shoulders, silently bemoaning the fact that the yards of fabric concealed much of her lovely black tunic—especially its delicate golden embroidery. Well, at least her cape was also exquisite. Even if it was a bit dirty from so much traveling.
“Where are you going?” Sam asked. He sat up from where he lounged on the bed, cleaning his nails with the tip of a dagger. Sam definitely wouldn’t help her. She’d have to find a way to get out of the deal on her own.
“I have some questions to ask Rolfe. Alone.” She fastened her mask and strode to the door. “I want breakfast waiting for me when I return.”
Sam went rigid, his lips forming a thin line. “What?”
Celaena pointed to the hallway, toward the kitchen. “Breakfast,” she said slowly. “I’m hungry.”
Sam opened his mouth, and she waited for the retort, but it nevercame. He bowed deeply. “As you wish,” he said. They swapped particularly vulgar gestures before she stalked down the hallway.
Dodging puddles of filth, vomit, and the gods knew what else, Celaena found it just a tad difficult to match Rolfe’s long stride. With rain clouds gathering overhead, many of the people in the street—raggedy pirates swaying where they stood, prostitutes stumbling past after a long night, barefoot orphans running amok—had begun migrating into the various ramshackle buildings.
Skull’s Bay wasn’t a beautiful city by any definition, and many of the leaning and sagging buildings seemed to have been constructed from little more than wood and nails. Aside from its denizens, the city was most famous for Ship-Breaker, the giant chain that hung across the mouth of the horseshoe-shaped bay.
It had been around for centuries, and was so large that, as its name implied, it could snap the mast of any ship that came up against it. While mostly designed to discourage any attacks, it also kept anyone from sneaking off. And given that the rest of the island was covered with towering mountains, there weren’t many other places for a ship to safely dock. So, any ship that wanted to enter or exit the harbor had to wait for it to be lowered under the surface—and be ready to pay a hefty fee.
“You have three blocks,” Rolfe said. “Better make them count.”
Was he deliberately walking fast? Steadying her rising temper, Celaena focused on the jagged, lush mountains hovering around the city, on the glittering curve of the bay, on the hint of sweetness in the air. She’d found Rolfe just about to leave the tavern to go to a business meeting, and he’d agreed to let her ask questions as he walked.
“When the slaves arrive,” she said, trying to sound as inconvenienced as possible, “will I get the chance to inspect them, or can I trust that you’re giving us a good batch?”
He shook his head at her impertinence, and Celaena jumped over the outstretched legs of an unconscious—or dead—drunk in her path. “They’ll arrive tomorrow afternoon. I was planning to inspect them myself, but if you’re so worried about the quality of your wares, I’ll allow you to join me. Consider it a privilege.”
She snorted. “Where? On your ship?” Better to get a good sense of how everything worked, and then build her plan from there. Knowing how things operated might create some ideas for how to make the deal fall apart with as little risk as possible.
“I’ve converted a large stable at the other end of the town into a holding facility. I usually examine all the slaves there, but since you’re leaving the next morning, we’ll examine yours on the ship itself.”
She clicked her tongue loudly enough for him to hear it. “And how long can I expect this to take?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You have better things to do?”
“Just answer the question.” Thunder rumbled in the distance.
They reached the docks, which were by far the most impressive thing about the town. Ships of all shapes and sizes rocked against the wooden piers, and pirates scurried along the
“Where are you going?” Sam asked. He sat up from where he lounged on the bed, cleaning his nails with the tip of a dagger. Sam definitely wouldn’t help her. She’d have to find a way to get out of the deal on her own.
“I have some questions to ask Rolfe. Alone.” She fastened her mask and strode to the door. “I want breakfast waiting for me when I return.”
Sam went rigid, his lips forming a thin line. “What?”
Celaena pointed to the hallway, toward the kitchen. “Breakfast,” she said slowly. “I’m hungry.”
Sam opened his mouth, and she waited for the retort, but it nevercame. He bowed deeply. “As you wish,” he said. They swapped particularly vulgar gestures before she stalked down the hallway.
Dodging puddles of filth, vomit, and the gods knew what else, Celaena found it just a tad difficult to match Rolfe’s long stride. With rain clouds gathering overhead, many of the people in the street—raggedy pirates swaying where they stood, prostitutes stumbling past after a long night, barefoot orphans running amok—had begun migrating into the various ramshackle buildings.
Skull’s Bay wasn’t a beautiful city by any definition, and many of the leaning and sagging buildings seemed to have been constructed from little more than wood and nails. Aside from its denizens, the city was most famous for Ship-Breaker, the giant chain that hung across the mouth of the horseshoe-shaped bay.
It had been around for centuries, and was so large that, as its name implied, it could snap the mast of any ship that came up against it. While mostly designed to discourage any attacks, it also kept anyone from sneaking off. And given that the rest of the island was covered with towering mountains, there weren’t many other places for a ship to safely dock. So, any ship that wanted to enter or exit the harbor had to wait for it to be lowered under the surface—and be ready to pay a hefty fee.
“You have three blocks,” Rolfe said. “Better make them count.”
Was he deliberately walking fast? Steadying her rising temper, Celaena focused on the jagged, lush mountains hovering around the city, on the glittering curve of the bay, on the hint of sweetness in the air. She’d found Rolfe just about to leave the tavern to go to a business meeting, and he’d agreed to let her ask questions as he walked.
“When the slaves arrive,” she said, trying to sound as inconvenienced as possible, “will I get the chance to inspect them, or can I trust that you’re giving us a good batch?”
He shook his head at her impertinence, and Celaena jumped over the outstretched legs of an unconscious—or dead—drunk in her path. “They’ll arrive tomorrow afternoon. I was planning to inspect them myself, but if you’re so worried about the quality of your wares, I’ll allow you to join me. Consider it a privilege.”
She snorted. “Where? On your ship?” Better to get a good sense of how everything worked, and then build her plan from there. Knowing how things operated might create some ideas for how to make the deal fall apart with as little risk as possible.
“I’ve converted a large stable at the other end of the town into a holding facility. I usually examine all the slaves there, but since you’re leaving the next morning, we’ll examine yours on the ship itself.”
She clicked her tongue loudly enough for him to hear it. “And how long can I expect this to take?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You have better things to do?”
“Just answer the question.” Thunder rumbled in the distance.
They reached the docks, which were by far the most impressive thing about the town. Ships of all shapes and sizes rocked against the wooden piers, and pirates scurried along the
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