“Or hearts—” Andre jumped in.
“—or maim like you. Just look at how long your beads are compared to ours.” The other woman ran her fingers over the strand that ran down from Leona’s right ear.
“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Leona batted her hand away.
“Not unless you’re Yveun Dono,” Andre muttered.
“Enough.” Leona would only let their jokes go so far. They were her friends, but she was their leader foremost. If she didn’t exercise the fact now and again, they would fall out of place and she’d never wrangle them.
“So where are we headed?” Camile asked as they strolled through the streets of Ter.5.2. “Or are we just taking an afternoon walk?”
Leona extended and retracted her claws. “I want to speak with this Port Master.”
The man proved to be relatively useless, imparting no additional information than what the woman at the station had already delivered. Leona milled about his tiny office, almost hitting her head twice on the lamp that hung from the ceiling. She’d begun to tune him out, letting Andre and Camile deal with his ramblings so her mind was free to wander.
She didn’t much care how the White Wraith had infiltrated the man’s offices. For all Leona cared, the Wraith could actually be a specter from the other world. Perhaps that would explain the strange blood smell she picked up in Dortam and again in the station. Perhaps it would actually give Leona a challenge to look forward to on the barren rock known as Loom.
But specter or mortal, there was some logic around how this person was moving. The little man in Dortam would have Leona believe so, and Leona was actually inclined to trust his word after so much else had proved true. She looked out the windows at the harbor.
“Give me the logs of the ships that were here the day you discovered the theft, and a day before.” Leona interrupted suddenly. The harbormaster blinked at her. “Now.”
He rummaged through his office, fat little fingers wiggling over files to find the documents she requested. He laid them out across the desk in batches.
“Information on all these ships.” Leona pointed to the ledgers.
“Yes, right.” The man repeated the process until she had all she needed.
“Now, get out. You reek of Fen, and if I am forced to smell it for another second I will eat your throat.”
The man fled the office in a sweat, only exacerbating the problem. Leona sighed heavily the second the door slammed behind him. The air was heavy enough as it is; she didn’t need the Fen to make it worse.
“Would you really eat his throat?” Andre leaned against the desk next to her.
“Twenty gods above, no.” Leona grimaced at the idea. “But he certainly doesn’t know that.”
“You’re thinking Cvareh is on a ship?” Camile rounded the other side of the desk, scanning the documents.
“The Wraith broke into the harbormaster’s office, not the air admiral’s,” Leona reasoned aloud.
“His scent will be harder to pick up the closer he is to the salted sea.” Andre followed her logic.
“I can’t decide what’s more impressive, the idea that the Fen helping him would know that, or a Xin who’s never set foot on Loom could.” Camile hummed in thought.
“I don’t think we’re facing an ordinary Fen,” Leona finally confessed aloud.
“You can’t believe this ‘Wraith’ nonsense.” Andre rolled his eyes dramatically. “Lord Xin would let none escape the afterworld.”
“A true Wraith, no,” Leona agreed. “But there is more to this. I can smell it.” She didn’t tell them about the strange blood scent she’d picked up twice now. If they couldn’t figure it out, they didn’t deserve to know.
“Which ship do you think he’s on?” Camile asked.
Leona looked over the ledgers. Five ships had left the port in the two days around the theft. She pushed the two that sailed the day before aside. The harbormaster collected taxes and tariffs daily—meaning he’d notice a safe discrepancy quickly. The Wraith would have left before the harbormaster really began work for the day. That narrowed it down to two ships. One had left in the night and the other in the early dawn.
She straightened, looking at the big picture and weighing her options. “We ride for Ter.4.2 and will swing the wide route across the coast.”
“We’re not going after a ship?” Andre asked.
“There are two possible options, but it doesn’t matter which one Cvareh is on. Four out of five ships, including these two, were headed for Raven territory. That’s our best chance.” The reasoning was sound, and her gut corroborated the fact. Still, something was off.
The schematics Cvareh had stolen for the Philosopher’s Box would need a Rivet to interpret and complete. One vessel had headed to Ter.5.4, the last city in the Revolver’s territory that was the closest to the Rivet’s. Leona pursed her lips. Perhaps they had just wanted to leave Ter.5.2 quickly after the commotion at the station. Once in Ter.4 it was easy to get anywhere with the help of the Ravens and all their moving machines.