Moth (19 page)

 
 
CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
THE BONE FLUTE

She walked through the city streets, head lowered and throat tight. She passed by the alleys, gutters, and abandoned boxes she had spent so many nights in, shivering and hungry and scared. She stepped through puddles, over beggars, and around piles of refuse, crossing the hardships she had lived through, the grime she had waited in, the poverty that had been overtaking her soul.

What could she do now? Seek aid elsewhere? Travel east to Yintao, capital of Qaelin, the mythical city where Shenlai the dragon was said to fly? Koyee lowered her head. No. Yintao lay so far across the rocky plains even the fastest nightwolf, running like the wind, would take two full moons to reach it. Walking barefoot across the plains, Koyee would starve long before she reached that fabled city. She could sooner build a ladder to the moon.

"There's only one place to go now, Eelani," she said, eyes burning. "We're going home."

Eelani hopped on her shoulder; Koyee could almost feel the patter of small, invisible feet.

"I know, Eelani. I know we're going home empty handed. But I still have my sword." She gripped the hilt, wincing at the grime that covered its blue silk. "We'll defend Oshy ourselves, you and me and Sheytusung. It's not much, but . . . if I must, I'll die for Eloria like my father did. But I'll die with a sword in my hand, fighting for my kingdom, not starving in a slum's gutter."

As she walked through the market, she looked around at the shadows. She saw several thieves, beggars, and urchins scurrying there, but not the Dust Face Ghosts. Not the one she sought.

"Goodbye, little Whisper," she said. "You're the only one I will miss here."

For the first time in almost two moons, she reached the city gates of Pahmey, the blue archway towering, its bricks embossed with golden dragons, stars, and moons.

"I entered these gates a proud woman of Eloria, the daughter of a soldier," she said to her invisible friend. "I leave in rags, dirty and alone and famished."

Her eyes stung as she walked under the archway, stepped between the guards, and left the city of Pahmey.

She walked across the docks, worming between sailors, merchants, and beggars. A dozen ships sailed ahead in the river, and a hundred were moored along the docks. The moonlight shone on sails, figureheads, and the jewels of wealthy captains. Fishermen sorted their catches upon the boardwalk, and the scent of fish filled the air.

"Goodbye, Pahmey," Koyee whispered and looked over her shoulder, giving the city of crystal and glass a last look.

She approached the dock where she had moored
Lodestar
. She walked past cogs, junk ships, and a fisherman's raft. She reached the peg where she had tethered her boat . . . and froze.

Lodestar
was gone.

Koyee rolled her eyes and blew back a strand of hair. "Oh, Eelani, you're so silly. You chose the wrong dock."

She returned to the boardwalk and walked along the river, scanning the rows of vessels. Yet still she could not see her boat.

"This isn't funny, Eelani!" she said, her pulse quickening. "Do you see our boat?"

She walked faster. Soon she was running. She raced along every dock, scanning every boat. A hundred were moored here, and she passed by each one a dozen times. She raced along the boardwalk, searching for missing piers, but found none.

She fell to her knees.

"
Lodestar
is gone," she whispered. "It was stolen."

Of course. Of course it had been stolen! Most other ships here were guarded or secured with chain and padlock. Yet Koyee was from Oshy, a village where nobody ever stole a thing.

"I think if we learned anything on the streets of Pahmey, Eelani, it's that everyone steals here." With a deep sigh, she sat upon the dock, dangled her feet over the water, and closed her eyes. "What do we do now?"

Her friend embraced her cheek, warm and comforting. Koyee took deep breaths, forcing her fear away. Fear would not help now.

"Fate is punishing us," she said. "We stole and now we're paying for our sins. We'll have to catch a ride with somebody else upriver. Maybe we can sneak onto another boat." She bit her lip and groaned. "By the stars, no, that won't work. Summer just started. Boats won't sail to Oshy for moons and moons." She grumbled, cursing the small size of her village; boats replenished Oshy with supplies only twice a year. She rose to her feet and looked along the river. "We'll just have to walk. It'll be a long walk . . ."

Her belly grumbled. A woman walked by, carrying a basket of clacking clams. A young boy was shucking oysters by a wall. The smell of fried fish rose in the distance, and Koyee's mouth watered. Once more, she had no food left and only one copper coin. She had hoped to fish along the river, using the net and rod upon the
Lodestar
. Now Koyee didn't know where her next meal would be found.

