The board popped up. Strings squealed. Tuning pegs broke off, one sailing to the floor, the others dropping into the piano. Sid reached around inside, then slid out a small red leather-bound book, the edges of its pages bright with gold. She made a satisfied noise.

“What’s so special about that book?” I asked.

“I want to know if Herrath’s gods are the same ones my people worship. What they’re like. Their supposed powers.”

I thought about how she had phrased her words. “Your people worship them. Do you?”

“Pfft. Mere superstition. Fanciful tales. At least”—she closed the book—“so I always thought. But something is happening in this city, and I want to understand it. I’d like for you to help me.”

“Me?”

“I have a proposition. Help me find the source of magic—or whatever trick is making things look like magic—and I will help you leave this island.”

“But I don’t want to leave. This is my home.”

Sid exhaled impatiently. “If you like the trap you’re in, I guess I can’t make you leave it. What do you want, Nirrim? Why were you looking for me?”

I just wanted to see you, I thought, but that seemed childish to say. “Which one told you I was looking for you? The fruit seller, the boy, or the High-Kith brothers?”

She grinned. “Who is to say all of them didn’t? I have many friends. Many admirers. You are hardly the first.”

I huffed with irritation, though I was relieved that she had returned to the teasing tone she’d used so often in the prison, that empty flirtation that seemed like second nature to her. “Why do you want so badly to find the source of magic?” I thought of the dream vials. “Do you want to bring magic goods back to your country?”

“Not quite. I want leverage. Let’s say this magic or trick can be bottled up. Its source discovered. Then I can bring it home—or bring the secret to it home. I could bargain with my parents. Marriage for a woman means the same thing where I come from as it does here: life with a man. Sleeping in his bed. I won’t do it. I have tried to explain to my parents, but they don’t want to listen. They never even let me finish. They have too much to gain by selling me off. So I can’t ever go home … unless maybe I can offer them something valuable enough to secure my freedom. Something to offset the cost they’ll bear if I don’t marry.”

I heard the muffled click of the front door latch. A gust of wind whooshed into the room.

“Why is the door unlocked?” someone said from the other room.