, “wasn’t that also the day a couple of fishing ships lost their nets? The waves tore them right off the ships.”
“Yes,” said Riz, “I remember that too. It’s why we all got a little worried when it started to get dark and the Seashell wasn’t back.”
“Did Katu say anything else?” said Giddon. “I don’t suppose he mentioned the Seashell?”
“We did talk about the Seashell, actually,” said Riz, “because Katu asked if I’d seen an airship go by full of people speaking Kamassarian, heading north. We hadn’t, but it was a funny coincidence, of course, so I told him about the crew of the Seashell.”
“I don’t understand,” said Giddon. “Why would he ask you that? Would an airship full of Kamassarians be significant?”
“I don’t know,” said Riz, shrugging. “Katu has all kinds of friends. Maybe he thought he recognized them.”
“I see,” said Giddon. “I don’t suppose you know anything about our Monsean men going north before they drowned?”
“I can tell you that if they went north, it wasn’t in the Seashell,” said Riz. “I don’t know anything beyond that.”
* * *
—
Hava and Giddon walked back to Quona’s house in relative silence.
“Any foxes?” Giddon finally said.
“I haven’t even been looking,” said Hava. “My mind is with Mikka and Brek.”
“Me too,” said Giddon. And Trina, he didn’t add, not quite ready to articulate all the reasons that exchange had upset him.
“That Trina’s a touchy one, isn’t she?” said Hava. “‘O how I suffer,’ and all that?”
Giddon began to laugh. “Is that how you’d describe it?”
“The shopkeeper told me that people in the harbor amble hire her to find their stolen treasures. She lives above a bait shop, two blocks away from that store.”
“Does she?” said Giddon, who would’ve expected something more glamorous, had he considered it yesterday. Now he just felt lost and out of sorts. He’d bought that starmaker, because he hadn’t been able to help himself. Bitterblue would have loved it; it was the sort of thing she would’ve kept close, as a treasure. It thumped in his pocket as he walked.
“Hava,” he said, “do I use you?”
“Oh, ugh,” said Hava. “I knew this was coming.”
“There was something in what Trina said.”
“Okay then, do I use you?” said Hava. “When we’re at a party and I let you do all the talking while I hide? Or let you carry everything with your big muscles? Or let you distract everyone by looking all handsome and stuffed with valor?”
“How do you manage to be so insulting while giving compliments?”
“She was feeling sorry for herself. Do you always take everything to heart?”
“Not everything.”
“You don’t use me,” said Hava. “If you did, I’d be sure to let you know.”