Page 73 of Black Salt Queen

Eti chewed her bottom lip and nodded. Never had she thought of her forebears as anything more than ancestral spirits. Born to be respected. To be revered. Eti had heard no reverence in the woman’s voice as she told them what the Gatdulas had done to her grandfather. Even if it wasn’t true, Eti had heard a tremor of fear in the woman’s voice. A hatred that ran old and deep. Those convictions did not manifest the moment Imeria Kulaw stormed the palace. They had been born in a dark place where no Gatdula went.

Ariel gave her a long, weighty look before opening his mouth to reply. “I am not Maynaran, so I can’t say much about your history,” he said. “As for legacies, they’re not a footprint you press into the face of the world. Rather, they are layered, like tangled webs?—as complex as the creatures who weave them.”

He clasped her shoulder, a brotherly gesture that chased away Eti’s fears for a fleeting moment. They followed the canal back to the boardinghouse. The panic thrumming through the air dulled as midmorning faded to noon. Not as many people were rushing through the streets, their arms laden with whatever supplies they could scavenge. Smells wafted down from the rows of open windows overlooking the water: garlic crisping in the pan, meat simmering in thick, salty stew. People were pausing their frenzied preparations to eat lunch with their families. The ritual was familiar to Eti, and it made her shoulders relax to see it.

Some things were sacred even on the brink of ruin.

Peace after the quelled riot lasted less than a day. Eti and Ariel had spent those scarce, fragile hours trying to cobble together a plan. They were sitting on the floor of their room, their heads pressed close together so they could hear each other’s whispered ideas. The walls of the boardinghouse were thin, so they had to keep their voices low.

“If we could only get inside the palace, I could free them from the prison hold,” Eti lamented for the hundredth time. Based on the information they’d overheard in the streets, the royal guard had doubled down on their patrols after the riots. They intended to hold the palace at all costs, as if it were a prized fortress.

“The Kulaws got into the palace somehow. They took advantage of the feast that night. Now, with violence spreading across the city, their defenses are weakening. If we bide our time, they’ll give us an opening?—a distraction,” Ariel said, his spectacles sliding down his nose. He wore them only in private these days. With their western design, they were too distinguishable.

Eti pulled her legs up to her chest. She rested her chin between her knees as she pondered a reply. Ariel traced the patterns on the warped floorboards between them, humming to himself as he thought. They had just fallen into a comfortable silence when three sharp raps at their door jolted them alert. Ariel jumped up to open it, tearing off his spectacles. The boardinghouse keeper was standing on the threshold, a basket in her arms piled high with mangoes and leafy vegetables from her trip to the market canal. Her eyes were wide and fearful as she stepped into their room without invitation. Swiftly, she shut the door behind her.

“You both need to leave,” she said in an urgent whisper.“Now.”

Ariel tried to feign confusion. “I don’t understand. Is there an issue with our rent?”

The old woman shook her head curtly. Wisps of gray hair tumbled over her face. “I passed guardsmen, dozens of them, on my way back. They’re coming down the main street, combing through every building. They were looking for a man?—an alchemist, they said, or some kind of foreigner. And a young girl?—small with long, black hair?—just like you, my dear.”

A chill ran down Eti’s spine. The boardinghouse keeper’s warning spurred her to action. “We need to go,” she agreed, meeting Ariel’s gaze. He gave her a terse nod, and they rushed to pack their things.

The boardinghouse keeper didn’t say a word as Ariel lifted the floorboards next to his bed. He scooped out the precioso and what remained of Eti’s jewelry. A shadow of recognition flickered in the woman’s expression. Her eyes shifted back to Eti as if she were seeing her in a new light. Once Ariel had gathered the few precious belongings they had in a small sack, he slung it over his shoulder. No time to waste?—they piled out into the hall.

“Keep to the alleys. They’ll find you too easily in these parts. Your best bet is to hide in plain sight,” the boardinghouse keeper said as she rushed them down the stairs. She took them to the back door near her kitchen, where the guardsmen wouldn’t see them leave.

“Thank you,” Eti said, breathless, her voice ringing out, tinny and insignificant. Those two words were too small to contain her gratitude.

“It is my duty.” The boardinghouse keeper’s expression changed as she took Eti’s hand. Instead of shaking it, she bowed low and pressed it to her forehead, a sign of respect for a much older woman. “I pray for your family, Dayang. May the gods keep you safe,” she said in a hushed voice. Then she opened the door and hurried them into the alleyway. “I can hear them coming. You must go.”

They fled from the outlying districts. The streets in this part of Mariit were no longer strange to her. The renewed sense of urgency sharpened her senses. She kept pace with Ariel the best she could, the sandals she’d bought at the market slapping against the uneven cobblestones. They rushed past shaded alleys and winding canals. They didn’t let up until they reached the heart of the city. Eti realized she recognized the quiet street they were walking down. They were edging dangerously close to the places in Mariit she knew well. If they crossed the nearest canal and continued a few paces north, they’d find themselves in front of the goldsmiths’ guildhall, where she’d spent many an afternoon.

