Cold Fire (Spiritwalker #2)

Cold Fire (Spiritwalker #2) Page 134

“You think with your feet, Catherine. That’s how you escaped the mansa and fought off a shark. But I”—he offered me the last slice of papaya, his gaze fixed on my mouth as I tried to eat it up delicately and quite failed—“I think with my mind.”

I should have been angry, but instead I was delirious. I laughed.

He smiled as he wiped out the bowl with a wedge of maize bread and fed it to me. After slinging bowl and spoon on the cord, he twined his fingers intimately through mine and we walked to the jetty. He wore a busy, thoughtful expression, so I let him think and enjoyed the pleasure of walking hand in hand. It was good to have a chance to catch my breath.

After a while, he spoke. “Kofi was just given an unexpected message.”

“From the radicals. The Assemblymen.”

“Yes.”

I recalled I had seen Kofi at the areito earlier with one of the women who had shown up at the gate last night. “Are those two gals really part of the organization?”

“Is there some reason they shouldn’t be?” He pressed a fleeting kiss on my mouth without breaking stride. The touch of his lips made me quite forget who I was for at least ten heady steps. “Were you jealous when I went off with them?”

“Why would you think I was?”

“Why did you wait up, then?”

“Were you drunk when you came back?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

“Only intoxicated by thinking of you.”

“I thought so. I could hear the liquor in your voice. Why do the radicals trust a maku who has only been in Expedition six months?”

We turned onto Breakwater Street, the boulevard that ran all the way to the old city. Here in Lucairi lay work yards opposite the stone jetty shore where local canoes and boats came and went. Vendors had set up stalls, selling fried fish, cassava bread hot off portable griddles, green mango on sticks, and roasted crab in the shell whose shattered remains crunched underfoot.

“Kofi trusts me, just as I trust him. I’m an unregistered fire bane. That makes me a good risk because anyone could have me arrested. Also, as a true cold mage, I have something they didn’t know they wanted. I’ve been instructing local fire banes in the most basic teachings any child at a mage House is taught in the schoolroom. Obviously that is also against the law.”

“How did you find the radicals in the first place?”

“Chartji’s aunt introduced me to Kofi. Trolls have a complex net of affiliations.”

“Chartji’s aunt? Is she related to those two trolls who come every Jovesday?”

“Why, Catherine, have you been watching me?”

His dash jackets were tailored so exactly to him that they didn’t bind, and he knew perfectly well how good he looked. The red and gold of the magnificent fabric set off the deep brown of his complexion most flatteringly. “Why do you ask when you know the answer?”

“Just to hear you say it.”

I laughed again. “You are such an irritating man. Where are we going?”

“We’re going to Nance’s. The boardinghouse down by the gates of the old city.”

He drew me over next to the rock wall against which waves slurped so noisily that it would be difficult for passersby to hear. “The radical leadership has finally agreed to talk with me. It’s taken months for me to get this invitation. You’re right, they’re cautious. They can’t afford to trust anyone new. They’re very close to calling a general strike and bringing the city to a halt until their demands are met.”

“What are their demands?”

“The establishment of a committee to compose a charter for the establishment of a new government for Expedition Territory. And a time span to accomplish it in: three months. The Council would arrest them in a heartbeat if the wardens knew who the leaders actually were. In fact, the radicals were ready to call the strike last Martius. But the arrival of General Camjiata threw the whole city into an uproar. Meanwhile here I am, an unknown agent. That’s why I have to meet with them now, at such short notice. If I refuse, they’ll think I’m plotting something and won’t give me another chance.” He looked searchingly at me. “Catherine, I need to know if there is anything you want to tell me about all this. Anything it would be better for me to know now, before the meeting with the radicals. I see you brought your cane—your sword, I mean—as if you are expecting trouble.”

The Hassi Barahal house had spied for Camjiata. My mother had fought for him, and then escaped imprisonment at his hands. In the entryway of the law offices of Godwik and Clutch, he had told me he was looking for Tara Bell’s child. Me. I touched the ghost hilt, for twilight had brought the sword to life even though to the eye it still appeared as a black cane. Was it truly a cemi, of a kind? Was it my mother’s spirit that touched me when I felt the shiver of its cold steel? She who had left me with a memory of only five words? Tell no one, not ever.