"It would take a full moon to walk home, Eelani," she said, her spirits sinking. "I can't walk as fast as I sail. I can't fish without my gear. I don't know how we'll survive the journey." She lowered her head. "We could try to catch spiders or worms on the way, or hope we come across migrating stonebeasts, but . . . it's more likely we'd find not a morsel."

The realization slowly sank in.

She was trapped here.

She looked back at the city and a lump filled her throat.

"Is this our fate? To live in the muck again?" She rose to her feet, squared her jaw, and dried her eyes. "I will not walk with you along the river until you die of starvation, Eelani. We'll still go home. Instead of fishing on the way, we'll just have to pack enough supplies. We'll return to Pahmey for only an hourglass turn—that's all, I promise you—and collect what we need. A fishing rod. Enough food to last a moon, in case we can't catch our meals. But no more stealing, Eelani." She shook her head vigorously. "Fate has punished us for our sins, and now we must find what we need honestly."

She wasn't sure how she would do that . . . but she didn't want to worry Eelani. Her invisible friend was worried enough as it was.

She walked back to the city gates. She reached into her pocket and produced her last coin. With a sigh, she paid her toll and reentered Pahmey.

She wandered the streets but refused to let despair overwhelm her. She pursed her lips.

"All right, Eelani, we'll never find enough money to buy a new boat, but we can buy a fishing rod. We'll need jars of mushrooms too. And we'll need a pack for carrying it all." Wind blew between the houses and she shivered. "And if we can, we'll buy a cloak. We just need enough for thirty hourglass turns; it won't take longer to walk home."

Once she was back in Oshy, she wasn't sure how she'd survive there either. Without a boat or a father to help her, would she simply starve in her village? She pushed that worry out of her mind. She still had friends in Oshy; they'd help her. Poor villagers were often kinder than wealthy city folk.

She ambled through the marketplace. A hundred peddlers shouted around her, calling out their wares, selling everything from roasted silkworms to bronze cutlery. When a child knocked into a cart, spilling its mushrooms across the street, Koyee was tempted to grab some along with a horde of other thieves. She forced herself away.

"No more stealing, Eelani. I know you're hungry, but we have to be honest now. Fate punished us for stealing once, and I won't steal again." She sighed and tried to ignore the tightness in her belly and the delicious smells in her nostrils. "We'll have to find work."

She had no trade but fishing, but hunger drove her onward. It took her away from the marketplace, across the city's crest, and downhill again to the northern slopes. The river was distant here, and its smells and sounds had faded. Along the northern walls, cramped together like bones in a bag, festered Soot Valley. Here did Pahmey toil. Smiths, masons, tanners, weavers, cobblers, and dozens of other masters labored here in squat shops. Gone were the glass bricks of the southern neighborhoods. Workshops here were built of black stone, rising three or four stories tall. Koyee heard hammers banging on anvils, smelters simmering, animals squealing in butcher shops, and the clang of a thousand tools. Oil, grease, tallow, blood, and countless other scents rose from the shadows. Everywhere she looked, grime covered Soot Valley, a cloak of filth. Hundreds of chimneys pumped out blue, green, and black smoke.

Koyee stood above the neighborhood, hesitating, but then nodded.

"We'll find work here, Eelani. I'm a fisherman's daughter from Oshy. I don't fear hard work. It will only be until we earn enough money to leave."

With a deep breath, she walked down into the grime, shadows, and smoke.

She approached a smelter first, a wide building of sooty walls. When she stepped inside, she nearly choked. A dozen men, clad in grimy robes, were shoving wheelbarrows of iron ore. Great cauldrons, taller than her, bubbled over fires. Ladders and pipes ran everywhere, and smoke filled the air. Molten metal bubbled and flowed, its smell burning Koyee's nostrils, and she covered her nose.

"Work?" said the master smelter and snorted. "This is no place for a little girl. Run along and find a seamstress to work for." He turned toward workers who were leaning over a cauldron. "Men! No. Not yet—try that one."