They ought to take extra heed there. Eti opened her mouth to whisper a warning to Ariel when he grabbed her arm and whisked her behind an unattended set of crates. They were stacked up into a teetering pile across the street from what looked like a respectable inn. It was one of the better-maintained buildings in Mariit, with clean windows and an ornate giltwood door swinging on its hinges.

As they stalled outside, Ariel fumbled in his pockets for matches and a pipe, another trinket the previous boarder had left behind. He needed an excuse for stopping so suddenly. Eti understood the moment she heard heavy boots marching down the street. She kept her head down as Ariel struck a match against the sole of his shoe. With trembling fingers, he lowered the flame to the cracked pipe bowl. Eti watched in silence, her blood pounding a desperate rhythm in her ears. They’d miscalculated the Kulaws’ resources. Imeria had sent her guardsmen after Eti, and no district was safe; the Kulaws wouldn’t leave a single stone in Mariit unturned.

Eti didn’t budge as the guardsmen swept into the inn. She barely glimpsed them from where she stood, hunched behind the crates, which concealed her from their view. Judging by their footsteps, there were no more than three of them. Eti tried to picture what they looked like, young men as broad as Ojas, with red traitors’ silk draped over the brass clasps of their armor, their blades glinting menacingly beneath the afternoon sun.

At her side, Ariel took a nervous drag from his pipe. The burning scent of cloves made Eti think with another longing pang of her father. The memory of the king’s gentle, knowing voice calmed her enough to hold still for several agonizing minutes. Then the guardsmen emerged from the inn, grumbling over their unending lack of success. They didn’t stop to question Ariel. From their vantage point, they couldn’t see Eti. The gods must have blessed her, because the guards hurried on.

Their footsteps grew quieter as they charged farther down the street, venturing deeper into the merchant district. When they at last disappeared from view, Eti let out a sigh of relief. Ariel wiped the sweat from his brow and pulled the pipe stem from his lips. They debated where to go next. Eti was half-tempted to go inside the inn the guards had just deserted?—anything to get off the street. Then she noticed the scrap of scarlet fabric nailed above the entryway like a banner. Eti swallowed hard when she recognized the inn, a favorite meeting point for southerners who kept to their own even after they moved to Mariit. Bulan had pointed it out to her months earlier in passing, a place where the fiercest Kulaw warriors exchanged battle tactics and drank themselves stupid. Whether or not there were Kulaw warriors lurking inside, Eti knew they wouldn’t be safe there. Somberly, she nodded toward the banner. Ariel grimaced in response. In silence, they agreed to move forward.

They kept walking in the guardsmen’s wake until they reached another inn a few streets away. Above its gilt-edged window, the owner had pinned a long strip of green. Once Eti started looking for signs of loyalty, she could find them everywhere?—dozens of little green banners waving in silent allegiance to Eti’s family. In that neighborhood, at least, they outnumbered the few scarlet banners they’d passed. It was the closest thing to refuge Eti had seen in days.

When they rushed inside the green-bannered building, the innkeeper raised an eyebrow at Ariel’s accent and Eti’s disheveled appearance. If he guessed their true identities, he said nothing. Eti prayed the innkeeper’s loyalties were sure, and that he’d keep his silence for one more day. Ariel warned they shouldn’t stay in one place too long. They’d be gone the next morning without a trace.

Ariel got them a room for the night; it was twice the size of the room in the boardinghouse and at least three times the price. Above the bed hung a relief carving of a crocodile, a date etched beneath its curved, spiny tail. Eti recognized it as the day of her mother’s coronation. She allowed herself a relaxed sigh. If such an artwork hung in every room, it meant the innkeeper revered the Gatdulas the same he would any deity. They’d be safe there for the time being. It wasn’t home, but the sheets were clean, and the pillows were almost as soft as the ones that lined Eti’s bed at the palace. If she stretched out across the mattress, she might sleep for a week. But she knew better than to get comfortable.

“We can’t go on like this much longer,” Ariel said as he sat down at the foot of his bed, sighing.

Eti nodded. He was right. Soon, they’d run out of places to hide. She thought about what the boardinghouse keeper told them. Her eyes fell on the sack of gold and precioso lying at Ariel’s right. “Do you have a knife in there? Or anything sharp?” she asked.

Ariel gave her a quizzical look. “No. Why?”

She chewed her lip as silly tears sprung to the corners of her eyes. She knew it was frivolous and vain, and that the price she was about to pay counted little in terms of personal sacrifice. “For my hair,” she croaked out and met Ariel’s gaze. “The Kulaws won’t find us. Not as long as they’re looking for a little girl.”

Recognition dawned on Ariel’s face. He stood and rummaged about the room for something to cut with. Chopping off her hair wouldn’t conceal Eti’s identity forever, but it would buy them some time. The Kulaws were still looking for the youngest Gatdula princess?—a guileless, airheaded girl, unaccustomed to life without luxury. If she disguised herself as a boy, she could heed the boardinghouse keeper’s advice and hide in plain sight.

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