Chapter Twenty-Two: Pursuit and Loss
In which Ian chases Seamus and discovers that the boy has been in contact with Xian–and lost something very important to them both.
“Seamus!” Ian cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted above the city noise. “Seamus Clennan! Wait!”
But the blond curls darted into the crowd and disappeared like a dolphin into a choppy sea.
Ian jumped over baskets, ducked under pavilions, and wove between merchant stalls, children, and various animals in pursuit of the boy. Everywhere, vendors and hawkers tried to entice him into shops. He shook away hands and arms, keeping one hand on his purse the whole time.
“Ethan, wait!” Melik’s voice rose over the din of the crowds. “Where are you going?”
“I need to see that boy!” Ian pointed and kept running.
Seamus darted a glance back at Ian’s voice, turned, and disappeared.
Ian tripped on a wide cobblestone and recovered his footing, but the moment had cost him. He cursed. Seamus’ head had disappeared among the headdresses, dark hair, and veils of the largely Esparan populace.
Ian had no idea how far he’d gone or where he was. Barlena’s alleys formed a dizzying maze of narrow corridors that snaked and writhed between the shops, homes, and temples of the city, and all of the buildings and streets looked the same to him. He broke through the crowd at the end of the alley into a wide square filled with pavilions, carts, baskets, even livestock. And people. Everywhere—as far as he could see—people. He stood on tiptoe, looking for that shock of blond hair, but he couldn’t catch even a glimpse of Seamus. Even if he did see Seamus at that point, there would be little hope of working his way through the crowd to get to him. At least four other alleys opened into the square from other directions as well, so it was likely that the boy had already ducked into one of them and melted into the city. He’s short, fast, and desperate.
“Looking for this?”
Ian turned.
Melik stood to one side of the alley they’d just emerged from with Seamus’ tunic twisted around his hand at the boy’s neck. The freelance held a dagger just under Seamus’ ribs, and the boy’s face was paler than Ian had ever seen it.
Ian pushed them both into the shade of an olive seller’s pavilion. “How did you do that?”
Melik gave a lazy shrug of one shoulder. “I know the city. I went around and met him from another direction.”
A gust of wind flapped the pavilion, letting in a thin ray of sunlight that glinted off the steel at Seamus’ ribs. “Put the dagger away, Melik,” Ian whispered.
“Why? You were after him. Did he rob you? Spoil your sister?” He grinned. “The boy doesn’t look old enough to spoil anyone.”
That comment brought color to Seamus’ face. “I have a young face,” he mumbled.
Ian took the boy’s shoulder and pulled him away from Melik. “He’s part of my ship’s crew. The ship must be in port now.”
Melik sheathed his blade. “If he’s part of your crew, why’s he running? You don’t strike me as a harsh master, Ethan.”
Seamus’ eyes flicked up to Ian’s. “Ethan?”
The olive seller stepped into their group and started shouting in a dialect Ian couldn’t understand. Melik held up his hands and spoke in reassuring tones. “He wants you to buy something or get out,” he said.
Ian dug into his purse for a few coppers, distinguishing the rough edges with his fingertips. “Here,” he said, handing them to Melik. “Whatever these will buy.”
Melik handed them over and bargained with the man until he produced a fair sized basket of cured green olives the size of Ian’s thumb. Melik popped one into his mouth and spit the pit to one side. “Well? Are you a harsh master?”
Ian shook his head. “No. But I have something the boy wants.” He held out his hand. “Where’s the dagger?”
Seamus’ eyes fell again. “I don’t have it.”
“But you brought it off the ship, didn’t you?”
The boy’s tone was glum and sullen. “Aye.”
“Where is it?”
Seamus chewed on his lip for a long moment. “I was told not to tell ye. Or anyone else.”
Melik put a hand on his dagger again and stepped closer to Seamus. He put his other hand on Seamus’ arm and leaned close to his ear. “I’m sure I could convince you to tell my client what he wants to know.”
Seamus flinched and looked at Ian again. “My lord,” he started.
Ian held up a hand.
Seamus let out a long breath. “The ship arrived in port two days ago. When we arrived, there was a message waiting for me from Lord Xian,” he said. “He told me if I brought the dagger to the palace and made sure it got to him, he’d see I was . . .” He cleared his throat. “Amply rewarded.”
“Did he mention a figure?” Ian asked.
Seamus’ face reddened even more deeply. “It was generous. Enough to buy a ship for me and Piper.” He looked away. “A small ship, but it would be enough. And then—”
“You wouldn’t have to wait any longer to wed her.” Ian pressed his fingertips to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Gods save me. I need a holiday. He took a deep breath. “All right. You took the dagger to the palace, then?”
Seamus shook his head. “I was going to, but this city is very . . . Well, there are a lot of people. Thieves. Pickpockets.”
Ian’s stomach dropped to his knees. “Oh gods—it was stolen?”
Seamus’ glum expression returned. He nodded once and looked down. “Yesterday. I’ve been looking for the man ever since.”