Gently, using one hand, I lifted my shawl away from my neck, revealing the golden dragon sleeping on my shoulders.
When I’d returned to the ship, I’d rushed to my room to raid my jewelry box. Swag had decided to help; he’d pushed his nose through the jewelry, snuffling and digging. I caught a glimpse of the long strand of pearls Kashmir had given me last year, likely stolen from a flapper or a society girl, before it began disappearing down Swag’s throat. I tugged back, worried he’d swallow the string, and the strand burst, scattering pearls across the floor. The little dragon rampaged through the room, claws clattering on the decking, chasing them down. Once he’d had his fill he wobbled onto my shoulders, his stomach so distended it threw him off-balance.
He couldn’t stay up there forever, though. Sea dragons needed water, and so I needed a pot.
“Look at this!” Rotgut exclaimed, his eyes full of joy. “You know, your mother had one like—”
“Exactly like this,” I said. “I met Auntie Joss today.”
Some of the joy fell from his face. “That old pusher? I’m surprised she isn’t dead.”
“She seems like a survivor to me.”
“That’s true. How did you find her?”
“By—by merest chance, really,” I said. “I was walking through Chinatown and I noticed her sign.”
“Really? Out in the open?”
“She’s an apothecary now.”
“Ah.” He leaned against the doorframe. “Makes sense. Even the last time we were here, they were making it illegal to sell opium without an expensive license.”
“Who was?”
Rotgut shrugged. “Probably people who wanted to keep their monopoly on opium.”
I snorted and Swag startled, then dropped his head back to my chest. Rotgut chucked the little beast under the chin. “We had one, you know. In the river behind the temple. Bigger than this, of course, but only three claws, not five. Why were you in Chinatown anyway?”
“Just . . . looking around.”
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
“You know, I could probably use a bucket.”
He found me a wooden pail with a brass handle; I’d be able to tie a rope to it and dip up fresh seawater whenever Swag needed it, which is what I did. Then I lugged the bucket to my room and eased the dragon off my neck and into the water. He barely batted an eye as he sank beneath the surface and curled up on the bottom, his nose almost directly under his fat belly.
I’d never had a pet before. I’d seen ships with cats and dogs and parrots and, once, an ancient tortoise, but we’d never kept animals on board, aside from the sky herring, or that aboriginal water toad, ugh. With a little luck, I wouldn’t accidentally kill Swag. Although if he’d lived through sixteen years of neglect after my mother’s death, he had to be tough.
Sitting there, gazing at the little creature, my eyes began to sting.
I put the remaining pearls in a dish nearby. Then I ran back to the kitchen for another small bowl full of fresh water, just in case. I put it beside the pearls; then, as nervous as a new mother, I moved both of the dishes closer to the bucket, then away a bit, in case he knocked into them getting out.
As I was worrying over the arrangement, a voice drifted in.
“Hallooooo! Halloo, the Temptation!”
I listened, but no one else answered. Of course not; it was Slate’s watch. I left off my fussing and headed topside.
“Halloo, the ship!”
I went to the rail and peered down. A man in his early forties stood on the dock below me, dressed in slim-cut black trousers and a fine frock coat, all of it wool, and though the sun was still quite high, he didn’t appear to notice the heat. “Who are you?”
He squinted up at me and shaded his eyes, making a moue behind his dark blond French-forked beard. “Good day. I’ve a message for the captain of the ship.”
I narrowed my eyes; he hadn’t answered my question. “From who?”
“I represent a group of persons interested in arranging a business transaction,” he said, as easily as a lawyer.
“And who are these persons?” I reiterated, with deliberate slowness.
“I am not at liberty to say,” he responded, as though he found that disappointing. “May I come up and speak with him?”
Bee leaned over the rail beside me. I gave the man credit; he didn’t so much as blink when he saw her. “Go on,” she said to me, putting her hand on the holster at her hip.
“Pardon?” Her voice hadn’t carried to the man’s ears.
“I’m coming down,” I shouted.
I made my way down the gangplank and stood before him on the deck. He was a full head taller than I was; I had to shade my eyes as I looked up at him. Had the man purposely positioned himself so the sun would be over his shoulder? “I’m the captain’s daughter. What can I do for you?”
The curve of the man’s smile was half a degree from condescending. “A pleasure to meet you. When might the captain be available?”