Lapis Lautus.

Nisai once told me the name means “grand jewel” in the language of the people from across the Normek Ocean—the vast waters that so few ever cross and live to return.

Grand Jewel. Ironic, given Lapis Lautus is a city constructed from the garbage other civilizations left behind, figuratively and literally. Built out into the sea centuries ago by raiders turned traders who wanted to avoid imperial sanction, it’s said that for the right price, you can buy anything in Lautus.

You can buy anyone.

The river carries us swiftly, and the captain obliges us to disembark before we enter the Trel Delta. We strike out cross-country and camp in thick riverland forest. After spending recent nights barely one step ahead of the Ranger patrol, and keeping vigilant on the barge, I do something rare and accept Rakel’s offer to take first watch. For a few merciful hours, I sleep like the dead.

The next morning is thankfully uneventful, even pleasant, as we hike through the sun-dappled trees, birds trilling like they haven’t a care in the world. I sorely envy them.

Before the sun has reached its zenith, Rakel halts, sniffing the air in that deerlike way that’s become so familiar.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Something I’ve never smelled before. Like old fish, but not. Mud? Soggy plants rotting in the sun? Like …”

“Salt?”

She nods vehemently.

“The sea. I think we’re near the sea.”

Sure enough, the coast soon comes into view.

Rakel lets out a low whistle beside me. “That there is something to behold.”

“You could say that.”

It’s not like the stories told in Ekasya—they speak of nothing but lawlessness and filth and squalor worse than the slums in the shade of the capital. Lautus rises from the end of a man-made promontory jutting over a mile out from the coast. There may have once been a natural island underneath, a beating heart to the sprawl, but it’s long buried beneath the layers and layers that came afterward.

To say it’s nothing more than a home to brigands and black markets, effluent and underworlds, would be to deny its beauty. It is a jewel. Out of reach of siege engines, its spires are elegant rather than squat, walls soar rather than hulk, and though they’re each made from a different stone or wood or metal it all somehow hangs together—a beautiful mess.

Docks reminiscent of the spokes of the starwheel splay out from the city, ranging in richness and permanence. On one side of the causeway, stone marinas rise proudly above the water, crusted with turn upon turn of barnacles. On the other side, lashed-together wooden rafts make up the jetties with a floating market between them—sellers hawking their wares from skiffs they guide with a single long oar. The remainder are hidden from view by the city itself.

“Who built it?” Rakel asks, her voice tinged with awe.

“Smugglers. Pirates. Merchant princes from across the ocean. If it’s not on the Emperor’s lands, it doesn’t pay the Emperor’s taxes or abide by the Emperor’s laws.”

“Serious? Someone went to all the effort of building a city out of the sea just so that they could do things their own way?”

I shrug.

She snorts with laughter. “I think I’m going to like this place.”

We take one of the lanes leading through the farmlets lining the coast, which I expect supply much of Lautus’s fresh produce. I nod to Rakel’s horse. “It’s probably best we stable her. I’ve heard there are thieves in this city who can steal your undergarments while you’re fully dressed.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“As I’ve heard.”

She chews thoughtfully on her lower lip, her eyes taking on that distant cast that I now recognize means her agile mind is formulating a plan. Then her gaze arrows back to me.

“Everyone may speak Imperial, even here, but there’s only one truly universal language.”

“Scentlore?”

“Hardly.” She scoffs. “Zigs. Hand me your purse.”

“Excuse me?”

“You want me to leave Lil with a stranger? Hand me your purse. I’m running low.”

I take one look at her stroking her horse’s neck, feet planted and jaw set. I decide not to argue. A wise soldier does everything they can to avoid an unwinnable battle. Instead, I make a mental note to thank Esarik for replenishing my coin.

Rakel steers us toward one of the smaller holdings, its fields and fences laid out in an orderly grid. We find the farmer, a broad woman with laughter lines and silver at her temples. Rakel presses several coins into her hand for feed, and I promise to make good on double that upon our return if the horse is in good condition.

Rakel’s smile is a mix of gratitude and something else I can’t quite place. Then she turns her attention to her horse.

