A Sea of Purple Ink (3 page)

4

“And what are you doing?” the tavern owner demanded. He stared down at Reese, his battered face scrunched tight in disapproval.

Reese picked herself up off the rug. “Nothing you want to know about.” She flexed her bruised back and grimaced. “Thank you for letting me in.”

The hunched man muttered a curse under his breath, then pulled the door shut tight and forced the bars in place. “I brought down the leavings from today,” he said. He turned to face her, dusting off his greasy doublet. “You’re sure nobody followed you?”

Reese’s mind went back to the rushing tumble through the streets.
I’d like to see a policeman keep up with that.
“Yes,” she said. She pushed her hair back out of her face and felt her wrist pop.
Ow!
She looked down at her hand.
Must have twisted it when we landed.
A purple stain ran across the back of her wrist and halfway up her arm.

“It’s my neck in the noose if you’re wrong,” Nero grumbled. He pushed past her into the hall and pointed at a half-filled basket. “There’s your food.”

“I’ll pay you tomorrow,” Reese said, her mind still on the stain.
It’s not too strong. Should wear off in a day or so, but meanwhile, it’s pretty obvious.
She leaned against the wall and pulled off one of her boots. “Have any gloves laying around?” she asked.

The tavern owner’s gaze traveled across her arm. “For cash in advance, I might.” His eyes flicked toward hers. “You’ve got some on your forehead too.”

Reese pulled off her second boot and lobbed the two of them onto an empty shelf. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Reese?” Keller called from the next room. “Is that you?”

“Coming,” Reese called back. She looked at Nero. “Gloves?”

He gave her a short nod and retreated toward the cellar stairs.

Finally.
Reese took a deep breath and stretched.
We’re going to have to find a new hideout, sooner or later.
While a piece of her mind grappled with that problem, Reese pushed the workroom door open.

Three half-burned candles sat on the low wooden workbench, while the piles of packing crates and empty beer barrels cast tall shadows across the masonwork walls. The flickering light drew Reese’s gaze to the figure of Niela, curled up in the tattered armchair. “How is she?” she asked.

Keller stood by the red chair, an arm on its back. “We don’t know what’s wrong,” he said, without looking up. “Lacewing isn’t trained for this sort of thing.”

“What do you mean, ‘this sort of thing’?” Reese demanded.

Beside the chair, a petite blonde materialized into view, one hand clasping Niela’s wrist. “She doesn’t look like she’s injured, but her heart is slowing down.” Lacewing’s delicate face looked worried. “Too quickly.”

Blast
. “Is she still trying to shift?” Reese asked.
It could be ability exhaustion.
Cold fear formed in the pit of her stomach.
I’m not losing Niela. Not now.

Lacewing’s voice trembled. “How am I supposed to know? I’m only trained for cuts and wounds.”

We’re losing time.
Reese drew her gun. She wrenched the magazine free and retrieved a single bullet.
If she’s still using her ability, we’ve got to get it shut down.
“Stand back,” she said. With a quick flick, she tossed the cartridge toward Niela.

The gleaming bullet sailed through the air, then caught. It hovered in midair, eye level with the unconscious shifter, held up in the weak gravity field.

“She’s still shifting,” Reese said. Nervous tension pulsed through her body.
I’ve got to get it stopped before she bleeds herself to death.
She tossed her gun onto the work table and strode to the armchair. “Niela,” she said, “stop shifting.” She felt Keller and Lacewing backing away. “Can you hear me?” she asked, staring hard at her friend’s pale face. She raised a hand to stroke the shifter’s arm, but thought better of it.
The last thing I need to do is trigger her fighter instincts.

Her head began to ache from thinking. She dropped to a crouch beside the armchair, trying to get her own ability under control. The mounting pile of thoughts was beginning to take its toll.
How did I get into this?
“Niela, I need you to rest,” she said. “For me,” she whispered. “Let it go.”

Clink
. Reese heard the bullet hit the ground. She looked up. “Lacewing, check her.”
Please don’t be dead.