Koyee left the workshop, thankful to escape the smell. She tried a butcher shop next, only to be turned away again. A smithy, a glassmaker, and a brickmaker yielded no better results, scoffing at the fisherman's girl who knew nothing of their trades. A chandler chased her away with a stick, accusing her of coming to steal his wares. A gem cutter was kinder, but he could offer Koyee only apprenticeship, not coins. A tanner gave her a bowl of stew and a listening ear, but he could not afford to hire her.

Koyee wandered among the workshops, head hung low.

"It's useless, Eelani," she said, eyes stinging with smoke. "They want me to know their trades already, they want me to apprentice for free, or they chase me away with sticks." She sighed. "At least we got a bowl of stew. I want to work hard, but it won't be for somebody else, it seems. We'll have to create our own trade. And not thieving!"

She yawned and stretched. She was tired, but she could not sleep yet. She had lingered here too long. Her hourglass lay in her pocket; she didn't know how long she'd been wandering here, but it felt like at least an hourglass turn.

Her eyelids heavy, she wandered into a new neighborhood, a nest of twisting streets along the eastern hillsides. Tall, narrow houses rose around her, built of stone, dusty glass, and sometimes just leather stretched over bone frames. Wires hung between the roofs, holding tin lanterns that swayed, casting green and orange lights. Outside dozens of shops, merchants sold fabrics, beads, buttons, and needles. Koyee saw silks and furs of every color, some simple, others ornate and embroidered with sky or sea motifs. Shoppers roamed the streets, caressing fabrics and haggling over their price. Inside several shops, tailors were measuring their patrons and recommending fabrics. The poor folk bought simple white fabrics, but the wealthy bought ornate robes of blue, gold, and green that shimmered in the moonlight.

"Do you think anyone here will offer me work, Eelani?"

As Koyee wandered between the fabric shops, music filled her ears. She turned toward the sound. The smallest man she'd ever seen—he was barely taller than her waist—stood at a corner, playing a lute and singing. His white beard rolled across the ground like a scroll, and he wore green and yellow motley. A pewter dish lay at his feet, and passersby tossed in coins.

Koyee's eyes widened.

"Look, Eelani! Look at all those coins." When she felt invisible hands tug her head, she rolled her eyes. "No, I don't mean we'll steal them. I mean . . . this is what we need to do. We'll have enough money in no time." She tapped her chin. "Of course, there is one snag in the plan. We don't have a musical instrument, nor would we know how to play one. But how hard could it be?"

She watched the little man play, wishing she had money to give him, but nothing filled her pocket but her hourglass. When he had finished one song and was stretching his fingers, Koyee gingerly approached.

"Dear master musician," she said, "you play beautifully. I have no coin to pay you, but I promise that if you help me, I will return with payment. Where did you buy your lute? I would very much like to buy one too."

The little man smiled at her, revealing a golden tooth. "Try Yatana's shop," he said, his voice as high pitched as his tautest lute string. "Walk up the road, turn left twice, then turn right at the well, and you'll see it there. Tell him Little Maniko sent you. I would be happy to give you lessons for a few copper coins."

She smiled. "Thank you, Little Maniko. I promise that when I can, I will pay you."

She followed the instructions, got lost twice, but finally made her way to a narrow street. Dusty awnings stretched overhead, hiding the sky. Only three lanterns swung here on a wire, casting pale light across cobblestones and narrow buildings of green, opaque glass. One building, tall and narrow and topped with bronze tiles, bore an iron sign shaped as a lute. Koyee stepped inside, entering a dusty, warm chamber.

Shelves filled the room, brimming with pipes, lutes, drums, flutes, and horns. Candles burned between them, wax melting like snake skins. In silver plates lay gems, beads, rare coins, geodes, and river stones.

"Hello?" Koyee said and sneezed in the dust. "Is anyone here?"

The shopkeeper emerged from behind a pile of leather-bound books. He was a tall, elderly man with long white hair, a thin nose, and a beard strewn with beads. His one eye was large and bright; the other was hidden behind a scarf.

"What is the easiest instrument here to play?" Koyee asked.

He blinked at her, moving his eye up and down, taking in her bare feet, muddy legs, and ragged fur tunic.

"Do you have money?" he rasped.

Koyee sighed, reached into her pocket, and pulled out her hourglass. Her heart twisted. Her father had gifted her this timepiece, and she had carried it with her for years. Head lowered, she held it out.