salesmanship. After all, why would she go through the trouble of setting up a stall if she had no interest in turning a profit?
The one-armed woman did, of course, intend to turn a profit, but perhaps not the kind that her neighbors expected. It had taken some time for to find the girl again after that night, but after a bit of judicious inquiry the woman-who, for the past several years of her search, had taken to calling herself Akua-had found the girl's mother. Leilani's exotic good looks had attracted the interest of several men who frequented her hookah lounge (the same kind of men, it turned out, who frequented the Alley). Her accent was that of the outer islands, and her dark skin and proud bearing made many speculate that she had been one of the legendary mandagah divers. She had a daughter, one young sailor had told Akua as she felt his skull-a young girl who worked the vats at a laundry and nearly died of the bloody cough. She might have a husband too, but if so, he wasn't around to disapprove of the way his wife had been raising money of late-prostituting herself to the highest bidder. That little fact, tossed her way so offhandedly as a trivial piece of gossip, had piqued Akua's interest. She now understood that Leilani was a desperate woman, and desperate people were easy to exploit: you only had to give them what they wanted.
Akua's scrying had told her to come here to Okika City in the first place, but scryings were unreliable. She had been truly surprised (for the first time in many years) when she had chanced upon the young girl that night and discovered just how suitable she would be. She was quiet and she held herself closely, but the one-armed woman could, nevertheless, sense the untapped depths within her. Some great power had marked this girl, but she was still too young and naive to know how to protect herself.
She was a treasure hidden in plain sight: an innocent holder of unknowable power. Soon, Akua would have her.
Leilani pulled the conical straw hat farther over her head and hurried through the rain. The light drizzle of the past few days had turned into a nearly respectable downpour-something she might have enjoyed from the relative comfort of her apartment, but which made her curse now. The offices of the city doctor were in the governing district, a half-hour walk from the Eastern harbor. Since Lana had become ill, Leilani had learned that there were dockside healers who would probably charge far less for their services, but she had seen too many people by the docks die of the cough to trust them. No matter how much it cost her, she had to take care of Lana. She reached the octagonal brick-and-granite building several minutes later, and walked around to the garden side, where a few still-burning lamps made strange shadows dance on the wet grass. She walked to the oak door and knocked three times. Almost immediately, she heard heavy footsteps and then the door opened.
The familiar smell and warmth of the place enveloped her as the doctor ushered her inside. It smelled of clean sheets and the nose-clearing tang of healing balms, all mixed with the sweetness of fresh-cut orchids-an acknowledgment of the doctor's patronage by the council as an officially sanctioned healer. Most of the staff had gone home by this time, and the hallway was empty as he led her to the relatively small room where they stored their medicines.
"How's the child?" he asked as he lit the lamps on the wall.
Leilani sighed. "Better. She's still weak though-I worry that she's going to overexert herself from boredom."
He fingered the various jars and sachets of dried herbs before he alighted on one. He pulled the rough homespun cloth bag off the shelf and carefully tilted some of its contents into another, smaller one.
"This should do for another week," he said, handing the bag to her. "If there's any change in her condition, let me know and I'll do what I can ..." he trailed off when she reached into her pocket and
The one-armed woman did, of course, intend to turn a profit, but perhaps not the kind that her neighbors expected. It had taken some time for to find the girl again after that night, but after a bit of judicious inquiry the woman-who, for the past several years of her search, had taken to calling herself Akua-had found the girl's mother. Leilani's exotic good looks had attracted the interest of several men who frequented her hookah lounge (the same kind of men, it turned out, who frequented the Alley). Her accent was that of the outer islands, and her dark skin and proud bearing made many speculate that she had been one of the legendary mandagah divers. She had a daughter, one young sailor had told Akua as she felt his skull-a young girl who worked the vats at a laundry and nearly died of the bloody cough. She might have a husband too, but if so, he wasn't around to disapprove of the way his wife had been raising money of late-prostituting herself to the highest bidder. That little fact, tossed her way so offhandedly as a trivial piece of gossip, had piqued Akua's interest. She now understood that Leilani was a desperate woman, and desperate people were easy to exploit: you only had to give them what they wanted.
Akua's scrying had told her to come here to Okika City in the first place, but scryings were unreliable. She had been truly surprised (for the first time in many years) when she had chanced upon the young girl that night and discovered just how suitable she would be. She was quiet and she held herself closely, but the one-armed woman could, nevertheless, sense the untapped depths within her. Some great power had marked this girl, but she was still too young and naive to know how to protect herself.
She was a treasure hidden in plain sight: an innocent holder of unknowable power. Soon, Akua would have her.
Leilani pulled the conical straw hat farther over her head and hurried through the rain. The light drizzle of the past few days had turned into a nearly respectable downpour-something she might have enjoyed from the relative comfort of her apartment, but which made her curse now. The offices of the city doctor were in the governing district, a half-hour walk from the Eastern harbor. Since Lana had become ill, Leilani had learned that there were dockside healers who would probably charge far less for their services, but she had seen too many people by the docks die of the cough to trust them. No matter how much it cost her, she had to take care of Lana. She reached the octagonal brick-and-granite building several minutes later, and walked around to the garden side, where a few still-burning lamps made strange shadows dance on the wet grass. She walked to the oak door and knocked three times. Almost immediately, she heard heavy footsteps and then the door opened.
The familiar smell and warmth of the place enveloped her as the doctor ushered her inside. It smelled of clean sheets and the nose-clearing tang of healing balms, all mixed with the sweetness of fresh-cut orchids-an acknowledgment of the doctor's patronage by the council as an officially sanctioned healer. Most of the staff had gone home by this time, and the hallway was empty as he led her to the relatively small room where they stored their medicines.
"How's the child?" he asked as he lit the lamps on the wall.
Leilani sighed. "Better. She's still weak though-I worry that she's going to overexert herself from boredom."
He fingered the various jars and sachets of dried herbs before he alighted on one. He pulled the rough homespun cloth bag off the shelf and carefully tilted some of its contents into another, smaller one.
"This should do for another week," he said, handing the bag to her. "If there's any change in her condition, let me know and I'll do what I can ..." he trailed off when she reached into her pocket and
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