“She just needs a good dose of rash,” Nero said from the doorway. The sound cut through the air. “I’ve got some behind the counter upstairs.”

Reese’s calculations crashed together into a single, razor-edged flow. “No,” she said, and turned to face the tavern owner.

He blanched at her gaze. His eyes slid away, darting here and there as he crumpled a pair of dark gloves in his hands.

Reese felt Keller touch her arm. It was a gentle warning, she knew, but she ignored it. “If you ever sell Niela rash,” she said, tasting each sharp word on her tongue, “I will personally make sure the police know you’ve been hiding outlaws here.”

Red suffused the tavern man’s face. He glared at her for a long moment, then, with a nervous shiver, he dropped the gloves on the smooth floor and disappeared into the hall.

Lacewing’s voice cut in on the new wave of thoughts. “Niela feels much more stable now.”

Pain lanced through Reese’s temple as her mind struggled to integrate new facts and data.
I’m getting close to the breaking point.
Reese let her shoulders loosen and slowly turned around.
Stop worrying. It’s a needless drain.

“She might still need a doctor, though,” Lacewing added. She ran a wet cloth across the shifter’s forehead, then draped it on the back of the chair. “I’ll go get that food.”

Keller grunted. “There aren’t any doctors for us anymore. You know that.” He watched the petite vanisher as she left the room, absently picking at a tear in his sleeve.

“How did your mission go?” Reese asked. “Did anyone see you?” She sat on the workbench and took a quick glance at Niela.

The old flyer heaved an elaborate sigh of frustration. “I sliced through half the wires in the place.” His slender burn mark caught the light. “Then I got news of another potential.”

A loud creak from the doorway announced the return of the vanisher. “Did you want these?” Lacewing asked as she materialized from the gloom. She dangled the pair of dark mitts for a moment, then tossed them toward Reese.

Reese picked up the mitts, her gaze back on Keller. “That’s usually a good thing, isn’t it?” She slipped her right hand into one of the soft fingerless gloves. “Something for us to do.”

Keller motioned toward the violet stain on her wrist. “Not with you like that.” His wrinkled face furrowed in concentration. “You won’t be able to contact him for the next few days, and by then they’ll probably have him in custody.”

“Since when has some purple dye stopped Reese?” Lacewing asked. She set a tray of food on top of a packing crate and dragged a stool out from behind the stack.

Purple stains, no. But having my shifter down presents a few difficulties.
Reese scooted farther back on the wooden bench.
That leaves just me, Keller, Lacewing, and Grant. Speaking of—
“Lacewing, where’s Grant?” The vanisher’s husband usually turned up by sundown.
If he’s gone missing…

“He’s still down in the warehouse district,” Lacewing said. She held one of the bowls toward Reese. “The gun dealer isn’t sure he wants to risk another shipment so soon.”

Niela muttered an unintelligible word and shifted her position. A tremor crossed her face and her hands shook.

She has to be almost completely exhausted.
Reese looked back at Lacewing and took the bowl. “Does Niela really need a doctor?” she asked. She knew the answer and wished she didn’t.

“Yes,” Lacewing said, helping herself from the tray and perching on the stool. “But there aren’t any.”

Reese felt warmth seeping through the clay dish. “I guess there’s Dexter.” She mechanically scooped some gruel with her fingers.

“Didn’t he change sides?” Keller asked.

I didn’t say he would do it willingly.
“We’ll get him, if we have to.” Reese licked sticky grains from her fingertips. “Who’s this new potential, and how do we know about him?” She studied the other two’s faces. “Without that list of contacts, we have nothing else to do.” She managed a smile. “Unless you want to start combing the sewer canals.”

Keller mumbled something under his breath and picked up his own bowl. “We don’t know his name,” he said. He peered up at Reese, his eyes glinting in the candlelight.

“Arrow says they’re going to take him tomorrow evening,” Lacewing said. “With a full complement of police.” She hesitated. “And he wants to talk to you.”

