Page 27 of City of Stone and Silence

“It was never a problem on Soliton,” I say.

“Soliton is a ship full of dregs and outlaws,” he says.

“They were on Soliton, too,” Meroe says. “Something else is going on here.”

“Their language is … odd,” Shiara says. “But I’d guess they’re noble-born.”

“Why would Kuon Naga feed nobles to a rotting ghost ship?” I say.

“Because he had some he wanted to be quietly rid of?” Meroe says. “That’s what my father did to me.”

Rot. I hadn’t thought of that. She doesn’t seem upset, but I make a note to apologize later.

“I’m missing something,” Shiara says quietly. “Cresos. It sounds familiar.”

“I could tell them to go to the Rot,” I say to Zarun. “I don’t want to start off with them thinking they get to push us around.”

“We need the food,” he says. “Besides, I can hardly follow this formal talk anyway. I’ll go see if I can get anything more out of Harak, and you find out what you can from Lady Cresos. Maybe if we compare notes we’ll get somewhere.”

I nod, feeling sour. Shiara, Meroe, and I return to the visitors, while Zarun heads back the way we came.

“Lady Cresos is more than welcome to meet with us,” I say, “though we can’t offer much in the way of hospitality. In the meantime, we would like to distribute your gifts among our crew as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” the man says. “Our servants will assist. Some of the Harbor’s fruits will be unfamiliar.”

The servants—all the non-Imperials—start picking up the sacks and barrels. I let them pass, then extend a hand, and the veiled woman follows us out. I note some sour looks among her attendants, but none of them speaks up.

We settle in another empty stone chamber—the ziggurat certainly doesn’t lack for those—with a blanket spread on the floor. Lady Cresos sits, folding her legs beneath her in the nerve-deadening formal style. Shiara matches her neatly, and to my surprise, so does Meroe, with grace enough that you might have thought she was raised in the royal court. I suppose she was raised in a formal court, and probably had special training on dealing with Imperials.

I sit beside her, legs defiantly crossed, and wonder if I should fart and pick my nose to make the point. Lady Cresos inclines her head and reaches up to fold back her veil. When she straightens—

There’s a blurred moment of confusion, and my heart skips a beat.

She doesn’t look that much like Tori, really. She might be about the same age, thirteen or fourteen—has Tori’s birthday passed? I’ve lost track of the date—with the same long, smooth black hair, curling down past her waist. She holds herself in much the same way, the careful manners inculcated by etiquette tutors, and a touch of powder enhances the pallor of her cheeks. Her eyes are different, wider and light brown.

Meroe is looking at me, concerned, and I grit my teeth. Focus, Isoka. Tori is in Kahnzoka, Blessed knows how many miles away, and if I don’t get out of here …

“Thank you,” Meroe says. “For the gifts. The angels didn’t give us much time to gather supplies.”

“They can be rude things, can’t they?” the girl says, with the ghost of a smile. “It is nothing. They bring us more than we need, and I am pleased to share. You are the first newcomers in a long time.”

“Lady Cresos—” I begin.

“You may call me Catoria, if you wish.”

I pause, not sure of the etiquette, but eventually decide to take her at her word. “Catoria, then. My name is Isoka, and these are my fellow Council members Meroe and Shiara.”

“An honor,” Catoria says, with another slight bow.

“You said it’s been a long time,” Meroe says eagerly. “How long? And what happens when no one arrives?”

“Veldi said five years,” I cut in. “What about Soliton? How long does it stay in the dock?”

Catoria holds up her hands, long sleeves brushing on the blanket. “I had a feeling you would be confused. Perhaps I should begin at the beginning?”

Meroe and I look at each other. I glance at Shiara, who has raised one painted eyebrow, as though to ask why I insist on making a fool of myself.

“Perhaps,” I say, “that would be best.”