A Sea of Purple Ink (8 page)

“I believe you.” Reese walked to the vacant chair and sat down.
He wouldn’t be trying to be nice if something wasn’t really wrong.
She glanced down at the plates of food. Bread, a few fresh fruits, and fish.

Tyrone unrolled a napkin. “Pretty good, eh? When’s the last time you had fish? It’s not that easy to get anymore.”

He’s avoiding telling me the news.
Reese met the man’s gaze levelly. “The last time I had fish was by myself, while listening to my father and the king arguing the law against having abilities.”

The merchant swallowed and dropped his gaze, then reached for a goblet of amber liquid.

Reese picked up a soft roll and tore a piece off. “Get to the bad news, Tyrone.” She put the warm bread in her mouth and tried to concentrate on the chewing motion. She could see him debating between being serious and hiding behind his merchant persona.

Tyrone laid aside his napkin. “I sent Joplin over there.” He tapped the tablecloth with a long forefinger. “That’s the new flyer my men stumbled across in a back alleyway. I was going to send him to you, since I can’t afford to keep people with abilities in my crew, but now…”

The final factors clicked into place. “I don’t have a crew anymore, do I?” Reese asked. The words felt like gravel in her mouth.

Tyrone kept his gaze on a shining piece of silverware. “The tavern was in shambles.” He shifted his chair. “Joplin said he checked with some of the neighbors. Apparently the police came early in the morning and caught them by surprise. One of them is dead. The others are probably on their way to… well, wherever they go.” He glanced up, green eyes full. “I’m sorry, Reese. I know you don’t believe it, but I am.”

Reese stared back at him, sifting through the ruins to find words—anything—to say. “I believe you,” she whispered. Her chest tightened. “Which one is dead?”

The merchant sat up, shaking his head. “I’m not sure.” He leaned toward the makeshift doorway and raised his voice. “Daro, bring in Joplin.” He turned back with a confiding look. “He should remember.”

Reese sat, unmoving, trying to make sense of the mess inside her head. Grieve? Plan the next strategy? Which was the right answer?

Tyrone chuckled nervously. He was uncomfortable at her silence, she knew.

“At least I hope he’ll remember,” he said. “It’s a funny thing about Joplin. When we found him, he didn’t remember anything that had happened before. Like it had been erased. Not even his name.” He steepled his fingers. “He hasn’t seemed to have any other memory problems since then, but you never know.”

A firm step sounded at the warehouse entrance.

Tyrone straightened. “Ah, Joplin, this is the lady who ordered that errand I sent you on. She has a few questions for you.”

Reese fought to raise her eyes from the tablecloth.
Do I?

The dark figure in the doorway turned. “Madame?”

That voice.
Reese’s heart froze in her chest.
No, it can’t be possible.
She forced her head to turn.

A man stood gazing at her, his face dimly visible in the candlelight.

It is.

It can’t be.

It has to be. King Nile!

Reese’s brain shorted out. She felt the splitting pop. Gold lightning shot through her head, and she slipped from the chair.

“Reese!” Tyrone’s voice sounded miles away. “Don’t make me get out the tablets again. Do you know how much those cost?”

12

Reese stared up at the ceiling of the tiny room. She knew she should be asleep. In fact, she was pretty sure the rest of her was asleep, but her mind kept churning.

The king. Here. Over and over she replayed the image of that man walking in the door. It had been years since she had seen the young king, but his face, his walk… She delved back through long-forgotten memories. She’d been only twelve when she’d seen him last, the newly crowned king of twenty-five. He’d aged since then, but the match was incredible.
Did the king have a long lost brother?
That answer felt too simple. Too inexplicable.

It is the king.
The thought dug into Reese’s mind like a splinter.
But how did he get here? And why?
A few hours ago her biggest dilemma had been how to keep the police off her track. What could she do with this new catastrophe?

The king had withdrawn from public view more and more over the years, and even more so in the last few weeks. Could this be why? Had he been slumming? Traveling around to witness the devastation his orders had created? It seemed a foolhardy way to entertain himself.

And he had an ability now. According to Tyrone, the king could fly.

It’s impossible to gain an ability. You’re either born with it, or you’re not. Right?
A portion of her brain mulled over that while another moved to a possible solution.
What if he’s been hiding his own gift?
That didn’t make sense. He was the king. All he would have to do was revoke the ban.
Unless he’s ashamed of becoming one of us. He’s been afraid of abilities since the old king died. Even if he can fly, and I believe Tyrone’s word that he can, why would he come to us?

Reese’s breathing quickened. She could hear it dimly through the maelstrom in her mind.
I can’t see King Nile making any sort of noble choice to suffer like his people.
She pushed the idea aside, along with a half-formed suspicion.
No. He wouldn’t be brave enough to hunt us himself. Would he?

For years he’d sat back in his palace, unreachable, while the readers and police carried out his orders. To suddenly change that pattern by showing up, supposedly without memory, and in possession of an ability, was sheer madness.
There’s no way I wouldn’t have recognized him. Even though Nile had no ability.