Reese’s calculations stalled.
Arrow wants to talk to me? He can’t afford to risk the other readers finding out about our agreement. Let alone the rest of the police force.
She stared at the vanisher, trying to read between the lines. The strain tugged at her. “A full complement? What are they afraid of?” A little thrill raced through her. “He’s not a writer, is he?”
There hasn’t been one of those since—

“He’s a gravity shifter,” Keller said. He looked at Reese pointedly, then reached for the glass bottle of tea. “A high level gravity shifter.

Reese met his stare, searching for hidden meaning.
The one who killed the chief of police?

Lacewing wrapped an arm around her knees. “He’s been masquerading as a conjuror, a cheap magician, in one of the higher classes.” She tilted her head to one side. “A good disguise, if you ask me. The Inner Circle is the last place they’d look for one of us.”

“I’d ask Tyrone’s gang to get him out,” Keller added, “but…”

Reese felt herself tense at the name. She shut down a new string of computations. “He wouldn’t do it,” she said. The candlelight trembled across her bowl of food. Or maybe the bowl was trembling in her hand.
Stop being so nervous.
“You say Arrow is the reader that found him?” she asked. She glanced from one follower to the other, her mind putting together the pieces.
That’s the third time in a row Arrow’s found someone for us.

She slowly lifted her bowl and took another bite of gruel.
The other police have got to have noticed that anyone Arrow finds goes missing before they can be arrested.
She rolled the spicy grains in her mouth.
If this third time isn’t a trap, the police are a lot stupider than they should be. They have to suspect Arrow.

“We could use another shifter,” Lacewing said. “I think he’d be a good man to recruit.”

“Not if we can’t get to him in time,” Keller retorted. He took a sip from the bottle and shoved it toward Lacewing. Candlelight sparkled on the frosted glass.

We could get to him in time. The question is, should we?
Reese slid off the bench. There were too many things to think over. “Let me sleep on it,” she said. “Lace, will you keep an eye on Niela? I’m done.” She stepped towards the hallway, then halted in the open door. “Where in the Circle does he perform?”

Keller shrugged. “Some new theater in Carning.”

Carning
. Reese felt her inner map puzzling the place out. She nodded goodnight and moved out into the hall.
Carning
. Before she had a chance to fully wonder why it sounded familiar, the place popped up in her head.
Oh. That’s why.
She grimaced.
Years of my life spent hiding there.
There was no stopping the thought process now; she was going to remember whether she liked it or not. With a sigh, she slid a wall panel back and crawled into the hidden space. A green quilt folded up in one corner offered a small measure of comfort.

Reese settled back to sleep, and to think. Some people had dreams—she could almost imagine them—but she had never found a way to turn off her mind, and the fantasies that other people talked about remained unknowns to her. Asleep or awake, she kept ticking.
I suppose it does have its advantages
, she thought, settling into the tight, dark space.
When I wake up, I’ll know what to do.

PRIVATE

via Burner 6

Palace to Reader Division

Still no sign of Nile. I’m going out with the police. Keep watching the ports. Watch hard. Make sure the others keep his rooms locked. The rest stay alert. I expect to hear from G any day now.

- S.

5

“I still say this is a bad idea,” Keller mumbled. He kept stride with Reese as they threaded their way through the back streets of the populated district.

Like saying it again will make it come true.
“We can out-think them,” Reese said. She kept her gloved hands in the pockets of her long black coat and hoped the red scarf tied around her forehead and hair would stay put.
As long as the wind doesn’t pick up, I’ll be all right.
She took a deep breath, inhaling the old smell of the black leather. She hoped the smell—the scent of her new life—would help her stay focused on this trip into the Circle. There were too many memories.

“Sending Grant and Lacewing after the doctor was suicide, I hope you know,” the old man added. “That’s almost everyone we know out working at once.” He rubbed his hands together and tucked them into his armpits. “Does it have to be so chilly today?”

Reese eyed the fluttering grey sleeves of his homespun shirt. “I told you to wear something warmer.” She stepped up onto the cracked sidewalk and veered toward the alley shortcut. “And if it’s any consolation, I’d have gone to get Dexter myself if this wasn’t so important.”

