25

The plain was painted in heavy pinks and oranges as the few clouds played around with the colors. A wash of thick color painting the world. Sabi had to squint against the shimmer coming off the far-off water. She could almost feel its coolness on her fingers.

An ache droned into her thighs as she clenched onto the horse. She looked over to Anya on the woman’s horse and her hands were resting on her thighs as she gazed off into the distance. Sabi wasn’t quite that confident in her horse-top seat so she kept hold of the man’s cloak and hoped the horse didn’t freak out.

Cabal was on her other side, his lips faintly moving, the head of the man in front of him bobbing to the words. Every so often that man would turn over his shoulder and say something back, but for the most part it was Cabal’s jaw that did the wagging.

A village sprung up out of the ground as they rode on. First it was just scattered little houses surrounded by fields. Motes of hay speckled the air and the smell of a farm carried over on the breeze. Sabi looked off behind the closest house and saw dirt rows firmly carved into the earth.

As the houses grew thicker people started congregating at their doors, watching the entourage slowly meander by. One woman had a war of emotions battling across her face as her hand rested lightly on her chest. Sabi watched her eyes grow wide as she realized who was riding into town. And then they squinted, her eyebrows dropping and fighting the surprise and frown. Her lips parted, twitched as if there were words on the tip of her tongue, but she stayed silent.

Squealing laughter pierced the clip-clopping hooves and Sabi flinched as if struck. Tiny footsteps rushed over wood and Matti’s face flashed into her mind, the stairs of her New York home creaking in the memory. But the child that appeared didn’t have Matti’s watery chocolate eyes or tanned color and the hair was all wrong, fair and wispy instead of deep dark and thick, looking like a weight on her head. This was a little boy smiling and laughing despite the browned teeth in his mouth. His eyes, as blue and bright as a midday sky, were stark against the craters and knots of scars pocking his face. Sabi’s breath caught in her throat and the noise caught the woman’s attention.

With a hard shove she pushed the boy into the house, stepped inside, and slammed the door. A wail wafted out the open window, mingling with soft cooing and shushing from a voice that didn’t match the face seared into Sabi’s brain. In that moment the homecoming became real. It might as well been her mama and papa on that horse riding back into town. People were going to look at her and see them and the horror they caused when they left. Her stomach whooshed with nerves and she kept her breathing deep, hoping to not puke over the side of the horse.

“Become accustomed to those looks,” her rider said. “They see only your name.”

“I’m not safe here, am I?” Sabi croaked, her saliva sticking in her throat.

“You’re as safe as we allow you to be.”

His tone was casual, conversational, but his words sent a flash of heat through her skin and her palms began to sweat. Like her parents held the lives of Raydin in their hands when they left, South Fair held her life in theirs.

Her eyes watered and she quickly wiped the tears away, wiped her running nose on her sleeve, and tried to cover her sob with a cough. A small noise emitted from the rider’s throat, sneaking through a lapse in bird song and horse hooves, and settled in that microsecond of silence, burrowing into her brain as he might have intended it to. It could have been him clearing his throat or just a trick her ears played on her.

South Fair coming to life in front of them wasn’t a beacon of freedom; it was another cell that smelled like salt water and sand instead of piss and iron. They’d surely dress her normally instead of in rags and feed her heartily instead of scraps. The second they crossed the border the chain was anchored to her ankle. She was too desperate to believe the beauty of a safe-haven to see it. Why else would they have an entourage? Sabi could pinch herself for her stupidity. She wondered if Anya saw it too, but when Sabi looked over to her, Anya’s gaze was roaming, soaking in her surroundings with child-like awe. Her heart sank and this time she braced herself as her nerves let another wave of nausea roll through.

The houses that speckled the landscape started to cluster together, ganging up on her with their slanted wood and smoking chimneys. Sabi reached over her shoulder and pulled up her hood, tucking her face behind the folds of fabric. Any idiot with the ability to count could tell who she was, but better to delay the inevitable, keep her head low despite the flashing signs around them that announced her presence.