But this man is Nile. And he convinced Tyrone that he could fly. How?

The tantalizing question sent Reese’s mind spinning in another direction.
Tyrone doesn’t know this man is the king. If he did—
A long-dead argument rose in the dark. Tyrone insisting that a direct assault on the castle, or “better still” an assassination of the king, was the best way out of the national difficulties. Trying to get her to agree to plan it.
If I tell Tyrone this man is the king, he’ll kill him or do something else that reeks of rash.

The thought of the wide-spread chaos that could cause made her shudder.
But what can I do with the king, now that he’s here? He’s seen us. He knows we’re here. I can’t just send him back to the palace.

But what about when there was an island-wide search? This wasn’t a simple case of bribing the witness. Obviously some official would notice that the king was gone and raise an alarm. Homes would be searched, suspects interrogated, more ability-gifted people captured, but…

Reese frowned as the whole of her brain bent to the question.
Why is he here himself?

How would he lose his recollection and gain flight?

A memory shifted. Reese felt the stream of thoughts digging deeper and deeper, looking for something she couldn’t quite remember.

Either the king has always had an ability and concealed it—highly unlikely, given his order to eliminate us—or, as impossible as it sounds, he got an ability. And claimed he had no memory.

The memory loss could be a ruse, but he couldn’t fake flying. Reese closed her eyes. The deeper places of her mind could keep thinking it through.
First Grahm’s betrayal, and now the king himself on the streets.
A feeble part of her calculations protested, but Reese pushed them to the background. For now, she needed to rest. Rest, and a plan.

---

“Wake up,” Tyrone called through the trapdoor. “Daro brought breakfast. And coffee.”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Reese called back, staring at her reflection in the narrow mirror. During the night a temporary solution had sprung into the light.
King or no, if this is a ruse, he’ll only be able to keep it up for so long.
Reese listened as Tyrone’s footsteps descended the stairs.
Today I will see if he can fly, and how far he’s able to go to hide whatever secrets he may have. After all, I’m still a mastermind.
If this was a trap, it would take more than a king to conceal it.
I’m not going to be caught again. Not after that shifter’s betrayal.

She crawled to the door and lowered herself into the hallway. But as she reached the bottom of the stairs, another thought surfaced.
What if he really did lose his memory? What do I do then?
The variety of factors made her lightheaded.

“Hurry and get it.” Tyrone’s voice drifted in from the dining room. “If it’s gone when you get here, it’s your fault.”

Reese took a deep breath and stepped into the makeshift space.

Tyrone sat sprawled in his chair as usual, a long, thin bread loaf in one hand. He grinned. “Embarrassingly, I’m all out of candles.” He waved a limp hand at the single oil lamp. “This will have to do until the next shipment comes in this afternoon, along with certain excess grains and supplies.” With an exaggerated sigh, he shifted position in the chair. “Which brings me to another problem—”

I don’t have time to listen to this.
“I need to go see Nero’s for myself today,” Reese said. She crossed to the table and picked up a strip of crisp meat. “Someone may have survived.”

Tyrone’s face lit up in a smile. “Perfect!” He stroked his curling goatee. “With my new shipment I guarantee the police will be poking around in here, making sure everything is in order and—” he took another bite of the roll and spoke through it, “—I can’t have Joplin hanging around here, so he can go with you.”

Reese picked up a glass of cold coffee and held it in her hand, feeling the smooth curve of the mug. “I’m not sure I would trust him that much,” she said. “But I’ll take him.” She managed a smile.

“Oh, you can trust him,” Tyrone said. “He’s one of the best workers I’ve ever had. Very compliant.”

Reese’s grip tightened on the mug.
Not good.
Her mind whipped through a variety of responses.
If I press the issue, he’ll want to know why I don’t trust Joplin, and that will get difficult and—
“If you say so,” she said. The words sounded hollow.
I need more time to think this out.

“Really?” Tyrone’s eyebrows raised. “If I say so? That’s a first.” A cunning expression crossed his face.

Here it comes.
Reese gulped her coffee. The brown liquid swirled in her mouth, and a remnant of bean dragged across her tongue. Glad of the distraction, Reese calculated the size and weight of the fragment.

Tyrone tipped his head back and regarded her, one eye narrowed. “I don’t suppose you could drop off a load of guns for me while you’re at it.” He grinned. “I can’t have them lying around here either.” He picked up a fork and twirled it between his fingers. “I know you wouldn’t take the risk if I wasn’t such a handsome—”

“Be quiet.” Reese set the empty cup back on the table. “When do you need them out of here?”

“Well, I expect the police inspector in a matter of minutes.” The merchant gave her a smile that could, in certain circles, be considered innocent.

I’m not going to stand around here and humor him.
Reese dropped the remnant of meat and folded her arms. “Where are they?”