“No, you didn’t tell me to wear something warmer,” Keller snapped. He followed her into the empty side street, still muttering. Then he halted. “Lacewing said Tyrone was still trying to get in touch with you.”

There went any chance of remaining focused. Now she couldn’t ignore the memories. Or the smell of the hand-me-down coat. Reese frowned. “Why?”

Keller shrugged. “She said something about him picking up a new flyer and wanting your help.”

Reese kept walking.
Tyrone never wants that sort of help.
Possible scenarios flickered through the back of her mind. The request might be worth looking into later. But for now, they had a mission to complete.

As they neared the other end of the alley, Reese found herself staring at a shadow on the main road up ahead. Someone was standing to one side of the opening.
Why aren’t they moving?
Reese slowed down. There was another shadow beside it, also not moving.
It’s almost as if they’re standing in line for something… Police blockade.
Reese grabbed Keller’s arm. “Get up there and take a peek at the road,” she ordered, motioning towards the roof of the shop nearby.

Keller stiffened, all attention. “Something wrong?”

Reese released him and glanced up and down the alley. “I think so. No one will see. Go.” She stepped back, giving the flyer plenty of room.

With a light jump, Keller shot upward and vanished over the edge of the blackened eaves.

Whatever is going on, it can’t be good.
Reese backed into a little alcove between the shop and a newly built shed. She waited there, breathing steadily, computing ways out of the situation. There was an outside chance the blockade only covered one of the entrances to the Inner Circle, but she doubted it. Even when she lived on the inside, the city guards had never opened more than a single gate at a time. She shivered. Her hand-me-down coat no longer felt warm.
They must be inspecting for smuggled goods.

A handful of rotting wood-chips slid down the alleyway, blown on the freshening breeze. Reese watched their journey, letting her mind calculate the wind flow, grateful for the distraction.

The wind whistled, then a shadow flicked into view on the ground beside her, and Keller landed, dropping to a crouch on the cobblestones.

Reese didn’t need to ask if her worries had been correct. She could see it on his face.
Time for a new plan.
She met the old man’s gaze. “You go on. Follow the rooftops to the coffee room beside the theater. I’ll meet you there.” She fished her gun from her coat pocket and pressed it into Keller’s hands. “Take that.”
Getting caught with it would be worse than getting caught without it.

Keller stood up straight, concern in his dark brown eyes. “It’s pretty crowded at the gate. How are—”

A footstep in the street caught Reese’s attention.
No time to waste.
She jerked a hand toward the roof. “Go. Now.”

Keller pushed himself into the air and over the gutter. Reese pretended to straighten her headscarf as a uniformed officer strolled past the alley entrance. His gaze passed over her in disinterest, then he hesitated. Flight, avoidance, disguise, and attack raced through Reese’s mind. Before the officer had made up his own mind, she had her decision.
I can fake my way through this.

She squared her shoulders and walked forward, keeping her gaze away from the policeman.

He finished hesitating and turned back for a second look.

Reese gave him the quick, half-frightened glance of a townsperson and continued her path right by him and out into the street.
I’m a normal townsperson
, she told herself.
Nothing worth investigating.
She heard the officer turn away and step into the abandoned alley.

A crowd of a few dozen people stood in rows, lined up before the great stone barrier that spanned the streets. One of the two giant doors stood open, surrounded by the police, and with them stood a solidly-built man in a dark coat.

A reader.
Reese’s chest felt like an iron cage.
They’re not after food. They’re after us. Now what do I do?

The man stood a little apart from the normal policemen, his heavy gaze moving from person to person in the small crowd.

Cold certainty settled in Reese.
It’s too late to run now. If I make a break for it, I’ll be chased all the way to the slums.

An officer beckoned and the next person in line stepped forward. The reader glanced at him disinterestedly and gave the policeman a slight nod.

“All right, move along,” the officer ordered. The townsman gave a nervous bow and hurried through the police barrier into the Inner Circle.