The smell of brine slathered the air, coated over her like a spread. The trampled grass under the horses gave way to packed earth and eventually rough cobbles, hand-laid and uneven, making the ride lumpy, each jerk sending a shot of pain into Sabi’s thighs. Her hips bobbed and shuddered with the movement, each step sending her closer to being completely numb from the waist down when it came time to dismount. All the easier for the impending pitchfork-wielding mob to beat her to death.

Houses turned into businesses with apartments squatting over the signs. Clusters of people congregated in open doors, clutching bundles and ale jugs or holding the hands of horribly scarred children hidden under hats or scarves inappropriate for the weather. There was always a tear of scar across a cheek, a missing eye, a hand short a finger. This seaside community back-dropped by glittering ocean, a place where people came to get lost, was jagged with pain and with each twisted life Sabi saw another anvil land on her shoulders.

Buildings crowded in. Dew glistened on the stones under the horses’ hooves. When Sabi blinked and looked back down, the glimmer was gone, replaced by something slimier, grittier, far less dreamlike and far more city-ish. A familiar scent of urine and festering sidewalk licked at her nose and she recoiled. It was rank and her eyes watered, mixing with tears at the memory of her home.

Caws broke her reverie and she looked up to see familiar bodies of white and gray coasting between the claustrophobic roofs. The sky was a fading blue, almost dusty as the buildings pushed away the setting sun.

Ropes creaked in a rhythm with sloshing water, docks catching waves as they hit against the pilings. Masts bore down at her over the buildings before she even saw the ships. Anya flicked Sabi’s cloak sleeve and pointed anxiously to the looming sails, the masts tall enough to catch the last few rays of the fading sun.

Their convoy turned left at the end of the ever-narrowing street and Cabal cast Sabi a glance for the first time since mounting the horses hours ago. A hand, hidden in shadow, lit a lamp just as Cabal approached, the flames illuminating the intensity in his gaze and casting sinister shadows against the quirk of his lips. The wall wiped away the nearly comical evil plastered across his face, but as much as Sabi wanted to laugh it all away a breeze off the water penetrated the folds of her cloak and raised chills on her arms. She pulled the fabric tighter around her and clenched her jaw against the chatter that tried to fight its way out.

The lane they turned on to, bordered on one side with tar-colored water and littered with discarded half-eaten pieces of food and what looked like shreds of clothing, was crammed on the other with stalls. Moaning, screeching, jar-breaking sounds in stalls hidden from view with curtains of fabric far too sheer for Sabi’s comfort. A woman leaned against the wall in one stall, bare back out to the night. A number was written between her shoulder blades and she pulled some notes out of a man’s hand before gliding into the room and shutting the curtain behind her. Enough heat rushed to Sabi’s face that she could probably spark a fire with her cheeks.

The horses filed in as they passed through an archway, a literal barrier between hedonism and not. It was like a veil of silence, the clopping of the horses’ hooves muffled as they ambled through to the other side. The lay of the buildings, the docks at the sea wall, they looked the same, but that’s where the similarities ended. The raucous attitude of the sailor’s alley was snuffed out like a candle, the quiet met with hooves against cobblestone, echoing in a more peaceful night. Gas lamps flickered on posts, casting a soft glow against far homier buildings, doors painted in pastels, flowerpots on windowsills, a screeching cat somewhere in an alley.

An ache twisted around Sabi’s heart, bringing her back to New York. The squat steps in front of her were probably home to tiny pounding feet, squeals of laughter from little voices, parents relaxing, exchanging their days. A well-worn rocking chair swayed faintly in the sea breeze.

Sabi cleared her throat and rubbed a knuckle into her tired eyes. Ahead of her Anya leaned over the horse, her gaze trying to travel around the bulk of Sabi’s rider, her eyes questioning. Sabi flicked her hand in a feeble attempt at a wave and Anya smiled before turning back around. Wanting home never hurt so bad, but knowing that she could never really have it again was a knife through her heart. She was a prisoner all over again, just in a bigger cage.

