The Shifter (3 page)

She glanced at my blond hair and scoffed. “Useless, all of you.”

“Fine day to you.” I dipped a bow.

She harrumphed and turned back to her shopping.

I waited a heartbeat, then two. No cries of alarm rang out, no angry farmer raced at me demanding payment. I slid into the crowd, letting it take me downstream of the market district and into the tradesmen’s corner.

Knees quivering, I settled down in the grass under the palm tree in front of Trivent’s Leathers, leaning against the trunk with my legs out straight. Madame Trivent didn’t care for folks resting under her tree, which is why no one was there. Not much open space in Geveg was empty anymore.

I bit through the mango’s skin, sucked the juice up, ignoring the pinch in my stomach as I tried to gobble. The first went down fast and I started on the second, slower this time.

I’d missed all the morning work, but there’d be more after lunch. The fishing boats returned midafternoon, so if I went now, I could get work unloading today’s catch. The
Sunset Runner
was on a good streak this week. They’d kept me almost two hours longer than any other loader on the docks the other day. Said I’d done a good job too.

I stopped mid-chew. The fancy man was back, watching me from behind a fence. Me, not Aylin. No good reason why any man would be watching me, unless he was from the League. The League!
That’s
where I’d seen him, passing behind the Elder and the wards.

The mango soured in my mouth. A League man overhears that I can shift and starts following me? What if he was a tracker? I’d hadn’t heard talk of any since their kidnapping spree during the war. Rumors said they tracked for us
and
the Duke, so the Healers they grabbed never knew which side they might wind up healing. Folks whispered about trackers like they whispered about marsh spirits and the haunted barge wreck. Only trackers were real.

Keep chewing. Don’t let slip you’ve seen him.
Too close to the marshes to risk another dip in a canal. Would he try to grab me in the open or—

“Shoo, girl!” Two more words that always meant trouble for me. Madame Trivent thumped me on the head with her broom. The straw bristles stabbed behind my ears and yanked some hair out.

My mango dropped to the ground. I snatched it back and scrambled to my feet, ducking her wide swings. “I’m going, I’m going.”

“Filthy ’Veg. Don’t you be bothering my customers.” She swept me down the walk like trash and shoved me into the street. “Don’t come back!”

Folks put extra steps between me and them as they passed. The soldiers didn’t like fuss, and trouble had a nasty way of sticking to other folks like flung mud.

I turned a slow circle but caught no glimpse of yellow and green silk behind bush, tree, or corner. Hunger’ll play with your mind, but I didn’t think I’d imagined him.

Slouching, I slipped into a wave of refugees. Home sounded like a good idea. If I stayed low, stayed quiet, maybe the fancy man would leave me alone.

That
was a foolish dream. Trackers didn’t let you go. They dragged you off in the middle of the night, and no one ever saw you again. Made you heal the soldiers. Keep the rebellion alive. Fight the Duke. Chase him out of Geveg. Keep the pynvium
in
Geveg.

None of it had worked.

But I was useless to the League, and Geveg had no more soldiers to heal and fight. The League didn’t even know who I was. I rarely spoke to anyone there except Tali, and she wouldn’t reveal me. How could—

I sucked in breath. The north gate guards. They knew me. They’d seen me run out earlier, scared as a cat.

I ran the last block to Millie’s Boardinghouse. It sat on the edge of Pond End Canal, not far from where the chicken ranchers tossed their garbage. The view wasn’t bad and the smell kept it cheap. I climbed up the stairs to my room on the third floor.

My door was pegged shut.

I was only a day late on my rent. Millie had never pegged me out for being a day late before.

“You have your rent money?” Millie stood on the landing at the end of the hall, her skinny brown arms folded tight across her chest. The woman had ears to make a bat jealous.

“I will by this evening, I swear.”

She tossed her hands up and huffed, then started back down the stairs. “I’ve got your gear. Come get it before I sell it.”

“Millie, please, give me a few hours. I’ll pay soon as the boats come in.”

“I have three families wanting the room.”

“Please, I’m good for it, you know I am. I’ll pay double tomorrow.”

“Got folks willing to pay that now.” She shoved my clothes basket into my hands, then wiped her palms on her apron. White flour clouds puffed outward. “Go stay with your sister in her fancy dorm room.”

