Page 104 of The Space Between Stars

Celestar scribbled a note on a piece of paper, folded it expertly into the shape of a swan, and pushed it across the counter to her. “And your man… is he obstinate or cockminded?”

“Remains to be seen. My best guess, probably so. Good at hiding it.”

She knew how she sounded. She knew what people said behind her back: that the blood in her veins was channeled straight from the depths of the sea. A part of her wanted to leave it that way—to walk out without another word. They’d made their exchange. She owed Celestar nothing… but, as she reached for the doors, she hesitated.

People didn’t start off the way she was. How did she get here? She remembered something Pinto had once said to her: that the art of conversation was not made with a single stroke.

She turned. “Celestar?”

“Yes?”

“What do you want?”

Information covetable by politicians and thieves, researchers and whores. Secrets by the hoard. Information that could have him both arrested and elected. That she already knew.

It was a long time before he finally responded without the usual singsong to his voice, a thing she could only take to mean he spoke honestly. “Perspective.” He looked at his malformed feet. “With my condition, I lost hope for what most consider freedom long ago.”

Attilatia tried to think of a response that wasn’t politely dismissive. Silence seemed appropriate.

“That address,” Celestar continued, nodding at the paper swan in her hands. “Does that get you closer to your freedom?”

It made her play Roskaad’s game. Would that get her closer to escaping Nelfindar? Probably not, but it was the best option she had. She shrugged. “Possibly.”

“If not that, then what will?” He said it like he’d set it on the table between them.

Favors: the flip side of secrets, on Celestar’s two-faced coin of business. Give her a favor, and he could take one later. Her future was just uncertain enough to indulge him. There might be another way to escape.

“Has you heard… about this queen of raiders?”

Celestar sat back in his stool, hand to his chin. “I’ve heard some things.”

“Like what?”

“Rumors, mostly.”

Year: 743 Post Cataclysm: 5 years previously

Location: Shrokan District, Seraphinden

At port in Seraphinden’s dock, Mitek pulled Fankalo into the navigation room. With the door closed behind them, the space rang with his shrill laughter.

“Out with it,” she said with a scowl.

Had he held it in for another moment, he might have exploded. “Celestar just worked us immunity from Nelfinden border patrol!”

That was worthy news. It just about made them invincible.

Smugness stole over Mitek’s expression. “You owe me big time.”

Celestar had always seemed to hold something against her; this win was fully thanks to Mitek. She crossed her arms. “Fine. What do you want?”

“I want you to give me a compliment.”

“Urrrgh. Can’t I just take an ass-kicking? Or give you an extra week to whore around Shrokan’s wharf?”

“No way. You owe me a compliment, and you have to mean it.”

Fankalo’s fingers flexed. Grave-like silence. Then—“You have nice hair.”