One by one the horses turned down an alley, leading each other away from the quiet sea row they’d been ambling on. Just before the turn a pier extended over the water, its deck speckled with boarded up stalls save for one, a candle flickering like a beacon in the dusk.

The horse turned slowly and put the ocean at Sabi’s back. It was then she felt the eyes, thousands of them prickling her skin. She looked up to find the sky speckled with light, each star winking its own wayward rhythm. She was the ever-moving chess piece that played its own game until it made a move its handlers didn’t like.

The alley was more claustrophobic street, wide enough to fit two horses side by side comfortably. Sabi’s rider sidled up next to Anya’s and they chatted in low voices that she didn’t care to pick up. Soft, clammy fingers pressed into her hand and Sabi unfurled her fist to let Anya’s hand in. It felt comfortable and right, something she definitely needed amid all the wrong.

“We made it.” Anya’s voice was raspy from hours of not speaking.

“Yeah.”

There was too much cost in this freedom, too much unknown, and Sabi just couldn’t be as thrilled about it as she wanted to be. Sure they were out of Jeviar’s reach, but the jury was still out on South Fair.

“You worry.” It was a statement, not a question. Anya knew her too well now. “I won’t let them hurt you. Not now. We’ve come too far for that.”

Them. South Fair. Them. The people. Anya meant them all. Tears caught in her eyelashes, shimmering in the dancing gaslight, and Sabi let them fall. The ocean air cooled the trails they cast on her cheeks, sealing her curse to her face. Anya reached out and wiped the tears away. Her skin tingled where Anya touched it and she looked to the girl, glowing in the soft light of the evening, and smiled.

Ahead of them Cabal and his rider had already dismounted, his cloak flicking behind him as he followed the walkers down a narrow alley that barely looked wide enough to fit her shoulders. Her rider dismounted first and offered both his hands to her as if to catch her falling form. Sabi snorted her derision, swung her leg over the horse while ignoring the screaming pain in her knees, and slid down to land gracefully in a heap at his feet.

“You should take the help I offer,” her rider said as he loomed over her. “Pride will only get you close to being a piss catch.”

He pointed his chin behind her, but before Sabi could look the sound of streaming liquid met her ears and she tucked and rolled. Just not before getting a nice warm spread of wet on her elbow. Anya was at her side and lifted Sabi to her feet with barely a struggle, supporting her as Sabi’s knees quaked under her weight.

The other man smirked as Anya’s rider walked over, the woman’s face relaxed with just enough hint of a smile that made Sabi rue the pee soaking her clothes.

“First time riders don’t fare so nicely,” the woman said.

“How—”

“I know your life, child. That world, no room for horses there.”

“They have them in Central Park,” Sabi mumbled but Anya only propped her up higher. “I think I got it.”

Anya lessened her support slowly, as if balancing a piece of paper on its edge. Sabi’s knees wobbled but eventually held enough for her to step away.

The rider smiled and motioned to the alley. “This way.”

His strides were long and Sabi’s knee caps felt like they were going to explode, but she tried to match his step with a hand pressed to the stone on either side of her and Anya’s fingertips at her back. Each progressive step was a little better than the last, the Jell-O freezing into something more solid and less like the legs of a baby calf that just slid out of the womb.

The man pressed a hand to a solid-looking door and swung it in, letting the smell of roasting meat waft out. Drool formed at the corner of her mouth and Sabi caught it before it snaked its way down her chin.

Just before she walked over the threshold a marking above the door caught her eye. On the yellow-painted stone a sun was etched into the rock, revealing the dark gray stone underneath. Inside the sun was a dancer, a design she’d seen on Cabal’s head plenty of times before. She wondered if that same image was stamped onto her own scalp under the tuft growing over it. Either way she could hazard a guess at what she was walking into: this was the South Fair clubhouse. Stamped heads only.