Millie knew the League did bed checks. She rubbed my nose in it ’cause the League had turned her son away. Not enough talent, they said. Couldn’t heal a scraped knee. He’d even been turned away by the pain merchants, and Takers didn’t need much talent to work
there
. Some of the new swears I’d learned came to mind, but I stilled my tongue. Millie had the cheapest rooms. Throw me out today, take me in tomorrow, and she’d never think twice about either. She was also the only boardinghouse owner in Geveg who believed me when I said I was seventeen and old enough to rent.

I shuffled back to the street, my fingers gripping the basket filled with everything I owned. Two shirts, a pair of pants, and three unmatched socks. I lifted my chin. Tears dripped off onto my hands. I had half a day to find work. Maybe I could untangle nets through the night. Barnikoff might let me sleep in his shed if I tidied it up. And there was always—

Breath died in my throat.

Saints save me, the fancy man was back.

THREE

S
trength left my legs, and I flopped into the weeds at the edge of Millie’s walk. I sat cross-legged, basket in my lap, chin on the basket. The tears hadn’t stopped, and they dripped
tap tap tap
on the wicker.

The fancy man kept watching from across the street. Watched me sit and cry. Open my basket and pull out a sock. Blow my nose on it. Put it back. Watched me watching him. He never moved. I’m not sure he even blinked.

Gave me shiverfeet.

“Nya?”

I yelped. So did the pigtailed girl I hadn’t noticed walk up beside me. A flock of bright waterbirds at lake’s edge took flight, dozens of tiny wings flapping like sheets in a windstorm.

“Enzie!” I scolded. She’d shared a room with Tali at the League for a while until a bed opened up in the wards’ area, the orphanage part of the League where they took in potential Healers. But I’d never seen her without her League uniform on. She looked more like a little girl with her brown hair bound in ribbons and a simple gray shirt and pants like mine. Hers were newer, though, and didn’t have patches on the knees and elbows. “For the love of Saint Saea, don’t sneak up on folks like that.”

“Sorry, Nya.” Enzie settled into the weeds beside me. “Tali asked me to give you a message.”

My chill returned. “Is she okay?” If she got into trouble because of me, I’d throw myself to the crocs right there.

Enzie nodded. “She wants you to meet her at the pretty circle at three. Under the tree.”

The flower gardens. Tali had called it “the pretty circle” when she was four. We’d had picnics there and sat on a soft blue blanket under the biggest fig tree I’d ever seen.

“What’s going on, Enzie?” Tali had never been sneaky before. She either spoke her mind clear or didn’t speak it at all.

“I don’t know.” Her green eyes looked away and she sucked in her bottom lip.

“You can tell me.”

“I don’t know, honest. But I’m scared anyway.”

I leaned over and hugged her. Poor girl. She was only ten. She had talent, even if she couldn’t use it for two more years. It hummed in her like the shimmy of a bridge when the soldiers marched over it. “It’s okay, Enzie.”

She sniffled and clung to me. I rubbed her back in small circles. The fancy man kept watching. I stared at him hard, putting a dare into it, though I couldn’t say what the challenge was.

Whatever he saw in it, he declined. He turned and walked away.

I hugged Enzie tighter, suddenly just as scared as she and not knowing why.

I walked the full three miles across Geveg to the gardens, on the opposite side of the island from Millie’s. Though the gardens were public property, they were inside the aristocrats’ district. Powdered women with pearls braided into their black, piled hair glared at me as I headed for the gates. Baseeri soldiers stood watch at all four entrances and kept out the folks aristocrats didn’t like seeing—which pretty much meant everyone who wasn’t from Baseer. They weren’t supposed to by law, and sometimes you could talk your way in if you looked clean and sharp and didn’t mumble your request, but nobody went in carrying a clothes basket. Squatters were not allowed under any circumstances.

She’d picked a lousy place for a secret meeting.

I dipped a sock into the lake and washed as best I could, then hid my basket under a leafy hibiscus bush not far from the eastern entrance. Clean? Somewhat. Sharp? Not at all. At least I didn’t mumble.

The soldier watched me walk up. I didn’t slow when I neared him, making it clear I planned to go inside and did it often.

“Pardon, miss.” He stepped forward and held his arm out across the walk, looking a lot like some of the trees that grew inside. Tall, wide, brown, with a mess of gold on top. Unusual to see a blond Baseeri. Most had glossy black hair that shimmered in the sun like raven’s wings. But he also had the Baseeri sharp nose and chin. Maybe he looked more like a bird than a tree. Or a bird
in
a tree.

“Yes?”

“Your business here?”

“I’m meeting my sister.”

