Hassa shook her head.
“The Dredge? Okay, I have to be quick,” he said. “North, south, east—east? Thank you for letting me know. I’ll need the space in the metal protector to bring her back, so I’ll take it from here.”
Hassa watched him don the metal tube and dash out into the night. She didn’t trust him, so she followed him under the tunnels as he made his way toward Sylah.
—
Sylah heard the faint call of the clockmaster. It was half a strike past eleven. The tidewind wasn’t meant to have started yet, but it already tugged at her clothing. The wind would eventually build to a crescendo that ripped skin right from the bone. She smiled wryly, imagining the scandal, an Ember body found on the wrong side of the Ruta River. Her smile dropped as she thought about the aftermath of policing that would disrupt the whole of the Dredge. Embers would always protect one of their own, even if she hadn’t been raised by them.
She opened her mouth to spit, but sand flew into her lungs, making her cough.
“Sylah!”
It took her some time to make out the noise.
“Sylah!”
The voice was faint, but she could sense the direction it came from. The wind was too strong for her to walk into the midst of the tornado, so she called out, “I’m here!”
“Sylah?” Their voice was being eaten by the gales. She saw a figure ahead of her. They wore a primitive metal body protector, a metal tube with slits for eyes. Body protectors were a common addition to every household, just in case an emergency required you to go outside in the tidewind.
Her savior had spotted her. When the wind paused for an inhale, she dashed out into the road and under the body protector.
It was not made for two.
“Hello, Jond.” They were cheek to cheek. In every sense.
“Hello, Sylah. Nice night to be out.” She couldn’t help but grin until the wind began battering the sides of the metal and she was reminded of the danger an inch away.
They didn’t speak again as they shuffled toward the Duster Quarter. Sand flew through the eye slits, blinding them more than once. Sylah didn’t ask how he knew where she lived. She’d recognized the runebullet dents in the body protector and realized it was her mother’s.
The shutters were down as they approached her mother’s house, and Sylah could almost feel Lio’s disapproval through the wood.
Once the shutter to the door was open, Sylah and Jond shuffled in and freed themselves from the body protector. Jond slipped out of their cocoon first, letting go of Sylah’s hand. She hadn’t even realized he was holding it. Sand had swirled in with the open door, a gust of wind wreaking havoc in the moments before the shutters and doors were closed.
The three of them looked at one another. Sylah was pleased to see Jond was tired from the worry, the skin beneath his eyes sagging with concern. Lio on the other hand looked unimpressed. Thin eyebrows bordered her small eyes, set deep into her skull. Her narrow lips, pulled thinner from disregard, were chapped and chewed, seeping a small amount of blue blood. She kept her hair shaved to the skull, a remnant of her time working as a servant in the Wardens’ Keep.
“You’ll be cleaning that up later,” was all Lio said.
“I know,” Sylah drawled, a yawn catching her mid-speech. The day’s events hit her like a weight. She still heard Loot’s words in her mind, his lips parting in a smile as he spoke. Don’t come back. How would she make money now?
Lio smiled lightly at Jond. It was the most joy Sylah had ever seen on her mother’s face. The two of them had already been reacquainted. The red rims around Lio’s eyes told Sylah as much.
“I’ll heat up the groundnut stew,” Lio said.
Sylah’s stomach lurched at the thought of food, and bile began to rise up her throat. As much as the joba seed gave, it took far more. Food rarely stayed inside her long, particularly during the moments of respite between each seed, when every part of her, including her bowels, seemed to quiver.
Once Lio left the hallway, Jond rounded on Sylah. “Were you trying to get yourself killed?”
“I don’t think so. I got lost.”
“You got lost? In a city you’ve lived in for six years?” He was incredulous.
“It’s possible.”
“It was the drugs, wasn’t it? Those seeds you take?”
Sylah waved him away. He had no right to ask after her welfare. He hadn’t cared enough to come find her two years ago, so why start now? Maybe it would have been better if he’d left her to the tidewind’s wrath. If she’d taken a handful more seeds she wouldn’t even know death when it came. The thought didn’t shock her like it should have.