As the next in line moved forward—a scrawny woman with a basket of linens to sell—Reese edged closer to the line, heart racing.
I’m going to have to try, but be ready to run. And I don’t have any backup.
Her mind raced through everything Arrow had told her about readers, and what he had told her without meaning to.

“There are certain physical cues we can pick up on,”
he had said.
“Especially if they’re nervous to begin with. Sometimes a long, hard stare is all we need.”
When she had pressed him for more specifics, he shrugged, uncomfortable with the subject.
“They’re just little things. Like a shifter not being afraid of falling, or the way a flyer walks.”
He laughed.
“It’s not like there are signs floating around over your heads.”
But something in his laugh hadn’t rung true.

After all
, Reese thought,
I can pick up on little things like that, and I’m no reader. But if I were, what would I look for in me?
She stepped into line behind an old schoolteacher and let her mind slip into high speed. A tidal wave of options and deductions flooded in from all sides. The pressure was nearly unbearable. Reese struggled to keep an expressionless face.
Bad idea.
She took a deep breath and the line swayed forward.
Maybe I should go find another way in. Would it attract too much attention to turn around and—
Her gaze locked with the reader’s.

Reese’s mouth went dry and a searing pang of fear lanced through her stomach.

The reader stared back, a hint of anger on his cold face.

Useless calculations fluttered through Reese’s mind like shreds of silver paper.

The reader’s dark eyes slid from hers, and he spoke to the officer standing beside him.

Prison flashed through Reese’s mind. Arrest. Extradition to a place none of them had ever seen, and weren’t even sure existed. Death.

No
. Reese clenched her jaw.
I’m not going down without a fight. And I’m not going to out-think myself if I can help it.
She scanned the row of waiting people and locked on a nervous-looking woman. With no gun to use, and no chance of running, she had to try. Data and observations streamed in through Reese’s eyes and began sorting at a frenzied pace.
Hunched shoulders. Elbow in. Tilt head.
More minute calculations sparked in her mind, channeling to her muscles.
If it’s just little things
, she told herself, tensing into the nervous woman’s stance,
h
e’ll have to dig pretty deep.

She could hear the reader’s voice now. The words were indistinct, but a note of indecision rolled through his deep whisper.

“Next,” the policeman snapped. His hand shot out, finger aiming at Reese. “You.”

Reese copied the townsman’s walk from memory and half-shuffled to the barrier.
If they don’t hurry
, she thought, mind racing,
my head will explode.

“Reason for entry?” the officer asked, folding his arms.

Reese gave him a sidelong glance, straining to keep herself in the right position. “Visiting a friend.” J
ust the right amount of nervous shake to the voice, end with a swallow.
The reader stood out of her field of vision. Reese let her gaze trail along the ground toward the man’s boots.
Is it working?

The policeman grunted. “On your way, then.” He turned back to the group of waiting people. “You, next.”

Reese caught her breath and made a nervous half-bow. She could feel her mind’s strength slipping.
Time to get out of here.
One foot in front of the other, rough brown shoes on the stained cobblestones. She took a long gasp of air. The strain was getting worse.

Two steps more and she crossed the threshold of the gate. Cobblestones gave way to the smooth-hewn grey of stone. The streets of the upperclass. Reese felt her brain relax. Calculations flowed away like rain pooling on the street. The relief was tangible.

Well, that was more than I expected to do today.
Reese smiled to herself. She glanced back over her shoulder at the gate. The police guard blocked most of it, but she could still see the reader. And he was watching her.

Reese tensed. Her heart thumped.
Now what?
The man’s face gave away nothing, but something in the way he stood spoke of power. And waiting. Reese’s mind scrambled for some form of readout. Some clue to his thoughts.
I can’t do this again. I won’t have anything left for later.
She took a quick back-step, placing the half-open door between her and the reader’s gaze.

She stood there, shaking, trying to quiet the new rush of thoughts.
Did he guess? Or was he just watching?
She looked down at her gloves.
Don’t think about it now. Just go before he decides to investigate.
She jogged off into a side street, trying to shake the worry that she might be moving into a much more dangerous trap.