Polina opened her mouth to make another comment—but then paused. Sancia thought she spied a gleam of worry in her eyes.
“What is it?” asked Gregor.
“A ship from the plantations,” she said quietly. “An unusual one…”
“What do you know, Polina?”
“Why are you asking about this?”
“Because we had someone warn us that something very bad was being sent here,” said Gregor. “And we would prefer it not make it. What do you know, Polina?”
“I see.” She rubbed her chin, then gave them a reluctant stare, her iron-gray eyes hard and cold. “We take special care to track shipments of slaves, as you can expect. But there was one report I had just recently that…troubled me.”
“How so?” asked Sancia.
“A ship arrived at the plantation of Cefalea just three days ago,” said Polina. “But not a normal one. A Dandolo galleon. A huge ship of war. We couldn’t understand what such a ship was doing at this little plantation, but…then, to our surprise, the Dandolos stopped all labor on the island, marched all the slaves onto the galleon, and sailed away.”
Gregor and Sancia stared at her, perplexed. “They shut down the whole plantation?” said Gregor.
“Yes,” said Polina.
“And they took the slaves?” said Sancia.
“Correct. At least a hundred of them”
“Where were they sailing to?” said Gregor.
“We don’t know,” said Polina. “It hasn’t arrived at any of the ports in the plantations yet. It’s a galleon, so it is not speedy. But I did receive a message that it had been sighted passing Ontia—one of the westernmost of the isles.”
“It’s coming here, then,” said Gregor.
“Possibly, but…that doesn’t make sense,” said Polina. “Slaves are not permitted in Tevanne proper. Not when you have so little space and so many magics to do your labor for you.”
Sancia and Gregor were silent, but they exchanged a worried look.
That’s it, thought Sancia. That’s got to be this artifact—whatever it is.
“What do you know?” demanded Polina. “What is this about? What do they intend to do with those people?”
“I don’t know,” said Gregor. “Honestly. I don’t. But you must tell me, Polina—when do you think this galleon will arrive?”
“Arrive here, in Tevanne? The idea that it might is mad, but…if this is truly the ship’s destination…” She stopped to think about it. “It could be here before tomorrow morning.”
“One day,” said Gregor. “By God. One damned day to prepare for…” He shook his head. “Thank you. We must go.”
They started to wind their way out of the labyrinth while Polina followed them.
“What are you going to do?” said Polina.
“I’m not sure,” said Gregor.
“Is there even anything you can do? It’s a merchant house galleon! Such a ship is…it’s like a floating city! Even our own vessels don’t dare approach it!”
Gregor did not answer as they began to exit the tent.
Polina grabbed him by the arm. “You owe this to me, if nothing else. What is this? What’s going on?”
“We still barely know ourselves,” said Gregor.
She peered at his face. “But you look frightened. And that’s something I’ve never seen in your face before. Be honest. Is it your mother?”
“Yes,” he said. “I think so.”
Sancia looked back and forth between them. Although her mind was still overburdened with the memory of Valeria and the prospect of what might be sailing across the Durazzo to them now, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of intimacy to this exchange—one she had not expected.
Polina released him. “Then go.”
Gregor touched his fingers to his forehead and bowed to her. Then he and Sancia turned and walked away from the Slopes, back to Old Ditch and to Foundryside.
* * *
—
“That’s got to be it,” said Gregor. “A merchant house galleon making for Tevanne…What else would they use to transport the first of all hierophants?”
“But why take all the slaves?” said Sancia. “Is it cover of some kind?”
“I’ve no idea,” said Gregor. “Why would they need cover? Who else is going to be watching Dandolo ships for something as mad as this?”
They turned a corner. By now Old Ditch was fully awake. A man in a filthy Papa Monsoon costume was haggling with an old woman selling stripers from a giant cauldron. Gray monkeys howled and jabbered from the eaves of a nearby rooftop.
“Why didn’t you tell me what she was going to do?” asked Sancia. “That she was going to try to recruit me?”
“Because the decision was yours to make,” he said. “It would feel distasteful for me, a Tevanni, to counsel a freed slave on the morality of fighting to free other slaves.”
“How’d you know what I’d choose?” she asked.
“I respect Polina’s fight, and her methods,” he said, “but…a hierophant is several orders of magnitude more pressing than the plantations, for better or worse.”
“You seem to know a lot about Polina.”
Gregor said nothing.
“So,” said Sancia. “You and her. You, uh…”
“I am not obliged to tell you everything about my life, Sancia,” said Gregor.
They continued the rest of the way without a word.
7
“So…it’s true,” said Orso quietly in the Foundryside library. “Valeria wasn’t lying. Ofelia really is bringing…bringing him here.”
Sancia glanced around. The Foundryside library was always quite full, but it seemed unusually crowded today, with dozens of scrivers roaming the bookshelves, pulling out designs or tomes and spreading them out on the tables for review. It seemed utterly insane to be discussing this subject right now while all these young men—even in the Lamplands, female scrivers were extraordinarily rare—quietly went to work around them.
“Yes,” said Gregor. “Though apparently there will also be around one hundred slaves on the ship with him, or it, or…whatever the appropriate terminology is.”