“Hey Kanna, you remember how much the fee is to pass the fifth gate?” the guard asked, spear point following Barf.
His partner turned to laugh at him. “Eight naka.”
“Eight naka,” he echoed.
Both Hawks faced away now, and both Vultures were fixed on Pa and Hangdog. “Follow me,” Fie whispered, and slipped away from the rest of the band, slinking toward the gate.
Pa’s shoulders slumped a little. “As you like,” he said, and pulled back his over-robe.
The guard loped around the side of the wagon, suddenly close. Fie yanked the boys to crouch behind the oxen as the Hawk swung his spear to point dead at Pa. “You carrying a sword?”
“It’s broken.”
“Drop it.”
Pa nodded and made a show of reaching for his other hip, where the buckle sat. The half sword hit the mud, sending a cloud of bloodflies into the air.
The skinwitch called Inge chortled behind Pa. “All that’s good for is mercy, to be sure.”
“The purse.” The guard jerked his spear at Pa.
Pa untied his purse and tossed it to the Hawk. The Hawk dumped it onto the wagon’s driver’s seat and slid coins around until he was satisfied. “Your change is on the seat,” he laughed, and nodded to the skinwitches. “Go ahead, Inge.”
The skinwitches seized Pa and Hangdog, fish-flesh fingers pale against their bare arms. Inge’s and Treggor’s eyes squeezed shut a moment.
“Move,” Fie whispered, and crawled for the gate.
Inge’s gray eyes cracked open. She let go of Pa and spat to the side. Her spittle landed on Fie’s sleeveless arm.
Fie gagged in disgust, and the Sparrow teeth slid out of tune for a terrible instant. She yanked them back into harmony, swearing a silent litany, and froze in place.
Inge straightened up, her beacon-like gaze drifting in Fie’s wake. “Treggor?”
The other Vulture blinked. “Aye?”
Harmony, Fie prayed into the reeking muck, wringing the twin Sparrow teeth for everything they were worth. Harmony.
Inge squinted around, then slumped back. “Nothing.”
When she turned to Pa, Fie whispered, “Move.”
She reckoned that when the prince had thought to come to Crows for help, he hadn’t banked on crawling through the lowest gate of Cheparok on his hands and knees.
“Their witch-signs are good,” Inge croaked behind them, tweaking a fold of her yellow robe. “Ken me, you two. You’re marked men. Any spells you use now can and will be traced to you. We take the tag off when you leave the city.”
“So don’t make trouble,” the female Hawk sneered. “And don’t stay long.”
She jabbed her spear toward the gate just as Fie and the boys ducked round the corner.
Pa retrieved his blade, climbed back into the wagon, and smacked the reins without a word. The oxen lurched forward. Fie and the lordlings fell in with the Crows once they passed the gate, not chancing a look behind them. Nor did Fie chance dropping her stranglehold on the Sparrow teeth.
The wagon creaked into the lowest ring of Cheparok. The city rose above them in circular tiers, each smaller and higher than the last. Buildings lining the mud street down here were little better than walls of lumpy baked plaster and woven palm screens, most clustered near a dirty canal that curved down the road until it bent out of view. Pa followed that canal, then turned a corner, then another, until they’d slipped into a narrow alley away from the busy street.
“You’re clear, Fie. Well done.”
Fie let the teeth go. Wretch took in their coats of muck and covered a snort, but the lordlings had other concerns.
“They just took most of your money,” Tavin said, angry. “I can’t—we’ll—I’ll report them once we reach the fortress—”
Pa waved a hand and reached into his robe. “Fret you not, lad. Aye, they took most of the coin I had”—he drew a long, slim leather pouch from behind his back—“in that purse. Tell them you only have ten naka, and eight is what they’ll take.”
“They shouldn’t take anything at all,” Jasimir said. “I won’t forget.”
The other Crows traded looks. All Pa said was “Let’s get you to your cousin first.”
Tavin nodded to the city’s higher tiers. “There’s a Markahn in Second Market waiting to hear from me. He’ll pass the signal to the Floating Fortress once we find him, and then Governor Kuvimir will light the plague beacon.”
“Second Market? Good luck.” Swain pointed at the plaster wall over the wagon, marked with soot-darkened curls and slashes. Easy to mistake for the work of a lazy vandal, but the two crossed black thumbprints made a sign Fie would know anywhere.
The lordlings looked baffled. Fie tapped the thumbprints. “This is a Crow mark. And this”—she waved at the wall—“is a map. Here.” She indicated a square capped by a curve on the eastern side of the city. “That’s the Crow shrine. And these”—she traced a series of spikes—“are the markets. Second Market is…” Fie counted the patches of market in each ring and pursed her lips at what she saw. “… bad. Bad for Crows.”
“We’ve got ‘No one sells to Crows.’” Swain ticked off his fingers, reading down the symbols by the market. “Let’s see … both ‘hostile guard’ and ‘bribe the guard,’ so be open to a fair number of options there … And ‘no masks.’”
“I’ll deal with the guards,” Tavin said. “But why no masks?”
Fie sighed. “Draws notice. Just keep your hood up instead.”
“Fie…” Pa started.
“Aye, Pa.” Fie unstrapped her own mask from where it hung around her neck and tossed it into the wagon. She should have known her work was far from over. “I’ll bring the boys back to the shrine after.”
“I’ll go with,” Hangdog said, abrupt. Pa started and stared at him. “At least to Fourth Market. Buy the flashburn and the soap-shells.”
Pa traded a look with Fie. She gave a tiny shrug. She’d already be reckoning with a prince and his fussy pet Hawk. If Hangdog wanted to fuss, too, at least one of them would be useful about it.
The string of naka clinked as Pa slid coins free and passed them over. “Here. Be safe. I’ll see you four at the shrine.”
* * *
“The sign says water-lifts are that way.”
Fie scowled, already sweltering under the heat of her black over-robe. But since he’d kept his topknot, Jasimir had to stay covered, so Tavin had to stay covered, and so she had to stay covered lest she draw notice. Still, she envied the airy wraps and shaved heads of the Cheparok women around them. They were dressed for the muggy heat.
“I don’t know what the sign says, cousin,” she said. “And I don’t care. That mark there? That means Crows aren’t allowed. We need to take the stairs. And the stairs are this way.”
Tavin blinked at her. “You can’t read?”
Something in her shrank at his surprise. “I … I know Crow signs,” she mumbled. “Swain does the reading for us.”
“And the Crow signs say we won’t be allowed on the water-lifts,” Hangdog chipped in. Perhaps two and a half days of Fie’s silence had taught him to keep a cooler head, for no resentment smoldered in his voice, only stiff resignation.