Page 35 of Needed in the Night
Are you all right?Brae asked, his shadow following directly above me.Gods above, Isla, you really outdid yourself making him think you mightactually?—
I didn’t have much choice. I took a deep breath and exhaled to slow my racing heart.I’m okay, but we’re officially out of time to plan a getaway. We’re going to have to wing it. I hope Mikas will go too.
I think he will, Brae said, his tone dry.
No time to ask why he thought so, or why he sounded so wry. I plastered on a brilliant smile, scanned my palm to open the door, and strode into Zaa’ga with Brae following close behind so the door didn’t close between us. He’d be stuck to me like a Barmian barnacle for the rest of the night.
I scanned the bar as if taking in the size of my audience, then looked for Mikas, who was busy behind the bar pouring a couple of drinks. He glanced up, gave me a nod, and put the drinks on a tray for a service ’bot to deliver to a table. At least he appeared less grim tonight.
I wanted to stop and say hello before I went onstage, but it would have been ill-advised even if Slug wasn’t leaning against the wall with a tankard of ale. Nubo must have asked her to wait in the bar rather than follow me downstairs from my apartment because he planned to accost me in the storage room.
I made sure to thank the regulars for their patronage on my way to the stage. One notable absence was the amphibious Prylothian who usually occupied the small pool near the stage. Tonight a serpentine Altasian had coiled up in the water, his head, shoulders, and vestigial wings resting on stone as he sipped an unfamiliar bubbly beverage through a long tube that ran into a small cask next to the pool.
Given how impatient I was to go to the market with Mikas after our shifts, I expected my set to drag on interminably, butinstead it flew by. I didn’t avoid looking in Mikas’s direction since that would be as suspicious as watching him too much, but each time I looked that direction, he was busy fulfilling orders.
My heart ached as I watched Mikas drop a hefty handful of credit chips into his collection box. He made good money here. Would he come to regret leaving with me, especially if he struggled to find a job that paid equally well wherever we ended up? That was a concern I could bring up at Madame Ycari’s shop later, I supposed. I tried not to let it worry me for now. I had plenty of other things to worry about in the meantime.
Earlier in the week, when I’d chosen the songs for tonight’s set, I hadn’t planned on this being my final performance on this stage—but maybe I’d subconsciously made my selections on the chance or hope it would be. Every song was one of my favorites and the patrons certainly seemed to appreciate the music. My tip jar filled more rapidly than usual.
I did make one alteration to my set list, though, near the end. Right before my final song, which was the folk tune the audience habitually joined in on, I sang “Warm Waters” because it meant something different to me tonight than ever before—especially its poignant first line: “When I remember all the places I have left behind, it is your touch I ache for the most.”
Unlike earlier in the week, I hadn’t chosen to sing “Water Waters” as a ploy for more tips, but the magic worked again tonight. Before I even sang the final note, patrons were coming forward to drop credits and coins into my jar, which was now my escape fund. And during the final song, the generosity continued, nearly bringing me to tears as I bowed and thanked everyone for listening.
I wouldn’t miss Zaa’ga, or Nubo, or the strain of living under surveillance the past three months, but Iwouldmiss singing and being onstage very, very much. My heart ached thinking aboutthe prospect I might not find another singing job for a long time, if ever.
But I couldn’t stay. I wouldn’t. I deserved better than this.
The Isla who’d arrived on Fortusia with a single case of donated clothing and a few hundred credits to her name hadn’t thought she deserved anything good at all. So however tonight turned out, believing I deserved a good life was a victory worth celebrating.
CHAPTER 13
ISLA
When I slidonto my chair at the bar, Mikas set a bowl of jampas and a glass of brandy in front of me. The last time for this tradition? Another pang.
“Excellent music choices again tonight,” he said. “Your Fortusian pronunciation has improved significantly from your early days here.”
“I would hope so.” For the benefit of our eavesdropping boss, I added, “I don’t have any plans to go anywhere, so I’ve been practicing my vowels. Before too long, I want to trick people into thinking I’ve been speaking Fortusian all my life.”
I worried Mikas might not understand why I’d said that, but when he smiled, I knew I needn’t have been concerned.
“I am glad to hear it, Isla. Zaa’ga would not be the same without you.” He glanced at the bowl of berries. “Would you like anything else?”
I didn’t have much appetite, but the berries looked particularly ripe and sweet tonight, so I tried a handful. They tasted even better than they looked.
“Delicious,” I said when I could speak again. I dabbed my mouth with a napkin. “Really outstanding. Thank you for the treat, as always.”
“My pleasure.” He glanced at his order screen and picked up a tall glass to mix a drink.
“I need to go back to the market tonight,” I said, with a loud sigh. “That bottle of perfume I ordered isfinallyready, and I still need food for the week. Since we’re off at the same time tonight, I don’t suppose you have time to be my escort again and carry my purchases?” I held his gaze. “Or are you too busy?”
To my relief, he took the hint and played along. “I really should stay and work on inventory,” he said, sounding reluctant for the benefit of the surveillance.
“Please?” I asked, injecting a plaintive note into my tone. “I know it’s a last-minute favor, but I promise it won’t take too long. An hour, hour and a half at most. I have to get back too.”
“All right,” he grumbled. “An hour and a halfmaximum.”
“Thank you.” I made my voice a little frosty as if he’d irritated me and focused on my drink, pointedly ignoring the berries. Mikas moved his drink-making farther down the bar, his spines prickling visibly.
