We pass the fence between the Uphill and the Downhill. Above us, the crescent moon glows dimly over the mountains. In a little over an hour, the birds will start chirping, and the sun will rise, and drunks will skulk outside in the Downhill.
I lead Luca in the direction opposite the path to his tent, where Jiafu’s caravan is parked in between a brothel and a tavern. Black paint covers every inch of it, so it practically blends into the darkness. Appropriate for a shadow-worker. Having a flashy caravan would be bad for business, when business hinges on not being noticed.
I knock on his door. “It’s me,” I say. It’s early enough that Jiafu will be awake but not out and about.
“’Rina?” he says from inside. “What’d I do to have to see your ugly face again?”
I wince. Maybe having Luca as an audience wasn’t the best idea. “You didn’t pay me.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Don’t shit with me.” I knock harder on the door. “Open up.”
He swings open the door. On the ground below him, his shadow twists and curls in the torchlight, marking him as a shadow-worker. His left eye is sporting an impressive shiner.
I smirk as I climb inside, Luca behind me. “Who gave you that?”
“I gave you your money two days ago. I handed it right to you.” He flicks my forehead. “Don’t tell me you lost it, cousin.”
“Lost it? You never gave it to me!”
He grabs fistfuls of hair in each hand and yanks his head back. For a shadow-worker, he has quite the dramatic flair. “It was two days ago. In the late afternoon. You were coming back with your whole lot of illusions from the baby’s funeral. I put it in your hand. I offered my condolences, and I left. Are you mental now or something?” He glances at Luca. “And who’s this Up-Mountainer? Your boyfriend? Come to convince me to pay you twice? He’s not much of a muscle, ’Rina—”
“You’re lying,” I say. “You’re never awake that early.”
“How would I even know about the funeral thing if I wasn’t there?” He points at the door. “Get out. You’re a lunatic.”
I flinch at the insult, my hands shaking. I would remember it if Jiafu paid me after the funeral. It’s not as if I would’ve forgotten. Which means he’s lying and trying to make me second-guess myself. It’s a pretty poor attempt. And it’s embarrassing in front of Luca, who might be starting to think that I really am crazy.
I rack my brain for an illusion terrorizing enough to make Jiafu piss himself. Venomous moths come to mind, the golden ones from the rainforests in the Vurundi Lands.
They appear one at a time, buzzing inside the cart.
“Don’t you pull this shit,” Jiafu says.
More moths appear, their eyes black, their stingers sharp and as long as my thumb. My Strings vaguely appear around my feet from using so much illusion-work, and I step aside so as not to get tangled up in them.
“I’m not kidding. Stop this.” He backs away from the moths toward the opposite wall of his cart. “You don’t want to fuck with me, ’Rina.”
The moths attack him, swarming as he swats at them and screams. While Jiafu falls to the floor in a fit, I reach into his pocket and pull out his coin purse. Then I jump out of the caravan. I’ll make the moths go away in a few minutes, once we’re far gone.
“Was that wise?” Luca asks. “He’s a criminal, who is acquainted with other, scarier criminals.”
“I’m pretty scary, too.”
In the caravan opposite us, an old man peeks his head outside to figure out where the screaming is coming from.
“What if he sends one of these criminals to your place tomorrow morning to threaten you or the others?” Luca asks.
I swallow. Maybe it was a reckless move. But I need the money for Kahina. He should’ve paid me what he owed me. “I have this friend who is half tree. He’s seven feet tall. He’s made of bark, the sharp kind—”
Luca rolls his eyes. “Don’t act like you thought that through one bit.”
Where does he get off thinking he can act like my father? He’s not exactly responsible, allowing people to kill him all the time. What if something happens, and his head rolls off the stage, but he never wakes up? Does he even know what kind of fire he’s playing with?
But his company is growing on me, and he is helping me, so I’m not going to yell at him. Not over this. Instead, I change the subject.
“Do you want to go into Cartona with me tomorrow afternoon? I know that’s rather early...” I say, holding up the coin purse. “But I have some shopping to do.”
His face darkens. “Is it wise to go into Cartona?”
“Of course it is. I’ve been in plenty of cities before.”
“This far north in the Up-Mountains? They won’t take kindly to someone like you.”
I straighten my mask. Someone like me. Someone deformed. “I’ve dealt with unpleasant people before. I can handle myself.” I shake my head. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”
He opens his mouth to say something and then abruptly shuts it. “Then...enjoy your trip.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
There is a palpable sense of grief throughout the golden city of Cartona. The pedestrians walk as if wandering aimlessly, rather than traveling to a destination. The vendors don’t bother to greet any passersby. Even the apricot in my hand tastes unripe and sour.
The most unsettling sight in Cartona is the colors. Black shrouds cover every door, every window, blocking the sunlight from each home, church and shop. The Cartonians wear all white, which reminds me too much of Blister’s funeral. Strange how Ovren’s disciples associate white with purity and we associate it with death.
Naturally, I am wearing dark clothes and black-and-pink-striped tights, so I stick out like a raven among a flock of doves.
I hurry through the streets, searching for a bazaar where I can find an apothecary. Cartona is a city of gothic architecture and merchants. In what’s considered to be Ovren’s holy city, churches with flying buttresses tower over the skyline. The air smells of humidity, the spices they obtain from Down-Mountain traders and the reek of city dwellers. Everyone here has an exotic item from somewhere far away; everyone has something to sell.
As I pass a vendor showing off mosaic pottery and jewelry, each shard stained a different color and glimmering, the vendor shouts at me, “A necklace for your girl?” It startles me, as everyone else is so quiet. He holds up a massive strand of iridescent glass beads. At first I’m confused, since I’m alone, and I glance over my shoulder to find Luca standing behind me, dressed all in white and carrying a separate white tunic, which he throws at me.
I’m so shocked by the sudden projectile, Luca’s appearance and the vendor calling me Luca’s “girl” that I shriek and fail to catch the tunic. It falls onto the dirty, golden street.
“The idea is to blend in,” Luca says.