Zola finished what he was writing before he set down the quill and began to read the coin master’s ledgers. “So?” he asked, glancing up at me from the page.

I stared at him. “So?”

“I need a report on the dive.” His chair creaked as he leaned back, taking the pipe from where it was clenched in his teeth. He held it before him, and the leaves smoldered in the chamber, sending another weak stream of smoke into the air.

“It’s right there.” The words thinned as my eyes landed on the open book.

He smirked. “You led the dive.” He slid the ledger toward me. “I want to hear it from you.”

I looked to Clove, unsure what Zola wanted. But he only stared at me as if he was waiting for the same answer. I pulled in a long breath through gritted teeth, taking the few steps between me and the desk before I let my belt slide from my shoulder. It landed on the floor hard, the tools clattering together.

“Fine.” I picked up the ledger, holding it before me. “Twenty-four carats emerald, thirty-two carats tourmaline, twenty-one carats garnet. Twenty-five and one-half green abalone, thirty-six carats quartz, and twenty-eight carats bloodstone. There are also three pieces of opal, but they’re not viable. Might be worth something in trade, but not for coin.” I shut the book with a snap, dropping it back onto the desk.

Zola watched me through the haze trailing up from the whalebone pipe. “How’d they do?”

“The dredgers?” My brow pulled.

He gave me a nod.

“I just told you.”

His elbows hit the desk and he propped himself up on them. “I mean how’d they do. Any problems?”

I glowered at him, irritated. “You’re paying me to lead the dives, not report on the dredgers.”

Zola pursed his lips, thinking. After a moment, he opened the drawer of his desk and set a small purse on the pile of maps. He fished out five coppers and stacked them before me. “Now I’m paying you for both.” I watched the lift of his mouth. The sharpening of his eyes. He was still playing his game. But I still didn’t know the rules to it.

Reporting on the other dredgers was the best way to get yanked from my hammock and thrown overboard in the middle of the night. “No thanks,” I said flatly.

From the corner of my eye, I thought I could see Clove shift on his feet, but both of his boots were planted side by side, unmoving.

“All right,” Zola conceded, scooting his chair up. “We need to hit double those numbers tomorrow.”

“Double?” The word leapt from my mouth, too loud.

That got his attention. Both of his eyebrows lifted as he studied me. “Double,” he said again.

“That’s not what you said. There’s no way we can hit that.”