“Be good.”

The mare snorts derisively.

“I mean it, Lil. No biting, no kicking, no crushing this nice woman against the stable wall.”

The only reply is flat ears and a black nose in the air.

“I’m glad we had this conversation.” Then she flings her arms around the horse’s neck. “I’ll miss you,” she whispers.

We set out. As we near the coastline, I swap my pack from my back to my front.

Rakel gives me a questioning look.

“What? I’ve been to the seedier side of town before, you know.”

“I’ve never doubted that.”

All the same, she tightens her satchel strap.

Guards station the entry to the causeway leading out across the water. I tense, half expecting them to recognize and apprehend us. Then I notice they’re wearing both the insignia of the merchant princes and a glaze of boredom. True enough, they only seem interested in the gate fee.

“Twenty zigs,” the largest of the lot says. It’s a moment or two before I can process the demand. In the slums of Ekasya, people drop the last consonant when they speak, but the Lautian guard bites off entire syllables.

I balk at the amount. “Twenty? You just let that miller and his wagon through for a quarter of that.”

“Miller had a pass. And didn’t have an imperial bounty on his head.”

Rakel stiffens beside me. I glance around. Two guards this side of the causeway, two on the other, and I’d wager at least half a dozen more stationed in the gatehouse. None of them as sleepy as they’re making out to be.

“I’m afraid there’s been some kind of mistake—”

“No mistake.” The guard shrugs. “You don’t last in Lautus if you don’t use all your senses. Now, if I walked in your boots, I’d want to enter the city quiet as mice. And I’d want the protection of the merchant princes. The last thing I’d want is word reaching the Imperial Rangers as to my whereabouts.”

“Twenty it is,” I grumble, handing it over, sparing another thankful thought for Esarik’s generosity.

Rakel watches the guards warily as we pass through the gates. Then we’re on to the causeway, and her eyes widen at the aquamarine water either side.

“You’ve never seen the ocean.”

“Oh, yes,” she says loftily. “I used to go on a seaside jaunt every other moon.”

“It’s new to me, too.” I raise my hands in surrender. “Sometimes I don’t get you. One minute you’re prickling at being thought provincial, the next your spines are out because I mistakenly assume you’ve seen more than you have.”

She huffs a stray tendril of hair from eyes alight with indignation. “Then don’t assume! Ask. Simple.”

Movement in the water snatches her ire as quickly as it flared. She hangs over the side of the causeway, pointing. “What are they?”

“Dolphins.” I wouldn’t have known, either, if I hadn’t seen them in Nisai’s journal. A group of the smooth-skinned creatures frolic in the crystal waves, leaping in an intricate game only they understand. I’m astounded at how clean the merchant princes manage to keep the waters around the city. Don’t crap where you wash, I suppose.

Ekasya could learn a thing or two from this place.

“And those fish!” Rakel leans so far over the water I have to resist the urge to grab on to the back of her tunic in case she falls.

An old man with a fishing pole sizes us up. “Don’t think of poaching. You take from the merchant princes, they take from you.”

I glance down at the hand that steadies his fishing pole. It’s missing two fingers. “Thanks for the warning. I wonder if you could help me with something else,” I say, flipping a copper to him.

Missing fingers or no, he catches it just fine.

“What’s the best route to the market?”

“Which one?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you.”

“No, which market? Vegetables? Spice? Carpet and cloth? Beast and bird? Celestial instruments? Fruits of the sea? Jewels and antiquities?”

“Jewels and antiquities.” Sounds just the place to find some black-market amber.

“Fancier than you look. Central District. Middle of town. Can’t miss it.”

Rakel adjusts her satchel. “And we’re after some … remedies.”

“Ah.” He gives us a knowing look that more than slightly perturbs me. “Apothecary Lane. Fifth Sector, off the main avenue. Try Atrolos’s place. He specializes in the good stuff.”

Rakel beams. “I’m definitely going to like this place.”

I flip him another coin. “For your discretion.”

He chuckles. “Don’t you worry, boy. Two fingers are enough. I’m not about to risk my tongue, too.”