Sabi looked back to Anya and reached for her hand. Anya quickly offered hers, perhaps picking up the same vibe. While Sabi was afraid for herself, this wasn’t Anya’s domain and she had no idea how her presence would be received, if at all.

Air turned to cement and her hood caught on her peach fuzz head as she yanked it off. Prickling sweat on her skin cooled, but the air still weighed her down. The dark wood of the low-lit room swirled in and out of focus and Sabi braced herself against something solid. Sturdy-looking South Fair people littered the room with confused and concerned looks aimed at the kid stumbling in and nearly collapsing at their feet.

“A mug of water,” a familiar voice said, her rider, as he guided her to a nearby stool.

Water splashed onto her face as the cup was dropped in front of her. Anya’s pale hand, stark against the contrast in the room, reached for the cup and pushed it toward her. Sabi grabbed for it, only intending to take a sip, but started gulping as soon as the first drop hit her tongue. She didn’t even realize she was so thirsty.

“Why is it so hot in here?” she gasped.

Sabi’s voice was raspy, her breath short after pouring all that water down her throat. The empty mug clunked against the table as she dropped it.

“It’s not. Your travels are catching up with you, it seems,” the rider said.

He dropped her crumpled cloak on the table in front of her, the burst of air hitting her sweating skin and chilling the flush away.

She shivered and breathed deeply. All she wanted to do was sleep. And bathe. Preferably in reverse order, although passing out in a bath would not be surprising.

Sabi groaned and hunched over. “I need a shower. Like a month ago.”

“Soon. First you meet with the Council,” the rider said.

“Like this?” Black moons of dirt stuck under her nails and grime speckled her skin.

“They’ve smelled worse, I assure you, young Crier. Now if your head has cooled we must go. They’ll be waiting.”

The rider lifted himself from the bench and Anya put her hand out for Sabi to grab. Her fingers were barely clenched around Anya’s when she heard a rumble of uncertainty bubble up from the rider’s throat.

“Your friend must stay. It is South Fair only, I’m afraid.”

“I go,” Anya said before Sabi’s brain could get her mouth to protest. “I am as much a part of this as she.”

Anya clamped harder onto Sabi’s fingers and heat bloomed in her cheeks.

“This is Sabi alone. For her family.”

The heat rushed out, leaving her skin icy and numb. This was it. They were going to throw her on a spit and let the town get their payback or maybe, if the stars liked her enough, they’d forgive her her family’s mistakes. They weren’t hers. She was just a baby. There’s no way they could hold her responsible for her parents’ actions, right?

“All the more reason for me to go. I can speak to her person. She isn’t her parents.”

Anya’s tone was desperate, pleading for the unknown not to happen and for Sabi to be left alone. The rest of the room faded and left only Anya as Sabi stared slack-jawed at her. What she felt, whatever was spinning in her, made her want to cry, grab Anya into a hug and just let it out. She could feel the phantom pressure of Anya clenching her back, holding her. The longing was a rock in her chest, something she wanted so bad it hurt. Sabi didn’t care why; she just wanted Anya’s reassuring touch. Then the presence of the room came flooding back and the conversation continued as if Sabi wasn’t just playing space cadet.

“Maris will stay with her,” the rider said, motioning to Anya’s rider. “We must go.”

Sabi stepped back, away from Anya and toward the rider, and saw Anya’s chin quiver, her eyes shimmering with tears. Sabi’s resignation overwhelmed her and she merely grinned quickly and turned around, ready to be led by her rider. Maris’s mumble sounded pleasant but Anya stayed silent except for errant sniffling.

The rider led her past a gaggle of gawkers, their features mottled by the dancing shadows cast by the flickering lanterns around them. A couple of stares were wide-eyed but more were slitted, the anger of their glares seeping into the black around them. On a few faces she thought she saw Sickness scarring, but Sabi dropped her gaze to the floor and kept on the rider’s heels, quickly leaving the accusatory arena behind.