The Theft of Sunlight by Intisar Khanani (story reading .TXT) 📕

“Not me, verin,” Matsin says, nodding toward me. “Kelari Amraeya requested aid from . . . a mage of her acquaintance.”

My fingers itch at the thought of the paper bird. I’ve already sent it back to the Cormorant. If I want to be able to call on him or Stonemane again, I must protect their identities now. Which means not having anything to hand over should I be so ordered.

“What did you learn, then, kelari?” Melkior demands.

I take a breath. “In confidence, I asked a mage known to me to try to bypass the wards blocking Kirrana from being traced. They were not altogether successful, but they sent word that she is somewhere near the docks.”

“Somewhere?” Melkior shakes his head. “That hardly narrows down her location.”

“I suspect she would be on a galley operated by Berenworth Trading Company, based on the research she completed. It’s possible we are wrong; we didn’t manage to find conclusive evidence. But the fact that the trace succeeding in narrowing down her location to the docks leads me to believe that a search of the ships would be worthwhile.”

Melkior huffs. “A fine idea, kelari. But every decision has its ramifications. We can certainly search all of Berenworth’s ships, but that will undoubtedly cause significant loss for the company, and it’s unclear that it’s necessary. This girl could be anywhere at the docks, and there’s no certainty that she’s on a ship at all. To punish the whole company”—Melkior shrugs—“that could be construed as excessive.”

Excessive? Unnecessary? I open my mouth to argue. Matsin clears his throat, shaking his head at me once. Melkior looks inquiringly toward him, then back to the royals. I take Matsin’s cue and wait for Alyrra to respond. But she doesn’t; instead she flicks a single glance at Garrin, then looks back at Melkior as if in thought.

Kestrin sighs, and it is finally enough to prod Garrin to sit forward. “I believe that in this case we might consider it a necessary investigation. We’ve been focused on the thieves in the city, but if the rumors of children being snatched are actually true, then this warrants an equal focus. If the girl can’t be found—if there is nothing at all being hidden—then let it fall to me to manage the merchants’ displeasure.”

Melkior considers Garrin. “You may have less to lose, verin, but a single note of concern from an unnamed mage hardly constitutes the sort of evidence one should accept to close down our docks.” Melkior turns to Kestrin. “Zayyid, we endanger our merchant class by impounding boats over rumors and a single girl gone missing.”

Alyrra tilts her head. “One would think we might also be endangering the common folk by ignoring their pleas and what evidence we do come across that such rumors are not grounded in falsehood. You forget, verin, but I lived among the people, and I asked you about the snatchers before I ever returned to the palace. I have no doubt that the problem is an epidemic where you see only a few incidents. We have this chance to investigate. It must not be squandered.”

“No,” Kestrin agrees. “Garrin has the right of it. Melkior, if you will send your men with Captain Matsin, together they can inspect the boats at the docks at once. If we find no further evidence, then the boats will be released, and the captains and crew will have lost no more than an afternoon. If, however, we find that at least one of them carries a shipment of children, then the crew must be brought in for questioning.”

“I should like to go alone,” Garrin says. “I’ll take my own men to see to my safety, but I think it best that I be there to assuage any of the galley captains’ concerns.”

“And I as well,” I say, before the moment can slip away.

“What?” Garrin says blankly as the others stare. “You?”

“Yes, verin. Kirrana may answer to my voice where she might not to those of unknown men.”

“A merchant galley’s hold is hardly a place for a lady,” Garrin says. “Nor are the docks.”

“Then it is just as well I am a horse rancher’s daughter. I would help search for my friend, verin. I will stay out of your way; I will not hinder your men. But I must be there.”

He considers me, his eyes narrowed, and I cannot tell what he is thinking. Alyrra doesn’t speak, and Melkior just shakes his head. Finally, Garrin says, “As you wish, kelari. Let us only hope we do not meet with any trouble.”

Chapter

50

It takes more time than I would like for Melkior to send out orders, and for Garrin’s men to assemble alongside Matsin and his quad in the front courtyard. I wait inside the first of a pair of carriages: one for Garrin, and one for me, given that I shouldn’t ride alone with him. I shouldn’t have been alone with a handful of fighting men either, but that’s somehow less noteworthy. Palace folk have an interesting way of assessing propriety. I suppose all the noblewomen go places alone with their guards now and then.

Finally, Garrin arrives and we set off. I check my calf sheath as we leave the palace, but my bone knife is still safely in place. I take a moment to assess the magic-sealed cut in my arm as well: it’s healing well, the glimmer of magic nearly gone, the scar tissue showing through where the scabs have fallen away. It’s still tender, but it hasn’t leaked even a drop of blood in days. My turned foot is tender but the last of the blisters from the wedding procession have either burst or drained. They aren’t infected, at least, and should heal up well enough. And the bruise on my cheek has faded to a mottled yellow, barely visible, in large part thanks to the healer-mage’s aid. I may be a bit roughed up around the edges, but I’m holding together.

When we arrive at the docks, the head warden