He looked me over, and reluctance flashed in his dark eyes. Kindness too, if I could make use of it.

“It’s her birthday.”

“I don’t think—”

“Our parents used to take us here every year for our birthdays.” The truth popped out on its own and I couldn’t stop talking. “We’d walk down from the terraces, and if the wind was blowing just right, the whole bridge would be covered in pink flowers. They’d fall like rain, and the air smelled so sweet it made your eyes water.” Mine were doing it now. I hadn’t thought about those birthday trips in years.

His stern expression wavered a little, then he dropped his arm and nodded. “Go on in. You tell your sister Good Birthday.”

“Thank you, I will.”

The gardens welcomed me back. The cool, green-tinted shade kept the rest of the city out, and the air smelled exactly as I remembered. No carpet of flowers this time, but the grass looked thick as a rug and softer than any bed I’d slept in for a long time. Branches above shook as monkeys chased one another through the treetops, whooping in high-pitched frenzy. I passed under arches of brown, and the trees whispered in the way that always made me feel they had secrets to tell me. This time, Tali was the one with something to say.

She waited on a red-veined marble bench under the big fig tree at the edge of the lake, a bright speck among the softer greens and browns.

“I got in, can you believe it?” I called. My smile was almost genuine.

“Oh, Nya.” She jumped off the bench and hugged me, her tears soaking the same shoulder Enzie’s had. I went cold. Had she been kicked out of the League?

“What’s wrong?”

“Vada’s gone.”

For a terrible, guilty instant, I was glad. Tali’s apprenticeship was still safe. Vada was her best friend at the League, and too many of our recent visits had ended short with “Well, I gotta go. Vada and I need to study….” Wouldn’t bother me any if Vada left the League, except I’d prefer it if it didn’t happen when apprentices were already missing. “Are you sure she didn’t go home for a few days?”

“She would have told me. We tell each other everything.”

Everything? “Did you tell her about me?”

“Of course not!” Tali wiped her eyes and dropped with a huff onto the bench. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you. Something’s wrong, I know it. She’s the fourth apprentice to vanish this week.”

Saints save us, it
was
happening again. But why would the League kidnap their own apprentices?

Tali twisted her skirt, her knuckles white as the fabric. “People are asking questions now. Four girls don’t just leave in the middle of the night, and some of the boys say their friends are missing too. They’re even limiting the number of people healed because we’re so shorthanded. The mentors tell us not to worry, but they act as if something’s wrong and they don’t want to tell us.”

My shiverfeet came back. Apprentices missing. Trackers following me. Verlatta under siege. Just like the war, only this time, no cries of independence rang in the streets. Tali needed to be careful. We all needed to be careful. “Tali, there’s a—”

“I’m scared. I hear things from the first cords.” She leaned closer and cupped the side of her mouth with one hand. “They say the Slab sometimes turns Healers away. Like it doesn’t want their pain.”

“What? Tali, you can’t trust first cords. They’re barely older than I am. Listen, there’s—”

“But they’ve finished their apprenticeship. They
know
things.”

“They don’t know that much or they’d have earned more than one cord.”

“They’re also talking about you.”

“The first cords?” How many people knew about me? No wonder trackers were on me like fish stink.

“No, the
Elders
. Not by name, but a rumor’s been running all day in the dorms about a girl who can shift pain. That chicken rancher came in for healing at first light and told a story too good to keep quiet. The Elders even asked me about you. Interrupted rounds to do it, too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this
first
?”

“They were asking everyone, and they called you Merlaina, so why worry you over nothing? No one knows who you are but me.”

And the tracker. Even if he had my name wrong, he knew my face—and now he knew Aylin’s.

A strong gust blew my curls around, and Tali’s hair jingled. We looked up in unison and gazed out across the lake, so large we couldn’t see the other side. Blue-black storm clouds darkened the horizon, mirroring the jagged mountain range on the other side of the city. The same mountains that made Geveg rich in pynvium, and a target for greedy men like the Duke. Several fishing boats were hauling anchor. Lakeside storms were the worst kind, and we got our share every summer.

Tali handed me a roll and half a banana, wrapped in what looked like a page from one of her schoolbooks. “I smuggled this out for you at lunch. I’m sorry, it’s all I could get.”

“Thanks.” I gobbled the food, hoping it would make it easier for me to think. “What do the Elders want with me?”

“They didn’t say. I wanted to find out, but I was afraid they’d get suspicious if I asked questions.”

