washroom experience might be—they pushed their way back through the crowd. They passed the wooden lanes stretched out for the disk-pushing game and noticed Zirkander and Moe were standing at a small, high table, one lacking chairs. Zirkander wore a goofy sun hat that kept his face in the shadows while sipping from a mug of beer. A second one rested in front of his father, who was trying to read something in his journal by the light of a candle. Sardelle walked over to the table, rested a hand on Zirkander’s shoulder for a moment, said something in his ear, then kissed him on the cheek.
After Cas’s uncomfortable discussion with Tolemek, she couldn’t help but envy their ease. Sardelle probably hadn’t hesitated to proclaim her love.
Zirkander clasped her hand, then turned the gesture into a farewell salute. Despite her earlier words, Moe didn’t glower at Sardelle. He didn’t seem to notice her at all. Cas wondered if he was noticing his son.
“I have a theory as to why Ridge became such a daring hero,” Sardelle said with a wink when she returned to Cas’s side and they were heading for the door.
Cas glanced back at Moe. “To try and impress his dad?”
“Or maybe just in the hope of being noticed.”
It was strange to think of Zirkander that way. Like Duck had said, he was the big hero in the hangar. To imagine him as a reckless boy craving his father’s approval was indeed odd.
Relief flowed into Cas when she stepped outside. Even though the city was alive with raucous crowds and noisy from the drums and zithers flowing out of pubs along with the howls of animals in the jungle, it felt peaceful after the smoky, loud interior of the building. She felt better as soon as the night air wrapped around her. The humid, sticky air clung to their bodies, but the heat was not as intense as it had been earlier.
“Ridge promised me he would also bathe in the bay later,” Sardelle said as they walked down the main street toward the beach. Several men lounging on porches or leaning against street posts eyed them as they passed, but Cas had her rifle, and Sardelle had her sword, and nobody approached. “Sitting behind him and then Lieutenant Duck on the way here was… an olfactory experience.”
“I suppose it’s worse in the back.” Cas wondered if Tolemek had been noticing her own odor. She doubted she could attribute that to his reason for leaving to scout.
“I don’t think your engineers were thinking of comfort when they designed those fliers.”
“No, fighting off pirates and Cofah mostly, I imagine.”
“Ridge said he and his father were waiting to meet with someone who knows a guide who might take us to the mountain,” Sardelle said. “The first people Moe tried laughed and walked the other way.”
“Oh? I hadn’t heard about that.”
“Apparently, the Cofah have been through here, hiring guides, and those guides never came back, so nobody’s eager to take the risk.” Sardelle lowered her voice. “There are some stories about things going on out in the jungle.”
“I heard about the cannibals.”
“That’s always been going on—I remember those stories from three hundred years ago.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“Not this island, but others nearby. I used to work on a naval ship.”
Cas realized she knew very little about Sardelle. Even though they had spent some time together now, it had always been with the men around, and Cas hadn’t naturally been drawn to her, being put off by the sorcery. Even if it had come in handy numerous times now, she had a hard time not seeing Sardelle as something strange, something not quite human. And if she was honest with herself, it bothered her that Sardelle was with Zirkander, too, that she was the one who got to call him Ridge. Cas had long since gotten past the idea of having a romantic relationship with Zirkander, but she couldn’t help but feel that she had known him much longer than Sardelle and that she ought to be the one