“Stop licking your lips,” said Kit. She clapped Anji on the knee and slipped her mask back on, then rose from the bench. “Let’s find you a ship.” Anji sprang up to support her before she fell.

Chapter 41

41

They walked along the pier, the many berths on their left branching out like claws into the placid bay. On their right stood the grime-crusted walls of houses and shops worn by years of storm and sea. The weight of Kit’s slight, quivering body wasn’t much burden for Anji to bear, but the combination of a day without food, a night with little sleep, and the endless jabbing pain in her hand and ankle was enough to keep them at a slow pace as they crawled up the quay. The workers on the opposite side continued on with their unloading, but one of them, a bearded mountain of a man in suspenders, corncob pipe sticking from the corner of his mouth, called a halt to their work as Anji and Kit made their way closer.

“Stand me up,” Kit said, letting go of Anji’s arm. “I’ll do the talking.”

The ship’s crew began to disperse as the bearded man ambled toward them. He tapped a finger to his brow.

“Afternoon,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes.

Kit inclined her head. “Harbormaster?”

“Captain.” He took his pipe from between his teeth and motioned with it to the ship at his back. “Harbormaster’s got an office back the way you came.”

“We’re looking for a ship,” said Kit.

“Something small,” said Anji.

“Anji, please.”

“Sorry.”

Anji couldn’t help but beam at the rows of ships—even the ocean looked inviting. She was free. She was leaving this entire mess behind. A lightness she hadn’t felt in weeks dared to spread through her chest, and she allowed the feeling to permeate for an instant. She smiled despite the man’s gruff expression, despite the woman at her side dying on her feet.

“Got a sloop tied up down the dock,” the man said, hooking a thumb behind one shoulder. “Shouldn’t be much hassle for the two of you, though I’d suggest hiring on a hand or two extra.” He glanced down the length of Kit’s emaciated form.

“A sloop will be fine, sir,” said Kit.

Without another word he turned and led them down the quay, past empty bilge holds, barnacle-studded piers shining in the late afternoon sun. The surf foamed at Anji’s left side, bubbling around the ships tied to their moorings. Kit, limping along at Anji’s side, began rummaging in the blue bag. Anji watched as they came to a stop at a narrow-hulled, single-masted boat bobbing along in the rising tide at the far end of the pier, nearest the cliffside overlooking the docks.