I swallowed the last of my bread. No butter or cinnamon, but still delicious. Shame there were no answers tucked inside like the special cookies we used to get on All Saints’ Day. “Tali, you need to be careful. There’s—”

“I know. They can’t find out about you. I was stupid to think the League wouldn’t care that you weren’t normal. They’d lock you up, or send you to Baseer so the Duke can turn you into an assassin.”

“Wait.” I held up my hands, palms out. “What are you talking about?”

“This morning’s history class. Elder Beit was acting odd, telling weird stories, checking over his shoulder the whole time like he thought someone might come in. He said the Duke used to use Takers as assassins—that’s why it was important to report them right away if you found one. He said the Duke discovered a way to make them hurt people. I thought of you right away.” Her eyes grew bright. “Do you think there are others like you and that’s why he wants different Takers so bad? Maybe you’re not alone!”

Thunder rumbled soft and low, and a fresh gust rustled the leaves. More like me? Saints, I hoped not, but if that were true, then the fancy man might be tracking all of us. “Tali, you didn’t ask anything in class that might make them suspect me, did you? Or say anything that hinted you knew someone like that?”

“Nya! You
know
I’d never do that.”

I chewed what was left of a thumbnail. Maybe the fancy man was a Baseeri spy. There’d always been spies in the city, and they’d no doubt have some freedom about what they spied on. Just my luck he’d been there when those wards pointed me out.

How much danger was I in?

“Tali, a tracker is following me.”

She gasped and looked around frantically. “Here? Now?”

“No, earlier today.” I grabbed her shoulders and the panic dimmed in her eyes. “He left when Enzie came.”

“He saw Enzie?”

“She wasn’t wearing her uniform and he was too far away to hear what she said. I don’t think he knows I came here.” Not for certain anyway, but I doubted I’d see him if he didn’t want me to. “Be very careful who you trust.”

“I will, I promise.” Tears spilled from her eyes and left streaks on her cheeks. “Do you think he took Vada? And the others?”

“I don’t know.”

She hugged me, her head tucked between my shoulder and chin. “Like trackers took Mama.”

No, she’d gone willingly, like Papa, to fight, but by the end of the war, the trackers hadn’t just grabbed unimportant Takers anymore. They took Elders from the League, personal healers from the aristocrats—no Taker had been safe.

Honeysuckle and rain scented the air, and in the empty space under the fig tree, I imagined a blue blanket held down against the wind by bowls of spiced potatoes and roasted perch, and Mama spooning out her special bean salad while Papa buttered the bread.

Another war. Another need for Takers. What about Takers who could do more than heal? If they came for
me
this time, would I wind up on the front lines healing or get stuck in the dark doing something far worse?

The storm drove the boats back in early. Wind-blown drops stung my cheeks and soaked my clothes. That didn’t keep me from the docks and a chance to get my room back any more than the fancy man who wanted to turn me into an assassin did. Sadly, the rain didn’t keep anyone else away either. Dozens of folks stood in line by every unloading berth, some with baskets in their arms. A few even had children clinging to their legs or cowering in their arms. No one complained when parents were chosen first, but more than one scowled. At least here, a tracker couldn’t snatch me without someone seeing. Whether they’d care or not was anyone’s guess.

The jobs filled up fast. By sunset, only one boat was out, but at least forty people jostled one another to catch the berth foreman’s eye. I’d kicked the foreman once after he’d pinched me nowhere proper, so I walked away, shivering in the rain as the last of the sun’s warmth faded.

Where could I go? I retrieved my hidden basket and sat in the dry lee of the ferry office, half hidden behind a drooping hibiscus bush. On the lake, now-empty fishing boats packed the canals leading to the docks, and two ferries with more people looking for work and rooms waited for the dockmaster’s signal to come in. One was an overloaded river ferry from Verlatta, its flag whipping around on its stern. The other was a small lake ferry that took folks from the docks to Coffee Isle, the largest of the farm islands. Every few seconds a sharp crack echoed across the lake as waves knocked the ferries into each other. The urge to scream “go away” at the refugees stuck in my throat. Lot of good screaming would do me.

A screech ripped across the lake, and for a confused heartbeat I thought maybe I
had
screamed. I dropped my basket and it rolled into the rain, gaining speed down the sloped bank toward the lake’s edge. Thunder rumbled as I scrambled away from my dry spot under the awning. My feet slipped in the mud and I fell to my knees, but I caught the basket before it rolled into the water.