Page 154 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

“The quarl was a test, then,” he said gloomily.

“I’m afraid so.” She bent to kiss his cheek. “Laya Yidagé. Welcome aboard thePursuit.”

“Niclays Roos. Would that I could greet you in a more dignified state, dear lady.” He squinted at the food. Rice and globs of pinkish meat. “Saint. Is that raw eel?”

“Be glad it’s not still wriggling. The last hostage had to bite its head off. That was beforehishead came off, of course.” Laya squeezed in beside him. “Cure a few more pirates and you might get it cooked. And somewhere a little more hospitable to sleep.”

“You realize I’m more likely to kill one of them. I have a degree in anatomy, but a master surgeon I am not.”

“I suggest you keep pretending otherwise.” She threw some of her cloak around him. “Here. It’s warm.”

“Thank you.” Niclays pulled it close and smiled wearily at her. “I beg you to distract me from this supposed meal. Tell me how you came to sail with the dreaded Golden Empress.”

While he winnowed the clean grains from the bloodstained rice, she did.

Laya had been born in the beautiful city of Kumenga, famous for its academies, sun wine, and limpid waters. As a child, she had thirsted for knowledge of the world, her interest fed by her father, an explorer, who had taught her several languages.

“One day, he set off for the East, determined to be the first Southerner to set foot in it in centuries,” she said. “He never came back, of course. No one does. Years later, I paid the pirates of the Sea of Carmentum to take me over the Abyss to find him.” Rain seeped down her cheek. “We came under fire by a ship in this fleet. Everyone was slain, but I pleaded for my life in Lacustrine, which surprised the captain. He took me to the Golden Empress, and I became her interpreter. It was that or the sword.”

“How long have you worked for her?”

She sighed. “Too long.”

“You must wish to go back to the South.”

“Of course,” she said, “but I would be a fool to try an escape. I am no navigator, Old Red, and the Abyss is wide.”

She had a point.

“Do you suppose, Mistress Yidagé—”

“Laya.”

“Laya. Do you suppose the Golden Empress would allow me to see the dragon below decks?”

Laya raised her eyebrows. “And why would you want to do that, pray tell?”

Niclays hesitated.

It would be safest to hold back. After all, many feared or mocked alchemy—but he imagined that Laya, having spent years on a pirate ship, would not be easily daunted.

“I am an alchemist,” he told her under his breath. “Not a great one—an amateur, really—but I have been trying, for the last decade, to create an elixir of immortality.” Her eyebrows crept higher. “I have so far failed in this endeavor, mostly thanks to a scarcity of decent ingredients. Given that the dragons can live for centuries, I was hoping to . . . study the one below. Before we reach Kawontay.”

“Before every part of its body is sold.” Laya nodded. “Usually I would advise you against mentioning this.”

“But?”

“The Golden Empress has a vested interest in immortality. Your alchemy may endear her to you.” She leaned closer, so their breath formed one plume. “There is a reason this ship is called thePursuit, Niclays. Did you ever hear the story of the mulberry tree?”

Niclays knitted his eyebrows. “Themulberry tree?”

“It’s a little-known legend in the East. More myth than history.” Laya leaned against the gunwale. “Centuries ago, a sorceress was said to rule over an island called Komoridu. Black doves and white crows flocked to her, for she was mother to the outcasts.

“The story is told from the perspective of an unnamed woman, who is shunned by the people of Ginura. She hears whispers of Komoridu, where all are welcome, and decides she must get there by any means necessary. When she finally does, she goes to visit the fabled sorceress, whose power comes from a mulberry tree. A source of eternal life.”

Now his heart was pounding like a tabor.

“Although the legend has survived,” Laya said, “no one has ever been able to find Komoridu. For centuries, the scroll containing its story was kept on Feather Island. Someone stole it from the sacred archives and gave it to the Golden Empress . . . but it soon became apparent that part of it was missing. A part she believes is vital.”

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