Tyrone brushed crumbs from the cuff of his loose shirt. “I sent Joplin to get the guns and meet you at the back door.” He smiled expectantly.

Reese refrained from rolling her eyes and left the room, head spinning.

The warehouse stood in shadow. Tall heaps of grain sacks, imported furniture and fabric, and other necessities lay about in seemingly careless piles. Reese threaded her way through the maze toward the back of the enormous room.
He hasn’t changed much.
She circled a pile of barrels, wondering how many had been fully declared on the imports list.
He’s still a pirate, even if he’s a useful pirate.

The squeak of a leather boot echoed through the warehouse. Reese pinpointed the sound and kept walking. “It’s just me, Joplin.” The false name stuck on her tongue. “Tyrone said you had some guns to deliver.” She felt her brain begin churning again.
He’s dangerous to keep around. He could go to the police. Or he’ll be recognized by some outlaw and killed.

“Yes, ma’am,” a rich, husky voice replied.

A flush of heat spread across Reese’s face. She rounded a corner and saw him standing there. The king. Dressed in dockhand’s clothes and a worn trader’s coat.
Tyrone’s coat, actually.

The king seemed to sense her gaze on the long jacket. He grasped the front band and pulled it open. “The guns are hidden in secret pockets,” he said, then smiled. A terrifying smile.

“I know about the pockets,” Reese snapped.
What if someone recognizes him while he’s with me?
She pushed past him and opened the outer door. “Follow me.”

They stepped out into the sunlit alleyway and started down the dirty path toward the edge of the trading district. The crisp air seemed charged with expectancy. And tension.

Reese hunched her shoulders and increased her pace.
There’ll be too many workers on the streets to avoid being seen.
She kept her gaze straight ahead.
We’ll have to chance it.
She could feel the king’s presence beside her. He strode down the middle of the narrow road, shoulders wide, an easy swing to his stride.

I can’t keep him with me for too long.
Reese risked a sideways glance at him. Joplin’s gaze swept the streets with interest.
No matter how curious I am.
They turned a corner onto a wider street. A group of rough sailors strode toward them, shouting to each other as they hauled battered wooden crates to their destination. Joplin stood steady in the road, watching their approach.

Get out of there.
Reese grabbed Joplin’s coattail and pulled him out of the way.
You don’t mess with that crowd.
One of the sailors glanced back at them. His squinting gaze crawled from Reese to the king, then he turned away.

Reese stifled a sigh of relief. She could feel her mind beginning to speed up.
I’ve got to get out of here. Too many factors.
A merchant’s wagon creaked into the roadway, its iron-bound wheels clattering on the cobblestones. Two men were pulling the wagon along. They seemed intent on their work, but Reese motioned for the king to follow her, then doubled back and started down a narrow gap between two buildings.
First things first.
As the harbor noise died to a dull mutter, Reese glanced at the king. “Where were you supposed to deliver those?”

“He said ‘at the back of a factory,’” Joplin replied. “I hope you know where that is.”

Another alley lay to their right a few paces ahead. “I have a rough idea,” Reese said as she forced herself past the dark opening. Far down in the depths of the alley stood a weathered door. A man sat on a crate beside it, muscular arms folded. He looked up as they passed and glared at them through narrowed eyes. Reese noted the heavy club on the ground behind the doorman.
There must be a prizefight today.

Beside her, Joplin raised a hand in greeting. “Good day,” he called to the guard.

The blood left Reese’s head.
Not good.
She slipped her arm into Joplin’s and hurried him onward. The king looked down at her in surprise. Reese tried not to think about the pressure of his arm against hers. “Just keep quiet for a minute,” she muttered.
One thing’s for sure, throwing him out on the street would be murder. He wouldn’t last a day.
Reese turned down an empty side street, then withdrew her arm. “You’re going to have to be careful,” she said. “Not everyone around here is going to be like Tyrone.”

Joplin’s forehead creased into a mixture of concern and confusion. “I know…” he said.

No, you don’t.
Reese took a quick look over her shoulder. The road was still abandoned.
We must be getting close to the southside.
She took a deep breath and turned back to the king. “I don’t know how much you remember,” she said, “but if you can fly, you’ve got to lay low.”

“The ban?” Joplin asked. He nodded and the pale sunlight caught his russet hair, tinging it with gold. “Tyrone mentioned that.”

Shock hit Reese like cold water in the face. “You mean you don’t remember it?”
It was your idea in the first place!

The king looked at her. The eyes she knew as hard and commanding looked tired and confused.

“I’m doing my best to remember things,” Joplin said, quietly. “Some things are harder than others.”

Reese studied him, calculations racing through her head.
What does he mean by that?
Her tongue felt dry in her mouth.

The king slid his hands into the pockets of his coat and gazed down at her steadily. “You’re angry with me for some reason.” Some of the confusion faded from his face. “Why?”

Reese began to tremble. She clenched her hands. “Let’s get those guns delivered,” she said, then turned away.