He grinned. He cocked his head to the side and laughed. He raised his eyebrows and laughed again. “Ariah, there is nothing there for me. I’m half ghalio and all nahsiyya and I’m a street musician. What am I gonna do in the Empire? Lor don’t want me there. Hell, I didn’t even know he was hitched.”

“You don’t have to go. But I do. The only thing that’ll be there for you will be me. That’s it. It’s selfish to ask, I know that, but I’m…I guess I’m asking anyway.”

Sorcha stared at me, hard, penetrating, like he was the shaper. “I’ll think on it. I’ll consider. Give me a few days?”

“Consider as long as you want.”

Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

“How much do we have between us?” Sorcha asked.

“Not much. It’s not like Vathorem paid me. All we have is what you got with your violin and what I brought with me.”

“So, how much is that, exactly?”

“I have two hundred and thirty marks left. Which is, uh, around three hundred Vilahnan leaves,” I said. “How much do you have?”

“Three fifty.”

“Marks?”

“Leaves.” He frowned. He kicked at the dirt. Sorcha had been nervous and bad-tempered for weeks. The tension in him ratcheted up as the deadline to leave Alamadour loomed closer and closer. “This fool’s errand is going to clean us both out, Ariah.”

“Thank you for coming,” I said. I had said that a lot in the days since he decided to travel with me.

“You owe me, Ariah.”

“I do.”

“As long as you know you owe me.”

“I do know.” It was early afternoon, and the Alamadour markets soaked up the bright sunlight. It was a rare, clear day. The skies in the south are nests of clouds: gray, constantly shadowed. The brightness of the day’s naked sun made me think of Rabatha and the City. It seemed a fitting day to arrange transport. I shielded my eyes and studied the crowds.

“There are some tahrqs over there,” said Sorcha.

“I will not travel with them.”

“All right. All right.”

“They would fleece us anyway. We’d end up as slaves.”

“I said all right.” Sorcha tugged at my sleeve and pointed behind me. “How about them, eh? Semadran to a man.”

I glanced over my shoulder, and the sight of her unmanned me. I blushed. My laugh was loud and slightly unhinged. I prayed it was a phantom recognition, that it was not really her, but she heard me. She cocked her head to one side, and then she turned around.